A Perilous Perspective (Lady Darby Mystery #10)(114)
“If I’d kent taking a tumble would result in my bein’ carried aboot by such a bonny gentleman, I might o’ fallen sooner.”
Gage adjusted the pillow beneath her head, his eyes glinting with amusement as he looked up at me as I crossed the room.
“Miss Campbell has asked me to ensure you don’t require the physician or the surgeon,” I explained to Miss Margaret, whose pleasure seemed to dim at my appearance. I supposed I couldn’t begrudge her that. After all, I rather enjoyed having Gage’s attentions all to myself as well.
My husband nodded, and I could tell he was thinking the same thing I was. Though this wasn’t how we’d hoped to achieve it, the sisters had enabled us in our plan to separate them anyway. “I wish you a swift recovery,” he told Miss Margaret, offering her his most charming smile. “So I can enjoy more of your delightful company.”
Her lips curled in pleasure. “That’ll give me motivation enough.”
Gage chuckled lightly as he closed the door.
She sighed, lapsing back into her pillows. “You’re a lucky lass, Mrs. Gage.”
“That I am,” I agreed, surveying our surroundings as I approached the bed. By all accounts, Miss Margaret spent a great deal of time in this chamber, but at least it was a lovely one. The walls were hung with thick tapestries of knights and horses, and the floor was covered in a plush medallion carpet. I noted a clump of mud near the foot of the bed and felt a pulse of dismay that Gage must have tracked it in on his boots, marring the pristine rug. I would have to inform the butler. The four-poster bed was constructed of pale oak and draped with fine linen, creating a cozy nest from which she could still see out the window toward the rippling waters of the loch.
She turned toward the view now, looking small and frail against the massive bed, and I felt my heart swell with sympathy. How many times had she done just that, wishing she could venture farther? She had mentioned her sister longing for a life outside these four walls, but I suspected that part was just as much a confession about herself. Given that context, I couldn’t fault her anger at Barbreck on her sister’s behalf. Honestly, it spoke well of her that she was outraged and anxious to protect Miss Campbell in whatever small way she could. Would I not do the same for Alana? Would she not for me?
“Is your leg the only thing causing you pain?” I asked.
“Everywhere pains me, lass,” she replied wearily. “But aye.”
I nodded, lifting her skirt a few inches so that I could prod and manipulate the leg. “Tell me if anything hurts when I press,” I told her.
She didn’t respond, but I trusted she would.
Feeling awkward touching her like this, I tried to make conversation as I examined her ankle and began moving upward. “I can understand your anger at Lord Barbreck,” I began, hoping to elicit her confidence. “And your surprise at your sister’s easy forgiveness. I admit, as furious as she’d seemed on earlier visits, I did not expect such an easy acceptance from her.”
This was not entirely true, for while affronted, Miss Campbell had never seemed as enraged as I might have been in her shoes, but I needed to nudge the conversation in a certain direction.
The muscles of Miss Margaret’s leg tensed under my hands, but I swiftly realized this was in anger, not in pain. I also noticed that her lower limbs were far stronger than I’d expected. The musculature was much more developed than I had anticipated for a woman who had been ill all her life and hobbled merely crossing a small room.
A disquieting feeling began at the base of my spine. One that would not be dismissed. And for good reason.
Chapter 31
Aye, Barbreck hurt her terribly. He hurt us all. And continued to do so o’er the years. Spurning us.” Miss Margaret heaved a sigh, her muscles relaxing again. “But Anne has always been more forgivin’ than me. ’Tis somethin’ I’ve ne’er understood.”
“I suppose I can relate to that,” I continued, shifting the aim of my conversation as my unease grew. “Living the life you’ve led, it must make you less patient of others’ foibles and excuses.”
She turned to look at me then, and I struggled to mask any change my discovery had wrought in me. My mind was racing as I tried to grasp all the implications of her musculature and maintain control of our conversation.
“Aye.” She tilted her head as if scrutinizing me, and my heart kicked in my chest. “As it must you.”
I realized then she was speaking of my past with Sir Anthony and the scandal of my involvement with sketching his dissections. “In some ways, yes,” I admitted, lowering her skirts. “But in other ways, I think it’s made me more patient. It’s certainly made it easier for me to empathize with those who have suffered tragedy or distress.” I could tell that I had her full attention now and decided to prod a bit further. “Lord Alisdair, for instance. What motivated him to do such a terrible thing? Did he ever regret it? Did he ever consider telling them the truth?”
Something flickered on her face, tightening the corners of her eyes, and I wondered if I’d shown my hand, but perhaps it was merely displeasure at my having credited Barbreck’s brother with having any heart. “I didna ken Alisdair weel, but what I did glean was that he was as vain and self-absorbed as they come, and just as easily led.”