Ruth Axtell Morren - A Man Most Worthy

“Close the door, Alice.”

“Yes, sir.” Once she’d exited the room and closed the door softly behind her, she put her ear to the door. At first, there was only silence, then came the low sounds of masculine voices, but she could distinguish nothing.

At least there were no shouts on her father’s side, but she knew from experience that her father never raised his voice. His low tones could be as scathing as another man’s roar.

Nick waited, squaring his shoulders and trying not to wince at the pain the movement caused him. Would he lose his job over his own stupidity?

The older man gazed at him a moment, an unreadable expression in his eyes.

“I brought you here to work, not to take a medical convalescence.” The dry words, expressing no anger, were all the more quelling for their subtle sarcasm.

“I assure you, Mr. Shepard, this will in no way hinder my job. I can still work.” He moved his hand to prove his point. Unfortunately, he couldn’t keep back the spasm at the sudden jolt of pain that shot through his collarbone.

Mr. Shepard grunted, clearly not impressed with his stoicism. “Well, take your rest today and we’ll see about tomorrow. If you’re not fit to do any work, I’ll have to send for another clerk.”

Before Nick could think of a suitable reply, Mr. Shepard wheeled about and headed for the door.

As soon as he was alone, Nick collapsed back onto the settee, letting his head fall onto his good hand. What had he done? Risked the best position of his life to go gallivanting about on a horse? A silent, bitter laugh escaped his lips.

A soft clearing of throat caused him to start up again, sending another stab of pain along his collarbone. Miss Shepard stood just inside the doorway. She looked so pathetically sorry, he wished he could comfort her. She’d been wonderful, taking charge and bringing him home.

He straightened despite the pain in his ribs. “It’s all right.”

She ventured farther into the room until she stood by the settee once again. “Was Father very hard on you?”

He managed a smile. “No. He told me to rest today.”

Relief flooded her pretty face. “Oh, yes, you should. Why don’t I help you up to your room?”

She was still thinking of his comfort. He hadn’t felt so taken care of since he’d been a toddler. “That’s all right, I’ll manage.”

“At least let me ring for a servant to help you up the stairs. You’re on the top floor, aren’t you?”

He didn’t relish the thought of all those flights of stairs to the attic. Nor the stifling heat once he got up there. “Very well.”

She hurried to the bell pull. Instead of leaving him alone, she pulled up a chair and waited with him. With her hands folded in her lap, her normally rosy cheeks pale, she looked like a young schoolgirl called before the schoolmistress. He contrasted it to her self-possession right after his fall. She’d even assumed all responsibility before her father.

“I should have listened to you,” he said with a forced smile.

“It’s all right. I bet Victor made it sound like you’d be a coward if you didn’t mount Duke.”

He shook his head in self-contempt. “But I’m old enough to know better than to accept a schoolboy’s challenge.”

She tossed back her bangs. “Oh, I know how Victor is.”

He remembered her hand stroking his forehead, her small hand grasping his and bringing his arm around her waist.

“I hope this unfortunate experience won’t put you off horseback riding forever.”

Her remark was so ludicrous under the circumstances, he had to laugh, then winced at the pain in his side. “Let us hope not.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to make you laugh.”

He shook away her apology.

“What I meant was that, someday, when all this is behind you, I hope you’ll get back on a horse again. That’s the only way to overcome any bad memories of a fall. When I was first thrown—”

“You were thrown?”

“Oh, yes, everyone is thrown at least once, especially when first learning.”

Before she could continue, a young male servant entered the room. She stood. “Oh, Davy, please help Mr. Tennent up to his room and have something cool brought up to him to drink. Help him in any way he needs.”

“Yes, miss.” The young servant took Nick by his good arm and smiled. “Just tell me, sir, whatever it is you want.”

The two made their way slowly up the stairs. All Nick wanted to do was collapse on his bed. The region around his collarbone and his whole right side pained him terribly, despite the powder the doctor had given him. He’d been partially truthful to Mr. Shepard about his ability to continue working. He flexed his fingers now, ignoring the pain the movement caused up in his collarbone. At least his fingers weren’t broken, too. He prayed that by tomorrow the pain would have diminished enough for him to be able to write.

He tried to forget the doctor’s words about avoiding using that hand and arm. “The bone will take about twelve weeks to heal. The pain will diminish gradually. Don’t use your hand if it gives you any pain. Little by little you’ll be able to do things again. If it hurts, desist activity.”

Twelve weeks. The words were like a death knell. Would Mr. Shepard be that patient with him? Would he still have a job after his bones had knit back together?

When she didn’t see Mr. Tennent at breakfast, Alice went to look for him, wondering how he had fared the night.

She spotted the servant coming down the stairs. “There you are, Davy. Did you go up to Mr. Tennent yet?”

The servant stopped halfway down. “Yes, Miss Alice. I brought him up a breakfast tray.”

She smiled in relief. “Oh, thank you for remembering him. How was he?”

“He looked better than yesterday, but he’s in a heap of pain.” He shook his head. “Nasty thing, broken bones. I know, when I dislocated my shoulder once, it hurt something awful and took weeks to mend.”

She drew in her breath, feeling Mr. Tennent’s pain afresh. “Did yours heal completely?”

He swiveled one arm around and grinned. “Yes, miss, right as can be. But it laid me up some weeks, believe me.”

“Well, thank you for being so attentive to Mr. Tennent.”

“Think nothing of it.” He frowned. “He insisted on getting up and dressed.” He added hastily, “I helped him, o’ course. I’ll check on him again around lunchtime.”

“Very well, thank you, Davy.”

Alice turned toward the library, knowing she would have to insist Father send Victor away immediately. He hadn’t shown the least remorse, even going so far as to claim it was Mr. Tennent’s fault for not being competent with a horse.

Unfortunately, Father hadn’t wanted to discuss the matter further with her last evening at dinner. Well, he’d have to listen to her this morning, she decided, as she turned and headed in the direction of his office.

Alice left her father’s office feeling worse than ever. He’d told her she had behaved irresponsibly, taking a man who knew nothing of horses riding up to the park. He hadn’t even agreed that Victor should be sent away.

Feeling at loose ends, she reached Mr. Tennent’s small office. Maybe she could tidy it up for him while he was laid up.

His door was ajar. She pushed it open and gasped. “Mr. Tennent, what in the world are you doing in here?”

Her father’s secretary glanced up from the papers spread out before him on the desk. “Good morning, Miss Shepard. I’m doing precisely what it appears I’m doing.”

The words held no reproach, but were uttered as a simple statement of fact. She was glad to see Davy had placed a fresh gauze bandage over his cheekbone. The white sling around his arm and neck contrasted sharply with his black coat and accentuated the paleness of his face.