Page 95 of Miss Ashbury and the Anatomy of Mending a Heart

“You make an excellent point.” Stephen grinned. “It’s nearly time for tea. I suppose my correspondence was entertaining enough. I’ll go let Roland know we’re ready for service.”

“Enjoy your walk,” she called to his back. “Enjoy your change of scenery.”

His answering chuckle trailed down the hall.

* * *

The next day, Stephen allowed his patient to navigate the upstairs, as long as she elevated her wrapped ankle upon a pillow whenever she sat down. This was a far superior arrangement to being cloistered within her rooms. Vera spent the majority of the day in the upstairs library with Benjamin, Stephen, and Miss Beets.

Benjamin acted as her personal librarian, bringing her books he thought she might like—mostly books on warfare and diagrams of ships, but she thanked him all the same. Roland set a lovely tea service in the upstairs parlor, and afterward, Hortense brought Anne to the library for a visit.

“Hurt?” Anne said, patting Vera’s leg. “Miss Vera hurt?”

“Yes, but I’ll be better soon.”

The little girl seemed to take her words at face value, and soon scrambled down to join Benjamin and Miss Beets before the grated fireplace.

“How is she?” Vera asked Hortense in a low tone. “She certainly looks well enough.”

Anne did—it couldn’t be overstated how large a difference cleanliness and proper clothes made. The little girl looked every inch the daughter of nobility in her starched white dress and velvet pelisse. Her hair had been combed, and though there wasn’t enough to braid, Hortense had tied a bow in the ribbon around it.

Hortense murmured, “She’s acclimating nicely. We’re getting along very well. She’s quickly learning how things are done here.”

Vera nodded. “I’m sorry I’m not more available at the moment.”

But perhaps it was for the best that Anne didn’t get too attached or used to Vera’s presence, for who knew how long she would be there? The thought sent a spasm through Vera’s heart and an answering flinch across her features.

Hortense raised an eyebrow.

“My ankle.” Vera nodded. “It’s still quite painful.”

“I’m so glad you didn’t catch a fever out in that mess.” Hortense shook her head. “I should have gone with you—if I had known…”

“Don’t be silly. I’m fine, for one thing. And you have your own household to return to in the evenings.”

Anne squawked; Hortense stood and crossed the room to investigate.

“How is your ankle feeling?” Stephen asked, taking the chair next to Vera’s perch on the sofa.

“Just the same as it was when you asked me an hour ago,” she teased.

“You must forgive me—it’s impossible not to fall into the physician’s role when a patient is in the room.”

“I’m far more than a patient,” she said lightly. “I’m your friend.”

Just a friend, Vera reminded herself. Just friends.

Stephen levied a glance at her that carried an expression she couldn’t quite read. It made her nervous, that look. She smiled reflexively so it wouldn’t show.

“Indeed,” he finally said. “Friends.”

CHAPTER 31- STEPHEN

Vera continued to recover at an admirable rate. The following week, she was well enough to gingerly make her way downstairs every day, one hand tucked safely into the crook of Stephen’s arm, the other gripping the banister.

The week after that, Vera was able to make her way on her own. Stephen had mixed emotions on the subject. On one hand, he was thrilled that her ankle was healing so quickly. On the other, Stephen selfishly missed her hand clutching his elbow, missed bearing Vera’s pleasant weight as he helped her down the stairs.

That particular day, the weather was cold but sunny. The temperatures had been hinting at snow, though it hadn’t appeared yet. At the thought of snow, and based on his terrible memories of Vera wet, bedraggled, and stranded in the storm, Stephen had brought Vera into the front parlor and presented her with a gift.