Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

S etting a broken leg was never a pleasant business, but especially when it was a child, so Robert had to work quickly. Fred, who had come with him to assist, held the boy tight, despite the young boy’s screams in his ears. As much as young John had promised not to squirm, there was no helping the pain of a broken bone, which made him thrash about in protest. Even though Robert had tried to be gentle, taking a firm grasp of the two parts of his leg had proven to be too much, and the poor boy lost consciousness from the pain and exhaustion.

It was only after the boy had fallen silent that his mother’s weeping could be heard on the other side of the door. Though Robert did feel sorry for the lad, it was easier to get the work done this way, when his body had gone soft, no longer stiff and fighting against Robert’s efforts.

Fred let out a sigh, sweat beading down his temple, but Robert did not miss the sheen of tears in his eyes as well. “Poor child. Will he be all right?”

Robert nodded. “He will. Only hold him a little longer, should he wake up.” Without releasing his grip, Robert glanced at Fred. “Ready the splint.”

Taking a steadying breath, Robert gently felt along the boy’s shin, and found the separated bone, that had thankfully not broken through skin. If it had, the only end result likely would have been amputation, and Robert would have hated to make John suffer through that. It would have changed the rest of his life, but he could recover from this break.

“Ready?” he said, almost more to himself than to Fred, who nodded. Robert gave a hard shove to the two parts of the leg. It cracked with an unnatural sound, and John’s body jolted, and though he let out a groan in his unconscious state, he did not wake. Fred acted quickly with the splints, placing them on either side of the newly righted leg, which let Robert wrap it up tight with his rags in a hurry.

“There. It is finished.” Robert sighed with relief, as Fred moved to open the door.

John’s mother, Mrs. Brown, rushed into the room, tears evident on her cheeks. “Oh, my dear boy,” she whispered, moving to kneel beside the bed and brush her fingers across John’s head.

“He will likely rest for some time and will need to remain off his feet for at least a week,” Robert explained. “He can take laudanum or ale to dull the pain, and I will not have him walk on it until I can return to see him in the coming weeks.”

She nodded emphatically and reached out for Robert’s hand. “I cannot thank you enough, Doctor. You saved my boy.”

“I’m glad I could help, and that the break was not any worse. I am confident he will have a smooth recovery.” Robert assured her by patting her hand.

“And Mr. Scrooge.” Mrs. Brown turned and took Fred’s hand. “Thank you for accompanying him.”

“I was thankful for the opportunity to assist, and I’m happy to hear little John should be all right in the end.” Fred gave her a bright smile.

Mrs. Brown stood and wiped her eyes. “I don’t have much to offer in coin, but we’ll have carrots ready to harvest next week, and I can prepare the finest apple pie you’ve ever had.”

Robert smiled, nodding in acceptance. This was a typical response for his services, especially among the neighboring counties. At least, when visiting the lower class. On rare occasions that he was called to a large estate, an actual payment was always welcome. But even here, any offering would be a blessing. For he loved carrots, and especially apple pie.

They headed back out into the cold and retrieved their horses, then made ready for the few miles back to Hamstead. The weather had turned cold and gray, and such weather always made Robert’s own leg ache, from an injury long ago. In his younger years, Caroline had once pushed him down the well in the middle of town. And yet, it did not make him bitter as it had before. Thinking of that moment in time always made him smile, for it had only been an accident. He blamed only his youthful fascination of her, and she with her desire to do good but not knowing how. She had been a different person entirely back then.

“Do such visits make you think of your own injured leg?” Fred asked as the horses moved down the path.

Robert chuckled. “Not every time. I feel it most keenly when the weather turns cold, or when a storm is brewing. But I was just thinking about that. How did you know?”

“I suppose you had a certain look on your face.” Fred gave him a knowing smile. “It’s a familiar one, that I had not seen for a while, which I assumed meant you were thinking of Caroline.”

How could Robert’s own thoughts and feelings be so obvious? He would have to learn to school his features better.

“Would you mind a personal question, Robert?” Fred asked, his tone light and not teasing. “You’re not obliged to answer if you prefer.”

Robert could only imagine what his friend would ask, and there was no escaping it when they were the only two on the road. “Out with it.”

“You should know that I only ask because of my worry on both your accounts.” Fred took a breath before asking, “In spite of everything that’s happened with Caroline, do you still care for her?”

Tension crawled up Robert’s body, first gnawing in his stomach before taking root in his chest. “There’s no beating around the bush with you, is there?”

Fred just shrugged. Robert had no thoughts on how to properly respond, for he had not been able to make sense of his own emotions since the woman had returned.

“There is no one answer to such a question. I think some part of me always will care for Caroline. She was my first… everything,” he said, stumbling over his words. “Do I begrudge her that day at the well, which left me with a limp when it’s cold? No, for we were children then. Do I hate her for everything that happened since then?” Robert took a deep breath, his mind briefly flittering over their former connection which ended in a shattering blow. “I ought to.”

“Do you wish things had turned out differently?” Fred asked gently.

“How could I, when it took marrying another that brought me my two children?”

“You know what I mean.”

Robert sighed and swallowed the lump in his throat. “Sometimes, yes. But that doesn’t mean I expect things will be different now. She will be leaving after Christmas, then everything will go back to the way it was, and I wish her well.”

Fred nodded, but Robert did not miss he had more to say.

“I feel like you should know that I intend to help her find a reason to stay.”

Robert’s head jerked in his friend’s direction. “What? Why?”

“I have a sneaking suspicion that Caroline has nothing to go back to London for. I think she is lonely. Here she has property, income, family, and now I just need to find her a purpose. I don’t expect that you would be that purpose, but perhaps you and she could make amends, and perhaps find some peace.”

Such a thought made Robert shiver, even more than from the blustering wind. “You ought to leave her alone, Fred. Let her live her life as she sees fit.”

“Hmm, yes, well… we don’t always do the things we ought, isn’t that right?”

Robert glared at the rector, who used his own words against him. “Do not get your hopes up on my behalf.”

“On the contrary, my friend. My hopes have already been secured. Now there is only to take action.”

Too exhausted to dwell on the topic further, Robert changed the subject and carried their conversation down another vein. But the emotion of that discussion lingered with him, during their trek home. They stabled the horses in Fred’s small barn, and Lily invited Robert in for dinner, but he declined, eager to return his children. So he waved goodbye as he rounded the corner of the road.

Robert’s eyes fell on the parish graveyard, making him pause for the briefest moment at the iron gate. His eyes counted the headstones until he found the spot of both his parents, and his late wife, Edith, but it wasn’t just them. His position as town doctor meant he knew a great many who had been buried here over the years. Though he had grown unfortunately familiar with this place even before the start of his profession, it was a reminder of heartbreak of a different kind.

A small motion to his side drew his attention down the lane, and his eyes fell on a woman’s figure dressed in a hooded cloak. He could recognize her face anywhere, but her cloak was a color Robert had never seen before. A divine blueish green, and he was certain such a color only money could produce. It stood out in contrast against the colorful dying trees and the darkness of the descending evening. His heart took to pounding in his chest, finding himself trapped. Robert had no desire to be alone with this woman.

“What brings you here, Robert?” Caroline asked, her voice surprisingly light.

He straightened his shoulders, hoping to shield himself from her. “Good evening, Mrs. Marley.”

Her eyes narrowed, no doubt noting the use again of her married name. “You may call it good if you wish.”

He did not have the patience for her arrogance today. “I have only just come from making visits with your brother.” He paused, and when she did not say anything, he went on. “You are well, I presume?”

“Of course I am. I thought the cloak would be indication enough.” She straightened her shoulders. “My period of mourning has ended, so I thought it only right to visit my aunt, especially if she’s to leave me her entire estate.”

It was very gracious indeed, far more than he expected from Caroline. Robert stepped back, making the entrance available to her. “Do not let me keep you.”

But she did not make a move to pass through the gate, and instead stiffened where she stood. “I can pay my respects from here. You know I do not like going in. That statue…”

Robert lifted his brows in surprise, that she would be the first to mention their shared history. “Yes, I remember,” he said quietly. At the very back of the graveyard stood a statue of an angel. The stone was nearly black, and when it rained, it admittedly bore the expression of frightful lamentations, although in the sunlight, it could only be accounted for as an angel of mercy.

“Are your parents buried here?” Caroline asked, shaking him from his thoughts.

He nodded. “They are.”

“Then I will pay them my respects as well,” she said, her voice a touch softer. “They were never fond of me, but they were never unkind to me.”

Robert pressed his lips together. You never liked them either, he wanted to say. “And your parents are…”

“Buried in London,” she finished for him. “Father’s family is buried here, but he had no desire to return to Hamstead, even in death.”

So much hung between them with that understanding, for she was proving to be the very same. She did not wish to be here, either.

Caroline suddenly turned her entire body to face him, such boldness catching him off guard, even though it shouldn’t have. She had always been so, especially with him.

“It has been brought to my attention that if I must endure the next few weeks in Hamstead, then I ought to reconcile the unfinished parts of my past, which I believe includes you.” Her words came out methodically, as if rehearsed. But there was no missing the shift in her demeanor when her shoulders wilted, her brow softening. “I know our last parting was not pleasant, therefore I wish to offer my apologies for any unmet expectations or disappointed hopes. You may not wish to forgive me, but I hope you will not despise me entirely.”

Robert’s heart thundered in his chest, for he had not expected to confront this subject so soon. Admitting she felt any guilt at all was surprising, but he had hoped he might escape discussing their history altogether. And yet, his response came out of him easily, without hesitation.

“I do not hate you, Caroline.” He glanced down at his boots, her given name escaping before he could stop it.

She pursed her lips. “I do not believe you, for you have avoided me since the moment I returned.”

Robert sighed, his breath appearing in a puff of cold before his face. He wished it could somehow shield him, and hide from her his emotions that struggled within. “I will tell you the whole of it, then. I have avoided you, because it pains me to see you, to be near you.” He ground his jaw, wishing to stay the words that so easily escaped. “That day you dismissed me, when you told me that we would never marry and that you were leaving Hamstead for good, it destroyed me.” He dared a glance up at her. “You broke my heart, just as my mother always said you would.”

Only then did Caroline cast her eyes to the ground.

“But I do not hate you,” Robert went on in a quiet tone. “I simply cannot trust you.”

When her head whipped up, her eyes were dark, brow again furrowed. She reacted as if he had struck her, but his hands were firmly tucked in his coat pockets. She needed to understand that, even if she had all the wealth and power to make a luxurious life for herself in London, there were still consequences for her actions in the place she left behind, and it was not something that any amount of money could fix.

“I wish you well, Caroline,” Robert managed to say, before tipping his hat. “Good night.”

He walked down the path, not wanting to appear in a hurry, but not wanting to remain in her presence a moment longer. It wasn’t just that he couldn’t trust her, but he couldn’t trust himself when he was around her. For even though it was more than a decade that had separated them, though she had grown into a cold and distant woman, he could feel the same fondness from their childhood seeping into his bones and threatening his heart. Or perhaps it was simply a notion that had never really left him completely.