Page 25 of The Baron Takes a Wife

Maggie shook her head, and she gently tested Annamaria’s arm. “I’m a nurse. My mother and grandmother are healers, and my husband is a doctor. So, they trust me to set bones.”

Annamaria seemed to accept this and turned her attention back to Elena. “You look like a fancy lady,” she noted as her gray eyes took in Elena’s dress, which was a plain lavender walking gown but well-made and of fine material. “I probably shouldn’t even be talking to you this way. But you’ve been in my shoes. I can see it in your eyes. There was something worse than that fellow who cut you.” Elena dropped her gaze, shocked that this stranger could tell that about her. “Forgive my bluntness, but when you live from day to day, it dims your social niceties.”

Elena stared at her hands, her throat completely dry. Annamaria didn’t ask a question—she just stated. In her candor, Annamaria had set something in motion for Elena. She had named something for her, and there was no going back.

“It wasn’t as bad as what has happened to others,” Elena felt her voice crack as she spoke, unable to look anywhere but her hands.

“That doesn’t make it less terrible. Or easier to live with,” Annamaria said gently.

Those words hung heavy in the air as Elena drank them in and let them slide around her soul. It slowly dawned on her that she had been surrounded by a fog for years, constantly feeling great sadness and anger about what had happened to her but unable to name it or acknowledge it, knowing that worse things happened to women every day. But she saw in that moment that minimizing what had happened to her didn’t make it go away. In fact, it left it to fester, much like the wound above her eye had begun to fester until Mrs. Raeburn had found her and treated her eye. She suddenly felt close to tears.

“And I didn’t say no.” Her voice was barely audible in the ward, which was unusually quiet for the time of day.

“But you didn’t say yes, did you?” Annamaria’s voice made her glance up.

Elena shook her head.

Maggie, who had been quietly trying to fade into the background, touched Elena’s shoulder. “May I speak to you for a moment?” They stepped away from Annamaria, promising they would be right back. Maggie continued, “Her arm is not broken, but her shoulder is dislocated. I need to pop her shoulder back into place, but it will be very painful. I hate to ask you to keep talking to distract her, but--”

“No, I like talking to her. It is lifting my spirit in some way.” Elena hadn’t realized how sick she had been in spirit, in how she thought of herself until she named it. But now she could say it and talk to this woman, who had done so much for her in just a few minutes to distract her from pain. They walked back to Annamaria, with Elena returning to her chair beside her, pulling back her long pagoda sleeve to hold the young woman’s hand. Annamaria, whose jaw was slightly swollen, widened her lips, and Elena realized she was trying to smile. Maggie went to her left side.

“Do you, have you ever gone outside of yourself when…something bad happens to you?” Elena couldn’t quite bring herself to say it out loud. It was improper for a lady to discuss, but Elena had to know. She had to understand what had happened to her.

“It’s the only way to get through it sometimes.” Annamaria gritted her teeth, her fingers tightening around Elena’s hand.

“Yes. As if you’re outside of your body and yourself. Like you’re watching from afar, like a ghost.”

The understanding in Annamaria’s eyes brought Elena great sorrow but also a kind of kinship she had never felt before. She felt overwhelmed and strove to change the subject.

“You have a child?”

“I have a neighbor watch her most of the time. I don’t know what I would do without her.”

Elena smiled and squeezed her hand. “Tell me about her.”

“Where to begin? She has her father’s eyes, blue as the sky. And his singing voice, oh, that man could make the angels—”

Suddenly, there was a great crack, and Annamaria gave a yell.

“It seemed like the right moment,” Maggie said unapologetically.

Annamaria put her other arm to her shoulder and tentatively moved it around.

“I don’t know if there is a right moment for that,” she muttered.

“Do you wish to go to the police about the man who hurt your arm?” Elena asked gently.

“No point. They’d take one look at me and show me the door. I’ve tried getting help before, and it’s been useless.”

An idea suddenly occurred to Elena. She had to check with Sophie, who was due to arrive any day now, but as it took root, Elena felt in her bones that it was the right course of action.

“Annamaria, can you read and write?”

“Yes, my brother went to a school that a gentleman was running in our old neighborhood. I watched him practice during the day, then stole his books at night and taught myself.” A flash of pride shot across Annamaria’s face, but it left as quickly as it came. What a remarkable woman, Elena thought.

“When you recover, would you have any interest in working as a secretary?” Elena asked her. “I think it would pay well and might be less dangerous.”

“Me? But my family threw me out when I eloped. I’m ruined.”