"This is ridiculous. I'm just dinged up my knee a bit, not blown it off in an explosion! I don't need to go anywhere."
Doctor Barlow opened the cab's door, and climbed in, ignoring the chauffeur's outstretched hand.
"You are coming," she said icily, "whether you would like to or not. Though I may have led you to believe the contrary, I'm not very well trained in the discipline of medicine, and I would rather you recover properly at a convalescent home."
Deryn gave her a glare like murder, and the boffin returned it. The chauffeur shifted uncomfortably.
"It's for the best."
"I'm more useful in London."
"You're more useful walking properly."
"I can walk perfectly! It's been four years!" she said, shifting her cane behind her back.
"No, you can't! I told you not to strain it by overworking it, and the first thing you did?"
"You sound like my mum-"
"You climbed up the side of the primate enclosure," she sighed, voice utterly saturated with impatience.
The chauffeur appeared to be trying not to laugh.
"It wouldn't have gotten better if I hadn't stretched it," Deryn defended.
"Says the young woman with the cane!"
"I'm not going."
There was a long and blazing moment.
"I have written to the Crawleys, and waste a great deal of my very valuable time explaining your unique circumstances, and they have agreed to secure you a space in the house."
"No," she said, crossing her arms and dropping her valise.
The doctor gave her a glance that was hallway between anger and pity. Then, with surprising strength, she leaned forward and grabbed Deryn by the collar and hauled her into the backseat with her, slamming the door. The chauffeur handed her her valise through the partition that separated the front and back seat and clicked to the fab horses, which moved more smoothly than any Clanker automobile.
"I'm sorry. But it's got to be done," said the boffin, surprisingly gently.
Deryn turned to face the window.
"How long?" she growled.
"A week or so, at most."
"They know I'm a girl?" she asked. The driver did a double take.
"Eyes on the road, sir," Barlow said sternly, then turned back to Deryn. "Biologically, a woman, really, but yes, I have told the Crawleys. Your room will not be in the mens' quarters. They're letting you stay in the main house."
"I've slept with men before," said Deryn. "I don't mind."
The doctor gave her a funny look.
"In the same room, as men, I mean," she said, flushing. "I haven't… you know."
"No, thank you for bringing this up. I've been meaning to ask you, have you talked to Aleksandar about contra-"
"Barking spiders! No!" She buried her face in her hands, and the driver had a suspiciously fake-sounding coughing fit interspersed with shocked laughter.
"I don't think anyone should be ashamed of their natural urges, so long as they're responsible about them. But I'm making you uncomfortable, so I'll change the subject. Downton is a nice place to recover, and it won't be long. You'll like the people. You're nineteen?" she asked, and continued without waiting for a response. "The Crawleys' youngest is about your age. Lovely girl. Sarah- no, I think it's Sylvia-"
"Sybil," said the driver briskly. "Her name is Sybil."
"Thank you," said Doctor Barlow, a little taken aback.
"Does Alek know where I'm going?"
"Yes. I left him a note, with your mailing address. If you like, you can write to him once you arrive."
"I still don't want to go."
"Well, you don't have a choice at this point. If you don't fix that leg now, it'll bother you for the rest of your life."
Deryn sighed dramatically in response, and fiddled with her thick string bracelet. It was from 1916, when she had taught Alek how to do a lanyard, and, sweet lad that he was, the first thing he did was to make her something. It had gotten rather ragged and filthy, and the boffin frequently threatened to clip it off. She rubbed at the frayed cotton twine. Ooh, she just loved him so much…
It was going to be a long week.