The following was inspired by characters in the 2007 BBC miniseries Cranford, which was based on Elizabeth Gaskell's Cranford, Mr. Harrison's Confessions, and My Lady Ludlow.

Chapter 3: Time Enough

The worst of being an invalid, thought Mr. Carter, was that he had entirely too much time to think. He'd have gladly traded his new life, these hours spent being fed, housed, and looked after, for one day of the old life, for one night of falling into bed after worrying himself to exhaustion about the estate. But now he had time enough to think, to read, even to sleep, and yet there was no relief in any of it. He had been brought to Hanbury – brought to Hanbury! The very phrase made him feel like a captive animal, or a curiosity procured for a museum – away from the eyes of the townsfolk, and here he was to recuperate

"You are not to worry, Mr. Carter," Lady Ludlow had informed him shortly after he had arrived. It had been the strangest interview Mr. Carter had ever experienced. Lady Ludlow glided into the room in her usual fashion, and he was painfully aware that he could not rise to his feet to greet her. Indeed, he'd actually been helped into a chair beforehand and carefully covered with lap robe. The humiliation was complete, for all that the attention and care were kindly meant.

"What I am saying is that I will not accept your resignation, nor will I dismiss you, nor turn you out."

"My lady, surely you see the need for an immediate –"

"No, Mr. Carter, I fear I do not. Someone else can do your work, but no one can replace you. There is no one who knows the estate as you do, apart from myself, of course." She paused for a moment, as he struggled to produce a reply to that.

She continued, "Moreover, your absence is temporary. Indeed, to some degree it is no absence at all. I can consult with you at will, and you can provide direction to Miss Galindo. Furthermore --"

"Miss Galindo!"

"I do believe, Mr. Carter, that you underestimate Miss Galindo."

"Indeed, I have the greatest esteem for Miss Galindo. It is only that –"

"Yes, I know. She is hardly your deputy and will by no means fill your position. But I rely upon her, very much so, and I suspect you do as well. She is more than capable of taking on greater tasks, at your direction and mine."

When he made no reply, she added, more quietly, "And I have also begun to reconsider your suggestion about introducing certain economies to Hanbury." He knew it cost her an effort to say that, and waited to see how she would continue. "I am contemplating several courses of action, and will consult you as I turn them over in my mind."

"But you are not to worry, Mr. Carter. All shall be well."

But he did worry; that was precisely the task Lady Ludlow had provided him the leisure to perform. His mind would prey upon him during these empty hours of daylight, and it was worse still at night, when the darkness and silence enveloped him and his heart froze with fear. Questions seemed to come at him from every direction: Should he quit Hanbury, the place he had loved for so long, and begin again in another town? Or should he remain Lady Ludlow's steward, whatever his new limitations might be?

And then there was Harry Gregson. What might he do for Harry, now that Lady Ludlow had taken it upon herself to decide the boy's future?

Then there was the matter of her struggle to maintain Hanbury, to maintain the community as she had known and cherished it. She'd gone so far as to mortgage the estate, a decision that had cost him a number of sleepless nights of pondering various ways around that problem. It was only on the day of his accident that he had found a solution – a solution he'd revealed only to Miss Galindo.

Miss Galindo. He still was undecided as to whether her presence at Hanbury was a source of comfort or despair. Lady Ludlow surely had no notion of what had passed between him and Miss Galindo during the past weeks, or that their seeming enmity had given way to friendship, an alliance, even a common purpose. And during those heady days when everything was changing – the railroad was being built, Harry Gregson was struggling between two worlds, Lady Ludlow was stubbornly making her choice regarding Hanbury – during those days, in his quieter moments, he had thought a great deal about Miss Galindo and what went unspoken between them.

The day of the accident had seemed to settle the question, in one sense and another. In a moment of absolute trust and vulnerability, the look, the touch they'd exchanged meant everything – despair that they might soon be parted, comfort that they finally understood each other.

But since that day they'd not had one moment for a private word, and if they had, he wouldn't have known what to say. He no longer felt equal to reaching the place they had stood together before.

And now this evening, alone in his bed at Hanbury, he fell asleep and dreamed again of walking – walking through the bluebell woods, down the streets of Cranford, out to the railway site, and across the grounds of the estate and through its hallways – never quite reaching his destination, never able to find the door that would admit or release him.

To be continued...