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He raised an eyebrow. “You think?”
“The days blur together when they’re more or less the same.”
“So you just stumbled into this place, as well, only without the injury, and you don’t know how long you’ve been here. That’s interesting, don’t you think?”
“It does seem to be that sort of place, one you find when you need it.” She noticed him wincing and shifting uncomfortably. “And you need more willow bark tea. You sit right there, I’ll go make it.”
“Can you leave me with a book, so I can see if I can read?”
She handed him the novel. “This was in the house when I got here. It’s actually quite engrossing. Don’t lose my place.”
The kettle was already on the fire in the kitchen, so she took the opportunity to hurry upstairs and see what the helper was up to. She didn’t know where to put Bryn for the night, and if the helper was already rearranging furniture, she wouldn’t have been surprised to find that it had set up the spare room. She wasn’t sure he’d be able to climb the steep stairs, though, as weak as he was.
It seemed the helper had been thinking along the same lines, for there was a pallet rolled up with linens, a pillow, and a blanket on the pile. “Good thinking,” she said, keeping her voice soft enough that it wouldn’t carry downstairs. “I’ll put him in the sitting room for the night. And no matchmaking. He doesn’t know who he is, and I’m not interested in getting involved with anyone, let alone a total stranger of unknown origins.”
She carried the bedding downstairs to the sitting room. “You shouldn’t try to climb those stairs, so I’ve got bedding to set you up down here,” she said. “And now the tea should be done.” As she’d expected, the helper had already brewed it, and she brought a cup to him to drink while she made up the bed.
“I appreciate all the effort you’re going to for me,” he said. “I’m afraid I can’t pay. At least, I don’t know if I can pay. For all I know, I have great piles of treasure back at home, but since I don’t know where that is, I have nothing.”
“There’s no worry about payment. I help those in need of help, and I’ve recently been the recipient of great kindness, so I’m obliged to pass that on as well as I can.”
“I won’t impose on you for too long.”
She turned from her work and looked back toward him. “But where would you go? You have nothing, and you don’t know where your home is. You should stay here until you’re back on your feet, at the very least. If you don’t want to stay with me, much of the village is empty, and you should be able to find a place to stay, but I think you should stay here until your wound has healed a little more.”
He leaned back in the chair. “You’re probably right. I don’t feel up to caring for myself at the moment. On the bright side, I do know how to read. I know that’s not entirely common.” He yawned. “I’ll have to test my writing ability some other time. I know I’ve only been awake a little more than an hour, but I could fall asleep now.”
“You need to rest. No worries about being lazy until that wound begins to heal and you get your strength back.”
When he finished drinking the tea, she directed him toward the privy, then finished setting up his bed. He returned, and she helped him get down to the pallet on the floor. “I’ll take another look at the wound before you go to sleep.” He pulled off his boots before lying down, then she lifted his shirt and removed the bandage. “It’s too soon to be showing signs of healing, but it’s not festering,” she reported. “It does seem to have stopped bleeding, which is good. Take care that you don’t open the wound again.” She dropped in more tincture and applied a fresh bandage, wrapping it under his shirt rather than undressing him.
She resisted the urge to pull up the covers and tuck him in. It was an odd urge, one she’d never felt before. She wasn’t the maternal type and had never been one to want to fuss over a man, not even any of her patients. Maxen had servants to care for him and wasn’t the sort of man who wanted to be tended by a woman. She stood abruptly and took a step back. “I’ll have to see if I can find some clean clothes for you tomorrow. There aren’t many men in the village, but there might have been some clothing left behind.”
“I wonder if it’s a good idea to let people know I’m here. What if the person who wounded me comes looking for me?”
“There are people here I trust to keep it quiet, and as small as the population here is, it will be difficult to keep the secret. People would at the very least notice I’m getting more food. Shall I put out the candles?”
“I can’t keep my eyes open to read, so you might as well. Thank you,” he said with a yawn. She took one of the candles and snuffed the others, then went up to her own room. The helper had been busy up there, as well. A small hand mirror lay on top of the nightstand. Elwyn turned it over before setting down her candle, then paused, turned back, and picked it up. She hadn’t seen her face other than reflected in water or windows since she left the palace, and she was afraid of what she’d see, but she also wanted a sense of what Bryn saw.
Her face wasn’t as gaunt as she’d feared it would be, though her cheeks were more hollow than they’d been before she’d fled court. Her eyes looked very dark in her pale face, and the light was too dim for her to tell if there were now any strands of white in her dark hair. She’d once been considered beautiful, elegant, and refined. Now she wasn’t sure how she’d describe herself. Striking, perhaps, if the beholder could get past her shabby clothing.
Not that it mattered. She wasn’t looking for romance, and especially not with a man who didn’t know who he was. He might have a wife and children back home. Or he could be a villain. He seemed nice, but she didn’t know how he’d come to be wounded. She’d help heal his wound and look after him until he knew where to go, but that was it.
She just hoped whoever had wounded him didn’t come looking for him. She had enough to worry about with her own enemies without having to worry about his.
Chapter 7
Bryn was still asleep when Elwyn came downstairs the next morning. She tiptoed past the sitting room into the kitchen so she wouldn’t disturb him. After a quick breakfast, she dashed off a note to let him know she was running errands and left the pen and ink with it, in case he wanted to see if he could write. The helper arranged bread on a plate with a pot of honey nearby. “Remember, don’t let him know you’re there,” Elwyn warned. “And no doilies. I don’t want him to think I’d put out such a thing.” She got the distinct impression of an insulted sniff, even though she heard nothing.
She headed to the village center, where the market was in progress. She wouldn’t be able to talk properly to Mair while others were around, but she needed more food with another mouth to feed. She was able to trade some fresh herbs for more lentils, and the Chicken Lady offered her extra eggs with a sly wink that made Elwyn wonder if she’d seen something. The miller wasn’t there, and she assumed he wasn’t feeling up to standing in the market yet. Her medicines were good, but not that miraculous.
When the customers in the market had thinned out, she got close to Mair and said softly, “Do you know of anyone who has men’s clothing to spare?” Before her friend could respond with something ribald, she added, “Quiet! This is serious.”
“If you have an unclothed man, it’s definitely serious,” Mair said with a grin, though she did keep her voice down.
“He’s a patient,” Elwyn said. “His own shirt was damaged when he was wounded. I want to see if I can find something fresh for him.”
“What size is he?”
