The low, lingering fever persisted for two days. That, combined with the painful recovery from the train journey left Colin sulky and tired. His days and nights took on a monotonous routine far too reminiscent of his childhood. In hospital he at least had the excuse that he was, well, in hospital. Of course his days were filled with doctors and nurses. Once home, he truly began to feel like an invalid, and that scared him.
Each morning was the same, his nurse would come in and they would struggle through his morning toilet. Slowly he began to attempt to help as Mary or the nurse washed him and got him into a seated position. He would then have to wait for Tom, one of the manservants, to help him onto the sofa. All before taking his breakfast. Whereas in the hospital he had the companionship of his fellow injured soldiers. Back home, his world had shrunk. Literally. In those first couple weeks he rarely left his room, even as his health and energy levels started to recover from the trip. There just wasn't a need. In the hospital he was taken down to the washroom for a bath a couple times a week, to the physiotherapy room every day, and out to the garden or the patient lounge when he felt his best. Here just about everything he needed could be done in his room. Once his strength began to return he had a bit more freedom. He was bathed in the bathroom attached to his bedchamber, he could be wheeled to the library or art gallery down the hall to read. But it was too cold to go into the gardens or into the Thwaite while his health was still so fragile. His physical therapy was done in his bed, so most of his day was spent in his bedchamber. Perhaps unsurprisingly it didn't take long for him to become rather bored of his surroundings.
In the hospital at least he had been moved around a couple of times a day once he was off flat bed rest, he had even been brought outside. Though most of the men in his ward hadn't been healthy enough to talk much they had still managed some conversation, often late at night when their pain was too great or they woke from being turned. Besides his fellow spinal patients there were a half dozen nurses to talk to, then there was Sybil with whom he had quickly rekindled a friendship, his doctors, and the other men in physio whom he had become fast friends with. There was Lieutenant Bloom and Dickon who visited him on the ward. Back at Misselthwaite, his world immediately shrunk to family, staff, and Dickon. Though people from the village occasionally stopped by, and he knew that soon visitors would arrive frequently as the season began,The only new faces were his nurse and Mary's new lady's maid, so Colin did his best to become better acquainted with her. He was friendly with Nurse Mount (most of the time) but it was hard for him to want to be friends with the person who dressed him every morning, bathed him, and helped him go to the bathroom.
Over the first few weeks the pity of his family, the servants, and the acquaintances who often visited was emotionally exhausting. It didn't help that Colin was also physically exhausted from the therapy and the recovery from his trip. But slowly, as his health returned, the routine became almost normal. His new nurse, Celia Mount, had trained with a Dr. Jones, one of Dr. Hawthorne's few colleagues in London who would treat rather than neglect spinal patients. She continued where Sybil and Dr. Crawford left off with his physiotherapy. Therapy began rather easily, consisting of simple leg stretches which were done in bed while lying on his back. It was nothing like the calisthenics Sybil had forced upon the other men in hospital. As his health improved once again they began working on his balance and arm strength. Soon, Nurse Mount was having him wheel himself in laps up and down the hall outside his room until his arms ached and sweat poured down his brow. It felt good though, like he was getting better, really getting better. His arms, which despite the therapy he had received in the hospital had grown thin and weak, began to gain muscle. Enough that he no longer relied on servants to push the chair unless he would need to go over any steps. By the end of each day his muscles were aching, but there were times when he felt the exhilaration which came with progress. Other times, it just hurt.
The one new face that peaked his interest was Mary's new lady's maid. She didn't Besides that, Rutka was interesting. She had a dark, exotic beauty, her past was mysterious and fascinating the way Mary's had been. But it was much more than that, it seemed as though she had experience with hardship, but also with the after-effects of crippling illness. Mary had told him that the girl's younger brother had survived infantile paralysis. It gave Colin hope that she might just be the one person who wouldn't treat him with kid gloves or look at him with pity. Because his health had taken such a downturn, he had begun to feel as though every interaction was tinged with pity, any short conversation where it wasn't, felt like a god sent reprise. He didn't get a chance to speak with her often, but when he did, he was always left smiling. She was funny, and smart, and her accent was enthralling.
About a week after he returned it had been Rutka's task to bring his supper. He had had a difficult day and was stiff and achy which in turn made him cross. He had no choice but to lay flat on his back, the only position where he wasn't in so much pain he couldn't breath.
"You seem rather glum Mister Craven. Are you alright?"
"Just tired." he murmured.
"You all have the same lie." She replied softly, he hadn't expected that certainly and turned towards her, opening his eyes.
"Whatever do you mean?" He snapped.
"It is what my brother says when he's in pain. 'Just tired' it means you're hurting and are too proud to say it." He turned further towards her, wincing at the movement. She had put the tray on a nearby table and had come towards his bed, her olive skin glowing in the low lamp light.
"Perhaps," he answered softly. "It's easier to have your pain alone, instead of everyone incessantly fussing over you." She raised a dark eyebrow- oh she was so beautiful- Colin couldn't help but thinking.
"Perhaps they fuss because they care, they are in pain too, different from yours yes, but still pain. I'll tell you a secret women don't tell our men. We fuss and nudge because doing something, anything, is how we show we care. It's why all British ladies rush to make a cup of tea when something goes wrong." Colin laughed, not minding that it hurt.
"Fair enough Rutka, fair enough."
"I hate to go right into the fussing- but is there anything I can do for you? You really ought to eat something." He nodded, knowing she was right. He had lost over ten pounds, on top of what he had lost at the front, it had all been weight he couldn't afford to lose and Dr. Craven, Mary, Nurse Mount, hell even Dickon had been hounding him to eat more.
"I suppose I should." He pushed himself up slightly, though it didn't do much, "Would you mind sitting with me?" He asked, rather awkwardly.
"Of course." she smiled kindly. Without being asked she moved to his bed and started to rearrange the pillows so he could sit. She took his hand, and slipped her arm under his back.
"Easy does it," she murmured as she slowly eased him up into a sitting position. Looking down, she saw the pain in his beautiful grey eyes. As she eased him down against his pillows her hand brushed against his chest and she felt the hitched breathing there. She smiled down at him and was surprised to see him smiling back up at her.
"Thank you," he said, looking up at her big, dark, eyes. She looked away, a bit flustered, and brought his dinner over, setting it on the tray table over his bed.
"Would you mind staying?" Colin asked suddenly, Rutka was a bit surprised but nodded, bringing over a nearby chair and sitting down, arranging her dark skirts around her.
"Of course." Colin started eating slowly and they sat in silence for several minutes before Colin asked,
"Are you happy here? It must be rather a change from home, and Mary said you are quite close to your family." She nodded slowly, and when she spoke her voice was soft, and sad.
"I miss them, very much. But I am happy here. I am my own person here. At home, I am part of something bigger, but having both, experiencing both. It is important for me." Colin nodded, running his spoon around his soup bowl and taking a bite.
"You said you had ten siblings?" she nodded, smiling. "Would you tell me about them? It might help you to talk about them, and It might take my mind off things." she nodded, smiling, somewhat taken aback that he cared to hear about her family.
"Like you said, there's ten of us, five brothers, four sisters, and me. And of course our tayte-mame. The littlest is Gabi, he's four. He's a little darling- and a little devil," she laughed. Then Shaydel, she's six, and Tzippy- Tzipporah who's seven. Dovid is nine, then Chaim who's sixteen, then me. Older than me are Moshe, my sister Fayge, who just had her first baby. Then back in the old country are Malky and her husband Yuri, and Yitzhak and his wife Esther, and their children of course."
"Where do they live? It can't be easy, thinking of them over there with the war on." She nodded sadly,
"Malky lives in Warsaw. Yitzhak, well he's with the army. Last we heard he was stationed in Odessa, and his wife was home in her village which is near Kiev. We lived in a town in Bessarabia, I don't know what the region is called in English. We lived too in Warsaw the last few years before coming over." Colin nodded, he couldn't imagine it, having one's family so scattered, and scattered in a way that put them in such danger.
"I know from rather a lot of recent experience that this doesn't really help, but I'm very sorry they are stuck there, and I do hope your brother stays safe." Rutka gave a watery half smile,
"Thank you," their eyes met, and several minutes went by before they realized they were staring at each other.
"Are you finished?" Rutka asked, breaking their silence.
"Yes, do you mind helping me back down onto my back? The nurse will be in in a while, but I think I need to sleep until she comes." It was awkward, and he knew he sounded awkward, and knew she could probably tell. But as they had talked, even with the distraction, his back had begun aching badly once again.
"Of course." she stood, here slim, strong, arms wrapped around him and soon he as lying down again. Moving had made the pain spike and he screwed his eyes shut as he tried to breathe evenly as pain hit him. As it started to ebb, he realized that he was squeezing Rutka's hand with all his might. He let it go and let his arm drop to the bed.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you." she took his hand again, shaking her head.
"You didn't, you were in pain, it's quite alright." She smiled down at him, drawing the blankets more comfortably over him. She began to turn away, but he took her hand, turning her back towards him.
"Would you stay? I..." he didn't know how to get this out. It had been so hard to fall asleep alone, ever since he got home. He would fall asleep, and fall straight into nightmares of the front. The only thing that seemed to help was knowing someone was there. Rutka looked at him wondering. She remembered all too well the nights where she couldn't sleep until her sisters came to bed so she could lie between them and feel safe. Those nights after the massacre where she saw waves of blood behind her eyes every night. She wondered what this young lord saw in his nightmares.
"I know." she whispered, "I stay as long as you need." She turned down the lamp and sat beside him once more.
As Colin closed his eyes she began to sing a song, that for all it's lilting minor notes and its ai-lu-lu chorus, sounded angry.
Bin ikh mir geshtanen baym mayn tayte afn hoyf
Her ikh a geshray "yunger-man antloyf!"
Mit ai-ai-ai un ai-lu-lu, ai-ai-ai, ai-ai-ai, ai-lu-lu, ai-lu-lu
It was a song about a khaper, a snatcher, or kidnapper. Who the Czar sent out to steal Jewish boys and take them for the army. At the time Colin knew none of this, only that the words were soft and lilting, and Rutka's voice wonderfully soothing. And soon enough, he fell asleep, to the sound of her voice, as though it were the wings of a mighty bird who held him gently between its great wings.