two
KEITH CLOSED HIS fists on the soft, pristine bed where he was sitting in front of Mr. Sharpe. His head spun, and his stomach churned with nausea, but he’d rather throw up than faint in the room of this stranger. He’d heard enough frightening stories about what happened to servants at the mercy of rich people. Sir Howard wasn’t an example of virtue to start with. Keith would be stupid to fully trust the stranger.
Mr. Sharpe loomed over him, examining Keith’s back with probing fingers. The man was a blond giant with the same peculiar violet eyes as his daughter. Father and daughter also shared the same wavy spun gold hair. But where Violante’s features were soft and delicate, her father’s lines were strong and harsh. Even his gaze had a hardened quality Keith had seen in soldiers. Not in the gaze of any aristocrats he’d met.
“Did the sledge hit your head?” Mr. Sharpe asked.
“Only my back.” Keith bit down a gasp as Mr. Sharpe rubbed a salve over his back.
“You have a broken rib.” He touched Keith’s spine. “And a large ecchymosis.”
“Sir?”
“A bruise and a swollen area. Your muscles are rather stiff.” Mr. Sharpe started to wrap a bandage around Keith’s torso. “The bandage will help with the pain, but there isn’t much I can do for the broken rib. I can give you a mild opiate.”
Keith tried not to cry while Mr. Sharpe tightened the bandage. Pain shot up his spine, and nausea burned the back of his mouth. A buzzing noise rang in his ears as his head turned lighter.
The next thing he knew was that he lay on the bed, and Mr. Sharpe’s face filled his field of vision.
“You fainted,” he said, checking his pulse.
A funny taste filled Keith’s mouth. “I feel tired.”
“I bet you do. Your weakness has nothing to do with the incident, although the sledge could have broken your neck.” Mr. Sharpe wiped his hands with a cloth. “Plenty of rest and food. No lifting heavy weights. No work whatsoever. You should be better in a week or two.”
Keith rubbed his aching forehead. “I can’t afford to rest for two weeks, sir. Sir Howard will give me the sack.” Or worse.
At the mention of Keith’s master, a cold glint lit Mr. Sharpe’s gaze. “You’re too thin to do any chores. Your muscles are underdeveloped because of malnutrition. Your skin has an unhealthy colour that makes me suspect your liver isn’t in good shape either. And your rib won’t heal unless you take care of yourself. If you don’t rest, the broken rib might puncture your lung.”
Keith’s face burned in shame. Now he understood where Violante’s bluntness came from. “I can’t,” he muttered. “I need to work.”
Mr. Sharpe dragged a chair close to the bed and dropped himself into it. He didn’t look less menacing or commanding because he was sitting. “Why does Sir Howard treat you so beastly? You don’t have the energy to do any chores.”
Keith should be careful. If he spoke ill of his master, he wouldn’t simply lose his job. The peelers might arrest him for some ridiculous crime, like subversion or anarchism.
He licked his dry lips. “Sir Howard is a busy man.”
“So every politician says, but I hardly see the results of their so-called hard work. Certainly, they have the bloody time to attend brothels and opium dens.”
Keith sat up and dragged his shirt over his head, ignoring the dizziness. While he agreed with Mr. Sharpe, he had to work to live.
“I should go. Thank you for your help, sir.”
“Lad.” Mr. Sharpe’s voice held a commanding quality Keith couldn’t ignore. He put a hand on Keith’s chest and gently pushed him back. “Sod Sir Howard. You aren’t leaving my house until you’re properly healed.”
“Sir Howard would kill me.” There. He’d said it. If bluntness was what the Sharpe family wanted, he’d give it to them.
Mr. Sharpe clicked his tongue. “We’ll see. He’ll have to go through me. I risked my life on the battlefield to save the lives of the soldiers who fought for this country, because Sir Howard and his politician friends decided it was a good idea to deploy an army in some distant land that had done nothing to us.” He tilted his head up, showing a thin but long scar cutting deep into his neck. “I almost died in a foreign land more times than I care to count, and for what? To return home and be scorned by the very politicians who ordered me to fight for them in the first place. I’m not alone in my predicament. Many soldiers, who lost limbs and peace of mind, are treated like unwanted, embarrassing guests. I’m not friends with whoever abuses their power to mistreat those below them. The best way to judge a man’s value is to see how he treats people beneath him.”
Keith agreed with everything Mr. Sharpe had said, but his situation wouldn’t change. “I have nowhere to go. No family. Nofriends.” Confessing to his loneliness hurt more than he’d care to admit.
“You have me now.” Mr. Sharpe patted Keith’s shoulder. “I’ll send a message to Sir Howard and personally talk to him. I’ll demand he let you stay here. If you wish so. You’ll have a place here in my house and certainly receive decent meals at least thrice a day and a nice, warm bed. Your stomach will not be empty ever again. What do you choose, lad?”
It wasn’t really a choice, was it? Sir Howard would punish him for being late, and it was a matter of time before he’d kick Keith out, or Keith would die from exhaustion. Mr. Sharpe’s offer caused a knot to tie in Keith’s throat. Gratitude and shame overwhelmed him.
He swallowed past the knot choking him. “Why do you want to help me?”
“Because it’s the right thing to do. Because I hate seeing a lad like you being mistreated. Because I wasyoua long time ago. I come from nothing. I starved and worked hard while powerful people abused me. I want to change my beloved country, helping one person at a time.” Mr. Sharpe squeezed Keith’s hand. “You aren’t alone.”
