Authors: Catherine Winchester
“
Lord Palmerston.”
“
And the King?”
“
It's
Queen
Victoria.”
She smiled, pleased that he had caught her out.
“
Do you mind telling me what the point of all this is?” he asked rather gruffly.
“
Be quiet.” She held up one finger. “Follow my finger with your eyes.”
“
But-”
“
Just do it!”
She had no idea what to look for but he seemed to be focusing on her finger as it moved, which she was sure was a good thing. She looked into his eyes, searching for a blown pupil. She wasn't one hundred percent sure that was a sign of brain damage, but thankfully he didn't have one anyway.
“
How's your head?” she asked.
“
Thick.”
“
Any double vision?”
“
No.”
“
Do you feel tired?”
“
I'd say more irritated right now.”
“
Good,” she smiled, “I think that means you'll live but don't go to sleep for the next few hours and if you do start to feel drowsy...”
'What?'
she asked herself as her words trailed off.
'Come and see me so I can drill a hole in your head and relieve the pressure?'
“
If you do feel drowsy, call Dr Donaldson and tell him.”
“
Very well,” he snapped. “Are you done now?”
She felt stung by his harsh words, she had only been trying to make sure that he was okay.
“
Yes,” she said, her voice small.
“
Good, now let me have a look at that bloody arm before I have to tie you down.”
Carrie smiled slightly, her mood improving as she realised that his irritation had been caused by his concern for her.
“
It is just a scratch,” she assured him.
“
Then let me see,” he insisted.
Fanny and the maids were still standing around, watching the scene before them.
“
Would someone fetch some me some lint, a bandage and some whisky,” Carrie said as she tore the already ripped sleeve of her dress to reveal the cut.
She knew it was deeper than a simple cut and would probably need bandaging, but it wasn't so deep that it would need stitches. Though it probably wasn't very sanitary, she rinsed the cloth she had been using on John and used it to clean her wound, but John put his hands over hers and took the towel, then he gently began to cleanse the wound for her.
“
This is no scratch,” he admonished.
“
Why do you think I asked for a bandage,” she said with a smile.
Jane returned with the whisky and bandages. Carrie dipped a dry end of the cloth into the neck of the whisky bottle and upended it, then wiped the alcohol soaked rag over the wound. It stung slightly but not too badly.
“
What are you doing?” John finally asked.
“
Sterilising the wound. Alcohol kills bacteria.”
“
And bacteria are?”
“
Things that cause infections. This is not exactly sterile but it's better than nothing.” She said a silent thank you to her girl guide group for teaching her this kind of first aid stuff.
“
Do you want to do the honours?” she asked, handing him the lint and bandage.
“
I think you should see a doctor?”
“
I don't need a doctor.”
“
I'd prefer it if you did.”
“
I'm fine!” she snapped. “Look, if I were at home I'd have just put superglue in the wound or some butterfly plasters over it but I'm not at home, I'm stuck here in a place I have no business being and I'm messing everything up! The Hales can't afford any more medical bills and besides, the doctors in this time don't even know that things have to be sterile and I'm damn well not going to land them with the cost of a treatment that ends up giving me blood poisoning!”
She regretted her outburst almost immediately but she couldn't take it back now.
“
Hush,” John placated her. “We will pay for a doctor.”
“
Ugh!” Carrie grabbed the lint from him and set about bandaging up her arm. Thankfully her sleeve was loose enough that she could pass the bandage around her arm without ripping the sleeve off completely. It was awkward but somehow she managed and Mr Thornton, realising that he wasn't going to win this argument, secured the bandage for her with a safety pin.
“
There,” she said with as much dignity as she could muster. She rinsed the cloth out again and ran it over her face, wiping away the many tears that had dried there. “Now I really must get home. I'm afraid I left in something of a rush and the Hales might be worried about me.”
“
You shouldn't-” John's words were cut off with a harsh look from Carrie. Clearly she was still in no mood to be told what to do. “Let me see you home at least.”
“
You have a head injury; you shouldn't exert yourself.”
Carrie stood up and realised that her sleeve was still badly torn and she had no idea where the shawl she had brought with her was. She had a vague memory of removing it when she manoeuvred the cart in front of the gates, but there was no telling where it might be now.
“
Can I borrow a shawl to hide my sleeve?”
“
I will fetch you one,” Fanny assured her and Jane accompanied her out of the room.
“
Leave us,” Mr Thornton said to Sarah, the other maid. “Will you not stay, at least for a while?” he asked Carrie.
“
I shouldn't. I'm too confused at the moment, I need some space to clear my head and think. I'm sorry.”
She left the room and John didn't try to stop her. As she waited in the hall, she could hear Fanny's words as she spoke to Jane on the landing above.
“
Such a show to make of herself, and using his Christian name as well! And with witnesses there too! Mama said she had set her eye on John and this proves it!”
Oh no, she groaned. Now Mr Thornton would feel honour bound to propose to her and not Margaret. The longer she stayed in this time, the bigger mess she made of everything.
“
Did you see what she did with that whisky! She is such a strange girl.” Jane said.
“
I know. Mother calls her wild, and can you blame her after witnessing what we just did! Why, no lady would ever behave in such a shameless manner.”
Just then they rounded the top of the stairs and saw Carrie looking at them, but she was too tired to get into another slanging match with Fanny. She simply accepted the shawl with a thank you and left.
Chapter Nine
Mrs Thornton was surprised to see Carrie climbing into a cab as she and Dr Donaldson arrived at the mill, but she had more important things to worry about right now.
She breathed a sigh of relief when she entered the house to see John sitting on the sofa, awake though he was holding his head in his hands.
“
John?” she called from the doorway.
He looked over at her and smiled slightly. Though he didn't think he needed a doctor, he allowed himself be examined since it would put his mothers mind at rest. Unlike Carrie's extensive and strange questions, the doctor just looked at him, prodded the cut on his head, took his pulse and said that it looked worse than it was.
He wondered at the strange things Carrie had been doing and saying. What did the name of the Queen have to do with anything? She was such an enigma, speaking riddles and nonsense but whatever she was talking about, she seemed certain. What did she mean by sterilising her cut with whisky? Making it barren? Barren from what? Bacteria? What was a bacteria?
She had spoken of this time as if it wasn't her time, but didn't everyone share time? It seemed pretty universal to him.
He was vaguely aware of his sister relating the shocking series of events to his mother, but he paid her no heed. He thought he remembered Carrie saying that she loved him and yet she kept insisting that she was not the one for him. What did that even mean?
He tried not to think about it, but the idea that she might be insane kept plaguing him. He didn't want to believe it, for she was so efficient and logical and yet she was also highly emotional, more so than most women he knew, and she kept talking rubbish, as though he should understand what she meant.
His head was beginning to throb and he sighed deeply.
“
How are you?” His mother asked him.
“
I'm fine, Mother, just...” he didn't know what he was.
Well, that wasn't strictly true, he did know that he was in love, or at least he was as certain as a man can be. What he didn't know was if the woman he loved was a lunatic or a prophet.
The police came and spoke to Mr Thornton and Williams, in the hope of getting as many names of the rioters as possible. Mr Thornton didn't tell them that Carrie had been present because he knew that she didn't want to worry the Hales but even if she hadn't said anything, he would have felt too bad about the police turning up on their doorstep while Mrs Hale was so ill, to give them Carrie's name. A sharp look to Williams when the officers asked if there was anyone else present, was enough to convey to his overlooker than Carrie was to be left out of this.
He spoke with the police for a long while and went with them as they surveyed the damage for their report. He then set about arranging for the mill gate to be repaired and the parlour window replaced. Thanks to Carrie's idea of setting the wagon in front of the gates, by the time the rioters broke through it, they hadn't had enough time to do much damage before the soldiers arrived.
Finally he returned to the house, poured himself a finger of brandy and sat in one of the arm chairs in the front parlour. The broken window, now boarded up, only served as a reminder of what had happened earlier. He could feel his mother and sister both watching him anxiously but he paid them no mind.
He finished his drink and stood up.
“
Where are you going?” Mrs Thornton asked.
“
To see if Miss Preston is well.”
“
Don't,” his mother admonished.
“
Why? Is it too late to disturb them?”
“
It is late for Mrs Hale,” his mother answered. “She is unwell, remember?”
John nodded though clearly he still wanted to go.
“
I must check... Miss Preston...”
“
She looked well enough when I saw her leave,” Mrs Thornton assured him.
“
She was injured. I heard Fanny tell you that she cut her arm.”
“
She is such a reckless young woman.” Mrs Thornton rolled her eyes.
John headed towards the door.
“
I am sure she is well,” His mother called. “It's you I am more concerned about.”
“
I'm fine, mother.”
“
John!”
He stopped and turned back to her.
“
I'm asking you not to go.”
John looked at her for a long while. Hannah Thornton wasn't usually one to make demands on her son and so the few times when she did, he usually listened. She was his mother after all and he owed her a lot.
“
You have my word,” he said, but he still needed to get out of the house for a while. He turned and left.
When Carrie arrived back at the Hales she went straight to her bedroom and removed her dress. She examined her arm and was pleased to note that while some blood had seeped through the lint and bandage, it wasn't much; the bleeding was stopping. Her sleeve was badly damaged but she might be able to do something to hide the repair. She got a similar dress out of her wardrobe but she wasn't ready to get dressed again yet. She hung the dress on the wardrobe door and went over to her bed.
She curled up on top of the covers and began to cry silently as the events of the day caught up with her.
Everything was wrong! Trying to fix things had only made everything worse and now after her hysterical display earlier, John would surely feel compelled to ask for her hand in marriage.
She had to get away, she had to go home before she destroyed everything, but how?
She cried for a long while until eventually Margaret found her. She sat on the side of the bed and asked what was wrong but Carrie was either unable or unwilling to tell her, so Margaret simply lay down behind her, put her arm around her waist and comforted her as best she could.
John was out for most of the evening as he walked, trying to understand the enigma that he was so desperately in love with. At one point he found himself on the hillside where they had talked about the kind of people they wanted to be.
He couldn't believe her mad. Mistaken; misguided perhaps but not mad. He believed that he had seen her heart that day and it was pure and untouched by insanity.
That left him where he was before, in love with a woman he didn't understand.
Finally as the hour neared midnight, he had little choice but to head back towards the mill.
“
Are you still up?” he asked his mother as he came in to the parlour, surprised to find that she hadn't retired to bed.
“
Where have you been?” his mother asked, doing her best to keep her voice even.