Inconveniences

Chapter 14

I fell into a laughing fit at Mr Lancaster's reaction. That was the most I've ever seen him express at once.
Actually, that was probably the first time he really expressed anything.
"One of London's most notorious rakes is scared of a body he can't even see!" I gasped loudly, trying my best to breathe.
"I can see, Miss Hemmings! Everything! Get dressed!" He was covering his eyes like a child.
Wait.
He wasn't supposed to be able to see me!
"Mr Lancaster! How can you see? It's dark!" I tried my best to sound strong, but I was blushing furiously. I hugged my arms around my breasts, hoping to cover them.
"The same way I can tell that you are currently blushing, Miss Hemmings- I have extraordinary vision. I will leave you immediatly. Get dressed. Now!" And with that, Mr Lancaster rushed away, taking care to look more relaxed. It was an attempt, but a poor one. He still took his regular fast pace with an unnaturally long stride.

Oh dear, he sure got flustered!
But I did too... I just hope I did a better job at hiding it!
Wait...
He saw my body and then called me a woman... Should I feel... flattered?

I did feel a little satisfied.

He called me a woman!

I was trying to convince him this entire time, but I guess my body spoke louder than my words.
That got me slightly angry because to Mr Lancaster, my body was more validating than my words. I should be angry, right? The entire situation told me how he really feels about women. To him, we're just pretty little mindless things that cook and push out babies! I can't care about his opinion if he thinks like that.
Of course I don't care about his opinion! I don't need validation from any one, any man, and especially from Mr Lancaster!
But a (hidden) compliment is still nice...
Unless it's from Mr Lancaster or Luke!
Anyway, I was alone again, so I got out of the river and dried off as much as possible before I redressed. I didn't want to face Mr Lancaster again, but I knew I had to go back. He couldn't have possibly seen anything anyway.
But then his if he was only acting, his acting was very convincing...
Whether it was faked or not, he was acting very out of character.
I hurried back to the camp site, which honestly really wasn't much of a camp site. Wouldn't a real camp site have tents and a fire? Luke did make a small fire, but it was only to cook. The river wasn't far from the camp, but I had a hard time navigating my way back in the dark. The trees were too thick to see the light of the fire. I tripped several times, and I completely fell on my face once. I felt a large snap in my wrist and an awful pain ripple through the right side of my body, especially in my arm, wrist, and hand, when I tried to catch myself. Cursing, and wiping any blood from random scratches off of myself, I got back up. This time I tredded with much more care and awareness.
What the hell did I do to my wrist? It felt like it was burning and throbbing.
Without any more incidents, I got back to camp. Luke's dinner fire was in full force, cooking... Something... I was hungry though, so it could have been a shoe and I still would have eaten it.
Mr Lancaster was no where in sight.
"Nice to see you, Miss Amelia," Luke greeted (unpleasantly). I nodded, hoping he wouldn't have anything else to say. I stood up wind of the fire so I could warm up without choking on the smoke.
"Miss Amelia, I was talking to you," Luke pointed out.
Wow! I couldn't tell!
"Mm hm," was my only response. He doesn't deserve a real response from me!
"Amy, love, let's talk about... Us..." My head jerked up and instinctively backed up. I could feel my gut wrenching. He reached out, firmly grabbed my wrist, and yanked me to his chest.
I screamed in agonizing pain.
Holy hell!
It felt like bone was scraping on bone, like my hand completely separated from the rest of my arm (I had to double check to make sure it was still there), and a searing pain, which was both a sharp stab a dull ache, shot up my spine. Continuing my cursing from earlier, I even added in a few "god save the Queen"s just in case there really was a higher power watching me.
Yes I was screaming, but I didn't cry even a single tear.
I guess Luke backed up while I was... Occupied. It wasn't until I heard Mr Lancaster's booming (but not loud) voice that I realized that I was still screaming.
"What in the Devil's name is happening over here?" he seethed lowly, obviously annoyed.
"I'm not sure, Mr Lancaster, sir, she just started screaming-"
"She was not screaming earlier! What did you do Lucas?"
"Well, I wanted to speak with her, but she wasn't responding to me, so I grabbed her wrist-"
"You know that you are not allowed to touch her. Follow your orders! For God's sake Miss Hemmings, be quiet!" Instantly terrified, I quieted myself down to a small whimper. I may never know how Mr Lancaster does it, but his voice is very emphatic but never loud. It seems louder than it really is because it resonates so well.
That's how I tried to distract myself from the pain- thinking about Mr Lancaster's voice.
That's a new low for me.
After Mr Lancaster was done reaming out Luke for disobeying orders, he slowly strode up to me. Mr Lancaster gently pried my arm away from my chest, where I was keeping my wrist safe without putting pressure on it. He held my wrist in one hand and lightly examined it with the tips of his fingers.
"Miss Hemmings, I have never seen a joint so bent out of shape... Indeed, a strange angle, unnaturally bent in to the left by almost a whole 90 degrees... I believe that that is your bone about to jut out of your skin. Yes, that is definitely your bone. Obviously your wrist is broken, but if I were a betting man, I would say you also tore many ligaments and tendons. I have never had medical training, but I know enough to get by."
I almost didn't hear a word he said, I was too distracted by the way his finger felt tracing my skin. Cool, callous fingers...
Mr Lancaster made me a makeshift cast. It wasn't meant to put my bone back into placelce, but to make sure I didn't bump it or mess it up anymore than I already did.
The fire was out as soon as dinner and all of the previous events were over. Mr Lancaster said it was so we wouldn't attract any attention.
From what?
Well, he wasn't clear about that, but I was able to imagine that it might have something to do with a slow and painful death.
Once we ate, all three of us chose a tree to sleep under. Mr Lancaster and I picked the same tree, but we stayed on opposite sides.
Luke tried to go by me, but Mr Lancaster ordered him to be farther way under the pretext of guarding the rest of us and preventing him from injuring me even more. Mr Lancaster stood up in the middle of our clearing, held his hands behind his back in a very dignified fashion, and addressed the two of us:
"Rest up, Miss Hemmings and Lucas. We all have a long day tomorrow."
Yeah, that was it. He definitely seemed like he could be a speaker for some company or another, Mr Lancaster had some upper tier oration skills... And that (surprisingly) was not sarcasm. Mr Lancaster really did public speaking very well.
He settled back down against the tree. Within only a few minutes, Luke was snoring loudly. I was glad he was far away from us. If he was sharing mine and Mr Lancaster's tree, it surely would have been too loud to sleep.
Yes, that's why I couldn't sleep. Luke was snoring too loud. And my wrist hurt too much.
Definitely.
It had nothing to do with how loneliness suddenly overcame me, or how a deep sadness washed over me.
My emotions were rude! How dare they keep me up at night?
How dare my memory of hearing the news about my parents' death flood into my mind right now?
Why, in hell and on Earth, did I remember the first time I was beaten by my uncle?
Like I said, rude! These imtrusive thoughts had no business being in my head while I'm trying to fall asleep.
I felt a warm drop of water roll down my cheek.
Is it raining?
I looked up at the sky, but the sky was clear. The moon and stars were tauntingly bright.
Oh, for the devil's sake, what am I doing?
Surely I couldn't be crying. I haven't done that in a few years. I haven't cried in years. I didn't cry when I found out my parents died. I didn't cry when Uncle John first started abusing me. I do remember that there was an incident when cried when I was much younger, but my mind seemed to have blocked it out. I don't remember the event, just the tears.
This was not because of my monthly either, since that was my issue on the boat.
God damn, was I actually crying?
What the hell?
I sat up, leaning against the tree. From there, I tried to regulate my breathing, hoping no one would hear me.
"Miss Hemmings." Mr Lancaster's voice resonated with the darkness. It matched the cool, night breeze- while it was definitely not warm, it was calming and pleasant.
Damn! Double damn!
"Y-yes sir?"
I cursed myself. Why couldn't my voice be steadier?
"You seem to be having an issue," he responded with no emotion or feeling. His voice was just... Soothing.
"No, s-sir."
"If not, then stop. You are keeping me up by being so loud."
"I- I'm being more q- quiet than M- Mr Steele."
Blast! I couldn't even get two words out without bumbling like a drunkard!
"Lucas is also not right next to me."
"But I am be-ing quiet, s-sir."
"And I am a light sleeper."
I didn't notice, but Mr Lancaster moved around to my side of the tree. He sat down next to me and leaned against it, our shoulders barely touching, both looking at the sky. Once in a while, I noticed him examine my face.
"The moonlight is reflecting off of your tears," Mr Lancaster pointed out. I quickly dried my face with my uninjured left hand.
"It's really nothing," I finally said with some confidence.
"Okay then."
We sat there in almost conformable silence, until Mr Lancaster pointed to the sky.
"See those stars up there? Look north. That constellation right there is Coma Bernice's, or Bernice's Hair. That is the only constellation based on a historical figure- Queen Bernice II of Egypt. She offered her hair to the gods as a sacrifice. She wished for Ptlomey III to return home safe from the Third Syrian War. The Kalina people here in Venezuela call it Ombatapo, which means Face in Carib. While the Kalina people are possible descendants of natives in the Caribbean, their languages are not similar."
"That's stupid," I commented. "Some hair surely wouldn't suffice as a sacrifice to the gods, even if she did believe they existed."
After a long, deep sigh, Mr Lancaster said, "Sure, but that was not my point. What I was trying to say was... Oh hell, what was I going to say? It all sounded so much better in my head. In general, the small sacrifices count. What you are doing for us right now is an honorable sacrifice."
I felt his thumb on my cheek, wiping a stray tear away.
"Good night, Miss Hemmings. I do recommend you sleep before the sun rises."
"Of course, sir."
At least my voice was back to normal.
Mr Lancaster stood back up and made his way to the other side of the tree.
I don't know why, but sleep came much easier now.