Chapter 4

four

T HE ‘AS SOON as you can travel’ statement turned into six weeks thanks to Perry’s weak health.

He couldn’t complain though since he’d left the bright white hospital to stay at home. Everyone, from the servants to his brother, pampered and spoiled him. Edith and her father visited him almost every day to keep him company. He was never alone.

Since Christmas was coming, Perry and Albert would leave in March when the nice weather would allow for a more pleasant trip. Perry’s condition hadn’t improved much. He couldn’t talk, his movements were jerky at best, and sometimes a buzzing noise would ring into his ears for no reason. On a positive note, his headaches had almost disappeared, and he was, well, alive.

Sitting on an armchair in the drawing room with Edith and her father, Perry focused on one of the many physical exercises he had to practise every day. Doctor’s order.

“Hold my hand as hard as you can,” Dr. Winkworth said, taking Perry’s left hand. “Use all the strength you can muster, my lord.”

Bugger. He wanted to tell Dr. Winkworth to stop calling him ‘my lord.’ He’d written down his request many times, but the older man refused to call him Perry.

Since his ability to speak had been impaired, he’d taken the habit of having a piece of paper and a pencil at hand at all times. Not that writing was simpler than speaking. He had to focus on controlling his hand and forming the letters. Sometimes he’d sweat so difficult writing was.

He put all his effort into contracting his fingers and squeezing Dr. Winkworth’s big hand as much as he could. But the result was disappointing, to say the least. He wouldn’t be able to snap a dry twig with his weak fingers.

“It’s all right, my lord.” Dr. Winkworth released him and took notes on his notepad. “You’re making progress. Your right hand is definitely stronger than the left one.”

Really? He didn’t feel any difference.

“Now try to push against my palms.” Dr. Winkworth opened his hands.

Perry took a deep breath. The good doctor was broad, tall, and strong, a stark contrast with Edith who was short. But they shared the same green eyes and steely determination.

She watched him practise with an anxious expression that was becoming her perpetual one.

He pushed with all his strength, confident that a vein was about to explode in his neck from the exertion, but the resulting movement never matched the energy he poured into it.

“That’s all right.” Dr. Winkworth released him.

“You’re doing great, Perry,” Edith said.

He smiled. Her encouraging words never failed to make him feel better. Her health had improved as well. In fact, aside from her constantly worried expression, she was the same lovely girl he’d met at Rosherville Gardens.

“When a head trauma is involved,” Dr. Winkworth said, taking notes, “the aftermaths are unpredictable. The strength of the blow being equal, each person reacts in a different way, and we don’t know why. Some patients recover very quickly. Others take longer.” He shook his head. “Your ordeal was a senseless tragedy. The only good thing about the sinking of Princess Alice is that the government decided to clean up the Thames. No more polluted water.” He turned to his daughter, smiling fondly. “Would you like to specialise in head traumas, darling? You’ve become quite knowledgeable in the past months.”

Edith lowered her gaze. “I don’t know, Father. I think for now I’ll focus on getting stronger.”

Dr. Winkworth’s brow furrowed. “I have to go to the hospital, my lord. I’ll see you tomorrow for more practice.” He stuffed his notepad into his leather bag. “Darling.” He kissed his daughter’s cheek. “Don’t tire His Lordship.”

“I won’t, Father.” She sat on the chair her father had vacated. “Are you tired?”

He showed her the page of his notepad where he’d written ‘no.’ He scribbled on an empty page, “Troubles you?” hoping she’d understand.

“I’ve been thinking about the future and about you.” Her cheeks blushed.

He pointed a questioning finger at himself.

“Remember what we talked about during our walk through Rosherville Gardens? I came to the conclusion that your words were wiser than I thought.”

He shrugged before writing again. “I no wise.” Awful grammar, but that was the best he could do with his uncoordinated movements.

She laughed. “Yes, you’re very wise.”

When she laughed, her eyes sparkled like the sunlight flickering through the emerald leaves of a forest.

He shrugged again and drew a question mark.

“You told me I should enjoy myself more, find a balance between studying and living a normal life. I agree. Being so close to death made me realise how quickly we could go.”

It was only then he realised something. The tip of the pencil broke so fast he wrote.

“Your test?” he asked.

He blamed the blow to his head for having forgotten about her admission test at medical school.

Her smile vanished. “I lost my opportunity. I’ll try next year. It doesn’t matter.”

He took her hand and rubbed her knuckles, hoping she understood how sorry he was.

“It’s all right, really. You’re getting better. My family and I are alive. That’s all that matters.” Yet a tear slid down her cheek.

He caught it before it wet her lips, perhaps pressing his fingers too harshly against her silky skin.

He wanted to mouth, “Don’t be sad,” but his lips didn’t move as smoothly as he wanted. He hoped he hadn’t said anything ridiculous.

She drew her eyebrows together. “You want a cat?”

There. He wrote down simply, “No sad.”

She burst out laughing. “See? I’m not. You made me laugh.”

He cupped her cheek because he didn’t want to write he cared about her. He wanted her to feel it.

She put her hand over his and leant into his palm. “Despite everything, I’m glad we met, and I’m not saying that because we shared a terrifying moment. You’re a wonderful person, Perry.”

He shook his head. Wonderful. Not even his mother had called him wonderful, never mind wise.

“The way you so bravely face your problems is admirable.” She kissed his palm, and a shot of sensation went through him.

It was the first time in weeks that he’d felt an emotion so strong. His body had been numb most of the days, or in pain, but Edith’s kiss woke up every inch of him.

“I wish I were like you,” she whispered.

He stroked the curve of her cheek with his thumb. Even if he were able to speak, he wouldn’t find the words to express his gratitude and affection for her.

“When you come back from Switzerland, I’ll be here for you.” She hugged him gently, and he leant against her.

He promised he’d change himself as well, and he wasn’t talking only about his health. If she was going to be less strict about her studies, he would become more diligent.

For her. For himself. For what he’d learnt in the murky water of the Thames.

If Perry could jump in happiness, he would.

He had to be content with dragging his feet around the dining room. A room that was decorated with colourful wreaths, branches of mistletoe, and the tallest Christmas tree he’d ever seen. Albert had spared no expense and had also invited Edith and her family for the Christmas dinner. During the months Perry had been unconscious, Albert had grown close to the Winkworth family, and Perry couldn’t be happier.

Using a pair of crutches, he staggered to the window to check the street again. He smiled when a carriage stopped in front of his house. Dr. Winkworth climbed out of the carriage to help his wife and daughters. Edith tilted her head up towards the window and waved, holding her hat in place.

He didn’t usually notice what girls wore, but her pretty dark-red dress brightened her face and exalted her eyes.

Albert touched his shoulder. “Are they here? Good. If you get tired, let me know, and I’ll send everyone home.”

Perry smiled and mouthed, “Thank you.” He wanted to say more, that he appreciated everything Albert did for him, but his body wasn’t ready.

Even though his facial muscles didn’t completely obey him, his brother had learnt to understand what Perry meant to say.

Albert’s eyes became suspiciously shiny. “I don’t tell you often enough how much I love you, brother. We had our disagreements”—especially since Perry had behaved with a shocking lack of respect for the rules—“but we’re a family. I’m happy you’re alive and recovering. This Christmas could have been very different.” His voice cracked.

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 he was 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?”

He nodded.

She averted her gaze. “I’ve been so poorly as of late that I don’t have the energy to read or study properly, not as I used to. I tried to start studying again, but I’m having problems staying focused. I get tired easily and have to read a passage a few times before I understand it. I guess my brain needs a respite from what happened.”

“You’re sitting under the mistletoe, Edith,” Marianne said, playing a Christmas song. “And Perry is right next to you.”

An instant flicker began in his chest, spreading warmth to his neck and face.

Edith flushed to the roots of her hair, glancing at him. “It wouldn’t be appropriate.”

Marianne leant forwards from the piano stool. “They aren’t paying attention, and Mother can’t see you from where she sits.”

Perry craned his neck. Marianne was right. The sofa where he and Edith sat faced the hearth while Dr. Winkworth, his wife, and Albert were in a corner on the opposite side of the room. But concern about privacy might not be the reason Edith didn’t want to kiss him.

“I’ll turn away as well.” Winking, Marianne faced the piano again, pressing the keys with more energy.

Edith trapped her bottom lip between her teeth. “Do you want to kiss me?”

Hell, yes. He nodded.

“You know, mistletoe is actually a parasitic plant. It steals water and minerals from the host.”

He laughed, but the sound was croaky and spooky, so he shut his mouth. Only Edith could say something like that.

He took the pencil again; just holding it caused his fingers to stiffen. He meant to ask her if she wanted a kiss, considering it would be a sloppy one, when a strong tingle started to bother the tips of his fingers as if needles pierced his skin. A flash of white light filled his vision, and the pencil and notepad slipped out of his grip.

The next thing he was aware of was that he was lying on the carpet between the sofa and the piano, surrounded by everyone. Edith, Marianne, Dr. Winkworth, Mrs. Winkworth, and Albert stared at him in shock.

He had no idea what had happened to him.

“Perry.” Too much worry filled Edith’s voice.

He propped himself up on his elbows, but Dr. Winkworth stopped him.

“Stay down, my lord. You had a seizure.” Dr. Winkworth touched Perry’s wrist, taking his pulse. “Do you remember anything?”

He shook his head. A seizure. His muscles were indeed sore.

Edith put a cushion underneath his head. “You dropped on the floor. Your limbs went completely stiff at first.”

“Then you were twitching and kicking, and your eyes rolled back,” Marianne added. “Goodness, you scared us all.”

“What is it?” Fear carved deep lines on Albert’s forehead. “What kind of new malady is this?”

Perry breathed hard. Not even the seizures on top of everything else.

Dr. Winkworth checked Perry’s eyes. “A strong head trauma might cause seizures. Sometimes, the seizure is an isolated event, and it won’t repeat itself. Other times, the seizures persist. My lord, if I may suggest something.”

“Yes?” Albert sounded desperate and horrified.

Dr. Winkworth squeezed Perry’s hand in a gesture that seemed to say, ‘I’m sorry, lad.’ “You should leave for Geneva tomorrow. Don’t wait for the spring. The sooner your brother starts his therapy, the better.”

Edith blinked watery eyes at him, and at that moment, Perry realised he didn’t have a say or a choice.

Watching Perry twitching on the floor had been one of the most shocking sights Edith had ever seen.

She’d read about people who endured fits and seizures since they were born and were afflicted by the little-understood disease for all their lives. Those who suffered from seizures were often considered lunatics and either shunned or locked up in an institution, never to be mentioned again. She had no idea a blow in the head could start them.

Standing on the pavement in front of Perry’s house the day after the Christmas dinner, she wondered if she’d ever see him again. His condition required a difficult, long treatment. He wouldn’t return any time soon.

Perry went down the short flight of stairs from the front door with the help of the butler and the footman. The attack from last night had left him pale and visibly shaken, likely worried, and her chest tightened for him. Even Mother, Marianne, and Father stared at him with worry.

The earl waited next to the carriage that would take them to the train station. His black great coat gave him a solemn air, and with the grey sky and freezing air, the atmosphere looked like that of a funeral.

She had yet to decide which one of the two brothers was paler.

Perry climbed into the carriage, helped again by the butler. He slanted her a sad glance that broke her heart.

“My lord,” she said to the earl. “I hope you’ll send us news on Perry’s progress. I’d like to write to him as often as I can.”

“I will, Miss Edith, but I must ask something from you.”

“Anything.”

He inched closer. “Discretion. My family’s name depends on keeping Perry’s… condition a secret.”

“Alas,” Father said, “seizures are still stigmatised today as they were centuries ago. We won’t gossip about Lord Peregrine, my lord.”

The earl gave a nervous nod.

A flare of anger bothered her. She had no intention of blabbering about Perry’s health, and he shouldn’t be locked up in an asylum for his seizures. That was barbaric.

“I won’t say anything, my lord,” she said without looking at the earl.

Father stuck his head inside the carriage and talked to Perry in hushed tones.

“Miss Winkworth, Mrs. Winkworth, Miss Edith.” The earl touched the rim of his hat. “Thank you for everything you did for my brother.”

“We all love Lord Peregrine, my lord,” Mother said, almost sobbing.

“Have a safe trip,” Marianne said.

Edith stuck her head inside the carriage as well. “Get well soon, Perry,” she whispered. “I’m still waiting for that kiss.”

He flashed his pirate-like smile, and for a moment, he looked the same wild boy she’d met months ago. She squeezed his hand and laced her fingers through his.

“I’ll write even if you can’t write back.”

He gave her hand a last squeeze before releasing it.

“Goodbye, Miss Edith.” The earl climbed into the carriage.

Emotion thickened her throat as she said goodbye to Perry. “Have a safe trip. I hope to see you soon, well recovered.”

He gave her a nod that lacked confidence. Then the footman shut the door of the carriage, and she remained on the pavement, watching Perry leave under the grey sky.