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“Not much taller than I am. Lean.”
“Some of my brother’s things should fit him. But you’ll have to tell me the whole story about how you came to have a patient who doesn’t have spare clothes of his own handy.”
“When we’re not in the market.”
“Oh, sounds serious.”
“It may be.”
“Well, I’ve almost sold all the milk and cream. As soon as I get home, I’ll see what I can find and bring it over.”
“Or I could come pick it up.”
“You don’t want me to meet him.”
“Not yet. It would do you no good, anyway. He’s not up to strenuous activity.”
“Well, in that case, I can wait to meet him. Or are you saving him for yourself?”
“He’s a patient. And I am a professional.”
“Come by before lunch. But the whole story, mind you. I want details about how he got here and who he is.”
Bryn was awake and eating breakfast in the kitchen when Elwyn returned from the market. She normally would have handed her purchases over to the helper, but she couldn’t do that in front of him, so she took them to the pantry, where the helper could deal with them out of sight. “Good news!” Bryn greeted her when she returned from the pantry.
“You remember who you are?”
“Alas, no. The news isn’t that good. But it does appear that I know how to write. If you need anything written, I’m your man.” With a rueful smile, he added, “I’m afraid I’m not good for much else at the moment.” He shoved her note over to her. On the back of it, he’d copied the note. His handwriting was much better than hers.
“How do you feel about making labels?” she asked.
“Put me to work!”
“Finish your breakfast first. Then I want to get a look at that wound. How does it feel?”
“Sore. Better if I move very gingerly and barely move my right arm.”
“Then you might not want to do a lot of writing. Give it at least another day. The labels can wait. Any headache or dizziness? Does the wound feel warm?”
“No headache, just that bruise on my face, which is throbbing. I feel weak and unsteady if I’m up for too long.”
“Then don’t stay up for too long,” she couldn’t resist teasing. “I can put something on that bruise that should help.” It had developed into a dark blue, and some of the blue had spread into the hollow under his eye. She took a salve from the stash in the pantry and brought it to him. “Turn your cheek toward me and hold still,” she instructed before dabbing the salve on as gently as she could. He winced and hissed in pain at her touch, but otherwise managed to remain still. “Now, let’s get a look at that wound.”
“Do you need me to lie down?”
“Not unless you need to.” She lifted his shirt and unwound the bandage, then pulled the linen pad away from the wound. “No redness. That’s good,” she reported. She dropped more tincture on it, then put a fresh bandage on and wound the cloth on to secure it before pulling his shirt back into place.
“So I’m going to live?”
“You’ll survive this particular incident. I can’t promise anything else. Now, back to the sitting room with you so I can tidy the kitchen and start work on lunch.” She helped him stand and got him across the hall. “Would you rather sit in the chair or lie down?”
“The chair. I’m not sleepy yet. Do you mind if I read your book?”
“As long as you don’t lose my place. I’ll make you some more willow bark tea. That should help with the discomfort.” She got back to the kitchen to find that the helper had already tidied up from breakfast and had put the previous night’s soup on to reheat. The kettle was bubbling, so she brewed the willow bark tea. “I’m going to Mair’s for some clothes,” she whispered to the helper. “And I’m sure you’ve already found what I got at the market. I’ll tackle the garden when I get back.”
She brought the tea to Bryn and said, “I have some more errands to run, but I shouldn’t be away long.”
“I’m sure I can survive,” he said dryly.
