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52. Chapter 52

Chapter 52

The following afternoon, Cassandra stood outside the Golden Lion waiting for Xander’s coach to arrive. Jethro had offered to accompany her, but she had declined his escort, saying Martin’s presence would suffice.

Truth to tell, she would have liked to have her husband’s support, but she didn’t want to put him through what she expected to be an emotional reunion with her brother.

More than that, she feared what Xander might say, and she could not bear to witness him criticising Jethro, when her husband was being so generous as to welcome him back into their house.

She smoothed down the front of her dress repeatedly in an effort to keep her hands busy. What state would Xander be in? Would he require a nurse? Would he be able to walk? To work? To live a normal life again? So many questions, and no answers.

The other uncertainty looming over them was the wretched dinner party Mr Wade had invited them to. She dared not leave Jethro to fend off the Framptons alone, but the prospect filled her with dread.

At least there was little likelihood of her brother accepting Mr Wade’s invitation to join them and making things worse. She was certain Xander would not care to see Eugenia again so soon after his return.

As the coach trundled into the yard and drew to a halt, Cassandra stowed her own troubles away and prepared to meet her brother’s. She had received no word from him apart from a brief note of thanks telling her when he planned to arrive in Weymouth.

Nothing about how he was coping, though she would find out soon enough.

The man let down the steps, and the passengers alighted. No Xander. Had he missed the coach?

She stepped up to the vehicle and was about to address the driver when a noise from inside the carriage alerted her to Xander’s presence.

“An arm would be useful, sister.”

Cassandra climbed the steps and saw her brother was struggling to get up from his place.

“It’s been a long journey, and my leg’s gone numb. I can hardly move.”

She entered the interior of the coach and bent low over her brother. He hooked one arm about her neck and pulled. The heaviness of his body almost knocked her over as he hauled himself out of the seat, his face racked with pain.

“Stick.”

Cassandra excused his brusque manner and looked around. Her eyes alighted on a crude wooden stick lying on the floor beside him. She picked it up and slipped it into his hand.

“Not now, you idiot. At the bottom of the steps.”

Cassandra gulped hard and held onto the cane, trying not to be upset by his rudeness. There was no sign that he was pleased to see her at all. No welcome. No kiss. Not even a warm word. Nothing.

He’d treated her harshly, as if she were an inept servant. She should have sent Martin to help him instead.

She alighted from the carriage and waited for Xander to follow.

“You,” he called to her footman from the top of the steps. “If you don’t want me to land in a heap on the ground and prevent the coach from getting away on time, I suggest you give me a hand.”

At a nod from Cassandra, Martin hurried forward to offer an arm to her brother as he laboriously climbed down from the carriage.

Sweat was pouring from his brow as he reached the bottom. She could only imagine what pain he must be in.

“Stick.”

She handed him the walking implement and, leaning heavily on the aid, he stumbled his way across the yard.

Cassandra asked Martin to arrange for the carrier to bring Xander’s trunk to the house, and then offered her arm to her brother.

With a grunt, Xander took it for his own support, not hers .

“I didn’t expect you to travel without your valet. Where’s Cottman? You could have done with his help on the journey.”

“Dead.”

Cassandra gasped. “I didn’t realise. I’m so sorry. It makes me all the more thankful that you are alive.”

“Barely.”

“But nevertheless, alive.”

“I wish I were dead.”

Not a good start. “But God has seen fit to spare you, so here you are.”

“Yes. Here I am. A worthless excuse of a man. Forced to rely on my sister. A burden, not a blessing.”

Cassandra restrained a sigh. If he was going to be this bad-tempered, he might well prove to be a burden, but it would do neither of them any good to say so. She must remain positive.

“We’re family, Xander. Jethro is happy to provide for you.”

“Happier than I am to rely on him. How humiliating.”

Said the man who had charged his bill at the Golden Lion to her husband. Had a close brush with death changed him so much?

Xander winced and took a sharp intake of breath. Cassandra chided herself for not asking Jethro for the chaise. It was only a short way, and she had thought the fresh sea air would do her brother good, but it seemed she was mistaken.

“How do you feel?”

He stopped their slow progress and stared at her, his mouth turned down in scorn. “How do you think I feel? ”

Well, that was something. At least he had enough wits about him not to swear at his sister.

“I don’t know. Tell me.”

He grunted again, and they resumed their hesitant walk toward home. It was a relief when the brief journey was over, and Xander struggled up the steps and into the house.

His face was so pale she thought he might faint. It was disconcerting. She had never seen him look so weak—so vulnerable.

“Would you like to go up to your room to rest?”

“No, I darn well wouldn’t, unless you want me to damage even more of this useless body, as I doubt I could climb half a dozen stairs without falling. A chair, Cassandra. I need to sit. Now.”

She plastered a thin smile on her lips. “Yes, of course. ”

With one hand grasping his stick and the other tucked in her arm, he staggered the last few steps to the drawing room and collapsed into the nearest seat.

He sat there, breathing heavily, with his eyes closed, and for a moment she thought he had fallen asleep.

His grip on the cane loosened, and it fell to the floor unheeded. She was about to leave him to rest when he opened one eye.

“Tired of me already?”

“You were asleep.”

“Just resting my eyelids.”

“Are you hungry? Shall I bring you some bread and cold meat?”

“Nah. All I need is a tankard of ale and some more laudanum,” he said, pulling a flask out of his pocket and taking a swig.

Cassandra rang the bell for the beer her brother wanted, and sat staring at him.

What had they done to him? Xander was a mere shell of the man he had been. And it was not only his leg. That much was clear.

His confidence had received as many fragments of shrapnel as his limbs, and she feared they would be even harder to extract.

Cassandra stayed with Xander for the rest of the afternoon. He wasn’t inclined to talk, but neither did he want to be left alone. She didn’t know what to do with him.

He was tired. He would be better after he had rested, wouldn’t he?

At half past four, she made her escape, excusing herself from his suffocating company.

She hovered in the hall, waiting for Jethro to walk through the door at his usual time. She needed to warn him about the strange state of mind her brother was in.

Sure enough, as the clock struck the quarter hour, her husband entered the house.

“Cassandra—what a pleasant surprise,” he said, leaning over and pecking her cheek.

Was it such a surprise? Wasn’t it their routine? No. Not recently. She hadn’t waited in the hall for him since—when?

The day she had asked him about Xander. Was it really that long ago? They had both been so busy, they had fallen out of the habit.

She lifted a hand to where his lips had touched her skin, and her eyes misted over. It was the first time he’d kissed her cheek in as long.

His brow crinkled with concern. “Is all well? Alexander?”

“Yes, he’s arrived, but he is far from well. I have to warn you, he is different. Melancholy. He has always been so talkative before, but now he just sits and hardly says a word.”

Jethro hooked her arm in his. “You must give him time. He’s tired from his journey.”

“I know, but I’m afraid…”

She lifted her gaze to meet his. “I’m afraid he will never be the same.”

He squeezed her hand. “No, but that may not be a bad thing,” he said in a gentle voice that took the sting out of his words. “Being afraid will not help him, but praying will. With God’s help, there is always hope.”

Jethro was right. She must not give up hoping. For Xander’s sake—and theirs.

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