The sound of his boots could have been likened to thunder against the crashing ache inside her head, and it was all she could do not to bury herself under the covers like a child to escape being seen in so pitiful a manner as this. Still, in the end, she did sit herself up – pressing her back against the wall so as not to lose all sense of equilibrium in so doing – and found that in the time it took her to adjust comfortably, he had already set something down on the bedside table.
Silence reigned a moment as she observed the hot soup, something strange twisting up inside of her that she could not place. It had been years – years now since Charlestown, and all that she had lost. She had learned to manage for herself, had learned to keep going even when she was absolutely miserable with a cold, and she knew she could have managed this one just as well.
Gazing up at him, she found she couldn’t quite speak past the lump in her throat as she realized that this was the first time someone had cared for her, completely without prompting, since Miss Barlow had encouraged her through a letter to follow Eleanor. Her time with the woman had been short, but unfailingly kind – and of course, before then, she’d had her father, and her handmaiden –
Forcing herself to breathe, finding the ache in her head and chest only made worse with emotions could both be eased by focusing on her lungs for a time, she offered a smile as she reached out, gripping the bowl with care and finding at last, something to say as the heat brought reality to her palm, and woke her back to the present.
“You didn’t have to do this,” She drew the bowl into her lap, curious to why he had, or if perhaps it had been Thomas who had set him to it, “Thank you – it’s very kind.”
Ocean Archive 