Ophelia, I can get that for him."
" You're going to Lucy Preble's poetry reading, you don't have time to see to Lord Charles's wishes as I do."
"And you're going out driving again with Matthew Ashton!"
Sylvanus said, "I think Amy can see to Lord Charles's needs just fine."
"Now Papa, you know that Amy has so many other things to do, she doesn't have time to see to him," Ophelia protested. She gave her father her sweetest smile, but above it her eyes were harder than stone. "We only want to help her out."
"Yes, help her out," put in Mildred, not wishing to be outdone.
"Divide his care between the three of you then," he said wearily. "But if there's anything, er, delicate that needs doing, leave it to Amy. There are some things the two of you just shouldn't be seeing."
Ophelia and Mildred giggled. Sylvanus turned away. On his pallet, Lord Charles remained unmoving, and as Amy looked from him to her sisters, both of whom were regarding her, she saw that their eyes gleamed with malice and loathing. Don't think we're going to let you take care of him , those glittering eyes warned. He's ours, now.
He's his fiancée's , Amy wanted to retort, taking a certain delight in anticipating their response when they found that out.
Sylvanus eased himself down into a chair. "And now, I'd like to speak to Captain de Montforte in private," he said, reaching for his cider. "Mildred, go get ready for your reading. Ophelia, you've got an outing with Matthew Ashton to prepare for."
"But Papa —"
"Come now, girls, go. I wish to speak to our guest alone."
"What about Amy? Why does she get to stay?"
"Because she's making supper. Now hurry up, or you'll be late."
They pouted. They pleaded. But for once Sylvanus didn't give in to them. As soon as they stormed from the room in a huff, he turned to the lone figure sitting before the fire.
"I am sorry, Captain de Montforte," he said. "This cannot be easy for you, and you have my sympathies for your plight."
There was no response from the captain.
"Dr. Plummer wants you to rest for the next fortnight, but after that, we need to think about getting you back to the army in Boston," Sylvanus continued. "If you ask me, your spirit's taken a far worse blow than the back of your head, and I think it would do you a world of good to be with your own people." His voice gentled. "You need to be with friends, not strangers."
The captain only blinked again in that slow, exaggerated way he had, and continued staring into nothingness.
Sylvanus, growing worried, glanced at Amy, who shook her head and motioned with her hands to let the man alone. But out of guilt for his son's part in this tragedy, Sylvanus persisted. "I know you must be eager to return to Boston, and as much as I'd like to take you back there myself, I just can't leave my flock, I can't spare my son, and it is, of course, unthinkable that I allow my two daughters to bring you . . . though if you're determined to go, I suppose I could always send Amy."
The captain, still staring straight ahead, finally spoke. "Is Amy not your daughter also?" he asked flatly.
"Er — well, uh . . . she bears my name, yes. But she doesn't have a reputation to consider, as do Ophelia and Mildred."
" All young women have reputations to consider."
"Yes, but Amy is — well, never mind, Captain. Suffice it to say that, unlike her sisters, Amy's reputation does not demand careful care and protection."
Amy wanted to die.
The captain's jaw hardened.
And Amy, seeing it, quietly stirred the stew in its big black kettle. "Papa, if Lord Charles wants to go to Boston, I can take him anytime he wants to go —"
" No! " barked their guest, startling her with the vehemence of his tone. He glared sightlessly into the flames, his fists clenched. "I will not allow it."
Sylvanus began, "Really, Captain, Amy's a very capable young woman —"
"Precisely that, she is a young woman, and Boston is a den of
" You're going to Lucy Preble's poetry reading, you don't have time to see to Lord Charles's wishes as I do."
"And you're going out driving again with Matthew Ashton!"
Sylvanus said, "I think Amy can see to Lord Charles's needs just fine."
"Now Papa, you know that Amy has so many other things to do, she doesn't have time to see to him," Ophelia protested. She gave her father her sweetest smile, but above it her eyes were harder than stone. "We only want to help her out."
"Yes, help her out," put in Mildred, not wishing to be outdone.
"Divide his care between the three of you then," he said wearily. "But if there's anything, er, delicate that needs doing, leave it to Amy. There are some things the two of you just shouldn't be seeing."
Ophelia and Mildred giggled. Sylvanus turned away. On his pallet, Lord Charles remained unmoving, and as Amy looked from him to her sisters, both of whom were regarding her, she saw that their eyes gleamed with malice and loathing. Don't think we're going to let you take care of him , those glittering eyes warned. He's ours, now.
He's his fiancée's , Amy wanted to retort, taking a certain delight in anticipating their response when they found that out.
Sylvanus eased himself down into a chair. "And now, I'd like to speak to Captain de Montforte in private," he said, reaching for his cider. "Mildred, go get ready for your reading. Ophelia, you've got an outing with Matthew Ashton to prepare for."
"But Papa —"
"Come now, girls, go. I wish to speak to our guest alone."
"What about Amy? Why does she get to stay?"
"Because she's making supper. Now hurry up, or you'll be late."
They pouted. They pleaded. But for once Sylvanus didn't give in to them. As soon as they stormed from the room in a huff, he turned to the lone figure sitting before the fire.
"I am sorry, Captain de Montforte," he said. "This cannot be easy for you, and you have my sympathies for your plight."
There was no response from the captain.
"Dr. Plummer wants you to rest for the next fortnight, but after that, we need to think about getting you back to the army in Boston," Sylvanus continued. "If you ask me, your spirit's taken a far worse blow than the back of your head, and I think it would do you a world of good to be with your own people." His voice gentled. "You need to be with friends, not strangers."
The captain only blinked again in that slow, exaggerated way he had, and continued staring into nothingness.
Sylvanus, growing worried, glanced at Amy, who shook her head and motioned with her hands to let the man alone. But out of guilt for his son's part in this tragedy, Sylvanus persisted. "I know you must be eager to return to Boston, and as much as I'd like to take you back there myself, I just can't leave my flock, I can't spare my son, and it is, of course, unthinkable that I allow my two daughters to bring you . . . though if you're determined to go, I suppose I could always send Amy."
The captain, still staring straight ahead, finally spoke. "Is Amy not your daughter also?" he asked flatly.
"Er — well, uh . . . she bears my name, yes. But she doesn't have a reputation to consider, as do Ophelia and Mildred."
" All young women have reputations to consider."
"Yes, but Amy is — well, never mind, Captain. Suffice it to say that, unlike her sisters, Amy's reputation does not demand careful care and protection."
Amy wanted to die.
The captain's jaw hardened.
And Amy, seeing it, quietly stirred the stew in its big black kettle. "Papa, if Lord Charles wants to go to Boston, I can take him anytime he wants to go —"
" No! " barked their guest, startling her with the vehemence of his tone. He glared sightlessly into the flames, his fists clenched. "I will not allow it."
Sylvanus began, "Really, Captain, Amy's a very capable young woman —"
"Precisely that, she is a young woman, and Boston is a den of
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