Wakefield and Cole were the first to block Maxwell's path when he burst into his Vinge estate. Emma, Ysabella and Margaret were in one corner, comforting their crying mother. Should he look at the four ladies longer, Maxwell was certain that he would have gone insane.
And so he chose to glare at his two brothers-in-law. "Step aside," he said through gritted teeth.
"Max, she is—" Nicholas breathlessly said behind him but Maxwell started pushing through Wakefield and Cole. "Step aside!" he roared.
"Maxwell, you ought to calm down," Cole said, pushing him back. "Doctor Johannes is—"
"I said step aside!" he roared, causing his mother and his sisters to whimper in their corner. "Step aside, Devitt, before I make another push," he growled at the man.
"Let him pass, gentlemen," Margaret said in a shaking voice.
Her husband and Wakefield did as were told and Maxwell ran past through them and up the stairs. "Where!" he shouted.
"Your bedchamber," he heard Emma answer.
Maxwell's legs took him down the corridor with great speed. His heart was hammering against his chest and when he reached the door, he stopped. Fear struck him again, rendering him immobile. His throat seemed to have closed up on him that his intake of breath was a wheeze. He bent down, resting his hands on his knees to breathe as a whimper escaped his tight throat. He started to heavily rasp, his eyes staring wide at the floor. A tear escaped and he watched it soak he carpet, his vision getting blurry by the second.
He rubbed his hands over his face and raked it through his hair, drawing a shaky breath as he straightened to full height. Looking to the left, he realized his family had decided to leave him alone. And he did feel alone.
No.
No, he could never be alone.
He rubbed his hands over his face again to wipe the tears and pushed the door open.
His entrance caught the attention of the doctor bending over his wife and the servants who were rushing to and fro with towels, washbasins, bandages—all of them covered with blood.
"My lord, if you can please stay—" the doctor started but Maxwell was already on his way across the room, running to the other side of the bed.
"Continue with your work, doctor," he ordered coldly. "Do not mind me."
His eyes settled on his wife. She looked utterly pale, unmoving on the bed. Her dress was dirty, torn in some places and covered with patches of blood and mud.
He slowly climbed the bed and took her hand. It was cold. He bent down to whisper beside her ear. "Maxie," he said. "Maxie," he choked. His other hand brushed her hair away from her forehead. It was a great struggle not to gather her in his arms and whimper in defeat.
He straightened and looked her over, finally seeing the damage.
Her upper body looked utterly fine but the sight of her right leg caused a sound that was both pain and horror to escape his throat. He saw the young doctor's jaw tighten over his reaction but the man merely continued with what he was doing.
Suddenly Maxwell felt utterly vulnerable as he watched the doctor work for he did not know what the doctor was doing. He could not tell him how to do his work better or see if he was doing it wrong now.
Another tear rolled out of Maxwell's eye, his hand tightening around his wife's hand. He blinked and roared at the servants, "Open the bloody curtains!"
They all jumped to their feet.
"How can he work if there is barely any light!" he screamed again.
YOU ARE READING
His Lady in Breeches
Historical Fiction"They may see you as how you try to be, but what I see is what you try not to be." SHE IS A BASTARD... Maxine Theobald hid from the rest of society to protect her father's name. But as she grows tired of her role-playing games every year durin...
