“I promise I will not.”
Chapter 9
“Aye, thank goodness you are at last warming through, Your Grace,” the kindly doctor said with a strong Northumbrian accent as he walked around the bed. “The chill it can be dangerous. I have seen men fall into iced rivers before who have not made it out.”
“It was but a stream I fell into,” Diana said hurriedly.
“All the same, cold water is dangerous, as is the weather, but your temperature is normal,” the doctor assured her as he placed a hand to her temple, checking it another time. “With no nausea and no headaches, it could have been much worse.”
Diana felt how true it was as she shifted on the bed, pulling the bed sheets a little higher. There had been a moment that afternoon when she was certain she would never be warm again. She had described it to Mr Arnold as though she had been made of ice, with her eyelashes like flakes of snow and her bones the icicles that hung from rooftops.
When Mr Arnold had first brought her back to the house, she had spent some time in the kitchen, where she was plied with blankets, hot sweet tea, and brandy. With some difficulty, Tommie had managed to persuade Mr Arnold to put her down so they could wrap her in even more blankets.
The attempt was made even more difficult by Diana clinging tightly onto Mr Arnold. She had explained it away by saying she felt her hands had frozen solid around the neck of his frock coat, but she knew the truth.
I hadn’t wanted to let go.
“Drink this, Your Grace; it will help.” The doctor pressed a tall glass of liquid into her hand. It was hot, with a steaming trail rising from it up to the ceiling. Diana brought it to her face and sniffed it with suspicion.
“What is it, Doctor Cartwright?” she asked, wriggling in the bed to feel the warming bed pan at the bottom of the sheets. The fire in her bedchamber had been lit too and was raging, with great orange flames leaping up the chimney.
“It’s a tea of elderberries, hawthorn berries, and nettle leaves. Good for times like this. I find the infusion helps to ward off flu and fevers. It warms the body too.”
She eagerly began to sip the drink, surprised at its delicate taste.
“Well, Your Grace, the cold is past, but I fear the ankle will take a little longer to heal,” Doctor Cartwright explained as he sat in the chair beside her bed and began to pack away his medicinal bottles in a small leather bag. Past his head, Diana could see someone moving beyond the bedchamber door that stood ajar. From the tall shadow, it was not difficult to guess who it was.
Mr Arnold.
“Is it a sprain?” she asked, trying to shift her ankle, but she soon gave up. He had bound it tightly and placed a poultice to the swelling.
“Aye, it is.” Doctor Cartwright sat back and fixed her with a smile. “You will have to take it easy for a few days, no more striding out into these harsh winters we are suffering at the moment. Plenty of rest and sitting down, I am afraid. It doesn’t sound nearly so fun, does it?”
“Not at all,” she admitted, though she glanced to the side, looking toward the loose parchments where she had started writing a story. She rather thought she could use the time to write some more.
“I will leave you to it then, Your Grace. Rest up, and I will come back to visit you in a day or two.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” Diana said as he stood to his feet and bowed to her. “I would stand too if I could.” He chuckled warmly and patted her hand resting over her glass.
“You look after yourself, dear.” It may have been a lapse in formality, but Diana loved it and returned the smile fully. The elderly man smiled at her one last time before hurrying to the door, his kindness lasting with her. Mr Arnold was the only other person so kind to her since she had left her parents’ house.
In the doorway, Doctor Cartwright exchanged a few words with Mr Arnold, who had opened the door fully, ready for his departure.
“She will be quite well, Mr Arnold. Aye, fear not for your duchess,” the doctor said, patting him around the arm. “I will show myself out.”
“Thank you, Doctor.” Mr Arnold nodded to him after passing him the coinage he needed in payment. Mr Arnold appeared to wait until the doctor had wandered down the corridor before he glanced into Diana’s room, finding her eyes.
“Has he gone?” she whispered softly. In answer, Mr Arnold checked the corridor one last time, craning his neck animatedly to see further along the hallway, then he hurried into her room and closed the door behind him.
Diana placed her tea down on the cabinet beside her and tried to sit a little taller in the bed, realizing how much they were now breaking the rules of propriety, as Mr Arnold was in her bedchamber alone, with the door closed.
“Pray, do not think too much into this,” he said, his voice harried as he strode towards the bed.
“To what?” she asked, pulling a fresh woollen shawl tighter around her shoulders as he reached her. He took her hand and lifted it to his face, bending towards her and kissing the back of her hand, closing his eyes as he did so. It was an action done with so much urgency, so much need, that Diana sat perfectly still, feeling bemused.
The touch of his lips against her hand had started something inside her, a sort of thrill that coiled within her chest and sent a tingle up her arm. When he released her from the kiss, he still held onto her hand, pressing it to his cheek for a moment as his eyes returned to hers.
“I have never been given such a kiss before,” she said quietly. In answer, he turned her hand to his lips once more and kissed it again. Her breath hitched as she watched him do it, trying to imagine how it could feel if those lips were kissing hers rather than her hand.
