Voices from Aubrey's bedchamber interrupted her thoughts. Male voices, one of them distinctly jovial.
Eleanor frowned, moving to the connecting door, the door she'd never used before. The door that had remained closed and locked for two years.
Who would be visiting at this hour?
She knocked softly, then entered.
And stopped short at the scene before her.
Aubrey was propped against his pillows, stripped to the waist, while Dr Fielding prodded at his hip with the cheerful enthusiasm of a man thoroughly enjoying his work.
"Ah, Lady Madeley!" Dr Fielding beamed at her. "Perfect timing! I was just telling your husband that he's healing remarkably well. Quite remarkably. I've seen younger men recover more slowly from less severe injuries."
"That's... good news." Eleanor moved closer, trying not to notice the way the morning light highlighted the planes of Aubrey's chest and abdomen.
"Excellent news!" Dr Fielding pressed on Aubrey's hip, making him wince. "See? Pain, yes, but manageable pain. Not the excruciating agony of two weeks ago. The bruising is fading beautifully. The abrasions are nearly healed. And the hip joint itself—" He manipulated Aubrey's leg gently. "No signs of permanent damage. You, my lord, have been extraordinarily lucky."
"I feel extraordinarily lucky," Aubrey said dryly, though his eyes found Eleanor's with an intensity that made her stomach flutter.
"Can he walk?" Eleanor asked, forcing herself to focus on the practical matter at hand.
"Not yet. But soon!" Dr Fielding's enthusiasm was almost comical. "With a cane or crutch, perhaps by Christmas. A few steps at first, building gradually. But no putting weight on it for at least another week."
"What about sitting?" Aubrey asked. "Can I sit in a chair? Move to a different room?"
"Ah, yes! We can try that today. Carefully, mind you. With support. But yes, I think a chair would do you good. Get you out of this bed for a few hours. Stimulate circulation. Very important, circulation." Dr Fielding nodded sagely, as though he'd just imparted profound wisdom.
Aubrey's expression brightened considerably. "And the water closet? Surely I can hop there without support."
"Absolutely not." Dr Fielding's cheerfulness didn't waver. "One wrong move, one slip, and you could undo weeks of healing. The chamber pot, I'm afraid, remains your closest companion."
Aubrey let out a frustrated grunt that might have been amusing if Eleanor hadn't seen the genuine embarrassment in his expression.
"Now, regarding the dressings," Dr Fielding continued, apparently oblivious to Aubrey's mortification. "I'm pleased to report that the wounds have progressed to the point where we can discontinue the bandaging. The abrasions have formed nice, healthy scabs. As long as Lord Madeley isn't rolling about in mud or engaging in vigorous activities, which I trust he is not, clean linen against the skin should suffice."
"So, no more daily care?" Eleanor heard herself ask and was surprised by the disappointment in her voice.
Dr Fielding smiled kindly. "No longer necessary. You've done splendidly. Absolutely splendidly. Your husband owes his recovery to your excellent care."
Eleanor felt something sink in her chest. No more daily visits. No more intimate moments of caring for him. No more opportunities to tease him with careful touches and watch him struggle for composure.
She should be relieved. Instead, she felt oddly... bereft.
"Now then," Dr Fielding said, snapping his medical bag closed with finality. "Regarding travel, it's far too early for carriage journeys. The jostling alone could aggravate the healing muscles and ligaments. I'd recommend remaining here through the New Year at minimum."
Aubrey's eyes cut to Eleanor, searching her face. She kept her expression neutral.
"Any other restrictions?" Aubrey asked.
"Nothing you're not already doing. Rest. Gentle movement as tolerated. Good food. And that excellent nursing care, though as I said, less intensive now." Dr Fielding beamed at them both. "I'll call again after Christmas unlessyou need me sooner. Send me a missive if there's any fever, swelling, or increased pain. Otherwise, you're progressing wonderfully, my lord. Simply wonderfully."
The doctor took his leave with the same cheerful energy he'd displayed throughout, leaving Eleanor and Aubrey alone in sudden, awkward silence.
"So," Aubrey said finally. "I'm improving."
"Yes." Eleanor moved to collect his breakfast tray from earlier, needing something to do with her hands. "You are."
"You don't sound pleased."
