Chapter 7
Do As The Doctor Says
Doctor Paul Martin left the examination room, wiping his hands on a towel. "Miss Heatherstone is waiting for you, Adam."
"How is she, Doc?"
"Oh, she's fine. A bit shaken, though; her nerves are quite rattled, I have to say. And she didn't take the stitches too well." The doctor smiled. "But aside from that, she's all right. Wanted to go straight back to work, actually. But I convinced her to take the afternoon off and take it nice and slowly."
"You convinced her? How'd you do that?" Adam looked at the doctor incredulously.
"I just told her," Doc Martin replied equally quizzically. "This lady is a complete lamb. I really don't understand why everybody tells me she's difficult."
Adam couldn't believe he heard right. "You just told her? And she complied?"
"Why, yes, Adam."
"Are you sure she's all right?"
"Adam, I told you she's fine. A bit wobbly, maybe, but after a good night's rest she will be right as rain." The doctor gave Adam a bewildered glance. "What's the matter, Adam? Are you alright? What happened to your thumb, anyway?"
Adam returned a rather irritated glare. "A minor accident, nothing to be concerned about."
"I could have a short look at it..." The doctor jerked his chin invitingly to the surgery.
"No, thanks, doc. Hop Sing took care of it already; and it's as good as healed," Adam shook the offer off. "If you don't mind, I'd like to check on Miss Heatherstone now."
"You're welcome to do so." The doctor made an inviting gesture to the examination room and followed Adam inside.
Juliet was sitting on a wide chair, her face still paler than usual, her hands clasped in her lap and her eyes downcast. She was wearing a narrow bandage around her head, that gave her the look of a bizarre mixture of a Paiute squaw and a Roman goddess. A very annoyed Roman goddess. Adam had to stifle a chuckle.
Juliet acknowledged the entrance of the men with a short upward glance. "Don't," she warned. "Not a single word, Adam!"
"I wouldn't dream of it," Adam muttered. Louder he said, "How do you feel, Juliet?"
"I'm fine, thank you. I'm going home now, if the good doctor lets me." She stood from the chair, but had to grip for the back to keep her steady.
"Juliet?" Adam was at her side in one long stride and took her elbow.
"I'm fine, I'm fine." She released the armrest and looked at him defiantly. "Just a momentary lightheadedness. Really, stop fussing!"
"I think it'll be better if Mr. Cartwright guides you home, Miss Heatherstone," the doctor barged in.
"I don't think this is necessary, Doctor," Juliet said in a rather poor attempt at her usual imperiousness.
Doctor Martin gave her an intense gaze. "Miss Heatherstone..."
"Oh, all right, all right!" Juliet all but threw her hands in the air. "Then let's go already, Adam!" She gripped his arm and nearly dragged him out of the doctor's office. Holding tight to his arm her eyes fell on his bandaged hand. "What happened to you?"
"Cut my thumb chopping wood. It's okay now, nearly healed."
"Oh. Good, then." She gave him a brief smile and added in her usual ironic tone, "Better watch what you're doing or next time there won't be anything left to bandage."
Adam appreciated Juliet's mocking. Like most people who didn't like to be fussed over, Juliet didn't fuss much either. And that, Adam considered a very pleasant trait in a woman.
They were almost out the front door when she remembered her manners, turned back and said, "Goodbye, Doctor; thank you for your service. I assume you'll send your bill to my address at Widow Hawkins'."
"I'll do that, thanks. Bye, Adam, Miss Heatherstone. And be sure to take my advice and rest for the remainder of the day!"
"Yes, Doctor." And with that, and Adam's farewell to Paul Martin, they were on their way to Juliet's residence.
Adam noticed that Juliet, despite her insistence of being 'fine', was walking considerably slower than usual, and gripped at his arm for assistance time and again.
"Are you sure you're all right?" he asked her, when she stumbled and tightened her clutch.
"I told you I was fine." Juliet's voice held that strain again. He knew he shouldn't have asked again, but, for heaven's sake, he was concerned about her. He had never seen her like this before. But maybe a more playful attempt would be better received.
"Yes, and you also told me you were fine right before you fainted," Adam said with a mocking smile and a cocked eyebrow.
"It ended that crazy argument, didn't it?" Her attempt of a raised eyebrow ended in a wince when the motion pulled on her stitches. She restricted herself to a glare and a low huff.
Adam snorted. "You don't want to tell me you did it on purpose, do you?"
"Pfft!" Obviously Juliet didn't even find this worth an answer. Or she was more rattled than Doctor Martin had evaluated. Adam looked at her inquiringly. She glared back and rolled her eyes. Well, that was rather encouraging. She couldn't be too bad off, and so Adam decided to change the subject.
"Why is it that Doc Martin holds so much authority over you?"
Juliet gave him a brief glance and then ducked her head. She looked like a child caught in mischief. But to his utter astonishment she answered without another prod. "He looks very much like my father, Adam."
He chuckled. "What?"
She smiled, sheepishly. "Don't tell him, but to contradict Dr. Martin somehow would be like contradicting my father."
"And you wouldn't want to do that to your father?" he prompted.
He knew he was walking on thin ice. Juliet only gave bits and pieces of her past and only in her own time. If she felt pushed, she would back off immediately. So Adam only asked very cautiously and was prepared to wait an indefinite time before he would be able to put everything together into one big picture.
Juliet's face fell, and suddenly her expression was—well, Adam could find no other word to describe the distress on her pale features—desolate. Her eyes searched his face as if she was trying to determine whether or not he would be able to understand the magnitude of what she was going to say. Eventually she cast her eyes down and said in a very subdued voice, "I already disappointed him enough."
Adam stared at her. In her stance there was nothing left of the Queen, and very little of the other Juliet, the playful, relaxed, easygoing, yet thoughtful and caring Juliet, the one only he seemed to know. She looked astonishingly small and lost and devastated. Adam wanted nothing more than to enfold her in his arms and tell her everything would be all right; that he would make everything all right. What would she do if he tried? Adam was sure that somewhere in the mysterious decrees of Miss Westlake, Juliet's governess back at Barnstoke Hall, there existed an entry about where and when it was appropriate to gather a titled lady in one's arms, and that the answer to that was nowhere and never. But Juliet didn't seem too determined to always keep things by those guidelines, even though she mostly tried to keep the pretense, so maybe he could risk—
Well, obviously he had wavered too long. Abruptly Juliet snorted, straightened her posture, resumed her walk and said, in a voice so cynical that it bordered on bitterness, "Not that that was too hard to accomplish."
Adam heard it, and he saw it. She was agitated, flushed, and on the verge of tears.
"I can't think of anything you could have done to disappoint your father, Juliet," he tried to calm her down.
She stood again, turned to him, and said sharply, "You don't know too much about me, Adam." She bit her lip. "I'm sorry, that was uncalled for." She looked at him, pleading for forgiveness first; but then Adam watched in amazement how her tightly pressed lips melted in to a broad smile that developed to a real and honest laugh. He had never met a person who was able to show so many facets in such a short time.
Juliet shook her head. "Pellham Peabody Wilcox the Third," she announced chuckling, and leaned back against the wall of Widow Hawkins' barn.
"Sorry?"
"Pellham Peabody Wilcox. The Third. Barely five feet five, thin hair, thin fingers, thin chest; believed in the evilness of men, hated theatres, wine and books you can laugh about. But he was rich, and he had no reservations against a wife who was so tall that she could spit on his head. A perfect match, in father's eyes." She looked expectantly at Adam.
"A perfect match—with you?" Adam couldn't believe it. "And your father was disappointed that you didn't consider this Pellham Peacox Whatbody as a perfect match?"
"Well, yes. This and that there would never be a little Pellham Peabody Wilcox the Fourth, heir of Barnstoke."
"Oh. I see." Adam winced sympathetically. "May I ask...what happened with you and ole Pellham?"
"Well, it turned out he did mind a woman who could spit on his head after all."
She looked at him, impassive. He watched her, his thoughts racing. Had she? Her right eyebrow twitched, her eyes sparkled.
Adam emitted a short snort. "You didn't."
A half smile. More sparkling.
"You did?"
A fully grown grin.
"No!"
"Yes." She sniggered. "Right on the bald spot. It was wonderful!"
"Naughty, naughty, Mylady!" He barely managed this through his snorts of laughter.
"Father thought so, too. But he couldn't see the humour in it. He was...very disappointed."
Adam sobered at her suddenly much more serious tone. "And he didn't trust you to find someone else?" he inquired.
"Would you marry me?" Juliet blushed. "No, pardon me, I didn't mean to...well. It's just, I've never been the most desirable choice for 'suitable' bachelors and, frankly speaking, I've never considered—" She broke off, suddenly, frowning and listening to—what? "Do you hear that?"
Adam wasn't sure if there even was something to hear, or if this was just another one of Juliet's creative schemes to end a conversation on the topic of her past. But after straining his ear he heard it too. A faint childish whimpering from inside the barn. They exchanged a short glance, seeing the same intention in each other's eyes, and entered the barn.
They spotted the boy almost immediately. Josiah, the stage coach station manager's son and hired stable boy for Niobe, Juliet's horse, clung to the tall chestnut's neck, his face buried in the red mane. He was sobbing uncontrollably.
Juliet reached out for the eleven-year-old, and when the boy started and tried to back away, she took hold of his arm and pulled him into an embrace. "Dear God, what happened, Josiah? Are you alright?"
The boy lifted his tear-stained face to her and stuttered, "Yes, no. Yes—I don' know, I...I've, I've done some bad..."
Juliet got her handkerchief out and wiped Josiah's face. "Shh; first of all, you stop crying. Then you tell me what happened, and then we'll see how we make it better. All right?"
Adam watched her in surprise. Actually he was a bit stunned that she had taken over so naturally. He had never seen her display any interest in children; but now her face was full of deep concern and her voice void of any imperiousness. In fact, she sounded like a loving and caring mother. Another layer of Juliet's personality, Adam thought, amazed at this new discovery. He wondered how many more there were to find.
Gently coaxed by Juliet, and interrupted by a lot of sobbing, hiccupping and sniffling, Josiah finally delivered the reason for his miserable state. Apparently he had forgotten to feed Niobe on Monday. Now the boy was in deep concern for the health of the horse, and for the continuation of his job as a stable boy.
After Josiah had finished his speech, Juliet considered him silently for a long time. When she eventually started to speak, it was in a quiet, serious voice.
"Josiah, why didn't you tell me?"
"I was scared..."
"Scared—of me?" Juliet sounded nearly...hurt.
"That ya'll fire me, and that ya'll hate me..."
Juliet pinched the bridge of her nose and took a deep breath. "Why in heaven's name should I hate you, Josiah?"
"'Cause I've done bad, an' I lied, an'—"
"Well, you have done wrong and, all the worse, you did lie to me; and I have to say I don't like that very much, Josiah."
"Now, Juliet—" Adam barged in only to be interrupted by Juliet.
"Not now, Adam," she said shooting him a sparkling glare. Then she turned back to Josiah.
"You're a boy doing a man's work," Juliet said, warding off Josiah's protest about being called a boy with only a raised hand and a lifting of her eyebrows that entailed another pained wince. "And you're doing it very well. I appreciate your good labour. But even a man makes mistakes sometimes, and so did you. Josiah, that you forgot to feed Niobe is nothing but an unfortunate mistake. And I'm sure Mr. Cartwright will certify that she won't fall ill because of a single day without fodder."
At that Adam nodded and winked at the boy. "She'll be fine as frog's hair. But I'm quite certain she wouldn't mind a second helping of oats today."
Josiah looked like someone who had had a load taken off his mind.
"But you really shouldn't have lied to me, Josiah. If there's one thing I can't stand it is being lied to."
The boy's face fell again. He sounded nearly comically devastated when he asked, "An' now ya hate me, ma'am?"
Juliet sighed. "I hate what you have done, Josiah, but that doesn't mean I hate you. In fact, I like you very much; and I'd be much obliged if you'd continued to look after Niobe. I only want your promise that you won't lie to me again."
Josiah's velocity in changing expressions could only be challenged by Juliet's, Adam thought. The boy's face became one single wide beam. "I promise ya, ma'am, I promise!"
"You are aware that any breach of that pledge will entail an immediate annulment of our stipulation?" Juliet delivered this very formally and imperiously, but with much self-mocking.
Josiah screwed up his face. "Err, what?"
Adam opened his mouth for an explanation, but Juliet silenced him with a hand on his arm. She caught Josiah's eyes, smiled at him and said softly, "Just don't lie to me, hmm?" She patted his cheek and then gave him a gentle nudge on his nose. "Now go and play with Will; I'm sure he's been waiting for you since school ended."
Adam was sure that the astonished look on Josiah's face matched his own. He'd never thought Juliet would know anything more about the boy than his name. And yet another puzzle piece, Adam thought.
Josiah spat into his dirty hand and held it out to Juliet. Without any hesitation she took it and looked at him expectantly. "I'm not gonna lie ta ya no more, ma'am," he said with the profound seriousness only a child could provide. "Cross my heart and I hope ta die!"
Juliet obviously had a hard time keeping her face composed. "Very well, Josiah. Now be off!"
The boy sped away at maximum speed; and Adam and Juliet watched him skidding around the stable's corner at the narrowest possible angle.
Adam offered Juliet his arm, and the way she readily accepted it told him even more than her pale face that she had reached the end of her strength. "Let's get you home now, Juliet," he said.
It was only a few strides to Mrs. Hawkins' house and from the swinging of the curtain in the front window Adam could tell that the widow was watching them already. But before he'd commit Juliet to the care of the old lady he had one more thing to get off his chest. "Do you realise how much that boy adores you?"
Juliet laughed softly. "He loves Niobe. He'd do anything for her."
Adam shook his head. "He cherishes the ground you're walking on, Juliet. If he was twenty years older I'd be mighty concerned about him," he chuckled.
Juliet looked at him in surprise. "Is that what you are really thinking?"
"Oh yeah, Mylady!"
And for the first time that day, Adam saw Juliet looking completely content, smiling happily and genuinely.
ooOoo
If you want children to keep their feet on the ground,
put some responsibility on their shoulders. ~ Abigail Van Buren