A World Apart (The Hands of Time: Book 3) (24 page)

“Martha, are you asleep?”  Abbie whispered, fearful of waking her parents.  “Martha?”  She nudged Martha in the ribs, hoping to wake her. They’d shared a bed since they were little, always talking and giggling until they fell asleep, but lately Abbie found herself wanting to lie quietly, and think her own thoughts rather than whispering with Martha.  Martha would be gone soon anyway.  She’d be a married woman and Sarah would most likely take her place.  She was getting too old to sleep in the same room as their parents and Annie. 

“I was until you started hissing at me.  What’s the matter?”  Martha was
always grumpy when woken up.  She turned on her side, eying her little sister from under the flounces of her nightcap, which was the only thing visible in the darkness. 

“Martha, do you love Gil?” Abbie asked quietly.

“I’m marrying him, aren’t I?” 

“That’s not the same thing as loving him.  Do you love him, Martha?”  Abbie asked again, sounding more urgent this time.

“What’s this all about, Abbie?”  Martha was wide-awake now, obviously curious.

“I just wanted to know what it feels like to be in love
,” Abbie replied dreamily.

“I wouldn’t know,” answered Martha gruffly.  “Gil is a good man.  He is loyal, hardworking, and more importantly, he loves me.  I don’t believe in these romantic notions.  What’s the point?  There aren’t that many young men for me to choose from, so I chose Gil.”

“Do you think you’ll be happy?” asked Abbie wistfully.

“You are relentless, Abbie.  Of course, we’ll be happy,
especially if this war ever ends, and we can build a home of our own.  Living with his family until then will have its difficulties to be sure.”  Martha sat up in bed, propping her pillows.  “Are you finished interviewing me, sis?”

“Not yet.  I was wondering, have you and Gil ever, you know?”  Abbie whispered urgently, afraid to be overheard.

“Of course not.  What kind of trollop do you take me for?  He’d never even dare try it.  That’s what wedding nights are for.  To tell you the truth, I can’t say I’m looking forward to that part.  It sounds rather appalling.”  Martha rolled her eyes, making Abbie giggle.

“I think it’s probably very nice,” said Abbie, smiling.

“And how would you know?  You’ve never even been kissed.” Martha suddenly gave her a suspicious look.  “Abbie, who are we talking about, me or you?  Come now, we’ve never had secrets from each other.”  Martha’s eyes bore into Abbie, waiting for an answer.

“I think I’m in love with Finn.”  Abbie’s voice sho
ok with emotion as she said it.  This was the first time she’d articulated her feelings, other than telling Finn that night in the barn.  It felt strange sharing her precious love with her sister, despite their close bond.  Abbie felt as if she were betraying Finn somehow by confiding in Martha.

“Well, you better get over it
, and soon.  Finn’s just a temporary worker.  He doesn’t have a pot to piss in.  Pa would never let you marry him.  Besides, his origins are questionable.  No one seems to know anything about him.  The sooner he goes the better, I say.  Now, stop mooning over hired help and go to sleep.”  With that, Martha turned away from Abbie, ending the conversation.

Abbie stuck her tongue out at Martha’s back, then turned toward the wall herself.  She didn’t care if Finn had nothing.  He had her. For the first time in her life
, she felt sorry for Martha.  She’d always admired her big sister, and had to admit that she was a little scared and jealous when Martha accepted Gil’s proposal.  She would be a married woman, and worst of all, she would leave.  They would no longer share their tiny room, or gossip late into the night, sharing their dreams with each other, not that Martha was sharing much lately.  She’d changed since her betrothal, becoming more distant with each passing day.  Abbie thought that if she were engaged, she would be over the moon with joy, wanting everyone to share in her happiness, unlike Martha, who only seemed concerned with what she would bring to her new family. 

Abbie said a
heartfelt prayer, asking God to protect Finn on his mission and bring him back safely.  She knew that Martha was right about Finn’s prospects, but she didn’t care.  Finn wasn’t afraid of hard work, and more importantly, he was cunning and smart.  He wouldn’t have nothing for long. 

Valerie gasped as she looked at her reflection in the small mirror above the washstand.  If she didn’t know with one hundred percent certainty that she was looking at herself, she might have thought some other woman was gazing back.  Her eye was a purplish blue, swollen almost completely shut, and the left side of her face was scraped raw and covered with dirt from her efforts in the shed.  Her bottom lip was puffy and covered with dried blood where it had been split.  Clumps of dirt and bits of wood were trapped in her wild hair, and her left sleeve was completely torn, which was a good thing since her arm was swollen to nearly double its normal size.  And to make matters worse, she’d just gotten her period. 

“Let’s get you to bed,” Alec said, holding his hand to his middle.  He was visibly in pain, barely able to straighten up.

“God, we look like we’ve been in a war,” Valerie said.  “I can’t go to bed like this.  I’m filthy.”

“I would gladly help you bathe if I could.”  Alec sat down heavily on a chair, attempting to pull of
f his boots, but giving up as soon as he bent down, his face turning a sickly shade of green.  “I think we need help.  I’ll go down and ask Bessie to come up.”

“Ask her to bring up some hot water.”  Valerie gingerly pulled the torn fabric away from her arm in an effort to remove her filthy gown.  Her arm was turning the same color as her eye and was hot to the touch.  Valerie waited until Alec left the room before sinking onto the bed, hot tears running down her face.  How did this happen to them? 
All they wanted to do was find Finn, and instead they ended up fighting for their lives.

Valerie
wiped her face with Alec’s handkerchief as Bessie knocked on the door and entered the room carrying a pitcher of hot water and two clean towels.

“Oh, my
.  What happened to you, Mrs. Whitfield?  You look an absolute fright,” the girl gushed as she set down the pitcher, eyeing Valerie with undisguised curiosity.  Bessie wasn’t one for subtlety.

“Y
ou just let me help you.  Now, let’s get that gown off and I’ll help you wash your hair.”  Valerie sat still as Bessie unlaced the gown and peeled it off carefully, removing the left sleeve last, so as not to move Valerie’s arm.  The chemise under the gown wasn’t as dirty or torn, so Valerie kept it on as she bent her head over a basin, holding her arm against her side.  Bessie poured warm water over her head before soaping her hair thoroughly, and washing it out.  She was gentle and efficient, her hands soothing on Valerie’s scalp.  She carefully washed Valerie’s face, wiping away the blood and dirt with a clean rag.  Her face was terribly sore, but it was nice to be clean. 

Valerie didn’t protest as Bessie picked up the brush and began to brush out her wet hair
, humming a tune under her breath.  The girl would have made an excellent nurse, had she grown up in another time.  Valerie began to relax, exhaustion overtaking her.  She hardly noticed as Bessie pulled off her chemise and helped her into a clean nightdress before tucking her into bed. 

“Y
ou just rest, Mrs. Whitfield.  I’ll take your gown downstairs and mend it, shall I?  My Ma says I’m good with a needle.  It’ll be as good as new, just you wait and see.”  Bessie scooped up the torn gown off the floor and picked up the empty pitcher.  Valerie was asleep by the time the door closed behind the girl.

**

Valerie forced herself to open her eyes as someone touched her arm, sending waves of pain crashing over her.  She thought it was Alec, but the man bent over her wasn't her husband.  He was elderly, with a bald pate surrounded by long, shaggy gray hair, which matched his bushy eyebrows.  He wore a pair of half-moon spectacles and looked remarkably like Benjamin Franklin.  Valerie suddenly realized that Benjamin Franklin was actually alive in 1775, and wondered if he had somehow wound up in her room, or if she was suffering from delirium. 

“Valerie, this is Dr. Ferris.”  Alec appeared behind the
man, looking at Valerie with concern.  “I thought your arm needed seeing to.  Is it broken, doctor?”

The doctor didn’t answer right away.  He probed every inch of Valerie’s arm, then tried to move it, before listening to her chest with a wooden tube and taking her pulse. 
Modern medicine at its best
, Valerie thought as she watched the doctor’s face.  He didn’t bother to speak to her, but addressed his comments to Alec as if she were a child.

“
Your wife’s arm doesn’t appear to be broken, but the wrist is fractured and the upper arm is very badly bruised indeed.  The best I can do is bind the wrist and advise strict bed rest for at least a week.  Now, let’s have a look at you, young man.  You seem in need of medical attention just as much as your wife.”  The doctor turned to Alec, giving him a quizzical stare.  “What happened to you, if I might ask?”  He motioned for Alec to lie down next to Valerie, coming around the bed to examine him.

“Ah, our coach
overturned and rolled into a ravine.  Seems the axle broke clean in half, isn’t that right, my dear?”  Alec squeezed Valerie’s hand, urging her to back up his story.

“Yes.  It was dreadful, doctor
,” Valerie piped in.  “I was thrown clear across the ravine.  Thank God I landed on a grassy bank.”

“That
is dreadful, indeed.  One sees these kinds of accidents all the time.  I blame poor craftsmanship.  No one takes pride in their work anymore.”  The doctor appeared to be warming up to this theme when he became distracted by Alec’s injuries.  He looked awfully serious as he ran his fingers over Alec’s bruised middle. 

“You have two broken ribs, Mr. Whitfield.  You are very fortunate that they haven’t pierced your lung or you would be in very bad shape indeed.  Now, I
’ll bind your ribs for you and you must be on bed rest along with your wife.  I will inform Mr. Clements that meals should be sent up for the next week.  You are not to go up and down the stairs.  Is that clear?  I’ll also fashion a sling for Mrs. Whitfield.  It should take some of the discomfort away while her arm heals.  Would you like some laudanum for the pain?”  He looked from Alec to Valerie, his glasses sliding down his nose.  Valerie was sorely tempted to ask for the laudanum, but shook her head.  It was too easy to get addicted or overdose altogether since there was no way to measure out the dosage.  She wouldn’t have said no to some Aspirin though.

“No thank you, doctor.  I think I can do without
,” she answered, watching his bushy eyebrows rise in astonishment.  She gathered people didn’t often say no to laudanum these days.

“What about you, Mr. Whitfield?”  Alec was focusing on the ceiling as the doctor went about binding his ribs.  He was obviously in
considerable pain, his face pale and covered in cold sweat. 

“No,” he grunted.  “I’ll forgo as well.” 

“Suit yourself.  I will check on you in a week’s time.  If you need anything, ask Mr. Clements to send one of his stable boys to fetch me.  Good day to you both.”  The doctor gave them a curt bow before putting on his hat and departing. 

“Next time we buy a coach, we should look for better craftsmanship, dear,” Valerie
intoned, giving Alec an impish smile. 

Alec started to chuckle, but his laugh quickly turned into a grimace of pain.  His ribs had gotten noticeably worse over the past twenty-four hours
, most likely breaking under the strain of galloping for hours in search of the farm.  Dr. Ferris had been right in his suggestion that they might have pierced Alec’s lungs, and with no way to reinflate the lung, Alec might have died.  Valerie felt a wave of panic as the realization of what might have happened washed over her. 

If Alec hadn’t found her
, she would most likely have been raped and beaten to death, ending up in some unmarked grave, or dumped in the woods to be eaten by animals until there was nothing left but shards of bone gleaming among the colorful fall leaves.  Alec might have died as well, but his death would have been slower and more agonizing as he suffocated from lack of oxygen somewhere on the side of the road, hurt and alone.  Valerie began to shake, the shock finally wearing off and leaving her open to the emotions that devoured her from the inside.  She turned away from Alec, not wanting him to see her grief.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m not getting up from this bed for at least three days,” Alec said, grunting with pain as he tried to move
, “and neither are you.” 

“Alec, we need to have more broadsheets printed
,” Valerie protested.  She needed to focus on finding their son in order to keep herself together. “Finn is out there somewhere, and every day that we are laid up, he could be getting further away.” 

“Valerie, we need to recover before we can continue searching for Finn.  Besides, I heard talk of
a fire at Percival Gale’s farm while I was downstairs asking Mr. Clements about a doctor.  The best thing we can do for ourselves and Finn is to stay out of sight for a while, especially since Mr. Clements knows full well that we don’t own a carriage and that you’d been missing.  I told him that you lost your way and fell into a ravine in the darkness, but he’s no fool.  Let’s not make it easier for him to figure things out.  No one needs to know that we were anywhere near that farm when the fire started.”

“What do they think happened?” Valerie asked, suddenly afraid.

“They think that Percival and Bobby argued over some stolen goods and got into a fight, shooting each other and knocking over a candle in the process.  I, for one, really like that theory.  Now, stop talking and get some sleep.  You look dreadful.”

“Yes, so I’ve been told,” Valerie answered tartly before closing her eyes.  Suddenly
, she wished she would have accepted the laudanum.