Four
Peter had come to retrieve Deborah from her chamber then carried her to the parlor where everyone had gathered. Beside the settee was a pair of crutches. Freedom to move about.
Deborah pushed herself up from the settee, balanced her weight on her good leg then reached for the crutches, only to lose her balance and fall back on her bum.
Percy chuckled and held them out before her. “Try again.”
She reached forward and grasped both then pulled herself to standing again while he held them steady. She then put her arms over the crutches so that they were supported and grasped the handles, again, with weight on her good leg while keeping the injured one bent.
“What do I do next?” she asked.
“It would help if you did not have the table in front of you,” he laughed, then moved it out of the way. “Balance on your good leg, bend your elbows and keep your shoulders relaxed. Now move the crutches a step ahead of you, make certain they are secure then step with your good leg.”
She did, then swayed, nearly falling over again, but Percy placed a hand at her waist to steady her.
“I will help my sister,” Peter announced, nearly shoving Percy away from her.
Since when did Peter care so much, or was he simply being overprotective?
“Put the weight on your hands, where they grip and use your upper arms instead of relying on the crutches to support you under your arms,” Peter explained.
Deborah made a note but her arms were not as strong as she would like. Then again, what should she expect? For the past month she’d been sitting about and lifting nothing heavier than a book.
“Try again,” Peter encouraged, then stayed by her side as she maneuvered around the parlor, which had far too much furniture within, and something she’d not noticed previously—not until it was in her way.
Soon, she became more confident and steadier and made her way to the door that opened to the terrace, except she had no intention of remaining there. She wanted to visit her favorite place.
Deborah stood contemplating the handle to the door. Would she lose her balance and fall over if she tried to reach for it? Would one of the crutches drop which would leave her standing with only the one with no way to pick the other up?
Percy rushed forward and opened the door. “You can learn how to open doors later,” he assured her.
“I will escort you outside,” Peter offered then moved to follow, once again, stepping between Deborah and Percy.
“Mr. Peter, the stable manager is requesting your presence.”
Deborah glanced back at her brother and Peter glowered. Not at the servant but at Percy.
Goodness, had the two had a falling out?
“I will not be long.” Peter then turned and marched from the parlor.
She dismissed him and maneuvered herself along the terrace.
“Do you want to sit?” Percy asked.
“Not here,” she answered and continued across the terrace and onto the path surrounded by gardens. However, she needed to be careful. For the most part, it was a well-worn, flat path, because she had walked this way nearly daily since she was a child, but there was also uneven ground in a few places.
While her progress was slow, Deborah believed that with only a little more practice, she might be quite good at walking with crutches. She only wished it wasn’t so tiring.
Percy remained by her side, one hand behind her, without touching, as if he was prepared to catch her if she started to fall. Soon, she crossed beneath a canopy of trees to a small clearing that held a bench. She practically fell onto it when she tried to sit, then leaned the crutches beside her as she settled back.
“Those are more tiring and difficult than I anticipated.” She laughed. “I only need to rest a moment and then we can return.”
Percy sat next to her and looked around. “This area certainly is sheltered,” he murmured.
“The reason I love it,” Deborah confessed. “I like to hide in here, away from everyone. They cannot see me from the terrace or the house, nor can I see them. It is my favorite place to read.”
“I can certainly understand the benefits of such a place,” he said as his eyes grew darker.
