Upon A Time

Chapter Six

The stranger in her care survived the first harrowing hours: one day, and then another. With each dawn, Charlotte began to feel the knots in her shoulders start to loosen, just a little.

She was utterly spent. Shifts round the clock at his side (trading off with Father when he was available and with Thomas when he was not) had worn her down, and by the third morning she wondered if she was ever going to begin to see true improvement in her charge’s condition, or if he had suffered from a head injury that could not be seen or helped. He had obviously been beaten, struck with arrows, and fractured his arm and leg in a manner that could only have come from a great fall or trampling by a horse. She wondered how he had gotten himself into such a situation and still survived.

The clothing he was wearing when they found him was minimal; as if robbers had stolen his outer-garments, leaving him with only the under clothes beneath. Though he had lost one boot, the left one which remained had probably saved his life, as his leg had swollen to the point where the leather actually helped bind up the wound to stem the flow of blood; otherwise the fracture might have killed him before Thomas ever spotted him.

Questions formed in Charlotte’s mind; the least of which was whether or not this was one of the men involved in the altercation that had killed the King and Prince. Perhaps he was one of the guards who had ridden with the hunting party; left for dead but not valuable enough to actually finish killing on the spot as far as a robber would be concerned.

Darker thoughts invaded. What if he was one of the assailants?

Then, just for a moment, when she considered the bright golden buckle left on his boot, she debated whether he could even be the missing, and presumed dead, Prince.

She chided herself, certain he could not be. After all, by last report they had found the Prince’s body the day before, and gone from village to village to proclaim he would be buried alongside his father in the royal plot, and on the same day.

Today.

“Today, we bury our King,” she whispered to the stranger before her. He moaned softly in his troubled sleep, as he often did. Once or twice she thought she could make out a word or two, but they made little sense. With the amount of medicines her father had been administering to him, the man’s brain was steeped in herbs and tinctures. “Today we bury our King, and I am not even fit to attend the funeral. Even if I could go, I have nothing black to wear except my cloak.” She still only had the one dress, after her other had been ruined.

She had no idea when the family would have the funds to replace it, and Father was working much too hard these days to barter for it. Charlotte had been forced to give up her duties running errands for her mother. Mother had, in healthier days, been the one that bartered for goods and services the family needed, with small items from their farm such as eggs or fresh bread. Charlotte could bake the bread and deliver it; she could hunt the eggs and take them to their intended recipients, but the thing that she could not do was be in more than one place at once, and for now, her father declared her only occupation was to care for the man who they simply referred to as their guest.

She was roused by the sound of approaching footsteps, as the floorboards in the cottage groaned and swayed beneath the weight of the man who made them. They had an unusual cadence, these steps, and she recognized them as belonging to only one person.

“Thomas,” she whispered, putting her finger to her lips and rising from her seat beside the bed. “Out there.” She shuffled her feet across the floor as silently as possible, then spoke to him on the other side of the closed bedroom door.

“How long do you intend to let him keep you from your own bed?” Thomas asked softly, irritated by the fact that this strange man was sleeping in Charlotte’s bed while she slept in the kitchen, or worse, in the barn, when she rested at all.

“As long as is necessary,” she replied, placing her hands on her hips. “He is someone’s son, Thomas. How grateful I would be, should some injury befall you, Heaven forbid, that strangers should take you into their care and nurse you until you were well again.”

Thomas’s eyes sparked and the corner of his mouth turned up. Even the slightest indication Charlotte cared for him in any way… that she ever thought about him, his well-being or his future, sent warmth flooding through him. His cheeks reddened, and in contrast to his bright copper hair and beard made him look quite colorful. He tried to speak, but dared not. If he did, he risked Charlotte realizing once and for all how many years it had been since the feelings he entertained for her were no longer merely those of childhood friendship.

“What is that in your hands? Did you get new clothing for our guest? He won’t be fit to wear it for some time. With the way his bandages must be changed and wounds tended, I fear they would only be an impediment.”

Thomas’s blush deepened when he realized that meant that in her caring for the man in the next room, Charlotte had certainly seen him naked. He didn’t understand why the idea bothered him so much, given that the purpose was only so the man could be cared for and his life saved. Still, it bothered him…

“I didn’t want it to be black, so I almost waited to get this until after the mandatory mourning period in the kingdom ends,” Thomas said. “Still, it’s not right for you to struggle with just the one or worse, have to face borrowing from Aunt Beatrix. So I hope you will accept this gift and find it useful.”

“Thomas, you can’t buy me gifts. It’s not—”

“Your nineteenth birthday is in one week’s time, is it not? Perhaps you, and your parents, could consider this an early birthday gift from me, and my mother.” Thomas’s mother was all the family he had left now, save Charlotte’s, who had long ago unofficially adopted him. His father had died young, in battle, leaving poor Madame Vallery with a son to raise alone. That was the reason he’d entered his apprenticeship at the smithy so early at the age of fourteen: his earnings became the lion’s share of the family income and had been ever since. By rights, Thomas should no longer be called ‘apprentice’ at all; it was only that old Rowan insisted on waiting until Thomas turned twenty-one next summer, and then intended to retire and give the smithy over to him entirely, as he would have his own son, if he’d had one.

“Hmm. That will depend greatly upon what the gift is.” She took a bundle of cloth tied with ribbon from him and tugged at the bow. Her lips parted in surprise when she found within a very practical, plain, everyday work frock. Her heart leapt; it was the best gift he could possibly have given her.

All at once she rushed into his arms, hugging him tight and rendering Thomas speechless. “You are an angel, Sir Thomas. Thank you for this thoughtful gift. It will make things so much easier on me, having the second dress. I am grateful it is gray and not black, and with its white apron, it will be a very cheerful thing to wear. I shall cover myself with my cloak to finish out the period of mourning and no one should say a word when I must venture out. Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

Thomas was overwhelmed by her nearness, and held her fast in his arms for a moment. Perhaps longer than he should have, but he couldn’t help himself. How many times had he dreamed of holding her so close to his heart like this?

“It is the least I could do,” he whispered, and something in the tone in his voice immediately made Charlotte back up and away.

“If you could keep an eye on our guest for a moment… I… I would like very much to try this on.”

“Go on, then.” He nodded in the direction of her parents’ small room nearby, which was currently empty and would afford her the privacy she sought. He fought his imagination, struggling to keep it from the idea she was changing into his gift, so close by.

When she reappeared, she was beaming. The dress fit as if it were made for her alone, and Thomas couldn’t have been more pleased with his purchase, even if his own new boots would have to wait because of it.