Scorned [ONC 2024]

Chapter Five

Pain erupted over the back of my right hand, causing me to cry out.

I batted the still-burning ball of paper away with the already injured part of my hand and pulled it into my chest, cradling it. The pain spread across my skin along with a small red mark from where I'd been burnt. I squeezed my eyes shut, fighting the tears. I wasn't going to cry over a burn. I'd had worse.

"Damn! I'm sorry; I didn't think."

Footsteps echoed behind me. Mr Turner grabbed the tongs from beside the fireplace and removed the still-smouldering paper from the floor, flinging it into the flames. He stamped on a few remaining embers on the floor, which left behind a small scald mark on the brown wood.

"Come with me. You need to put that in water." He reached out to help me to my feet but recoiled a little the moment I went to move.

"No, it's fine. It's only minor."

"A burn is a burn, and although my medical knowledge is almost non-existent, I know you need to cool it down in cold water. I caused it. At least let me help."

I nodded, the throbbing in my hand growing worse. Mr Turner helped me to my feet and led me over to a small basin resting on top of his dresser. He was supposed to use it for shaving, but instead, he lightly dunked my right hand in the cold water. The relief was gradual, but the cold water cooled the burning sensation of my skin.

A small red patch, about the size of a shilling, formed on the back of my hand. It could have been a lot worse, but I could see the blister forming and knew it would hurt when I took it out of the water. Mr Turner left me for a moment. I didn't look at him, but listened to his footsteps as he crossed the room and returned.

He dunked a white handkerchief into the water. Once it was soaked through, he pulled it out and squeezed the excess water back into the basin. He gently took my hand from the water and wrapped the handkerchief around it. The burn still stung, but not as much as it had when it was in the open air immediately after it happened.

Mr Turner watched me with his eyebrows slightly furrowed. He chewed on the skin of his thumb.

"How does it feel?"

"It's fine, sir. I'm sure Mrs Folkestone has something for burns downstairs. They happen all the time."

"I am such a dunce." He shook his head, taking a few steps away from me. "I should have known what you were doing in here since I asked Paul for the fire to be lit, but my mind was elsewhere. This is all my fault."

"It was an accident, sir. That's what I'll be telling Mrs Folkestone if she asks. I should have been paying better attention to my surroundings."

"No, I should take responsibility. You would not have done it had I not come storming in here like I did. My mind was elsewhere, and I just was not thinking."

"It was no one's fault. Just an accident."

Mr Turner drew his eyebrows in that little bit more. He paced across the room, still chewing on the skin of his thumb. I watched him, unsure of what to say, but knowing I should ask to leave before I got into even more trouble with Mrs Folkestone. There was an unexpected nervousness to him, a regret at having been partially responsible for my burn.

Of course, I was more than willing to claim it was an accident, but if he hadn't stormed into the room, it wouldn't have happened.

Still, aside from my first meeting with Mr Turner in the servant's stairwell the previous week, he was nothing like the person I'd been told he was. He may have lost his temper a few times, but he seemed more nervous and agitated than I expected him to be. His reaction to my injury interested me the most, especially his flinching when I moved too quickly. It certainly didn't match the stories or rumours.

I wondered how all the rumours came to be when he appeared so unlike the person everyone made him out to be. Had he been the rake everyone made him out to be before he left for London? If so, what caused the change in him?

"I managed to get the letter sent off this morning."

Mr Turner stopped and turned to look at me. The furrow in his eyebrows lifted a little. "You did?"

"It went with the morning post and I don't think anyone saw me add it to the pile; they were all too busy."

"Thank you." His shoulders relaxed, the tension flowing out of them. "At least something went right today."

"What do you—"

"—Jacob, we need to talk about this properly, preferably without you slamming doors like a child half your age." Lord Turner stepped into the room. He paused, looking at me. His eyes narrowed on the handkerchief still wrapped around my hand, though the cooling effect had worn off. "What happened?"

"It was an accident, sir. I wasn't paying attention."

Lord Turner's eyes flicked towards Mr Turner for a moment. "Is that the truth?"

Mr Turner nodded.

"It is, sir. I did it just before Mr Turner came in and he helped me to tend to it."

"You should return to the kitchens and have it properly tended to." Lord Turner nodded. "Now."

"Yes, sir."

I took one last look at Mr Turner, seeing the way his shoulders once again drew in as though he were being wound up. His face moved into a neutral expression, giving way to the arrogance that had annoyed me when we first met. The corner of his mouth twisted into a slight smile, and he crossed his arms over his chest. Despite the bravado, there was no hiding the tension sitting in his body.

His eyes met mine for a brief second before he turned away. I took my cue to leave and scampered from the room with the handkerchief still wrapped around my hand.

Was the arrogance that had become a staple of Mr Turner's character really been a show all that time?

~~~

First Published - February 25th, 2024