“Her family happened!” The captain pointed to Vivienne. “They accused me of murder when I did everything to save that girl’s life.” He stood, his voice stronger. “Doctors can’t do miracles, not even for an earl’s daughter. Her death broke my heart, too.”
“I understand, Captain,” Vivienne said. “No one understands you better than I do. But you must move on and find your purpose again.”
Samuel had stepped back, almost into a corner, hugging himself and shaking.
She walked between the captain and Dobkins towards Samuel.
“You must clean up this flat.” Dobkins scrunched up her face at a dirty shirt.
The captain replied with some rambling, loud words, but Vivienne wanted to talk to Samuel.
“Let’s go to the bedroom while they talk.”
He obeyed her without hesitation, which she didn’t like. She didn’t want to become his new master. She shut the door to block the captain’s and Dobkins’s rising voices.
“Samuel.” She tilted her head to see his eyes, but he kept his gaze down. “Please look at me.”
Again, he obeyed her.
“What is it? Why are you so upset?” She gave him the time to answer.
He consulted his notebook and signed a few times, making mistakes, but she understood what he meant—the captain is kind to me.
Yes, but she suspected something else troubled him.
“The loud voices disturb you, don’t they?”
He nodded, gazing away.
“It’s understandable.”
He didn’t sign anything.
“You shouldn’t feel embarrassed.”
He raised his gaze, but she didn’t understand if he was grateful for her words of comfort, or if she was too bold, intruding on his private feelings.
“Stop playing the victim,” Dobkins said from the other side of the door.
The sound of glass clinking came.
“I’m tempted to give you my nasty attitude, but you already have one,” the captain rebuked.
“Oh, dear.” She rubbed her forehead. “I didn’t mean to cause all this.”
Samuel skimmed the pages of his notebook before signing, “Who is the girl who died?”
“My sister Adele. She got sick with scarlet fever. My parents asked the captain to take care of her. The captain and my father were old friends. But Adele grew weak quite quickly and died.”
“Sorry,” he signed.
“My mother blames him. My father wasn’t convinced the captain was to blame, but between his grief and his love for my mother, who is grieving, he didn’t really do anything.” She stared at him. “If you’re uncomfortable, you should tell me. The captain told me you don’t sleep well.”
He shrugged.
So the problem wasn’t the communication. He had the means now to explain himself but didn’t want to. Or she wasn’t the right person for him to confide in.
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
