Page 16 of The Ones Left Behind
“Come here. I do not like you speaking to my back.”
She stepped forward and looked surprisingly shy for the tartness of her voice a moment ago. She had fully outfitted herself in housekeeper’s garb from the dark worsted wool with a freshly starched white apron, to the plain white cap on her head. He hated it.
“Take it off,” he commanded as though she were one of his sergeants.
She crossed her arms in front of her and narrowed her gaze.
“This attire is appropriate for my position.”
He scowled. “I did not agree to that.”
He saw the look of uncertainty in her eyes and felt like a scoundrel—until she raised her chin in the air. “Very well. I will be changed before you return from your outing.”
“I am not going on an outing,” he retorted.
“Coward,” she muttered before turning away.
He felt Hornsby’s hand stiffen on his arm.
“No,” he said, suddenly calm.
“Then prove it,” she said, already halfway down the hall.
“If you take off the cap and apron.” What had he just committed himself to? And why was he arguing with her as if they were children again?
He watched her turn back and glare at him as she untied the apron then the cap. She dropped them on the nearby table without ever removing her eyes from him. It was a clear challenge.
He gave a reluctant nod and David and Thomas brought the chair forward. He sat back down into it, trying to keep the relief he felt from his face, less Kitty think she had won. Well, perhaps she had bested him by a small margin in this battle, but he would win the war.
The chair lifted beneath him and tipped back as he was carried down the stairs—every single one jarring his leg with pain as excruciating as he imagined an axe to his leg would be. They carried him on out towards the lake and as soon as the sun and fresh air hit his face, some of his black mood fell away.
They set him down beneath the shade of a tree, then stood at attention, as if waiting his next command.
“Leave me,” he said deliberately trying to keep his voice neutral. He was angry, yes, but not with them. They doubtless felt as though they had just moved a boulder up and down a mountain.
As the servants bowed and walked away, Matthias could not help but recall the scenes of his life that had been played out here. Every afternoon he, Kitty and Peter had played in this very spot or nearby, sometimes with his brother too, though they were several years his junior. The old swing hung from the large branch on the massive willow tree at the lake’s edge, its rope now frayed and the wooden swing looking its age. How tempted he was to try to hop on and throw himself into the water! He barked a harsh noise that might have resembled a laugh. In his condition he would probably sink straight to the bottom. The thought was more alluring than it should be.
“Stop it!” he commanded himself. Self-pity was the worst of sins, he knew. It did not make him feel any better. If his younger brother was a worthy fellow, he might not feel obliged to keep himself alive. However, Henry had been his justification. The reason he had defied his father and bought his commission. Yet how would he go on if this was a glimpse into his future? That was a sobering thought, causing him to take the flask from his pocket and draw heavily on the liquid fire that reminded him he was not dead…yet.
* * *
Kitty watchedthe scene unfold from a distance. Things were worse than she had thought. Matthias had changed—understandably—but was he the same person she had always loved, still, beneath this new veneer? Would he ever come back to her?
It was a fine line she would have to walk. Clearly he did not wish for her to be his servant, yet it seemed unlikely there would ever be any more. She thought she had accepted that when she had married Peter.
Her mind raced furiously. How could she convince Matthias to let her stay? It would be difficult, and no matter whether she was there as a relation or as a housekeeper, some people would talk. There was no one she could call upon to act as a chaperone and besides, it was rather too late in the day for that nicety, even though he was virtually incapacitated.
Stones splashed with a plunk as he threw them in anger. He had always been an expert at skimming them, yet since he was not at the proper angle he had, apparently, settled for throwing them. Mayhap it would release some of his frustration. She refused to believe this was the new Matthias. Once he healed from his injury he would walk again and his spirits would improve, surely. But she also knew there was no guarantee and that she could not leave him.
She watched him take a long drink from a flask and shook her head. “That will never do,” she muttered to herself. There had to be something in Lady Thackeray’s garden that could help him. If only she knew what… but was he drinking to help the pain or to try to forget? There was no remedy for that.
First though, she needed to address the problem of him accepting her in this new role. Kitty pursed her lips. It would take convincing Mrs. Harlow to leave, she believed, yet the devoted servant would not go without Matthias’s blessing.
Kitty steeled herself for the confrontation and started down the path that descended the hill to the lake.
“Intending to shed your clothes and jump in? I am afraid I will have to watch instead of joining you,” he said as she drew near, without once looking away from the water.
“There is no need to be crude,” she scolded. “I came to speak with you, if you must know.”
