Never a Road Without a Turning (20 page)

When Ash sighed behind him, Pip turned in time to see him carefully set Mr. Brown’s hand back down at his side. “I’m sorry, Mr. Brown. But I agree with the doctor’s assessment. We cannot save it. The hand will have to come off before it begins to putrefy and poison your blood.”

Mr. Brown closed his eyes and stifled a sob as Pip’s stomach did another flip.

“Phillip, tell them we need more lamps, hot water, a bottle of spirits, plenty of clean linen for bandages, and blankets,” Ash ordered as he helped lift Mr. Brown’s head so he might drink from the glass Dr. Fields held to his lips.

Glad to be given something to do, Pip hurried from the room again and hunted down the innkeeper. When he returned with a bottle of gin in one hand and another lamp in the other, Ash’s instruments were spread out on a sideboard against the wall—the wicked-looking fine-toothed saw prominent among the various blades, hammers, and pliers. Pip swallowed more bile and set the lamp on the sideboard as Ash directed, before handing over the gin bottle.

“Here. Drink,” Ash said, holding out the bottle to Mr. Brown. “I will be as quick as I can.”

Pip could see nearly all the whites of Mr. Brown’s eyes as he drank liberally from the bottle. The innkeeper came bustling in a moment later with a bowl, a steaming kettle, a pile of folded white linen, and two thick wool blankets.

“Thank you, Mr. Tulley. We’re going to need you to stay as well,” Doctor Fields said as he took the linens from the man.

The innkeeper placed the bowl and kettle on the sideboard for Ash, and then Pip helped Mr. Tulley tuck the warm blankets around Mr. Brown as the doctor tore strips of linen for bandages. When all seemed ready, Ash went to the sideboard and washed his hands in the hot water before he turned to them and said, “The three of you will have to hold him down while I work. He will fight, but he must be held as still as you can manage.”

Pip swallowed and nodded along with the other two men, and they each took up a position. Pip was on Mr. Brown’s left side, so he would concentrate on keeping the damaged limb in place while the other two tried to hold the rest of his body. The innkeeper draped himself across Mr. Brown’s legs and Doctor Fields placed a piece of leather strap between his teeth before bracing his arms across the patient’s chest and other arm. Mr. Brown’s breast heaved with each frightened breath he took, and Pip couldn’t look at his face. Instead he put his entire weight on the arm and shoulder beneath his hands and fixed his eyes on Ash.

Ash met his gaze for the first time then. He looked drawn and pale, but the set of his jaw was determined. “Are we ready?” Ash asked, his saw poised above the poor man’s wrist.

What happened next, Pip chose not to remember in any detail. He stubbornly refused to look anywhere but at Ash’s face while Ash worked. He quickly, deftly severed Mr. Brown’s hand, cut away the damaged flesh, then closed the wound. Mr. Brown screamed and cried at first, but toward the end, he thankfully collapsed into unconsciousness. Blood spattered Pip’s hands and clothes, but he pretended not to notice it, nor did he look at the red liberally coating Ash’s hands, forearms, and the front of the apron the innkeeper had provided.

When it was finally over and the innkeeper and his staff were left to do the cleaning up, Pip followed Ash and the doctor out of the room, enormously grateful to be free of the closeness of it.

“Thank you, Major,” Doctor Fields said as they moved in front of the fire. “I’ve had to learn some skill at this sort of thing since coming to Keswick with her ladyship—the village being so far removed from a town of any size—but it is definitely not what I am trained for. I would never have been able to do it as quickly and skillfully as yourself.”

Ash looked positively ghostly to Pip, but he dredged up a polite smile for the doctor. “Thank you, sir. That is the highest of praise coming from a man such as yourself.”

Pip swallowed a snort, turning his face away before either Ash or the doctor could see him roll his eyes. He was glad he didn’t have to listen to Ash play the games of polite society often. It didn’t suit the man at all. Though the kind of society Pip had to offer didn’t seem to suit Ash of late either, so perhaps Pip was wrong in assuming he knew the man as well as he believed.

“You have done more than your fair share, sir. I will see to Mr. Brown’s care from here, and you should get some rest,” the doctor said, interrupting Pip’s thoughts before they could become too sour.

Ash nodded tiredly. “Thank you, sir. I believe I am a little weary.”

“John fetched you in my carriage. I can send someone to find him to drive you home again.”

The doctor lifted his hand to one of the serving maids, but Pip cautiously interrupted him. “Beggin’ yer pardon, sir. But, if we can borrow yer gig, I can drive the master ’ome and bring yer horse and carriage back in the morning.”

Doctor Fields turned and gave Pip a look, as if he’d forgotten he was there. “Oh…. Yes, certainly. If that is your wish?” He directed the question back at Ash, who had started swaying on his feet.

Pip ground his teeth to keep from snapping at the man and waited for Ash to reply.

“What? Oh, yes. That would be fine,” Ash answered absently, and Pip had had enough of dithering about.

“Right, then, sir, I’ll fetch the carriage.”

Pip hurried out of the room and roused one of the inn’s stable hands to help him get the horse in the rig. Ash was tired enough he didn’t object when Pip bundled him into the seat, practically carrying him most of the way, and set off with only a short nod and a wave of thanks to the doctor.

“Are ye all right, Ash?” Pip asked when they were free from prying ears.

“No. I swore I was done with that business after I left the Cape.” His voice was quiet and shaking with emotion and exhaustion.

Pip longed to pull the gig over and wrap his arms around him, to give what comfort he could, but they were still in the village.

“Is there naught I can do to ’elp?”

“No.”

The word was said with a finality Pip didn’t doubt. He snapped his mouth shut on any other offers and turned his attention to the road ahead, and a heavy silence fell between them.

It started to snow just as Pip reached the edge of the village, but despite the cold, he kept the horse to a slow trot. Ash was wrapped tightly in his greatcoat and blankets, tucked up warm against Pip’s side. He’d begun snoring lightly, and Pip refused to risk jarring the man by quickening their pace.

The lamp hanging from the front of the carriage swung back and forth as they bumped over the uneven road, illuminating the crystal white snowflakes swirling lazily around them. The horse appeared to know what it was doing, so Pip settled a little lower in the seat and pulled Ash closer, wrapping an arm around Ash’s shoulder now that he was sure the man was asleep.

A fresh wave of melancholy descended over Pip as they rode. The night was so peaceful and beautiful, and Pip wished they could have had more moments like this. But he had a sinking feeling that would never be.

Tonight he’d seen a hint of the man Ash was before his injury, and Pip was a little in awe of him. Watching Ash work on Mr. Brown, doing a procedure that would surely save his life while ignoring his own pain, emotional distress, and fatigue had been… beyond words. It forced Pip to realize once and for all how great the distance was between them. And not simply because of an accident of birth but because of the kind of man Ash was.

Pip could read and write and do his figures. He had some learning in the classics and other areas besides. His current position was respectable, if not particularly lofty, a far cry from his birth at any rate. But no matter what Maud and Mr. Carey thought him capable of, Pip was only a laborer, common as dirt. That was all the world saw when it looked at him, and that was all Ash saw, judging by the way he treated Pip at the end of each night,
after
he’d obtained what he wanted out of Pip. Ash might think him beautiful dirt, but dirt all the same and just as easily discarded.

Pip needed to stop ignoring the facts and acknowledge that Ash would never feel for him anything near what Pip wanted him to. And after weeks of sleepless nights, Pip also had to admit to himself that he wasn’t happy with less.

A cold lump formed in the middle of Pip’s chest as Ash shifted and cuddled closer, knocking his hat askew. Pip wanted to weep. Ash needed someone to take care of him, to distract him from his troubles, but Pip wasn’t enough. Ash needed someone who could visit openly with him, someone of equal station and equal consequence. No one would ever believe Pip worthy of that. Any connection between them would always draw unwanted curiosity no matter where they went, even if Ash was willing to take that risk.

What Ash had done tonight would soon be all over the village. Callers would begin to come again, braving his queer and irascible ways for a chance to know him, whether he wanted them to or not.
Someone
would befriend him eventually, and the only thing Ash would need Pip for would be a good rogering every now and again. And Ash could travel to a larger town to find that when he needed it, or someone he knew from London or his travels might oblige him if Pip were out of the way. He didn’t really need Pip at all.

They arrived at the cottage before Pip could collapse beneath the weight of his misery and self-pity. Pip helped a mostly unconscious Ash up to his rooms, followed closely by a deeply concerned and curious Mrs. Applethwaite. When Ash was seated on his mattress, Pip went directly back out to find a place for the doctor’s horse and carriage for the night, leaving Mrs. Applethwaite to tuck the master in this time, because Pip didn’t have the heart for it.

He settled the horse in an open space far enough from their own horse’s stall that they wouldn’t trouble one another. And then he dragged his weary body back to the kitchen. Mrs. Applethwaite wanted to hear all about their adventure but took pity on him when she saw he was asleep on his feet and sent him to bed. Pip barely took the time to shed his coat and heavy trousers before crawling beneath the blankets.

He woke in the middle of the night to a loud clatter and the sound of glass breaking. Fairly certain of what he would find, he hurried from his room and through the door to the house, not pausing even long enough to light a candle. Light flickered through the open library door, and Pip rushed to it. He found Ash collapsed in his usual chair in front of a cold and empty hearth, in nothing but his trousers, boots, and shirtsleeves. The small table by his chair was overturned, and Ash’s usual glass was in pieces on the floor, glittering wetly in the light of the single candle on the sideboard.

Pip frowned and sighed irritably, loud enough for Ash to hear his displeasure, if the man had still been conscious. At least the fool had set his candle somewhere safe before downing half the contents of the crystal decanter.

Pip was only in his stockings so he stepped carefully around the shards of glass. Ash’s skin was icy when Pip reached out to touch his face and some of Pip’s irritation ebbed in favor of concern.

“Ash?” The man’s eyelids didn’t even twitch. “Ash!” he hissed again, louder this time. That got a frown and a grumble from Ash, and Pip’s tension eased. He grabbed Ash’s arm, draped it over his shoulder, and dragged him to his feet.

As before, Pip was sweating and out of breath by the time he got Ash back in his bed. He stood looking down at the pale figure of his master and sometime lover and couldn’t seem to bring himself to leave. His earlier thoughts and conclusions swam to the surface, and a crushing sadness followed quickly behind. Desperately in need of some comfort, no matter how short-lived, Pip climbed into bed behind Ash and wrapped his arms around the man’s chilled body.

A minute or two, that’s what Pip promised himself. He’d only stay a minute or two, and then he’d leave before Ash sobered enough to kick him out. But it had been a very long day, and Pip fell asleep before he knew it.

He couldn’t have been asleep long. The sky was still dark when Ash’s moaning woke him for the second time that night.

“Shhhh, Ash, wake up. It’s only a nightmare,” Pip soothed as Ash continued to thrash next to him. Pip reached out to shake the man, but his wrist was caught in an iron grip.

“Ash?” Pip gasped as the fingers imprisoning his wrist tightened painfully.

“Colin,” Ash mumbled drunkenly just before he lunged, forcing Pip onto his stomach and pinning both of Pip’s wrists to the mattress.

Panic surged in him, but Pip fought it down. “Ash, let go. Let go of me,” he hissed, struggling to keep his tone calm as his heart beat a frantic rhythm in his breast.

Instead of easing off, Ash put his full weight on Pip’s back and dragged Pip’s wrists together above his head. “Why, Colin?” Ash’s voice was mournful and hollow. “Why must it always be like this?”

Despite his resolve to stay calm, Pip started to struggle. He couldn’t help it. His blood was pounding in his ears, and he was beginning to feel feverish and chilled at the same time. He had to get free before he lost what sense was left to him.

“Please,” Ash whispered before he squeezed Pip’s wrists together in one hand and began clawing at Pip’s trousers with the other. The sound of tearing cloth split the air.

“No!”

Fear claimed him as it had before, and Pip bucked Ash off him. They grappled a bit, but Pip had the advantage of sobriety and muscle. He felt his elbow connect painfully with something, and Ash grunted. Pip sprang from the bed before Ash could recover, and he was through the door only a moment later. He kept enough of his wits this time that he didn’t go running out into the snow, but only just. He threw himself through the door to the kitchen and down the hall, banging his shoulder and smashing his toe in the darkness.

A moment after he slammed his door closed and bolted it, he heard Mrs. Applethwaite’s frightened voice from the hall. “Pip? Pip is that you? What’s happening?”

Pip’s chest heaved as he struggled to breathe normally. “Nothing, Missus.” He dragged in a ragged breath and tried again. “Master couldn’t sleep. Needed me ’elp getting back to bed is all.”