Perry released a crutch to pat Albert’s shoulder. “I love you too, brother,” he mouthed, not sure Alber would understand.
The butler opened the door and bowed, breaking the moment. “My lord, Dr. Winkworth, Mrs. Winkworth, Miss Winkworth, and Miss Edith.”
Albert wiped his eyes and composed himself quickly. “Show them in, Mason.”
The family entered, wearing their finest, and Edith was the finest of all. Her eyes were so bright they would attract moths from every corner of London. Her cheeks had regained their fullness, and her hair shone with a lovely glossy hue, exactly as he remembered it.
“Thank you for coming.” Albert shook hands with Dr. Winkworth and bowed to the ladies.
Perry did his best to bow without tripping over.
Edith rushed to greet him in a flutter of skirts and velvet ribbons. “How are you?”
He gave her a slow blink, a sign that he was all right.
After a round of bows, greetings, and comments on the weather, they sat at dinner. The long table was adorned with red napkins, red silk flowers, and tall candles, brightening the room.
Albert had to help him sit down in a manoeuvre that wasn’t exactly agile or dignified, but Perry had stopped getting bothered about his lack of autonomy a while ago. He worked hard to recover his mobility, but not asking for help wouldn’t improve his situation. Besides, he was happy to sit and listen to the chatter, even though he couldn’t join the conversations.
“I’d love to have a Season this year,” Marianne said, glancing at her parents.
“We’ll see,” her mother said.
“There are excellent alienists in Switzerland,” Dr. Winkworth said to Albert. “Their medical techniques are incredibly advanced.”
Perry raised his eyebrows in a silent question to Edith next to him. After all the time they’d spent together, he was convinced she could read his mind.
“Alienists study the diseases of the soul, of people who are alienated from their minds. Fascinating.” She smiled at him when their gazes met.
He focused on holding the spoon correctly, lest the white soup end up everywhere, but it required more effort than it should. Sweat damped the back of his neck. He couldn’t even follow the conversation so concentrated he was. Without saying a word, Edith helped lift the spoon to his mouth.
He bowed his head in gratitude.
“You’re welcome,” she said.
He should feel embarrassed or ashamed for his clumsiness, for needing help to change his clothes or tie his shoes. Even washing his hands required the help of a servant. But if there was one thing he’d realised in the past months, it was that hewas surrounded by love and care. Everyone did their level best to help him, and he couldn’t be more grateful.
Besides, he firmly believed he’d learn to walk and talk again. He’d put all his efforts into recovering and finding a way to show his gratitude to those who had helped him.
After dinner, he sat on the sofa as Marianne played the piano, and the others drank their old-fashioned neguses at the low table. The scent of the mulled wine teased his senses while the sweet music eased the tension never leaving his muscles.
He’d never cared for the piano. In fact, he’d never cared about a great many things that involved hard work or studying, but months spent learning again simple tasks like washing his hands had taught him to appreciate hard work more.
Edith sat next to him in a froth of skirts. “Your brother told us you’re leaving in spring. Are you happy?”
He nodded. He looked forward to meeting these Swiss specialists. The sooner he started his therapy, the better.
The red velvet ribbon tying her hair matched her lips. They distracted him as of late, especially when she smiled.
“You’ve made such great progress. When you’re back, you’ll be as good as new.”
He doubted that. Whatever was going to happen in Switzerland, the incident would mark him forever.
“I’m going to miss you,” she whispered, maybe because she didn’t want her parents to hear.
He reached for the notepad and pencil on the low table. It took him a few long moments to write the word ‘books.’
She waited patiently before craning her neck to read it. “Books. Do you mean why I don’t have a book with me?”
