A Most Mysterious Gentleman (#1 Sweet Nineteenth Series) VERY SLOW UPDATES

AMMG ~10~

Rosalie sighed, curled in the foetal position around a pillow on her bed. She hadn't washed in days, she had hardly eaten, and she certainly hadn't changed out of her nightgown.

She felt dirty and looked it. When Eva had eventually given her a looking glass she was horrified by what she saw.

Blonde hair, greasy, slick and a mass of unbrushed curls. Her nightgown was almost crusty with the salt from her sweat and from her endless crying too.

The only thing she dared not look at was her leg and the bandage, although when she had accidentally glanced at it, the blood, and some yellow liquid had stained it. The Doctor had faithfully come to change it everyday, and she'd overheard him telling her Father it was progressing nicely.

Progressing nicely.

It was not a light sponge cooking in the oven.

It was her leg.

She'd thought of all her possibilities.

The Duke, Henry, would never marry her now. There was no need.

No-one else would now marry her either. No matter the size of dowry.

She smiled sadly, she'd dreamed of children.

Her leg was much more a tidbit of gossip to the ton besides, the supposed ruining of her by the Duke would not matter.

But when they heard, she imagined they would gasp, the women would swoon, and the men would smile sadly, before looks of repulsion would enter all of their eyes. The glorious Duke's daughter, an invalid.

She would never walk properly again. Hop, yes. She couldn't even ride now, the side saddle was designed for her left leg to be the one in the stirrup and the right rested.

So much she couldn't do.

She'd hated her mare for what she'd done to her. But even then, after lying in bed for over 2 weeks, she realised her horse, was just that. A horse. Stupid, flighty animals who reacted instinctively.

She just wanted to see Francesca now. Her eyes would hold no pity, but be soft and brown, her muzzle soft as she would reach for a carrot.

Rosalie sighed again. She wouldn't have a hand free, if she used the crutches the local carpenter had fashioned.

She thought back to Henry, her betrothed. He hadn't been to see her at all. She wondered whether he had broken off the engagement yet.

She imagined that since the engagement news had been published in the newspaper, the news would bring even more visitors to the grand house. Even more than the many waiting to see the beautiful Duke's daughter with half a leg. She scowled, unwilling to be a circus act. She had not had much human contact, even throwing away her relationships with Eva and her Father to cherish being alone, and wallowing in self pity.

I hope it won't harm it forever, I just need to be alone.

Rosalie stretched and reached for a blanket lying by the side of her bed to cover her shoulders. She sat up, grasping the beautifully handcrafted crutches her Father had left by the side of her bed in the hopes she would use them herself.

She looked down, glancing at her leg. With the bandage on, she felt like a soldier in a dress. It was easier to imagine herself that way, a noble hero, not just a lady who fell from a spooking horse.

Shifting her weight on to the side of the bed, she clutched at the crutches and hauled herself up, stumbling and falling back onto the bed as her arm muscles couldn't take it.