The Pearl Of Great Price

Chapter 19: Healing

By week four, Charles Brandon was eager to get up and leave the bedroom. This is something he never thought he would ever want... to leave the bedroom. Some of his finest, most favorite, activities take place in the bedroom. However, having to lie abed days at a time with only the four walls to look at makes him incredibly restless and a little batty. Maybe if he could engage in certain activities, he might be more inclined to not want to leave. But that isn't happening.

It was the middle of the week, and the Duke's wife began her meticulous morning routine of cleansing, putting new ointment on, and redressing the wound. Even he can see the injury is looking much better, almost good as new. Though Mary doesn't stop there. She also has to ensure his face is cleansed, his hair is brushed, and the covers are drawn up around him. She does this for two reasons. One, to make sure he doesn't catch a chill. And two, to provide him decency in case a servant girl wanders in.

When the Duchess began pulling the covers up that morning, Charles expressed frustration. "Must you nettle me so? I can fix the covers, brush my hair, and do all those other things." He knew it was wrong to say when he saw her face. It looked pained and sad. Raising himself up on his elbows, he begged Mary silently to look at him. She did. Her face turned to his. Not a word was uttered, only their eyes connecting.

He opened his mouth to apologize, but she fled out of the room with her skirts swishing behind her. A sigh escaped His Highness as his head laid back on the pillows. His hand reached for a book on the nightstand. It's apparent from the title his wife had left the book there— Sweethearts, Soldiers, and Saboteurs. Some stupid romance of that, he's sure. With nothing better to do, he opened the first page and began reading.

By mid-day, Doctor Pearce came to call. The minute the man entered the room, Charles hid the book under the covers. The doctor looked the wound over and murmured an "Umm-hmm." This made the Duke wonder if this was good or bad. Mary entered the room, and the older man addressed them both. "The wound is looking much better than anticipated. I can tell it's been tended to with care. Which is really good!"

Charles felt like crap the minute the doctor said those words. His little wife has been nothing but efficient when taking care of him. He ought not to have said what he did and means to rectify that as soon as the doctor leaves. So caught up in his thoughts, he failed to hear what the man was saying. But he did catch, "I'm clearing you to get up and take short walks about the house and out of doors. No riding, running, or anything too excessive that would cause strain to the wound. Understand?"

Nodding, the Duke told the man he did. But looking at his wife, he asked, "What about amorous activities?"

With a snort and a light chuckle, Doctor Pearce cleared his throat. He stated, "Light amorous pursuits. Nothing too strenuous." Then his attention turned to the lady in the room. The two spoke about ointments and wound cleansers.

On the other hand, Charles could not wait for the good doctor to leave. Finally, he can get out of bed and out of this room! Doctor Pearce returned to his side and took the medicine bag from the bed. He bid the lord and lady good day. Once the door closed, Charles threw the covers back and started to get up. Except he couldn't. His abdomen aches where the gash is. He groaned to Mary, "I need your help."

She eyed him and announced, "You need me and my nettling ways? I thought you could do all the things for yourself. You said as much this morning." Her skirts swished as she walked to the chest of drawers.

Bother! His arms became crossed, and his mouth confessed, "I regret saying those words the minute they left my mouth. I understand—"

Rounding on him and pointing her finger, she let him know her feelings. "No. You don't understand! You understand nothing of how worried I felt seeing you unconscious, bleeding out, with a gash so deep I could put four fingers in it! There was nothing I could do except pray that you wouldn't die while the doctor worked on you. Then I had to worry about infection and fever and making the wound not become irritated. So no, you don't understand. All I want to do is take care of you and make you comfortable, yet you call me nettlesome." She wiped a few tears from her eyes and turned back to look for the piece of cloth she was trying to stitch.