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Chapter Text

“Sir, the doctor has arrived.”

Lord Marcus Kane set aside his bifocals and arose with haste, his heart clamoring with anticipation inside his chest cavity. “Splendid,” he said. “Thank you, Russell.”

Downstairs stood a short statured woman dressed like she had just traveled a long journey. Luggage piled at her feet. Lord Kane cleared his throat and smiled. “My apologies, ma’am, but I was expecting a doctor.”

“I am the doctor,” she replied self-assuredly, straightening her bonnet.

His eyes roamed her small figure as he scrutinized her with pursed lips. “With all due respect, madam, I was under the impression that my daughter’s doctor would be a man.”

“You were sorely mistaken, good sir.”

He raised a brow. “The advertisement in the herald had you listed under the name Adam Griffin,” he said with suspicion. He scratched his bare chin in thought.

She smiled cloyingly up at him. “It must have been a misprint,” she said.

He tutted. “I see…”

“Although the name was falsely written, I assure you my qualifications remain accurate,” she said, her chin pointed high.

Lord Kane’s lips curled slightly in amusement. He was rather impressed with her tenacity. “We shall see about that… I am Marcus Kane, by the way. And to whom do I owe the pleasure, ma’am? Obviously you are no Adam.”

“I am Doctor Abigail Griffin, sir. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, my lord,” she said, straining a smile.

It was obvious they had gotten off on the wrong footing and Ms. Abigail likely found him to be your typical narrow-minded fellow who thought of women as a lesser species whilst he was nothing of the sort. The doctor’s sex was nothing of his business or interest. Actually, he had dreams for his own daughter that she would someday recover and become a doctor if she wished.

The nurse who had once lived on the estate had done all that she knew to do so he hired another, then another. Nurse after nurse, their prescription was all the same: rest. Octavia would sleep and she would wake, growing weaker by the passing days. As his daughter’s condition worsened, he grew desperate. He did not consider himself a religious man, actually he was anything but, however, he found himself falling to his knees and crying out to the ceiling to whomever would perchance listen to his pleas to spare his daughter. It would be the one and only time he ever prayed.

Despite his wealthy status and his tireless efforts of writing letters to the best doctors in Edenshire, Stratford-Upon-Arkadia, Upton Jaha, and beyond, he found difficulty in discovering a doctor available for routine care for his beloved daughter. The epidemics that plagued southeast England (smallpox, yellow fever) occupied the majority of the doctors’ time.

One evening following tea time, his deep brown eyes had scanned the Edenshire Herald just like they did every evening for the past decade. (Marcus Kane was a man of routine.) As if fate intervened in his deepest hour of need, he had stumbled upon a notice in the bottom right-hand corner of the newspaper of one self-proclaimed highly qualified Doctor Adam Griffin seeking employment, preferably as a live-in doctor.  Lord Kane had decided to write a letter straightaway and soon began a correspondence between the doctor who agreed to pack his belongings and arrange a carriage to bring him to the lord’s estate of Polis Park. 

Of course, he was now no longer under the misconception that Octavia’s doctor was male, but that the person he had been exchanging letters with was one Abigail Griffin. A sly one, she was, but she was not backing down to tell him the true reasoning behind the pseudonym. Although it did not take one of great sagacity to conclude it was because of the gender inequality that existed in late 19^th  century England. If her qualifications proved to be valid, it did not matter to him whether she wore a petticoat or trousers. In all truth, he could not blame her for her hesitation to present her true self. He considered himself to be of the progressive lot but even so, if he was not such a man, he would still put his politics aside if it meant saving his daughter’s life. And that was what Doctor Abigail Griffin was supposedly going to do: save his daughter’s life. He hoped.

~~~

Abigail, known as Abby to those dear to her, was not a dishonest woman, but from an early age her father taught her that it was a cruel world and one needed to do what was necessary for means of survival – even if it meant telling a little white lie. After all, what was the harm in it? It is not uncommon knowledge that one who does what it takes to survive will deserve to survive after the effort they put forth, and survival was all that Abigail Griffin had known since she had lost those dearest to her.

She followed the butler called Russell upstairs to her quarters as the footman Miles carried her luggage up the elegantly spiraled staircase. (At first Abby thought she misunderstood, but she truly was given a quarter of the upstairs – practically her own flat.) The walk took her doubly the time it should have as her eyes kept getting caught on glimmering golden trinkets and marble statues. Abby could not help but gasp in adoration. Russell stood idly by, waiting patiently as Abby gathered herself enough to press on. Abby’s family was well-off but far not necessarily wealthy – especially far from this sort of wealth. She entered her chambers and spun around with childlike glee.

“I shall escort you to Lady Octavia’s room now,” said Russell, placing Abby’s bags at the foot of her bed. A grand-sized bed it was.

“This is quite the exquisite room,” Abby said, ignoring Russell’s request.

“Indeed. It was once the master’s.”

“Why does he not stay here now? Dear heavens, I have not displaced him, have I?”

“No, madam. It is really not for me to say. Come along now, if you please.”

Abby’s face contorted as she observed Russell’s back while he led her down the hallway. It was quite the magnificent hallway. Perhaps the most magnificent of all hallways. A colossal painting that looked it could be the likes of Michelangelo hung on the wall just opposite of the stairs. For just a moment, Abby paused to take in the exquisite work until the clearing of Russell’s throat jolted her from her astonishment and she joined him just outside of Lady Octavia’s chambers.

She entered the room to find an ashen child, white as her sheets that laid messily underneath her bare and crooked legs. She sat haggardly upright in her bed. The circles under her eyes were as dark as her irises. Her young face that should have been round and soft instead was haunted by sickly sharp angles. Abby perched on the edge of the bed and spoke softly to the child.

“And who do we have here?” she asked.

“Octavia,” the child weakly replied.

“Lovely to meet you, Octavia. Can you tell me how old you are?”

“I’m six,” she said meekly.

The child held up six weary fingers in front of Abby.

“That’s wonderful. You can call me Abby. I’ll be your doctor.”

“A doctor? But you’re a lady.” There was genuine confusion in the child’s voice.

There was laughter which was hastily covered by a cough and Abby turned her head in search of the noise behind her.

“I do apologize on behalf of my child. She is being rather uncouth,” said Lord Kane.

“Like father like daughter,” Abby muttered before directing her attention back to Lady Octavia. “Women can be doctors, too, now. I promise I will take very good care of you. Alright?”

“Alright.”

“Good. I will leave you to rest for now,” Abby said cordially.

She stood to leave and invited herself out of Lady Octavia’s chamber, pointedly ignoring Lord Kane’s cloying polite smile as she grazed past his body in the corridor.

“Ma’am,” he called after her.

“Lord Kane,” she merely said without even turning around, nearing her quarters with every step.

“I shall like to have a word.”

Stopping in her tracks, she turned then, watching as he leisurely inched his way closer to her. “Perhaps the day you learn to address me like a professional then will I give you the time of day.”

Lord Kane scrunched his face and chuckled. “What so ever do you mean?”

“I am no ma’am. I am a doctor and I expect you to address me as such, just as you did in your letters to me – or rather, to Adam.”

Lord Kane’s mouth gaped and a fertile silence of awareness flooded the gargantuan corridor. He bowed his head. “Of course. How silly of me. I do apologize, doctor,” he said with emphasis. “If I may have a word?” He gestured towards a room off to the side and she followed him. He closed the door behind them as they entered what looked to Abby like his study.

“So?” Lord Kane asked, wringing his hands.

“So?”

“So, what is the matter with my daughter?” His dark eyes scanned her face seemingly searching for any clues to tell him the gravity of the situation.

Abby stifled a laugh. “Lord Kane, I simply cannot diagnose your child after one brief encounter. She is visibly ill. Extremely. Based on physical observance alone, her contorted legs are especially cause for concern.”

“Yes,” he said, sadly.

“However, I would like to build a rapport with her before I start prodding her with examination tools.”

“A rapport? With all due respect, ma’am — pardon… With all due respect, doctor, my daughter is extremely ill, you just said yourself. She requires treatment not friendship,” he said with a scoff.

“For how long has she been sick?”

Lord Kane sucked in air between his teeth. “Close to half a year now, I suppose.”

“Then a few days will not make a difference.”

Lord Kane opened his mouth to protest.

“Who is the doctor here, Lord Kane?” Abby asked with an icy stare.

Her response garnered an exasperated sigh from the master but he simply bit his lip and nodded his head as he escorted her back into the hall.

That man… He infuriated her to her very core! So haughty and pompous – she could not stand the likes of him already.

Chewing at her lip in frustration, she arrived back into her quarters to discover that all of her luggage had been properly unpacked and put away. Living at Polis Park was like a storybook tale with fairies who did everything for you whilst you moseyed about with not a care. However, she did care. She cared to find a cure for the young girl. No child should be bedridden and she was determined to successfully treat Lady Octavia.

Following a short rest, as she felt weary from her travels (a two-hour train ride and then a half-hour carriage ride), Abby was given a complete tour of Polis Park. As expected, the rest of the house was adorned with expensive paintings, lavish furniture, and exorbitant statues.

Once the tour was over, she was introduced to some of the help of the estate. She spoke briefly to the laundrymaid called Lorelei who was occupied scrubbing linens on a washboard. The housekeeper, Mrs. Rebecca, was too flustered to speak more than three words to Abby as she fluttered about like a busy bee; however, the housemaid and governess were especially friendly and took time to ask Abby about herself over a spot of tea in the second parlor.

“Where do you stay?” Abby asked Calliope, the governess, after describing to them her living quarters, which they of course were already familiar with.

“A small cottage on the estate. It is merely a short walk from here.”

“And the others?”

“Same as I. They live scattered about the property in various cottages.”

“Pray tell, why must I stay under the same roof as such an unbearable and vain man?” Abby was pouting, though she did not care. “It is not fair!”

“Lord Kane may be brooding and difficult, at times, Doctor, but he treats us all justly. You do not want to hear the horror stories of other servants under the rule of less-than-fair masters, such as the baron Charles Pike.” The governess, Indra, looked upon Abby with widened eyes. Fear fluttered in Abby’s stomach.

“Yes, he even dines with us. Well, he used to. Until Lady Octavia fell ill.”

He dined with the servants? That was practically unheard of in modern times!

“Oh my. How willfully ignorant of me.” A flush crept up on Abby’s face.

“There, there, Doctor. I, more than most, can relate to how difficult Lord Kane can be,” whispered Calliope.

“You ladies can call me Abby,” she said. Her mouth curved up into a smile. “Doctor is reserved for Lord Kane.”

The trio shared a hushed laugh. Indra glanced at her pendant watch and stood swiftly. “I must go. It is time for Lady Octavia’s spelling lesson.”

As Indra exited the parlor, Abby watched with wide eyes through the opened door to the kitchen as the chef and kitchen maid clamored amongst pots and pans. The chef, called Nygel according to Calliope, and the kitchen maid, called Harper, worked with celerity as they prepared for the day’s meal.

“What is that smell?” Abby asked, making a face.

“Friday is fish day,” stated Calliope.

Abby shook her head in wonder. “How many bodies are within this residence? My family had merely one servant.”

“Hmm,” Calliope began thoughtfully. “You have met Russell, the butler, and Miles, the footman. There is myself – the housemaid, and Lorelei the laundrymaid. Nygel is the chef – do not get in her way, I warn you. Harper is the timid yet diligent kitchen maid. Indra, whom you just met, is the governess. And—”

“NO!” A scream from Lady Octavia startled the pair. “I cannot! It hurts too much! I can’t bear it!” Lady Octavia exclaimed, choking a sob.

Abby arose and turned to see Lady Octavia in the hall, crawling on all fours, pleading with a woman to escort her back to her chambers.

“That is Ms. Charmaine, Lady Octavia’s head nurse,” Calliope murmured.

“You need some fresh air, my lady!”

“No, I mustn’t! The pain is unbearable! Daddy!” The child flipped onto her back. Her small legs were pale and bowed.

“For how long have her legs been like this?” Abby asked, now in the hallway alongside the head nurse.

“Not for very long. A month, perhaps. Half a year ago, the pain and weakness began. It’s steadily worsened since then.” Charmaine’s face fell. She fell to her knees to wipe the hair from Lady Octavia’s sticky tearstained face. She shushed her and kissed her forehead.

“I wish to return to my chambers now,” Lady Octavia whimpered.

“As you wish,” Charmaine said, standing. She turned her attention to Calliope. “Calliope, fetch Miles and have him return Lady Octavia to her chambers this instant.”

Soon, Calliope returned with the footman at her side and Miles lifted Octavia into his arms and carried her up the grand staircase. Abby followed right behind his trails, leaving her tea in the parlor to grow cold. She was far more concerned in examining Lady Octavia.

~~~

“What happened to building a rapport first?” asked Lord Kane in the corridor. He donned a haughty arched eyebrow that stirred a deep resentful anger within Abby. She closed the door behind her which led to Lady Octavia’s chambers and pushed past the lady’s exasperating father.

She tutted at his remark. “Are you here to catechize me on my every move? I feel as though I am under your microscope. Every time I glance up, you’re breathing down my neck!”

Lord Kane peered at her with eyes that fought to turn as dark as night. With his jaw clenched, he replied. “Well, Doctor, forgive my apprehension but if you do recall, you deceived me. My daughter is currently under your care. Surely you can understand my trepidation.”

“Truly, sir, I do understand. I made a mistake and I am sorry I fooled you but I am a skilled doctor. I am a professional! I will not stand around and be chastised by anyone: man, woman, rich, or poor. I shall pack up my belongings and find work elsewhere if you will not respect me.”

“No,” he pleaded, his eyes stricken with fear. “I verily believe you can help my daughter. Please.” Lord Kane opened his mouth to speak once more but fastened it shut.

Abby rubbed her hands together and scrutinized him expectantly. When he did not speak, she chose to do so. “Sir, I was told you once dined with the help, but not anymore. I did think I should ask if we could dine together this evening.”

He stared at her mutely. His dark and curled eyelashes fluttered; a wrinkle formed between his brows at her question. She was on tenterhooks awaiting his response.

“Yes, of course,” he said finally, “I was going to suggest the same.”

~~~

“So tell me, sir, does my womanhood disturb you?”

His brows knitted but behind his chalice he failed to hide the smallest hint of a smirk. If he were honest with himself, he found her frankness to be somewhat endearing. Nevertheless, he shook his head dismissively. “Why must you mention an issue that has been hitherto discussed and laid to rest? Are you not the type, Doctor, to let sleeping dogs lie?”

“Perhaps I do have a tendency to revisit certain controversies.”

She chewed at her lip, humor glinted in her mocha eyes. For the first time since her arrival, he allowed himself to notice her beauty, only briefly, before he pushed away his physical impulses. She was his daughter’s doctor; she wished for him to treat her with respect. Surely ogling at her like a lascivious buffoon was not a sign of professional reverence in any sense of the term.

“To answer your question,” he began, “and to hopefully lay the issue to rest once and for all: no, your womanhood disturbs me not. I am simply relieved to have found a skilled doctor such as yourself, regardless of your sex.” Her silence told him that his answer was satisfactory.

Soon, their main course of fish arrived and the doctor dined on it sumptuously. Indeed, she had worked up quite the appetite, that much was apparent to him. Silence was bestowed on them the rest of the meal until Mrs. Rebecca gathered their sullied plates and Lord Kane offered her a short word of thanks.

“Shall you take a walk with me? I often enjoy some fresh air after I have had a large meal.”

“That sounds quite lovely,” the doctor responded, accepting his proffered hand as she stood.

~~~

The evening sky provided them just enough light as they strolled the gardens of Polis Park. The burnt orange slowly faded away above their heads as the heavens fought to turn obsidian. Abby found herself walking awkwardly close beside Lord Kane lest a wild beast were to appear out of the shrubbery and begin to gnaw at her shins. She was never a skittish woman until it came to wildlife. Suddenly, a mere rustle in the bush startled her so greatly, the color drained from her face and she grabbed Lord Kane’s arm as a biting gasp escaped her. She broke away from him immediately, her pale face growing crimson. In the midst of all of the commotion, it had not instantly dawned on her that the sounds Lord Kane was making – the low, guttural noise – was, of all things, laughter. Her chagrin quickly transformed into an unspeakable and inexplicable rage. She could not determine what about the man enraged her so. Perhaps it was his vainglory or imperiousness or the way he always stood with his aquiline nose pointed towards the azure celestial sphere. There had never been another human being alive that had the ability to enrage Abby with such ease and she had only known him for a mere twelve hours. If she had allowed herself time to ponder on the thought, she would possibly admit that it was an impressive feat. She glared at him with disdain and his laughter died off instantaneously. She grunted and gathered her skirt in her hands and plodded past him violently, her anger blinding herself from the fear of the rustling shrubbery.

“Doctor,” he called out, his feet already at her heels.

Abby groaned. “Why must you be so constantly irksome? Can we not walk in comfortable silence?”

“I am simply trying to get to know my daughter’s doctor,” he replied, innocently enough. Her own wall of Jericho immediately began to crumble as she remembered the sickly little girl with the translucent eyelids and bent legs.

She sighed a sigh of surrender. “What would you like to know?”

“How long have you been a physician? What inspired you?”

Abby drew a long breath before she began, directing her eyes upward to the darkening sky as the memories overtook her.

“I lost my daughter, Clarke, to diphtheria when she was age four. Two years later, my husband Jake succumbed to scarlet fever. We had a happy little home together, just the three of us, in the outskirts of Stratford-Upon-Arkadia, but after losing them both, I moved back in with my parents in Edenshire. It was then I had to either choose a career path or choose to marry. Cooking and cleaning were never my strong suits and it pained me too harshly to care for someone else’s child so soon after losing my own. I had heard of women going to medical school. As time went on, I began to consider it for myself. It may sound strange but I always had a fascination with diseases. I had read a dozen books on the black plague by the time I was thirteen. My mother and father thought it was ridiculous and they would shut me down whenever I tried to mention it. ‘Just find a husband,’ my father would say. ‘Life will be much easier for you that way,’ my mother would add. But I thought back to all of the nights when I read my daughter to sleep and as I kissed her smooth little forehead I’d say ‘You can be anything you dream, my sweet one.’

“After months of deliberation, I finally made the decision to go to medical school. It was a struggle to even get accepted but one school in particular was so impressed with my knowledge and abilities that they finally accepted me. Not without a fight, mind you, but nevertheless, I persisted and got in. I was their first female pupil. The male pupils had all voted unanimously to let me in. Despite earning my degree after tireless efforts, my parents were still unconvinced. As it turns out, simply because one has a degree does not make it so easy to just find a job. Not with my sex, at least. But then I arrived here, at Polis Park. Undoubtedly, I am forever in your favor.”

Lord Kane squinted, a corner of his mouth turning upward only slightly. “Well, it isn’t like you got the job in the most honest way…”

The hope inside her deflated. “One could say I was growing desperate.”

“But it does sound like I made the right decision.”

She brightened. “Thank you, sir.”

“Don’t make me regret my act of kindness, Doctor.”

And just like that, the familiar attitude of Lord Kane was back. She inwardly rolled her eyes. “Of course, Lord Kane.”

“Forgive me, Doctor, but surely remarrying would have been a much easier path to take. Have you no plans to remarry in the future?”

“I am married to my occupation.”

“That is a novel excuse,” he chuckled.

“It is not an excuse, Lord Kane. I vowed to help the sick. I had lived enough of my life watching sick people die without having any ability to do something about it. Now I can finally help them recover.”

“I admire you for that. Truly.”

Lord Kane graciously escorted Abby back inside. They stood at the base of the staircase.

“I did appreciate the company,” he said flatly.

“Likewise,” she replied with partial honesty.

“If you will excuse me, I am bedward. I have a long day ahead. I’ll see you in the morrow… Doctor.” His pompous smirk hinted that he continued to find her insistence to be referred to as “Doctor” a farcical matter. The nerve of that man!

“God willing,” she said as she strained a smile, determined to end the evening with her master on a friendly note.

“God,” Lord Kane said followed by a scornful scoff, already turning on his heels to leave.

“Do you not believe in God, my lord?” Abby inquired.

Lord Kane stopped in his tracks and turned to face her once more. He chewed at his lip in thought and then said, “Every day I wake up and kiss my ailing daughter good morning and I question how could a benevolent, loving god allow an innocent child to suffer as she. So to answer your question, Doctor, no, I do not believe in God.”

Chapter Text

The rest of the week was spent by Abby tending to Lady Octavia whilst she built a rapport with her. The child had begun to refuse leaving the comforts of her bed and, in turn, developed bed sores to which Abby applied salves and dressings every couple hours. She was a fussy patient but Abby was determined and did not shy away from redirecting Lady Octavia’s behavior if she saw fit.

Meanwhile, Lord Kane was a persistent thorn in her side, hovering over her at every given chance while she observed his daughter. She poked, she prodded, and she jotted down a plethora of notes as he breathed down her neck. There was no telling how much ink Abby had went through that first week alone as she scrawled note after note detailing every symptom of the girl’s.

A fortnight of Lord Kane’s obsessive, compulsive behavior to control and question her every movement had proven to be Abby’s breaking point. A mere fourteen days she lasted before she came unraveled like a mad woman in the parlor surrounded by all of the help.

Leading up to the event, moments prior, Abby had grown impatient with Lady Octavia and impetuously insisted the child join her for a walk outside.

“No!” Lady Octavia had screamed.

“Russell will carry you.”

“I refuse!”

With a huff, Abby had stripped the blankets from Lady Octavia’s bed, exposing the child’s crooked legs that poked out from the bottom of her off-white nightgown. With Russell being nowhere in sight, Abby had took it upon herself to lift the six-year-old and commence to carry her down the stairs, all the while Lady Octavia bellowed one ear-piercing shriek after the other that were punctuated with wild gesticulations. The child may be crippled but her tenacity was unmatched. By the time Abby had reached the base of the stairs, blanched and gasping for air, the entire household had arrived to see what was causing such a clatter, including Lord Kane himself who was absolutely fuming.

“What is the meaning of this?” he barked, removing his daughter from Abby’s shaky grasp.

“We were going for a walk.”

Lord Kane’s nostrils flared as he spoke through gritted teeth. “It is apparent she does not want to go for a walk, Doctor,” he spat. “Have you not yet learned how to discern when your patient is in distress?”

“But—”

“The outdoors will not cure my daughter!” he roared.

“But I verily believe it will,” she replied with conviction.

Silence overtook the room until Lord Kane broke the calm. He snickered derisively, his nose towards the ceiling as he gawked at her with a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. With a shake of his head he said to her, “You are out of your mind.”

Abby saw scarlet, her heart clamoring in her chest as the rage quickly bubbled within herself. “I am a doctor! I am a woman of science! If you refuse to surrender control to a woman and lose your daughter due to your antiquated ways then so be it!”

Lord Kane was left speechless. He was not an easy man to read. Abby could not tell if he was hurt, stunned, or simply insulted. Very rarely was the man left speechless; he often always had a cunning retort to shoot back at her. This time was different, however. She had cut deeper than she perhaps intended but she was desperate for him to hear her. Abby had heard of it before, she was sure of it. If Octavia had what Abby suspected, the outdoors would truly just might be her cure. Partially. The thought had first occurred to her like a tickle in one’s lung and the more time Abby spent examining the child, the more sure she became. Now Abby only needed the proof. Lord Kane was a man who enjoyed his concrete truths and she was going to give him that. She would see to it. For the time being, she surmised it would be best to spend the evening regaining Lady Octavia’s trust. Her eyes fell to the little girl, now in the footman’s arms as he carried her small frame up the stairs.

Abby followed right on Miles’s heels and was at Lady Octavia’s bedside straightaway. The child’s eyes were as pink as her flushed cheeks from her outburst and she was still sniffling. She clutched to her dolly as Abby pulled up a chair beside her bed. Octavia dramatically covered her ears as the scraping of the chair permeated her chambers. Abby leaned in closely and smiled at the child who stared at her with a crumpled face. The young girl absentmindedly toyed with the lavender ribbon hanging from the torso of her china doll’s dress.

Abby’s eyes fell to the porcelain doll as a wave of reminiscence washed over her. She sighed wistfully and smiled, yearning for the simple times of sitting beside the fireplace on cold winter nights, her dolls forming a circle around her as she offered them a spot of tea from her play tea set. She would sing as she brought her tiny hand and an even smaller cup up to each of their mouths: Polly put the kettle on, Polly put the kettle on, Polly put the kettle one, and let’s drink tea.

“What’s your dolly’s name?” Abby asked, her voice as soft as the smile on her face.

“Ada,” replied Octavia shyly. A smile crept up on her face. “I’m her mummy,” she said, her eyes brightening with pride.

Abby’s heart swelled. “I am sure you are a marvelous mummy to young Ada.”

“Yes. I never had a mummy,” she said sadly. “Well, I did but… I can’t remember her.”

“I am sorry, my lady. That cannot be very easy for you.”

“Thank you,” the child said, her eyes scanning the room. “I have other dollies, as well,” she said suddenly, her face illuminating once more.

“Oh,” Abby said with intrigue.

“Yes.” She began to name them, counting off on her scrawny, stubby fingers. “Evie, Elise, Helena, and… Irene. You musn’t tell the others but… Ada is my favorite.” She brought a finger to her lips and shushed Abby to secrecy.

“What do you and your dollies enjoy doing together?”

“Oh. Well, our most favorite thing to do is have tea parties.”

“Tea parties?”

“Yes!”

“Why, I used to have tea parties with my dollies, as well,” Abby said.

“Would you join us sometime?” Octavia asked, hope filling her voice as her dark eyes pleaded Abby to say yes. How could she say no?

“Of course, sweet one… I- I am sorry for earlier. But you must understand that as your doctor, I know what is best for you. Though it will not be easy, you must be a big girl and be brave for me if you wish to get better. Do you want to get better?”

Octavia cogitated momentarily as she chewed at her chapped bottom lip with her stray incisor tooth. “I suppose,” she said with a sigh.

~~~

Upon completing her visit with Lady Octavia, Abby was greeted by Calliope who pulled her aside to the parlor for a spot of tea. Not long after meeting Calliope, Abby had deduced that she was one who was awfully fond of male company. She scantly spoke of anything else. Only minutes into their gathering and Calliope had begun asking Abby questions about her personal life.

“Pray tell, is there a special gentleman in your life, Abby?” Calliope inquired as she pushed back a stray, coal-black hair behind her ear.

Abby chuckled suddenly, staggered by the question. She stammered. “Oh, heavens no. I- I’m a widow.”

Calliope’s eyes fell. She donned the same expression and whispered the same pitiful words as everyone else whenever Abby would share her traumatic story. “My condolences,” Calliope said finally.

“It was quite some time ago.”

“Well,” Calliope began, brightening slightly, “if you find yourself feeling lonesome, there are plenty of eligible bachelors on the estate. If you fancy none of them, I have a cousin who many folk refer to as handsome – though I find him to have such odd shaped lips.”

Abby tittered from behind her teacup. “What a peculiar observation,” she said.

Calliope shrugged. “As far as I know, Lord Kane is available, also. He rarely leaves the estate save for the occasional hunting trip. But it appears that you two cannot share four words with one another before you are fussing,” she said, stating the obvious. Perhaps that was the most obvious observation of the entire century.

~~~

At dinner, Abby sat silently between Charmaine and Indra, only speaking whenever she was addressed. For some reason, despite herself, her eyes kept wandering the room, scanning for any sight of Lord Kane to finally join them. He had dined with her privately on her first day at Polis Park but never again since. She could not bear to look at the man yet she still found herself drawing her attention away from the roasted turkey on her plate and the chattering company surrounding her to search for the one man in the world that drove her absolutely mad. Strangely, she felt an unexpected pang of disappointment when he never appeared.

Following the conclusion of dinner, Abby dispersed from the lingering crowd of help to get some fresh air in the courtyard. Unsure what had gotten into her, she found herself walking the grounds, eyes patrolling until they found him.

He hugged the wool coat against his frame as he meandered about the sublime gardens, the chill of the breeze likely biting his bare bits of skin just as it did hers. “I thought I would find you here,” she said from behind him, obviously startling him as he jolted at the sound of her voice. He turned to face her, then quickly back again, seemingly embarrassed by the scare. He continued walking.

“Are you tracking my whereabouts, Doctor?”

She inwardly rolled her eyes but caught herself smiling. “May I join you?” she asked. When he did not reply, she took his silence for agreeance and joined him at his side.

They walked for some distance when he finally replied, looking not at her but ahead. “I never said yes.”

“But you never said no,” she replied quickly. That made his dark eyes crinkle slightly, a loose smirk formed around his usually tight lips.

“How do you fare?” he asked flatly, his smirk dissipating as quickly as it formed.

“Fine, thank you. I am getting acquainted with everyone and learning my way around the estate more and more each day. And you?”

“I am well, thank you,” he said. “I feel as though we need to discuss earlier. Without the shouting.” They continued to walk at a leisurely pace, facing straight ahead as they watched the orange evening sun begin to sink.

“I know you do not agree with my methods, Lord Kane—”

“Not in the slightest.”

“—But do you trust me?”

Lord Kane chewed at his lip. “Yes,” he said, sounding as though it pained him to say it.

“Then act like it.”

“She was so upset,” he choked, his eyes nearly filling with tears. “Octavia has always had a flair for the dramatic but, God, when I found her like that, I just became enraged.” He stopped walking and turned to face her. “I do not feel as though my ways are antiquated. I am purely a concerned father. I am sorry but I just cannot fathom how the outdoors will help a child in her condition.”

“I can find you the proof,” she said quickly. “I just need time.”

“Time? Time? Doctor, how much time does she even have?”

“Enough.”

Lord Kane scoffed and ran a hand over his face.

“We mustn’t despair. Hope is everything,” she said, placing a hand on his shoulder. His eyes fell to her hand and she dropped it back to her side instantaneously, her cheeks burning.

Lord Kane escorted her to her room after their walk. Following their conversation about Octavia, they walked mostly in uncomfortable silence. Abby continued to mull over the embarrassing placement of her hand. Why did she touch him? The look on his face – so utterly stunned – told her he obviously did not wish to be touched, especially by her. She felt as though she had crossed some invisible line and she merely hoped he would be able to forget about it by the morrow.

Once they reached the crest of the grand staircase, Lord Kane nodded and bid her goodnight. As he turned to walk away, she called out for him, stopping him in his tracks.

“Yes?” he asked, turning back to face her once more.

“Is it true that I sleep in your former bedchamber?” He remained silent at her question, so she continued. “Why do you no longer rest there?”

“I would rather not talk about it,” he said quietly, his eyes falling to the floor.

“Sir, I am merely inquiring. I have not displaced you have I?”

His stony expression crumbled and anger bubbled out like molten lava from a volcano. “I said I do not wish to speak of it!” he exclaimed. He turned on his heels and rushed down the stairs, leaving Abby standing in shock, still regarding the space where he stood moments prior.

~~~

A quick flicker of a castle, then green rolling hills as far as the eye could see, and last the coastal waters, waves angry, told him he was in the Isles of Scotland. They had traveled there soon after they were wed. He first caught a glimpse of her obsidian hair, long and wavy. It tickled his nose. She only wore it down when they were alone in their chambers. He heard laughter – her characteristic giggle that was muffled by the crashing waves but still within earshot. He caught a quick glimpse of her dress, it blew about freely in the Scottish winds. She finally turned to him, her face young and beautiful – his dear Aurora! How he longed for her so. He became overwhelmed with a sense of fondness and longing for his dearly departed. His body ached for her.

Without warning, her face dissipated, and suddenly standing before him was not his late wife, but Doctor Abigail Griffin. Surprising himself, the same feelings of fondness and longing remained. The doctor smiled largely at him as he pulled her close…

… And then he woke with a start, his heart racing as he collected his thoughts and whereabouts. It was a dream. He glanced down at the unfortunate bulge of his drawers, shame creeping up on him. What a disgraceful dream! His mind betrayed his poor, dead spouse – with their daughter’s doctor nonetheless. It was simply a silly dream, he told himself.

He tossed and turned the rest of the night, sleeping fitfully when his eyes did finally close, although that only occurred for minutes at a time before he would wake again. He feared that if he allowed sleep to take him fully, he would dream of her again. The guilt he felt for Aurora penetrated his soul, meanwhile the captivating smile of the doctor continued to haunt his mind the remainder of the night. He needed to get away. He had to escape her company before he became completely undone.

Chapter Text

He was a recluse – holed up in his chamber the following day. An escape was necessary so he made arrangements for the following day. Before dawn, his bags were packed. By sunrise, the stagecoach had arrived to whisk him away. He stepped into his daughter’s chamber room to find Ms. Calliope, Ms. Diyoza, Ms. Indra, Mrs. Rebecca, and the woman he could not bear to glance at for more than a fleeting moment – Dr. Abigail.

“I’m awfully sorry to interrupt your studies but I’m going away—”

“No!” Octavia shouted.

“Only for a short time, my love,” Lord Kane added softly as he kneeled down at her bedside. She dramatically flung her book to the side and it clattered to the floor, nearly hitting Ms. Indra in the process. She hooked her arms tightly around his neck. He chuckled and rubbed her back as he struggled to breathe. She certainly had not lost her strength everywhere.

His daughter had always had a flair for the dramatic. She had cried constantly for months after she was born. She came into this world wailing, only to be silenced by her lips meeting her mother’s bosom, quietly suckling. For four lunar moons she would sob and wail all throughout the day and far into the night. It had took them by surprise. Bellamy had been an easy child, at least before his mother passed. The two children were as dissimilar as night and day (aside from their stubbornness). She was far past infancy yet her wild temper tantrums and mood swings remained. After six years, Lord Kane had grown accustomed to it. It was just who she was.

He kissed Octavia’s forehead and told her he would be back as fast as she could say “chuckaboo” which caused the young girl to giggle.

“Sinclair, my estate steward, is on his way,” he said, now addressing the ladies in the room. His eyes darted between each familiar face as he spoke; however, he avoided the doctor. “He will handle all my legal and property matters while I am away, as per usual.” He directed his attention to his daughter once more. “I will be back soon,” he said before he turned to leave.

~~~

As Diyoza loaded Octavia into her wheelchair and wheeled her away for a bath, Abby caught Calliope’s gaze once Lord Kane had exited his daughter’s chamber room and was safely out of earshot.

“That was quite odd,” Abby remarked, twisting her face into a perplexed look.

“He is quite odd,” Calliope muttered.

“Did you see that? He could barely stand to look at me!”

“It is not surprising considering how the two of you squabble,” said Indra.

“Just as I feel as though we are making progress in our working relations, it is as if we lose all of that progress and more!” Abby sighed and slumped down into her chair. She closed the notebook that laid open on her lap. She had filled nearly every page with diagrams, notes, and shorthand paragraphs regarding Octavia’s health, progress, and possible diagnoses. “Where was he off to in such a tizzy?” Abby asked.

“I heard him tell Russell to prepare his firearm for his journey. One can only assume he was going hunting,” Mrs. Rebecca said as she put away Octavia’s remaining garments.

“That would make sense,” said Indra. “They normally go this time of year.”

“Yes. I had heard they invited him but initially he declined. I suppose he changed his mind,” added Mrs. Rebecca.

“Who is this ‘they’ that you speak of?” Abby asked, entirely confused.

“Oh, let’s see… There is Duke Cage Wallace, Viscount Thelonious Jaha, and, hmm… oh! Lord Carl Emerson. Baron Charles Pike joined them once upon a time but thank the heavens they have parted ways with him.” Abby should have known that Calliope of all people would be able to quickly inform her on the comings and goings of everyone on the estate and beyond.

“They certainly love to hunt,” Indra said.

“I personally loathe the sport but I had seen Lord Kane handle a firearm before and he looked rather handsome doing it,” said Calliope. Abby’s face warmed at those words.

“You should not speak of your superior in such a way,” muttered Indra.

Calliope smiled and rolled her eyes. “Oh, pish posh, Indra, do not be a spoilsport.”

~~~

After Octavia’s bath and morning studies with Ms. Indra, Abby proceeded with her usual consultation with Octavia – she checked in on her at dawn, noonday, and dusk. When she was not having a nutrition break, she was often found in a quiet corner scrawling down note after note as she nearly tormented her own brain doing her best to recollect her lessons from medical school. She was desperately in need of a trip to the library.

Leaving her chamber for dinner, she noted a noise coming from inside a meager linen closet that abided between her chamber and the lavatory. Much to her surprise, Abby pushed open the door to find Calliope and Lord Kane’s estate steward Jacapo Sinclair entangled in a lover’s embrace. A gasp escaped from all parties and Abby promptly slammed the door shut, her face burning with chagrin.

Calliope caught up with her just outside the dining room, grabbed her by her wrist.

“Abby,” Calliope began softly, a gentle smile splitting her features, “what you saw in there… it’s usual for this place, and places like it. It is not talked about but it is… hidden in plain sight, so to speak. I hope this does not change your opinion towards me.”

“Not at all,” Abby said, quickly reassuring her. “It is simply none of my business. You should be able to see who you like.”

“And I say the same to you – whomever you want,” she said, punctuating her sentence with a glimmer in her eyes.   

~~~

With every step, the crisp of the ground crumbled underneath the soles of his boots. He adjusted his tweed cap and pulled it down tightly around his head as the fierce winds hissed against his skin. He clutched his shotgun and carried on, following behind the Duke and Viscount.

The men mounted their steeds – Lord Kane’s a chestnut brown stallion called Helios – and attached lanterns to the horses’ saddles. The Duke of Doah, Cage Wallace, took the lead, as it was his property, whilst the Viscount Jaha, Lord Kane, and Lord Emerson followed suit. The hounds trailed obediently beside them as they made their way to the hunting grounds. Excluding the hounds’ occasional barks and howls, the trip was quiet. Lord Kane basked in the blissful silence as the group of men moved mutely towards their destination. He listened intently to the steady steps of Helios’s hooves falling onto the muddy earth, the gentle swishing of his tail, and the casual snorting of the air. Upon arrival, the onset of the sunrise kissed the moorland, triggering the men to extinguish the flames in their lanterns. The greens and purples and yellows and browns finally began to come to life under the sun’s gentle rays. Lord Kane urged his horse to a halt and climbed down from its mount, retrieved his shotgun from the saddlebag, then tied the horse to a nearby post.

It was but a short walk to the destination of clear, open land intended for shooting the grouse. A band of men hired by the Duke of Doah headed for the trees with the hounds to drive out the grouse for the hunters.

As the grouse flew into sight, the commotion began with the sounds of shotguns blaring and hounds barking. Lord Kane grasped his shotgun and readied his aim, momentarily recalling his lessons on how to shoot as a boy. “It is poetry in motion,” his father had said. “It is not merely blasting away. It can, and should be, smooth and graceful.” His father had put the gun against his shoulder, showed him where to place his hands. “Just like a lady, it is all in how you hold her.”

Lord Kane steadied his hand and held his breath as he took aim. But with those last remaining words from his father echoing in his mind, there was only one place his mind allowed him. The image of her burned inside his eyelids. He could not escape her. Frustrated, he set his jaw, finally took aim, then fired.

~~~

“Lord Kane, you left me surprised. You did not shoot a single grouse today,” the Duke said later that evening, pouring Lord Kane a glass of fine whisky.

“Yes,” Lord Emerson began with a snide chuckle, “he seemed rather distracted out there.”

“I have a sickly child at home,” Lord Kane muttered, not giving either man the satisfaction of meeting their eyes.

“A child which is now being cared for by a new doctor living on the estate, so I hear,” added the Duke.

“A woman doctor, word has it,” said the Viscount.

Lord Kane’s eyes narrowed, meeting Viscount Jaha’s. “And how do you know that?”

“Our wives talk,” said Duke Wallace.

“Your help speaks to our help and then our women overhear,” the Viscount said as he downed his final drop of whisky.

“My wife heard that this doctor of yours dresses rather… scantily clad,” Lord Emerson said, a wry smile playing on his lips. “Tell me, how are you not so utterly distracted when you are around her?”

His jaw ached as he gritted his teeth violently, desperately holding back the words that wanted to spew out like venom. He had needed this escape – needed to escape her – yet now all he wanted to do was go back home to Polis Park. What he would never admit to those men was he was utterly distracted by her but it was not due to her dress; he was distracted simply by her aura.

“I would quite like it if we were to discuss something else,” Lord Kane said gruffly. It was his turn to finish off his glass of whisky.

“Oh, please, Kane, lighten up,” Viscount Jaha said. “What good is a woman doctor on the estate, anyway, if not for a good fuck?”

The barbaric and deafening laughter from the lewd men clanged in his ears. He clenched his fists, his knuckles growing white as his fingernails dug into his palms. “ENOUGH!” he boomed, abruptly rising from his chair as it scraped against the floor, nearly toppling over from the force. He licked his lips and steadied his breathing before turning to address the gentlemen. “I am bedward. Goodnight.”

He headed to his temporary room of the hunting lodge, unable to escape the sniggering and judgmental stares quick enough.

“Kane certainly seems like he could use a release,” he heard Duke Wallace say as he slammed the chamber door with finality.

His sleep that night was minimal but dreamless, much to his relief. It seemed as though his distance from the doctor had helped, despite now he was in nearly an equally unbearable situation, having to share the company of the likes of Wallace, Jaha, and Emerson. He could not decide which situation was worse. Two very different positions yet both incredibly intolerable.

~~~

While the others embarked on another day of hunting, Lord Kane stayed back at the lodge, simply stating he was feeling a bit ill. Once the group had went on their way, Lord Kane mounted Helios and headed the opposite direction of the hunters. He needed to clear his head and seek some time alone away from the uncouth lot he had formerly been unbothered to associate himself with.

The wind was tolerable, not quite as fierce as the previous day, so Lord Kane had opted to leave his cap at home. His face was covered in a scratchy shadow from being unshaven for a couple of days. His wavy hair, a dark brown, blew freely in the wind as he prompted the stallion into a steady gallop through the heather-splashed moorland. They climbed a steep hill and from the top, Lord Kane drew Helios to a halt and gazed out over the moor. A meadow from afar glistened under the sun that threatened to peek out from behind the clouds. The heather swayed in the breeze. He closed his eyes and breathed in, taking in the crisp air in his lungs like a drug. His nostrils filled with the unmistakable sweet scent of blooming heather. If he allowed himself, he could nearly be lulled to sleep by the silence that would be broken only by the soft hum of bees or the call of the grouse – the unfortunate and unknowing prey of the hominid beasts who had quickly become the most unbearable company.

Truth be told, they had always been terrible, those men. Simply put, their vexing had never been directed at him before; it was effortless to turn a deaf ear. Lord Kane never appreciated the way they spoke about women whenever they had gathered together and would often try to change the subject, then if he had not succeeded, he would suddenly find an excuse to leave the room lest he lash out in front of the entire party. Yesternight, however, had driven him to his brink. Their crude words riled him deeply and having now being the receiver of such loutish badgering he had decided to wash his hands of the lot of them… for good.

He took one last look out to the far and wide, admiring the pleasant view as closely as an artist would admire his painting. His heart twisted in his chest as he longed for someone to share the view with. Oh how he ached for his daughter to recover so that she could experience life beyond the estate’s walls.

Indebted to the steed which carried him with such care, Lord Kane signaled for Helios to begin their return to the lodge which the stallion then connected to the earth with his strong hooves. The lord sighed with a heavy heart and mind as they journeyed back – hurting for his daughter, missing his wife, and longing for a woman that only existed in his dreams.

Chapter Text

“She is not real,” he had muttered to himself. Realistically, the woman he saw in his dreams was not the same woman that defied him at every turn. What she was, however, was a perpetual thorn in his flesh. He continued to remind himself of that each time his mind attempted to wander – each time he began to envision his dreams becoming a reality. The quiet carriage ride which left him alone with his thoughts was dangerous, for certain.

By noonday he was unloading himself from the carriage and back at Polis Park. What he had thought was going to be a much-needed getaway from the Doctor turned out to be one of the worst hunting trips he had ever taken. (Perhaps the worst trip aside from the time the former Duke of Doah, Dante Wallace, accidentally shot Lord Kane on a fox hunting trip. The bullet just barely grazed his arm, nevertheless, the decrepit duke received an ear-full from Lord Kane. Needless to say, His Grace and his shaky hand were never invited on another hunting trip).

As Russell and Miles gathered the lord’s luggage, Lord Kane headed upstairs with haste to greet his little girl.

“Papa!” she exclaimed, jolting to sit upright in her bed.

“Hello, dearest,” he said to her as he knelt down to kiss her forehead. “How do you fare?”

“Fine, Papa.” Octavia spun a string of doll hair around her index finger. Her doll, Ada, was clutched to her chest.

He took a seat on the edge of her bed and watched as she began to brush her dolly’s hair. “Have you been keeping up with your studies?”

“Yes, of course,” she said with a slight and newfound whistle to her speech, causing Lord Kane to raise an eyebrow in curiosity.

“Open your mouth,” he demanded gently with a nod.

Octavia did as she was told by her father and opened her mouth to show off a new gap where a tooth had once been. “I’ve lost a tooth!”

“Another one?” Lord Kane asked with a gasp.

“Yes. Just this morning, actually.”

He smiled softly at his daughter and brushed a strand of hair from her face. “You are growing up far too fast, my child.”

“My lady, it’s—”

Lord Kane turned to see Doctor Griffin entering the bedchamber, her face falling at the sight of him.

“Lord Kane… I did not expect for you to be back so soon. Although I was never even aware where you were going in the first place.”

“I have been hunting. Although as you can see I have returned.” His tone was as cold as frost. What he did not want was to allow his barriers to slip, to crumble. He could not have that.

“Yes. Well, I would like a word, My Lord.”

He contemplated momentarily, then nodded. With one last kiss to his daughter’s head, he retreated to the corridor, closing Octavia’s chamber door on his way out.

He fought the urge to notice how tight Doctor Griffin’s white shirtwaist was against her ample bosom, or how her beautiful, dark eyes twinkled from the flickering candlelight above them, or how the faintest hint of a smile ghosted her features when their eyes met. He had been staring at her, he realized, and for a moment he was left speechless at the sight of her. Allowing himself to even think about her in any other regard than professional was improper. No. He was to only regard her as a doctor, just as he would if she had been an Adam Griffin instead. He cleared his throat and allowed his barriers to reappear, reapplying his cold demeanor. “You wished to speak to me?” he asked.

“I’d like to go to town.”

“Oh.” He was not sure exactly what he was expecting for her to speak of but he found disappointment rising up in his chest. “For what exactly?”

“A book.”

His brows knitted. “Alright…”

“I’ll not dawdle.”

“Of course. I shall arrange for Mr. Shumway to bring the car round.”

She pondered for a moment, seemingly taken aback. No dispute, no mockery; they had just had a simply normal conversation, something of which neither were accustomed to having with the other. He could read it on her face, the utter confusion. Despite that, she said not a word of it. Instead, she merely smiled delicately up at him, her long dark eyelashes fluttering. “Thank you,” she said, and he nearly returned a smile.

~~~

Once Abby had gathered her belongings, she stood outside waiting for the car to come round. She heard it first, the clicking and clacking of the horse’s hooves over the stone pathway, the rolling of the carriage’s wheels, the bouncing of the car as it went over a bump in the path. With her reticule in hand (inside it sat her meager savings), she pushed herself up into the car, then Shumway climbed into his own seat outside, and they set off.

“About how far are we from town?” Abby asked not soon after they had departed.

“Three miles,” Shumway replied.

“And how long will it take us?” Abby pulled out her watch, glancing at the time.

“Forty-five minutes or so.”

Abby said no more and chose to enjoy the ride, watching out of the window as the scenery slowly faded from rolling fields of green to a village common, to which homes scattered about the land. The horse walked the whole way, and she suspected the forty-five minutes would turn into an hour. A small white church entered her view and its bell began to toll just as they passed. Children scurried about, some played chase while others played rolling hoop. A young boy, not so much as shy of five, sat in front of his home playing jacks on his lonesome while his mother scrubbed their linens over a washboard. He drew a dirty hand and waved to Abby and she waved back, beaming at his innocent kindness.

By the time she had arrived at the shop in Stratford-Upon-Arkadia, at least an hour had passed. Shumway was such a slow driver, indeed, and she recalled Calliope warning her of such a thing before she had left. She perused the book shop, fully intending not to linger just as she had promised Lord Kane, but the smell of the books and the feel of the pages held her there for longer than anticipated. Finally, she stumbled upon what she was searching for: a copy of Old Nurse's Book Of Rhymes, Jingles And Ditties – her favorite book as a child. She knew Lady Octavia would love it, too. She grabbed the book and set off to join the queue, second in line from the store clerk. She puffed out her chest, gleeful that she had found the one thing that she wanted.

“That’ll be ten shillings.”

Abby stared blankly at the clerk who looked at her strangely. She was so excited to have found the book for Lady Octavia that she had not even noticed the price. How foolish she felt.

“Ten. Shillings,” the clerk repeated, unamused by her idleness as the line behind her began to grow.

Abby blinked rapidly and then reached into her reticule. “I- I only have eight bob on me…” she whispered, peeking around her in hopes that no one else had heard her.

The clerk pursed his lips and sighed, exasperated. “Fine.”

Abby smiled triumphantly and emptied her reticule, handing over every shilling she had on her person to the clerk. She was pleased that soon the lord would compensate her for her work and her reticule would no longer be empty.

~~~

The ride back to the estate was quiet save for the occasional neighing of the horse, which trotted right along at quite a bit faster pace than their journey to town – much to Abby’s delight. She held the book, soon to be Lady Octavia’s, in her hand, ran a finger over the leather binding. She flipped through the pages until she stumbled upon her favorite jingle, reading over it and singing along in her head. Polly put the kettle on, she sang to herself.

Naturally, when thoughts of Lady Octavia would arise, soon often would thoughts of her father come, too. He had seemed different when she spoke with him in the corridor. Before he had hastily left for his hunting trip (and after she had touched his shoulder – a touch which was only intended to grant respite) he could barely stand to look at her. Now, it was quite the opposite. He had stared at her for so long in the hall that she could feel the blush creep up on her face. Unless her mind was playing tricks on her, she was sure that he was blushing, too. What had gotten into that man? She could not even begin to imagine what had caused such a change but she counted it as a blessing. No snide remarks, no shouting. She had feared that her lapse in judgement the night before he had left to go hunting had ruined their working relationship for good. A hand on his shoulder, then inquiring about where he chose to retire at nightfall and whether she had displaced him seemed to have greatly perturbed him. Nevertheless, his troubles seemed to have fled. Men, she thought to herself with a chuckle. They go outdoors, shoot some guns, and then they return with a much clearer head. Her husband, Jacob, certainly loved his sports, too – fox hunting, especially. He could rattle on and on about their dogs, to which Abby could only nod her head as she tried to keep up with his stories.  

For a long time, she felt nothing but sorrow when she thought of her late husband or daughter. She could recall the feelings of guilt she had the first time she laughed following each of their deaths. She had, funnily enough, felt as though she was betraying them. In her mind, she ought to have trudged along in mourning clothes the rest of her days. At some point in passing, however, she had come to realize that neither Jacob nor Clarke would have wanted that for her; they would have wanted her to find joy in even the smallest things.

This realization had come to her long before she arrived at Polis Park. At one point in her life, she had measured her memories in a “before Jacob’s death” and “after Jacob’s death”, but now, it dawned on her, that the more time spent at Polis Park, the more she began to measure time in a before and after she arrived at Lord Kane’s doorstep, luggage messily piled around her, her bonnet slipping off her head. As she approached a lunar month of having been a resident at Polis Park, her previous life began to feel as though it were only a distant memory.

Following her arrival back at the estate, she rushed upstairs towards Lady Octavia’s chamber, buzzing with excitement to gift the child her new book; however, in her mindless rush, she clashed straight into a looming, solid body with a thud.

“Oof,” said he and Abby glanced up to see it was none other than Lord Kane. Her hand rested awkwardly on his chest and lingered there for just long enough for him to glance down at its placement (and for her to notice his strong chest muscle and rapidly beating heart), to which she pulled away with haste and clumsily stepped back three paces, creating as much distance as she could between them.

They stood in silence for mere seconds though to Abby it felt like hours. Lord Kane’s cheeks flushed red and he cleared his throat. “Where are you off to in such a hurry, Doctor?”

She bit her lip and smiled. “I’m off to see Lady Octavia… I have a gift for her.”

Lord Kane raised his brows in curiosity. “Oh? What is it?”

“Shouldn’t she be the first to know?” Abby asked with a smirk.

“Yes, of course,” Lord Kane said, smiling back at her. He sidestepped and allowed Abby to pass and she quickly entered the child’s chamber.

“Doctor!” Lady Octavia exclaimed excitedly, pushing her book to the side (much to the ire of her governess, Ms. Indra), and now focused intently on Abby and the newspaper-wrapped object she held in her hand. 

“My lady, I’ve a gift for you.” Abby presented the gift to Lady Octavia and she opened it in a frenzy, shreds of newspaper flying over her head.

“A book!” the child shouted with glee. “Thank you, Doctor Abby. I love it!”

Abby sat at the edge of Lady Octavia’s bed and watched as she flipped through the pages. “It was my favorite book as a child. I do hope that it will bring you the same joy and entertainment as it brought me when I was your age.”

“It will,” Octavia said assuredly.

Abby rose and headed for the exit of the room to find Lord Kane leaning against the doorway – his features soft and tender. He smiled at her and looked pleased. Abby closed the door behind them, allowing the quiet to return for Lady Octavia’s studies with her governess. In the corridor stood the two of them, Abby and Lord Kane, a strange, uncomfortable silence between them for several beats, until he finally cleared his throat and began to speak.

“I would like to thank you for your gratuitous kindness towards my daughter. The pure, unadulterated joy she showed in regards to your generosity… Well, I am fortunate that I could bear witness to that.”

Abby could not help herself – she felt her neck flush hot, and she could just envision the pink spreading from her neck, up to her cheeks. His thankfulness was palpable and he peered at her from under his brows as if he were begging her to truly see him as a contented father, not her superior with whom she had clashed from her first hour at the estate. She smiled sheepishly. “Is there a sight more beautiful than a child’s authentic delight? Certainly it is worth it.”

“Yes… Such beauty is rare indeed.” His eyes flicked over her quickly until they settled back on her face and she could not help but feel as though he was surveying her, his gaze unrelenting yet compassionate. Were his words a double entendre? Certainly not, she told herself, immediately shooing the idea from her head. Although his long, fixed stare hinted otherwise, and she grew self-conscious the longer he held his gaze. Her thoughts were interrupted as his voice jolted her back to reality. “Did you purchase anything for yourself whilst you were out?”

“No, My Lord. Only the book for the lady.”

He chewed at his lip in seemingly deep contemplation. “Hm.”

“It was the least that I could do after inflicting such torture on her,” she continued.

He snickered. “You mean trying to take her on a walk?”

“Yes. Her wailing was quite frightening.”

“It gave me quite a scare, as well.”

The pair remained silent as they recalled the events of the prior week, smiles of fondness on their faces despite the topic. What had begun as an explosive argument had ended in a somewhat tender moment between the two (albeit a tad awkward). Abby certainly preferred their current, friendly climate to the shouting.

“Doctor?” Lord Kane asked.

“Yes?”

“I… would like to show you something. For your troubles of going all the way to town just for Octavia. Especially considering you purchased nothing for yourself.”

“Oh, that’s quite alright—”

Lord Kane grabbed her gently by her arm and leaned in closely, his lips brushing up against her ear, causing her breath to hitch. His stubbled face scratched her ear and goosebumps arose on her arms at the sensation of his warm breath.  “Come with me,” he whispered with a smile.

With their arms locked together, he escorted her down the staircase, then led her down a long corridor to which she had never before reached the end of. “Where are we going?” she asked.

“You will see soon enough,” he replied. True to his word, he then pushed open the double doors that sat at the end of the hall and stepped aside, offering her first access inside the room.

What she saw upon entering the room took her breath away: bookshelves that towered to the ceiling, which were at least triple her height; each shelf, filled with books of varying genres, were packed so tightly one could not fit even a piece of note-paper between them. Dickens, Brontë, Carroll, Blake, Austen, Keats. Abby had to remind herself to breathe. She breezed through the room in awestruck wonder, running her fingers ever so lightly over the books under the ludicrous fear that somehow she may cause the bookshelves to come tumbling down or the books to disintegrate beneath her fingertips. Above them hung a massive, sparkling chandelier and paintings larger than her entire frame adorned the walls. Ornate chairs and statues of jade and marble permeated the grand space. In a corner sat a desk where more books were piled alongside a world globe. She directed her head upwards to find a second floor that could only be reached by climbing a ladder which led to a balcony of sorts that overlooked the room. She could not even begin to fathom just how many books were in that library but she knew if she did not have a job to do pertaining to the sickly Lady Octavia, she would not leave that room until there was not a single page left unturned.

“What do you think?” Lord Kane asked from behind her. It was then, for the first time, that she allowed herself to truly notice his handsome features. His chestnut eyes, which had flecks of black and amber, sparkled with subtle pride and his stubbled face was aglow from the light that peered out of the upstairs window. An unruly dark curl rested against his temple and a boyish grin formed over his features at the sight of her amazement – something of which imbued a sense of affection within Abby.

“I…” she began, but her words caught in her throat. After several more stuttered attempts, she finally settled with “It’s marvelous.”

“Well, in that case, it is yours. You are welcome to use it as you see fit.”

“But, my lord—”

He staved off her repudiation with a gentle raise of his hand. “Please. Accept it. Its wing is so far off from the rest of the house, you should not hear a thing. It is a rather peaceful, lovely place to work.”

Abby found herself at a loss for words at his benevolence. “I do not know what to say except thank you.”

“Of course. Feel free to use it at any time if you need a moment of quiet.”

“I simply cannot believe that Russell excluded this wing of the house during my tour.”

“Well, it is not a room that I open for everyone. It is special to me… I hold it close like a well-kept secret.”

“You are a man of great mystery, Lord Kane,” Abby said, astonished, drawing a smile from the lord. “Though I must confess,” she began again, “I had suspected you would be quite angry with me for colliding into you upstairs.”

Lord Kane eyed her strangely and she already regretted mentioning her previous shortcoming. “Why would I be angry? It was merely an accident, yes?”

Abby flushed. “Well, yes. Truly it was. I suppose coming from you I’d have expected a lashing or public shaming,” she said, half-joking, though the joke did not register with him and he narrowed his eyes.

“You think me that cruel, Doctor?” he asked indignantly.

Abby searched for her words, her face certainly as red as hot coals. “Certainly not. It was merely a joke…”

A long moment of silence unfurled amidst them. “I know…” Lord Kane finally said with a smirk and a glint of mischief in his eyes.

Abby sighed, relieved, and began to laugh.

He pondered momentarily, then spoke once more, leaning in closely. “I will warrant a pardon… this time.”

Chapter Text

The following day, Abby approached Lord Kane with a request.

When she was not poking and prodding and examining Lady Octavia, she was observing the young girl, jotting down notes such as lethargic and leg and pelvic pain, as well as keeping a log of her activities and meals. While Abby’s knowledge could be sufficient enough for a diagnosis, she felt it was in her best interest to find research to back her claim. As insufferable as she often found Lord Kane to be, her coin purse was empty and she certainly did not wish to be out of a job after the tireless effort she had put forth with the sick child. If the man demanded proof, she was determined to seek it out just to please him.

She stood in the doorway of his office, as if too afraid to step foot over the threshold – untrusting of herself, unsure what she would do if she stepped too close to the man. Last night, his breath was hot on her ear as he jested about pardoning her, and it was in that moment her body betrayed her. A scorching ache set in deep within her. Even still, her throat grew dry remembering the way he made her breath shudder, the way goosebumps pricked at her nape even as he backed away and walked silently out of the room without so much as a “Goodnight.” She mentally cursed her body and its desires for forsaking her.

She cleared her throat (and along with it, her thoughts), announcing her presence. “My lord,” she began, causing his bowed head to jerk up in her direction. He was wearing gold-rimmed spectacles, his aquiline nose pointed down at a stack of letters. Dark curls rested on his forehead which was lined with concentration. She fought away her bodily impulses that desperately wanted to notice how his face had darkened even more since the evening prior – still unshaven since his hunting trip. “I’m in search of a public library. I’m apt to believe that it will help me find just what I need to help set Lady Octavia on the road to recovery.”

He lowered his spectacles to where they perched near the tip of his nose and, to her surprise, he smirked. “Confident, are we? A trip to the library and,” he snapped his fingers, “my daughter will be healed?”

Bloody ogre. “Well, yes,” she replied flatly, ignoring his biting sarcasm, though her face did the opposite as it flushed hot with anger. As soon as the man began to redeem himself, he once again committed such an offense that left her fully irked. “I am confident in my abilities. I am confident that I already know what ails her and what she needs to recover. But you have no trust in me, hence my need for a library. I promised you proof. I will return with proof.”

If she had blinked she would have missed the quick roll of his eyes. He clicked his tongue to his teeth, thinking. “Oh, well I suppose the best library suited for your needs would be the one in Upton Jaha.”

Abby strained a smile. “Splendid. Shall I call for Mr. Shumway?”

“Yes, of course,” he replied curtly. “I must finish writing this letter of correspondence.”

“I will leave you to your endeavors,” she said in an attempt to sound cordial and she was granted a miniscule smile and a short nod in return from the lord. She shook her head. That man was as temperamental as the Scottish weather in September.

~~~

When the carriage pulled up to the library at Upton Jaha, Abby took a moment to stretch, as her muscles from the three hour journey had grown stiff. She had left the estate soon after waking that morning and it was pushing noonday now. Wishing to waste no time and intending to make the most of her visit, she quickly headed off down the path and into the gargantuan library.

It was not as majestic as Lord Kane’s, but it was certainly much larger in size. For an hour, Abby combed through shelves and shelves of medical journals and record books, flipping through page after page, eyes scanning the indexes in search of that key term: rickets. It was her main hypothesis as to what was ailing Lady Octavia, although she also took the time to research several differential diagnoses, as well. The onset of such disease at Lady Octavia’s age was rare although not nonexistent.

After hours of searching and scanning through the library, discarding a plethora of unnecessary journals regarding such topics as cholera and typhoid, she felt she had finally found just what she needed. In a medical journal she found inside the table of contents "On the adulteration of bread as a cause of rickets"  by one John Snow, MD. Following the table of contents, she found the page of the letter, about halfway inside the journal. It was written to the editor of the Lancet by Snow in 1857. Abby rubbed the bridge of her nose in thought, then she gathered the journal in her arms and found a quiet corner to sit inside the library. Retrieving her fountain pen and journal from her satchel, she got to work transcribing Snow’s letter, her chest filling with triumph.  

Snow had scientific reason to believe that baker’s bread was a possible contribution to rickets in developing children due to the use of alum as an adulterant. While this is not the sole cause of rickets, it is one possibility and something which Abby must investigate further. Having this hypothesis backed by another medical professional should surely convince Lord Kane. While Snow was thought to consider nutrition too much of a chemical process by naysayers, Abby believed nutrition to be just that: a work of chemical processes within the digestive system, to which the body could be affected by what is consumed.

She wrote until her hand cramped and her pen fell dry of ink. She rubbed her eyes, bleary and red, and worked out a cramp that threatened her hand. She transcribed Snow’s letter to the Lancet among several other articles from medical journals that listed rickets symptoms, causes, treatments, and differential diagnoses. She had collected so many notes, she had merely two pages left in her journal by the time she was politely asked to leave the library because they were closing for the night.

Outside, Abby respectfully greeted a lamplighter who strolled alongside her as she made her way to the car. He carried his ladder and whistled a tune as he moved from pole to pole, which he would then climb up to light each street lamp, brightening the path for the town’s civilians to walk safely home from the shops. What honorable men, those lamplighters were – brightening up the streets lest one fall victim to a thief in the night while also keeping watch for the benefit of the community. Once the final lamp on her side of the street was lit, he took off on his bike to cross to the other side, the dimness of the evening soon dissipating as, slowly, each lamp shone to life.

She nodded off on the ride back to the estate, her neck cricked once she finally stepped out of the carriage. Her pocket watch read it was nearing midnight. She trudged up the steps to be greeted by the doorman, Finn, who silently held open the door for her. She blinked in attempt to clear her vision as she stepped inside the densely lit palace and it felt as though she had sand in her eyes. By this time of night, Russell would have normally had all of the lights extinguished, though there were two lone sconces still shining in the otherwise dark foyer. She was so exhausted, she almost missed the sound of footsteps approaching her; she turned to find Lord Kane emerging from his office/chamber. His brown eyes were flecked with the faintest hints of amber beneath the dim light. He wore black silk pajamas beneath a flannel robe. His eyes were bloodshot.

“You waited up for me,” she said, too tired to bother hiding the surprise in her voice.

He pondered for a pace. “I just happened to be awake,” he replied casually with a shrug, mouth falling back into a hard line.

Suddenly, she realized she did not have to wait until morning to share her revelations with him and this thought excited her. In her weary state, her mind was so fragile that when she attempted to share with him her discovery, her satchel slipped from her grasp and fell to the floor, spilling out its belongings. She scrambled to pick them up as papers flew about, and just as she bent down to pick up her journal, as did Lord Kane, and their skulls collided with a loud THUMP. They both fell back, laughing and gripping their heads in pain.

“Are you alright?” Lord Kane asked through his fit of laughter, outstretching his hand towards her. His eyes sparkled uncharacteristically as his amusement finally expired.

“Yes,” she said, rubbing her forehead, “I suppose so.”

She had given up showing him her research and decided to save it for morning, rest seeming like the better option with each passing moment. Though, her mind was still racing and she was too excited to remain quiet, even as Lord Kane escorted her to her room. She babbled, tripped over her words as she tried, and failed, to explain to him her findings as the exhaustion really began to set in and Lord Kane stopped her short, insisted she get some rest and then share it all with him in the morning. She pouted, feeling like a child. “You should be excited about the news,” she said to him, stopping just outside her chamber. “You need to trust me.”

Tired bags formed dark half-moons under his eyes. She imagined hers looked the same. His gaze was inky-dark and serious. “I will support you as long as I feel it is the right thing to do.”

With that, she nodded and bid him goodnight. Sleep swallowed her like a biblical whale as soon as her head hit the pillow.

~~~

Following a light breakfast of tea and toast, Abby poked her head into Lady Octavia’s chamber. The morning sun fell just so onto the windowsill and a faint flicker of light beamed through the thin lace curtains. The little girl’s body lay limp, her face contorted into a pout as she slumbered. Abby perched herself at the edge of her bed and ran her fingers through her coal-black hair. She was sleeping too peacefully to disturb her. She would return later.

With Snow’s paper still fresh on her mind, Abby risked the wrath of Nygel and began to nose around in the kitchen. There was a flurry of activity among the kitchen staff as they worked tirelessly to prepare breakfast. The clanging of pots and pans and the sizzling of hot grease paraded in Abby’s ears. The kitchen staff scurried about: Nygel, Harper, and the chef’s assistants, whom Abby had not learned the names of, partially because there was such a fast turn-over that she never had the chance of becoming acquainted before someone new had come in to replace them. Needless to say, Nygel was very particular on how her kitchen ran and if her cooks could not follow her directions explicitly, she had no qualms about ousting whomever she saw fit.

The intoxicating aroma of porridge, eggs, and bacon wafted through the kitchen. Abby’s stomach grumbled and she suddenly regretted only taking on a light breakfast. She maintained her willpower and ignored the grumbles, focusing on the reason for her kitchen tour. The kitchen staff were so focused on preparing breakfast for Lord Kane and Lady Octavia that they never took notice of Abby’s intrusion. Harper said not a word to Abby as she slid past her, all the while Abby inspected the loaves of baked bread piled high into a corner. It was not baked by Nygel or her staff. This bread came from town. Alarm bells rang in Abby’s mind as she thought back to Snow’s paper. She was certain now. Lady Octavia had rickets and the cause was quite clear.

By the time Abby retrieved her journal from upstairs, breakfast had been delivered to each of the Kanes: Lady Octavia consumed her meal in her bed, while Lord Kane consumed his in his office. What hermits, that family. She had suspected that interrupting the lord during his breakfast was perhaps not the sharpest idea, but her excitement could not be contained. She stormed into Lord Kane’s office, her transcribed notes in hand.

“My lord! If you have a moment,” she said, clasping her lips together in a desperate attempt to hide just how out of breath she was from scaling the substantial staircase in record time.

As expected, Lord Kane snapped his brows together, his eyes boring into her, obviously rattled by her sudden intrusion. A spoonful of porridge froze halfway between the bowl and his mouth. “Can it wait?” he asked, exasperated.

Ignoring his question, she stepped farther into the room. “What sort of diet did Lady Octavia follow in the recent months leading up to her sickness? I have observed her to consume very little since my arrival.”

He stammered momentarily, then placed his spoon down and collected himself. “She is rather finicky,” he said, rubbing at his neck. “She has not been inclined to eat much since her brother went to war… Once he left, she lost interest in nearly everything. No appetite, no interest in leaving her chamber, let alone the estate—”

“What about bread?” Abby had observed the child for hours and hours, eating like a bird – a spoonful of this, a spoonful of that, but she very rarely turned away bread. Not an uncommon thing among children to hyper-fixate on one food item or another, wanting for close to nothing else until finally tiring of that item and moving onto another. It was also apparent that Octavia suffered greatly over the separation from her brother, eating only the simplest, fastest thing she could consume and then go on about her day, feeding herself only enough to survive. How unfortunate for a child to have such a vast assortment of provisions and choose only bread – a peasant meal.

Lord Kane appeared slightly amused, perplexed by the question, but indulging her, nonetheless. “Bread is one of the only things she will eat, actually. Although she refuses to eat Nygel’s bread, which of course infuriates her. Octavia will only eat bread purchased from the bakery in town. As I said, finicky.”

Her face fell. “You must stop feeding her the baker’s bread.”

He scoffed. “Did you even sleep? You sound delirious.”

“Listen to me!” she demanded, holding up the transcribed letter. “I have found the proof that Octavia’s condition could be caused by the leavening agents used in bakery bread.”

“Whatever can you mean? You are telling fibbery.”

What an impossible man. Her nostrils flared as she ground her teeth. “You insult me, sir!” With haste, she pulled out the letter and slapped it down onto his desk. “It’s all right here.”

She gave him a moment of silence to slip on his bifocals and read the letter. Dark eyes scanned over the words, his face blankly inscrutable. Finally, he placed the letter down, tutting. “This makes no sense to me, Doctor. I eat the bread and I am perfectly healthy.”

“And you are not a young, developing child. Your daughter needs well-balanced meals from home and plenty of sunlight and I guarantee she will get well. Trust me.”

Lord Kane bowed his head in a fit of laughter. He rubbed a palm over his face, clearly frustrated. “Trust you? You make it extremely difficult to trust you with all the nonsense you spew day in and day out.”

She gaped, offended. “Nonsense?” She could feel the heat rush from her chest, up her neck, and to her cheeks.

“Yes! Nonsense. Are you swindling me? Is that what this is?”

A harsh laugh which lacked amusement erupted from deep inside her. Contemptuous of the insult, she placed her solid hands on her hips. “I beg your pardon? I’ve done nothing but try to help your daughter get better and you keep berating me at every turn.”

He abruptly stood, pushing back his oversized leather office chair which caused an ear-piercing scraping sound against the floor. “It is my DUTY to protect my daughter!” he roared, slamming his opened hands down atop of the desk.

“And what about MY DUTY to care for her?” she shot back, even louder. He sighed in frustration, gritting his teeth. His silence drove her to continue. “I am a doctor. I—”

“THEN ACT LIKE ONE!” he spewed. She wilted like a thirsty flower, which caused him to soften slightly. He licked his lips, trying to calm himself, then continued. “I told you I would support you as long as I thought you were doing the right thing.”

“Am I not?” she asked, her voice frustratingly small.

“Leave me be,” he commanded with a curt wave of his hand, staring blankly at his desk as he fell back into his chair, appearing jaded and ragged from their recent quarrel. 

With a huff, Abby excused herself from his office, slamming the door behind her as she went. She had never met a more infuriating man. He asked for proof, she gave it to him, and now not even that was enough. She worked her hand into a cramp, writing until closing as she researched and transcribed medical journals and letters regarding cases just like Lady Octavia’s; she stayed up late and rose early just to care for the girl, hoping to get one step closer to a remedy; her waking thoughts and her dreams had been taken over by the lady’s case and yet her father had the gall to accuse her of swindling him, to accuse of her folly. He really held that low of an opinion of her? After all they had been through, she thought they were finally making strong advancements towards a somewhat friendly relationship. She was sorely mistaken.

She dug her fingernails into her palms as she treaded upstairs to her chamber, seeking a quiet moment just to breathe and collect herself. It hit her, then. She could leave. Pack her bags and say goodbye to the estate of Polis Park for good. She was clearly not wanted, trusted, or appreciated here – at least not by Lord Kane. She stewed in those resentful thoughts, leaving sounding more promising by the second, until she reached the entrance of her chamber and felt a slip of paper scoot under her foot. She frowned at it and bent down to investigate. She opened up the folded paper to see an “invitation” clearly written in a child’s handwriting, inviting “Doctor Abby” to a tea party in “Octavia’s chamber right this instant”, complete with a drawing of a smiling young girl and her doctor. Abby’s heart swelled at the sight.

With the invitation in hand, she left her chamber, making the conscious choice to remember the true reason she was at Polis Park: Lady Octavia. The door was cracked open so she invited herself inside to find Lady Octavia sprawled out on the floor atop a blanket, an oversized sunhat nearly falling off her head. She wore a yellow dress with a pink bow tied around her waist. A wooden trunk that sat at the foot of her bed was propped open, dress-up clothes hanging off the edge of the trunk and scattered across the floor. Miles (the invitation deliverer, Abby assumed) motioned for Abby to have a seat on a pillow beside Lady Octavia who placed a pearl necklace on Abby and then offered her an oversized sunhat of her own, though it was not quite as oversized on her than it was on the young girl.

“Thank you for coming,” Lady Octavia said, quite formally. “Fancy a cup of tea?” the young girl asked as Abby settled into a comfortable position, adjusting her skirts and crossing her legs. She passed a child-size tea cup to Abby and began to fill it up with imaginary tea.

Abby drew the cup to her nose and inhaled. “Mmm. Is this Earl Grey?” she asked, assuming the role of tea party guest quickly and naturally. She certainly missed the entertainment that children brought, their unmatched spirits and bright imaginations which adults seemingly lost over time, as if the realities of adulthood doused water over the fire of childlike fantasy. Playing along with the young girl brought about a painful thought to Abby’s mind, as painful as childbirth, as it occurred to her that her own daughter never reached Octavia’s age. Four trips around the sun was all her little Clarke was ever granted.

“Yes, of course,” Lady Octavia grinned toothily. “Only the finest of teas for my special guests!”

That last word alerted something in Abby’s mind. “Guests?” Who was also invited? Abby inwardly prayed it would be Ms. Indra or Calliope, anyone but—

“Yes! Guests! Hopefully he will be here soon. I do not wish for the tea to grow cold.”

He. Oh, wonderful.

Though Lady Octavia sounded excited, the look on her face showed anything but excitement, instead, she looked rather anxious, full of doubt. Abby grew up in a well-to-do family, but nothing to the extent like Polis Park. She was all too aware of the absentee parenting methods of the elite. She supposed coming from a man who allegedly once dined with his help, she would have expected more effort to be put forth towards his young daughter. As much as she did not wish to see the man at that very moment, she felt herself deep down hoping he would attend. She was not sure she could bear the look of disappointment on Lady Octavia’s face if her father snubbed her and her tea party off.

They had gone through three pots of imaginary tea and two plates of invisible biscuits, swapping stories and sharing belly laughs, when it was evident by the look on the girl’s face that she was giving up hope on her father joining them. Abby, to an extent, felt guilty, thinking that perhaps she was the reason he chose not to attend, as if somehow he knew she would be joining Octavia, too. Her inner musings were interrupted by a gleeful squeal.

“Papa!” she said, brightening.

Abby turned to see Lord Kane’s head poking through the doorway. “I—I can return later,” he said hesitantly, dark eyes falling to rest on Abby.

“No! Join us, Papa! Please!” When he stood pensive and unresponsive, Octavia continued, large, round eyes looking up at him, lip pouting. “I sent you an invitation.”

Lord Kane drew his brows together in question. “I never received an invitation.”

Abby’s first instinct was to react crossly, indignant to the fact that the man just stood and lied to his disenchanted daughter. Her feelings soon shifted as Miles spoke.

“I apologize, my lord. I believed you to be busy.” The young man was practically trembling with fear as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

Lady Octavia’s face turned cardinal and she balled her hands into fists. Lord Kane, obviously sensing the change in his daughter’s mood, quickly requested to see the invitation, to which Miles obliged.

“People make mistakes,” Lord Kane said softly to Lady Octavia. “And it is best that we forgive them when they do. Lashing out solves nothing.” His features were soft, his brown eyes apologetic as they fell to Abby’s face. Was he… apologizing… in his own odd way? She would possibly never know, though, regardless, she felt a growing warmth in her bosom.

“So, will you join us?” Lady Octavia asked, eyebrows raised expectantly, her hands clasped together as if in prayer.

Lord Kane never peeled his eyes off of Abby, however. He hesitated momentarily but the doctor gave him an encouraging nod. He wet his lips with a swift flicker of tongue, finally drawing his eyes away to look down at the invitation which was written up in Octavia’s neatest handwriting, decorated with a delightful drawing on the cover. “Yes, of course,” he finally said, folding the invitation neatly and slipping it into his pocket. “I believe I have time for a spot of tea.”

“Oh, hooray! Doctor Abby has nearly eaten all the biscuits, but I believe there are a few left.”

Abby’s jaw dropped and a shock-laced laugh erupted from both her and Lord Kane.

“Come, Papa, sit beside me!” Lady Octavia said, patting a pale pink pillow.

Lord Kane joined them and Lady Octavia, being the exceptional hostess that she was, filled the lord’s cup with haste. He drew the cup near his lips and feigned a sip. “Hmm. Earl Grey again ?” he asked. Abby wondered how often they gathered like this.

Lady Octavia crossed her arms and raised a brow, looking all too much like her father in the moment. “Are you complaining, Papa?” she asked with narrowed eyes.

“No, no. Of course not!” His eyes crinkled and shone as he watched his daughter hold her belly in a fit of laughter and Abby, charmed by the lord’s smile, was convinced their playfulness was the most precious sight she had ever seen at Polis Park.

“Doctor Abby, do you care for another crumpet?” she asked, passing over an empty plate towards Abby.

“Perhaps I can hold one more. I’ve apparently already eaten too many biscuits,” she said in Lord Kane’s direction, earning a flicker of a smile from him.

She stayed mostly silent, contemplative the rest of the tea party, speaking only if spoken to. She was too occupied marveling at Lord Kane as he interacted so easily with his daughter, putting on voices for her dolls and chinking his teacup to hers, all the while wearing a toy tiara and a pearl necklace. It was all so… peculiar… yet heart-melting all at once. She could not draw her eyes away from his warm countenance as he made silly faces with the lady. As wonderful as her stoic husband, Jacob, was, he would have never been caught playing dress up or doing impressions, though of course he was an amazing father and provider in his own right.

Watching the easy, loving, and, needless to say, unexpected interactions between the pair now felt almost healing somehow. She could never add up all the ways the painful loss of her husband and daughter imposed its scars on her, but being there, in that moment, with Lord Kane and Lady Octavia, sharing giggles and imaginary tea, she felt… happy. Happier than she had felt since the loss of her own family.

She was loathe to admit that happiness was not the only thing she felt as she watched Lord Kane interact with his daughter. The crinkle in his eyes as he smiled down at her, his hickory brown irises twinkling. She felt something in her belly, something she had not felt in years until this week. A burning desire, yet again. No. She refused, pushed it away. She was there for Lady Octavia. After all, she despised the man, why would she have such sudden, shocking desires? Why must her body betray her once more? It was then she fell sullenly quiet, eventually excusing herself under the guise that she had played for long enough and needed to return to her duties.

~~~

Though she was sure of Octavia’s diagnosis, Abby continued her research. In between checking in on Lady Octavia throughout the day and tending to whatever needs she had, she studied her notes tirelessly in the quiet of Lord Kane’s library. Octavia’s atypical case had Abby on edge. Not only did she want to help the girl get better, she also had a desperate desire to prove her doubter, Octavia’s father, wrong.

Speaking of, Lord Kane was certainly the most complicated man Abby had ever had the displeasure of encountering – or so she liked to tell herself. He was summer with her in one instance and winter in the next. When she did not show up at dinner, he found her in the library, nose in a medical journal she had fortuitously found in the midst of his massive book collection. His hands held a plate of mutton, bread, potatoes, and mushy peas.

“Still warm,” he said almost shyly, chin pointing down at the plate before setting it in front of her on the desk.

Her heart fluttered at his unexpected act of kindness and she cursed herself as she desperately tried to clear her face of the warm shade of pink that rose to her cheeks. “Thank you,” she said, smiling.

His eyes were pleasant as he gave her a nod, turning to leave the library at once. She shook her head at the arduous, perplexing, intricate shell of a man whom she found herself beginning to warm to, hard exterior and all. Her mind now completely unfocused, she set aside the books and notes and indulged in the scrumptious supper that he had brought to her while it was still tepid. Her eyes wandered up the walls to a grand painted portrait of the lord himself dressed in a black three-piece suit, black tie, and a matching kilt, sporran, and knee-high socks. A silver blade rested in a leather sheath on his side. Even in the portrait his dark eyes twinkled almost with a hint of mischief. She noted to herself that it was one of the very few portraits of Lord Kane found on the estate. There were certainly portraits all about the palace, downstairs especially. In the grand foyer one would find a massive crystal chandelier suspended from above, and large, gilded portraits of Lord Kane’s ancestors hanging from the white and golden walls, but very few of the lord himself. For someone so self-assured and pretentious, she would have expected the palace walls to be plastered with images of the lord; however, as she kept discovering, there was apparently more to Lord Kane than she could have ever envisioned. Over time, she anticipated to continue seeing more of the man as he slowly revealed layers of himself to her like a nesting doll – if she could maintain her patience.

Hours passed since supper and since Lady Octavia was tucked in for the night, so Abby found a home in the quiet of the library. She still had plenty of work and research to do, plenty of unanswered questions and stones to unturn. Her head pounded and eyes began to cross from reading for so long. Her mind grew tired and she found herself needing to reread a passage several times before finally comprehending it. It was nearing midnight when Russell entered the library carrying a plate of toast.

“Something for your stomach, Doctor.”

“Thank you, Russell,” she said, looking up from her book for the first time in hours. “But I’m really not hungry.”

The loud grumbling of her stomach proved her a prevaricator and she smiled bashfully at the sound. Russell merely nodded, donning a face that said “I told you so,” and walked away. He was nearly out of the library when a thought occurred to her and, before thinking better of it, she called after him. “Russell?”

He stopped in his tracks and turned to face her once more, his brows knitted in question.

“Did Lord Kane send you, perchance?”

A corner of his mouth quirked up. “Please eat, ma’am,” was all he said in reply before exiting the library.

She took a few bites of toast before delving back into her studies. Abby was always a planner. She always had a plan A through Z. Her plan A, her main diagnosis, was determined to be rickets. If she were to be wrong about rickets, if it were something of another sort ailing Octavia, of course she needed another possible diagnosis – a couple of which she had jotted down and continued to research in between her main studies.

Her head pained her. Medicine, at times, could be extremely frustrating. Of course, she counted herself fortunate to even be a doctor at all, being a woman in the current times; however, she often wondered what medicine would be like decades from now. What discoveries would they make? What new treatments would be available? Surely their options would not remain as limited. They had certainly come a long way from the days of bloodletting via leeches, though Abby knew there was still great progress needed to be made, and she hoped to herself she would be alive to see it.

~~~

She had lost all track of time, not checking her pocket watch for quite a while, when she heard footsteps shuffling towards her.

“I thought I would find you here,” Lord Kane said, carrying a flickering oil lantern to light his path.

“Am I past curfew?” she asked acrimoniously. She just could not help herself. A mischievous smirk flickered across her face and Lord Kane smiled back.

“No. But you do need to sleep. My flesh and blood is in your care, after all.”

Glancing down at her watch, she wavered. “I suppose you’re right.”

His jaw dropped, eyes widened. “Now that is a first.”

She snapped her brows together. “What is a first?”

“You saying that I am right.” His mouth twisted in a lopsided grin and if she were not so sleep deprived it would not have greatly affected her the way it did in that moment. Honestly.

She hummed as she gathered her things, clearing off her workspace. “Do not get used to it,” she said without meeting his eyes. She turned to him then, giving him a once-over before returning to her pile of papers, organizing them into a neat stack. “Your coddling is unnecessary, you know. Are you so concerned for me that you cannot sleep? And sending Russell? Really?” She bit back her smile. She could stand there teasing him all night.

His face twisted and a nervous laugh burst out of him. He shifted uncomfortably. “For the record, Doctor, I rarely ever sleep,” he began, defensively. “And I am only here to escort you up that gargantuan staircase as I fear you cannot safely climb those stairs on your own volition in such a listless state. Lastly, Russell was merely doing his job.”

“Are you through with your speech? I am growing quite weary over here.” She brought a dramatic hand to her forehead and feigned lightheadedness. “I need a big, strong man to assist me up the stairs to my chamber.”

He chewed at his lip and nodded, clearly miffed by her taunting. “Come, then,” he said, lifting the oil lamp. She extinguished the lamp at the table and followed behind him as they exited the library, passed several guest bedrooms down the hall, walked through the grand foyer, and up the dangerous stairs, arm in arm, which Lord Kane so gallantly rescued Abby from treading up by herself. How noble! How chivalrous!

“Stop it,” he said, impassively.

“Stop what?”

“Stop that. I know what you are thinking. I can clearly read it on your face.”

“You have no idea what I’m thinking, ever.” And thank the stars for that.

“You are mocking me in your mind.”

“Well, okay, perhaps you sometimes know what I am thinking.” As they took careful steps up the staircase in the dim light, she caught him glancing over at her. “Stop looking at me. You may trip climbing these mountainous stairs!”  

To her surprise, he smiled at her. Again. That made several times in one day (not that she was counting). It was certainly a new record. She felt charmed by his warm, affable, albeit dewy manner.

“I have ensured that Octavia will only eat home baked bread from now on. I gave clear orders.” He paused, deeply contemplative. “I did hear you, you know,” he said, glancing in her direction. “I… I apologize.” He spoke those two minuscule words as if it pained him, face mildly contorting.

“Thank you. If my diagnosis is correct, we should see a change soon.”

“Does it have a name?”

“Rickets. It is normally found in younger children but Octavia is an atypical case.”

He smiled sadly. “My girl is anything but typical.” He hesitated to speak again, as if he was worried what her answer would be. “Can she still heal, despite her age?”

Abby nodded, though reluctant. “I have never treated a case of rickets such as this before, but I have hope that she will… if she cooperates.”

He huffed a laugh. “Hope? Please, Doctor. Wishful thinking is not good science.”

Nearing her chamber door now, she smiled softly and looked up at him with tired, bloodshot eyes. Placing an encouraging hand on his shoulder, she said, “Need I remind you that hope, my lord, is everything.”

Lord Kane glanced down at her hand and, quickly, as if waiting a moment longer he would lose his nerve, took her hand in his and placed his lips to her skin, planting a soft, chaste kiss. “Goodnight, Abby. I mean—Doctor.” He blew out a breath of flustered laughter. “I apologize. Octavia cannot stop chattering on about her Doctor Abby and it slipped out.”

It pleased her to hear such news. Certainly building a relationship with Lady Octavia was not the easiest but it was proving to be most rewarding. She was warmed by Lord Kane’s unforeseen courtesy and, in the moment, spoke before thinking on it for too long. “Just Abby, please. It’s about time now, wouldn’t you agree?”

He smiled almost timidly – something she would not have expected from the man she met on her first day at Polis Park. “Yes, I suppose,” he said, bowing his head. “As you wish. Goodnight, Abby.” He planted one last kiss on her hand, this one lingering for much longer, which brought forth a warm pool of desire to her center. A kiss of the hand made her heart race as if she was a girl of courting age once again, stealing touches from behind her chaperone’s back.

Usually she would feel ridiculous for such a reaction, but she was too distracted by the lord’s long, dark lashes as he leaned in so closely, her hand still in his, that she thought he was going to kiss her. That was until she heard the knob of her chamber door turn and she realized he was gently pushing her inside. “Off you go,” he said quietly. “You need your rest.” At that, he shut the door in front of her and she stood frozen in time, fingers brushing lightly over his tattooed kiss on her right hand.

She missed the evil troll Lord Kane. The ornery ogre. Her job was far less complicated when she despised him. Now, as he was slowly opening up, she was beginning to see a softer side to him: kind, gentle, thoughtful, and she was warming to him, charmed by his smile and warm countenance and selfless acts of service. Deep down, she always thought him handsome, though his sour personality completely spoiled any of his attractive features.

Anyone but him, she thought. This cannot happen. There were plenty of eligible suitors in Edenshire, Stratford-Upon-Arkadia, and Upton Jaha. If her bed continued to grow cold, she could call upon an old acquaintance (she knew a few) or simply attend a ball. Any of the above options were certainly better than fancying her master.

Chapter Text

A day later, Abby found herself in the back parlor of Polis Park, nursing a cup of tea with Calliope.

“That man is always staring,” Calliope remarked from behind her cup, mildly put out by the man she was peering at over Abby’s shoulder.

“What man?” Abby asked, her forehead creased. There were very few men she could have possibly been referring to.

Calliope jutted her chin forward. Abby turned, following Calliope’s gaze, to find Lord Kane sitting in the quiet of his downstairs study. It was a small room connected to the back parlor, much different in size from the larger study upstairs. She had never once seen inside that particular study until that very moment as it was always shut (and locked). Today, for whatever reason, was an exception. Lord Kane was staring straight in their direction, and when his eyes locked with theirs, he started, eyes round, and suddenly became preoccupied with the stack of documents that sat on the desk in front of him.

“Who is he staring at?” Abby asked dumbly, turning back to face Calliope.

“You, silly,” replied Calliope in a hushed whisper.

“Me?” Abby asked in disbelief. She found that unlikely. Ms. Diyoza, perhaps, or certainly Calliope would be far more likely to attract Lord Kane’s attention and affection – they were so friendly and easily flirtatious. That never came naturally to Abby. She was self-assured in her professional abilities but not in her abilities to attract a man. She was not what most men would consider a “proper lady”, her career as a doctor was most unconventional, and she was assuredly out of practice after losing her dear Jacob all those moons ago.

Calliope’s laugh drew Abby from her piteous thoughts. “Well, yes, of course! I have never seen him so smitten. My bloody stars, he’s nearly swooning. You are a diamond of the first water, darling.”

Abby dared taking another look and craned her head back towards the study. Lord Kane’s eyes were glazed over in a daydreamy state, right in Abby’s direction. It was only when Calliope giggled did he break free from his trance and startled, knocking over a bottle of ink in the process, the black liquid spilling all over his desk, documents, and his trousers. The lord scrambled to retrieve the bottle as it fell off the desk and rolled onto the floor, leaving a black trail in its path. He bent over, clamoring underneath his desk until grasping onto the ink bottle. An ear-cracking thud soon followed and Lord Kane emerged once more muttering a string of expletives under his breath as he gripped his head with an ink-stained hand. The two women had tears in their eyes from the show, barely containing their laughter. The grim look in Lord Kane’s eyes sent an immediate pang of guilt through Abby, and before thinking otherwise, she shot up out of her seat and rushed over to his study.

“Lord Kane!” she exclaimed, feigning horror. (Perhaps she missed her calling as an actress). “Are you alright? Would you like some help?”

He winced, rubbing his forehead which Abby imagined was throbbing. As his hand fell back to his side, she chewed at her lip at the sight of his forehead now streaked with black ink. “Yes,” he replied in a lame attempt to seem nonchalant. “Lack of rest is just getting to me, is all.”

Unable to suppress her laughter, she attempted to cover it with a cough but it was in vain. He noticed. “What is it?” he asked, comically alarmed, his eyes going wide.

Her ribs ached from holding in the raging fit of laughter that fought to burst out like a rapid wave. “Your hands… they’re…” She swallowed down her laughter, struggling to form any coherent sentence. “And you have a little something,” she said, pointing at his face.

He glanced down at his palms in dismay, then using the back of his hand, he wiped at his forehead, black ink smearing everywhere. Chagrined, he continued to scrub away at his face, only spreading the ink farther. He now had streaks of ink on his nose and cheeks.

“My Lord… That’s… that’s actually making it worse…” Abby said in the midst of his breakdown. He blew out a heavy breath, clearly frustrated. She softened her gaze and, surprisingly, he softened back. She pulled out her handkerchief and offered it to him. “For your hands.”

He reached out but stopped himself short. “I will ruin it.”

“That’s okay. I have others.”

He dipped his head and half-smiled before reaching for it once more, however, this time she stopped him, pulling it out of his grasp as a mischievous smirk played on her lips. His gaze sharpened and eyes narrowed in confusion. Handkerchief in her grasp, she leaned in and gently made contact with his nose, slowly wiping off a streak of ink. Though at first he stood rigid, he soon leaned into her touch, demeanor calm, a soft smile forming. She drew back and for a moment they simply stared at one another, the handkerchief held between them with her outstretched hand. In his pitiful state, she caught herself wishing she could kiss the ink off his gentle face. Finally, he must have remembered why she had offered him the handkerchief in the first place as his eyes darted down and he took the white fabric into his black ink-stained hands. It was of little help but it was better than nothing.

“How’s your head?” she asked as he mindlessly rubbed the handkerchief over his hands.

He smirked, though it was a look of embarrassment rather than mischief. “A bit sore,” he admitted. “Although I believe the sorest thing here is my pride.”

She was unaccustomed to this Lord Kane: foolish and silly without endeavor, stammering, self-deprecating. She had only ever seen his sense of humor shine when he was with his daughter. The Lord Kane she thought she knew was haughty, voluble, and aloof with a stormy disposition. Of course, some aspects of the latter remained to be true, but she was convinced now that she had mistaken him when they first met. With each passing day, she continued to realize how there was much more to that man than she could have ever imagined.

Remembering herself, she cleared her throat and smiled up at him. “You should probably go change.”

“Pardon?” he asked, hopelessly lost in her meaning. She eyed his brown trousers which were sodden with ink and his eyes quickly followed suit. He laughed nervously, nearly rubbing the back of his neck before catching himself. “Ah. Yes. I really should go clean up… Um, thank you, Abby.”

With one last closed-mouth grin and with her handkerchief still in his hand, Lord Kane exited his study, leaving Abby with her mind in tumult.

The following day, Abby hardly saw him. The majority of her time was spent looking after Lady Octavia whenever she was free from her lessons with Governess Indra. The girl was always cantankerous following her mathematics lessons – clearly she was better suited to spelling and handwriting. Abby’s hands were full in between treating and caretaking Lady Octavia, journaling her findings, and squeezing in time for research in the fleeting moments of leisure time.

She had not yet glanced at her time piece when Russell appeared in the entryway, for she was far too busy scribbling down her day’s findings in her journal within the peaceful quietness of Polis Park’s library. To her displeasure, the butler was insistent that she joined everyone downstairs for dinner within the hour. Abby loathed being disrupted in the middle of her work, especially for something as unimportant as sustenance – for she was sure she could survive on tea and the odd biscuit – but she obliged.

Once dressed appropriately, she reluctantly made her way into the dining hall, her mind still lost within her research. Immediately within entering, her eyes caught sight of something most peculiar. The table was set with an additional plate at the head – Lord Kane’s seat, no doubt –which had always been empty since her arrival at Polis Park. She furrowed her brow at the sight but before she could inquire to Mrs. Rebecca, Lord Kane appeared, looking quite dashing in his dinner suit, completed with his long frock coat and bow tie.

Before she could scold herself to even allowing such thoughts to occur, he spoke. “Abby,” he said in a low, soft voice. “Please. Join me.” He indicated the closest seat to his right and she followed, ignoring Calliope’s raised brow at Lord Kane’s intimate use of her name.

Stunned and at a loss for words, she forcefully spat out the first means of conversation that came to her mind. “You’re looking much more… clean today, my lord.”

Lord Kane’s lips twitched as he clearly fought a smile. “Indeed?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “Is that your roundabout way of complimenting me, Abby?”

She fought her own smirk. “Perhaps."

“In that case, thank you.”

She fought away the blush that threatened to creep upon her cheeks as he scrutinized her with his dark, curious stare.

As dinner commenced, everyone at the table talked amongst themselves, all seemingly disinterested that Lord Kane’s attentions focused solely on Abby. Or were they merely too afraid to cast a sideways glance the lord’s way?

It was a dreary day outdoors. Rain poured down, hammering away at the pavement as the thunder boomed loudly over the chattering voices. Despite Lord Kane requesting Abby to sit beside him, he sat awfully quiet most of the meal, although his eyes rarely left her. Growing far too tired of the quiet, Abby finally spoke.

“So. Tell me about yourself.”

Lord Kane pondered as he finished chewing his bite of bread. “What would you like to know?”

She shrugged. “Tell me about your family.”

“Well, I have a daughter, as you know. And my son Bellamy is in the military.”

“I know that much. Tell me about your childhood.”

He looked askance as he fidgeted with the piece of unused silverware on the table. Finally, clearing his throat, he folded his hands and met her gaze.

“I had a rather… unhappy childhood. My mother was loving and she did what she could to bring me joy but my father… He was not a good man. He was rich and noble but rotten to the core. Far from a gentleman. My father – he was a duke – bequeathed the title, earl, unto me.”

“You’re an earl?”

“Yes.”

Abby grinned shyly, feeling embarrassed. “I feel as though I should have known that.”

It was shocking to her, that piece of news. It was quite the impressive status and much higher than she had expected based on how he ran his estate.

“It is alright,” Lord Kane said, waving his hand dismissively before signaling for Russell to refill his glass. At this rate, he was surely on his way to being intoxicated by the end of the night. “Quite truthfully,” he began after another sip of wine, “I feel undeserving of it… Of all of this.” He motioned grandly around the room. Oh yes, he was certainly near drunk at this point – he was speaking much more freely than normal and his Scottish accent far more prominent now. She fought back a smile at the sound.

“But that’s how it works – the way it has always worked. Statuses and high society living. Passed down to one’s children and then their children’s children and so forth,” Abby said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Titles such as that were not something one gained or worked for.

To her surprise, he chuckled. “I have never been fond of the status quo. I loathe feeling helpless. Just the thought that I was handed so much with such little effort – silver spoon in mouth, if you will – makes me feel almost a sense of… guilt.” He sneered at the last word. “I am almost jealous of people who work for their wages. People like you. It is admirable. Putting yourself through schooling the way you did and then working such a demanding job, the same grueling hours as a man yet for probably half the pay, mind.”

He was not wrong there. Lord Kane had been her highest paying employer yet.

“I will admit,” he continued, “although I am resentful of my handouts, I am grateful that my children can have a comfortable life. They want for nothing. I suppose that is all any parent should wish for.”

She looked at him thoughtfully, nodding in silent agreement. After a few paces, she questioned him once more. “You once asked me if I planned to remarry… I suppose I could ask you the same. Is romance no longer in the cards for you, my lord?”

Lord Kane huffed a laugh. “I find romance trite and frivolous.”

Abby eyed him warily, a knowing smile playing on her lips. “I struggle to believe that.”

He cast her a sideways glance, hiding any hint of a smile behind his wine glass. “And why is that?”

“I believe somewhere deep down, past your tough exterior, lies a deeply romantic and caring man. If only you would show that side more often.”

He smiled and she was sure it was what drew out the sun for the first time that day, peeking out from behind the clouds just before it sank away, swallowed up by the earth. She returned his smile, eyeing him with unabashed warmness. “You should do that more often.”

“What?” he asked, still smiling though not as big.

“That,” she said, trailing the curve of his lips with the pad of her index finger, ignoring any inquiring glances that might be cast their way. She smirked at the sight of him utterly speechless, his Adam’s apple bobbing hilariously as he gulped down any nonsensical reply he had attempted to muster. “Goodnight, Lord Kane,” she whispered into his ear before retreating back to the study. 

Chapter Text

Their lips collided and soon their bodies were a tangled mess. Her round cheeks were flushed with desire and it was all for him. “Tonight,” he whispered hoarsely, “I will make you mine.” Now that he had her in his arms, her breath quick and uneven with lustful passion and her eyes glazed with appetite, he was sure he would explode. She inclined her head back, granting him access to the most sensitive parts of her neck as he nipped and nibbled and bit. She moaned loudly and he cut her off with a kiss. “Shh. Someone might hear us,” he said. His hands found her breasts and he took great care of massaging them—to her enjoyment as well as his own. Soft, warm, supple. Her nipples hardened under his attentive touch. Her hands trailed down his chest, lower, lower, until he felt long fingers grasp around him.

His own moans started him awake. His hand jerked away from the inside of his underpants as soon as he gathered his bearings. His breath came out in gasps as he untangled himself from the bedsheets. His body was wet with perspiration. His eyes fell downward. Oh, Maker, he was painfully hard. His hand began to slide down but he stopped himself short. No. He could not dishonor her like that. But… he would never fall back asleep in such a state. He chewed at his bottom lip, removing his underpants and any feelings of guilt for the time being. The shamefulness could wait. He simply needed release.

Curse that bloody doctor and her lips against his ear and her breasts against his shoulder as she told him goodnight following their dinner together. This was all her fault.

God.

Her breasts.

He stroked himself, remembering how they felt against him, imagining how they would look without the bloody dress and corset.

He thought of her hot breath on his ear, his name on her lips until, finally…

Release.

~~~

He was hiding, she was sure of it. Hiding from her. She caught merely a glimpse of him that morning before he rushed outside, the tail of his black coat billowing behind him. Something was uttered to Russell about “business” and that he would return posthaste – by evening at the latest. She thought she captured his eye for a brief moment as he was putting on his hat, though she could have easily been imagining it. Not a word uttered to her as he departed.

What had gotten into that man? She possibly already knew the answer to that. How unfair of him, truly! Surely an innocent (okay, somewhat flirty) finger to the lips is nothing compared to his wet, lingering kiss on her bare hand! What indecency that was! It would have surely caused tongues to wag had it not been in the empty hallway of his own home, with only trusted servants to stumble upon.

One step forward, three steps back with that man. It should not be like it is. It should not be so complicated. She should not have to question her every move, every action. All she asked for was to remain in amiable accord with the man employing her. A little flirting never hurt anyone, if that was even what the two of them were doing. She was not so sure anymore. She was sure of one thing, however.

She was going to confront him.

~~~

He was hiding and she saw him. He had tried to not make it obvious. He had tried to keep himself occupied, distanced without seeming rude. Of course the blasted woman was smarter than that. She would confront him, there was no doubt. But at least attending to some “business” – which turned out to be a few rounds of cards and shots of Scottish whisky at the men’s club in Upton Jaha – would put some time and distance between the two. As such, it would hopefully clear his mind of the memories of last night’s dream that incessantly plagued him.

He had found himself barely able to look at her once again, similar to the time he had resorted to a last-minute hunting trip with the most dreadful of company, their nasty comments driving him to pack his bags and head back to Polis Park earlier than anticipated. He would not make that same mistake again. And considering the fact he had not yet found new friends, he was stuck to socializing with acquaintances in smoky men’s clubs for the time being, just to stay away from the attractive doctor that haunted his dreams.

This dream was much more shameful than the last, and his actions that followed, too. Driven by primal lust, he let himself be led by his own desires, only now forced to face the guilt and the shame that was accompanied by conducting himself in such an indecent manner. Thinking of her as he did unspeakable things to himself in bed alone last night was repulsive. What would she think of him if she knew?

His face had immediately reddened when he first caught sight of her that morning at breakfast, eyes boring into her back as he quickly had to decide whether to face her or run. (Clearly he had chosen the latter). She had not seen him that time.

He was sure he would not be spotted as he quietly made his way out to take care of aforementioned “business,” but of course there she stood at the foot of the stairs, watching him. She said not a word and for that he was grateful, but the hurt in her eyes was there and it took only a glance to see it. The questioning look of “Why are you running once again? And what are you running from?” She knew. It was clear to her that he was avoiding her. In hindsight, he should have at least mustered a cordial hello in passing, enough to sate her appetite for amicable affections, but then that would open the door for conversation and he certainly did not want that.

It was decided. He could never face her again. It may seem dramatic but it was simply the truth. One glimpse of her that morning before he left, looking effortlessly radiant in her work dress, had sent a burning desire straight to his torso and an unfortunate bulge to his trousers. How could he ever face her again if such an occurrence happened just from the sight of her? And driven from one silly dream? He was not a young man anymore, though his body acted otherwise. Vulgar dreams, constant carnal yearnings, frequent and poorly-timed stiffness in his pants… all familiar happenings from days of his youth.

It was not only shame and guilt that troubled him now, concerning Doctor Griffin and his dreams, it was also desire. Simply stated: he could no longer regard her without experiencing intense feelings of arousal.

How unfortunate. And embarrassing.

~~~

Abby was ashamed to admit that little work was accomplished that day. Needless to say she was distracted. Memories from the night prior reeled in her mind as she debated whether it was a harmless touch that had caused her boss to retreat to town, away from the estate, away from her.

Well, he had to return home eventually.

So, she sat. Waiting. Journal on her lap, legs crossed, foot tapping anxiously. The journal was open but no notes were being taken. No productivity was taking place that day, and perhaps not the following day, either, if she did not confront him.

She did not bother to check what time it was when the front door swung open and Lord Kane strode into the foyer and towards his office, taking no note of her perched on the stairs. Abby stood too quickly, her head spinning, and chased after him. “My lord,” she called unenthusiastically. He was nearly to his office, hand on the doorknob when she caught up, placing her hand atop of his to keep him from entering.

“My lord, I should like a word.”

The lord shut his eyes and clinched a fist, drawing in a slow, deep breath. “Why must you accost me at this hour, Doctor? Can you not ascertain when one is not in a conversational mood?”

She bristled at his tone. “I believe I’m owed an explanation.”

Lord Kane scoffed, dark eyes finally meeting hers. “You are owed not a thing.”

He went for the doorknob again and began to step inside his office but Abby inched forward, stopping the door with her foot.

He huffed again. “You are persistent.”

“Why won’t you speak to me? Why can’t you look at me? What have I done to offend you?” She wanted to kick herself for how sad and desperate she sounded.

“The only thing offensive here are my thoughts,” he mumbled, averting his eyes almost… shyly? That perplexed her.

“Pardon?”

Sighing, he opened the door to his office and poked his head into the hallway. The only servant nearby was Lorelei down the hall. “Come,” he said to Abby, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder and ushering her into his office.

Inside now with the door cracked, Abby continued demanding for an answer. “Well?”

His eyes focused intently on his boot laces, refusing to meet hers. “My thoughts toward you are most impure, Abby…”

She became as speechless as a congregation during the liturgy, though their conversation was turning far from holy. Emboldened, she stepped closer. “Why don’t we make them a reality, my lord?”

He shuddered a breath.

This was a dangerous game they were both playing. She was well aware. But once their eyes met, neither could help themselves. She allowed him to back her up against the wall, her breath hitching. Her lips waited like a question. He trailed her cheek with the pad of his thumb. The swell of his trousers pressed her thigh. Goosebumps raised on her arms at the feel of his hot, steady breath on her neck. His short beard prickled against her.

His lips brushed hers and she closed her eyes, leaning forward only to kiss the air.

Her eyes jolted open to find him pulling away from her.

“Sorry,” he muttered, his voice hoarse. “My imagination is the furthest I can allow this to go. I apologize. I do not wish to dishonor you.”

She gaped at his words and blinked rapidly as she tried to interpret their meaning. She huffed a laugh. “Dishonor? No. You’re lost. I won’t allow you to pull me adrift as well.”

She swept past him, wiping the tears away that pricked her eyes.

In the hallway she nearly plowed over Lorelei who was occupied with dusting the portraits on the walls. Lorelei’s hand steadied her just before she tripped.

“Doctor!” Lorelei exclaimed. “You seem out of sorts. Are you quite well?”

“Perfectly well,” Abby sniffled, smoothing down her frizzled hair. “Good night, Lorelei.”

“Good night, Abby.”

Chapter Text

Winter had fully arrived now, bringing with it not only low temperatures and biting winds, but violent aches and pains for Lady Octavia – the cold air intensifying her already anguished body.

Christmas at Polis Park had been… peculiar. There was no grand and lavish feast, no visits from family, no Christmas tree. It was downright depressing. Lord Kane did leave his office to present his daughter with new clothes and toys, but otherwise, one would not even realize it was a holiday.

Abby had found herself feeling down, missing her family more than usual on that day. She did receive a letter from her parents, which lifted her spirits slightly, but still she was glad when the day had passed.

Instead of feeling sorry for herself and dwelling on those whom she missed, she preferred to keep busy with Lady Octavia’s care. The young Lady Octavia’s progress had been minimal, but it had been progress nonetheless. Abby worked tirelessly with her each day, encouraging her to move as much as possible, as much as her abilities allowed. The young girl had adjusted to her new diet to some degree. The tantrums were explosive and endless at first, now they were more reminiscent of a stubborn mule bucking up, yet always giving in eventually.

Due to the weather conditions, they had to limit Lady Octavia’s exercises to indoors only, though they kept the curtains pulled open to allow any bit of light to creep in – if it ever dared to poke through the dreary English clouds. Abby hoped the small amount of sunlight would be enough to help the girl improve.

“Give me one more step, my lady. That’s it. That’s a good girl.”

She grunted and groaned, but moved her crooked legs towards Abby as she held onto her hands with white knuckles.

The girl was visibly relieved when Abby told her she could take a break. She plopped down into her wheelchair and was rolled away by Ms. Indra for a quick snack break before her mathematics lesson.

While Abby’s mind remained focused intently on the young Kane girl’s care, it did drift on occasion. It had been a week since Christmas, and two weeks since she and Lord Kane nearly kissed. He had made feeble attempts to converse with her, but she would simply turn a blind eye and brush past him like he was an old beggar. “Abby, please,” he had said desperately. “I did not mean to abase you.” His tone had been genuine and from the brief glimpse into his eyes, it had looked as though he truly felt sorry, but… she needed time.

It had been days since he last attempted to speak to her, so at least it seemed as though he had given up on his endeavors. She would approach him but only when she was ready.

He was attracted to her. He wanted her. He fantasized about her. Abby could not seem to shake those thoughts, nor the feelings of his body pressed against hers. In the moment, it had felt so right, but then to have been so bold and, in turn, to be so blatantly rejected had truly hurt her pride. She was utterly embarrassed by the whole ordeal. She would rather forget about the whole thing. One pesky problem was that she saw him every day. She lived under the same roof as him. He was her employer. There was no moving past their encounter anytime soon.

Moments later, Abby decided to have a bite of lunch so she headed towards the kitchen to see what Nygel had cooked up for them today. She rounded the corner past the parlor when she happened upon Calliope, whose face was as white as a ghost.

“Calliope! Are you well, dear? My, you look pale. You should sit down.”

“Abby.” Calliope raised up her hand, revealing a newspaper.

Abby took the proffered paper and opened it to where Calliope directed her to. A gossip column. She had heard of this, though always took pride in never being one to actually indulge in the writings. Her eyes began to scan the paper, which read:

Dearest Readers,

The ton are abuzz with the latest rumour and it is truly my honour to impart to you: Lieutenant General Lord Marcus Kane, Earl of Arkfolk, patriarch of Polis Park, and father of the dreamy and eligible Captain Bellamy Blake, has been caught up in a whirlwind affair with none other than his ill daughter’s doctor, Abigail Griffin, having been overheard performing the marital act in his office late at night as his daughter lay limp in her bed just upstairs! Lord Kane, now a widower for six years, has been often rumoured to have enjoyed company with his help – after all, what high class individuals dined with the maids this day and time unless they were tossing ‘round in the sheets? Apparently he has climbed his way up the status ladder slightly so by frolicking with this female doctor. Who shall be the next amorous conquest of the licentious Lord Marcus Kane? Do so write in with your queries regarding the situation and I will do my best to reply with haste, my dear readers.

Yours Truly,

Lady Felicity Blythe

Society Papers

“Word has surely gotten ‘round to the whole ton at this point,” Calliope spoke, her voice barely audible over the ringing in Abby’s ears.

Abby’s jaw was slack. She could not move. She stood frozen in time, unable to believe what she had just read.

Calliope continued as Abby reread the paper, tears welling up in her eyes.

“Lord Kane is livid,” croaked Calliope. Abby’s heart dropped. She felt Calliope squeeze her arm in a futile attempt to console her. “I’m sorry, darling.”

At the booming of Lord Kane’s footsteps boring down onto the marble, Calliope scurried away into a side hallway. His steps were so heavy and full of anger, the sound bounced off the walls of the corridor.

“My office, Doctor. Now,” he commanded through gritted teeth. Abby noted the bulging veins protruding from his temple. It was clear he was doing everything in his power to not completely lose his temper.

She followed him to his office – her shorter legs barely able to keep up with his long strides – and contemplated sitting down once inside but decided against it. Was he angry at… her? But how was any of this her fault? She opened her mouth to inquire but he cut her off.

“Tell me it was not you,” he said.

Abby’s brows creased. “I beg your pardon?”

He laughed, unamused and frustrated. He ran his fingers wildly through his hair. “Have you forsaken all your senses? Gone mad, have you, woman?! You have besmirched my good name!” he roared.

She burned with righteous rage at his tone. He could not be blaming her for this?! She gathered herself. Showing her anger would only give him power over her. It would simply show he had power over her emotions and she refused to give him that. “You do a bloody fine job of doing that on your own accord, Kane,” Abby said nonchalantly, purposefully disrespecting his title.

A derisive scoff escaped the man as he loomed over her petite frame. “Did you do this out of spite?” he demanded, the wheels visibly turning in his mind. “I turned you down, so you go out and blather to the entire ton that we had an affair? Did you never stop to consider what this means for me? For us all? My God, Abby, you always think that you can do whatever you want without a second thought about the consequences!”

She jutted her chin bravely upwards as she folded her arms across her body. “Why would I tell anyone about this when it affects me as well? Not only is my reputation on the line, but so is my career! No wife will allow me to enter their homes as a doctor if they have reason to believe that I was going to sleep with their husbands as soon as I arrive. Stop and think about what you’re saying for a moment, my lord.”

Lord Kane swallowed thickly. “I have no time to stand here and brabble, Doctor,” he sneered. “If you may excuse me, I have work to attend to. Enjoy your time twaddling with the townswomen.”

At that, he slammed his office door with finality, leaving her huffing in the hallway. With fistfuls of her skirt and petticoat, she turned on her heels and headed upstairs. As it neared the tenth hour of the day, she readied her patient’s cod liver oil – a new remedy they were trying – and treaded silently into her bedchamber.

Lady Octavia slumbered fitfully, murmuring as she dreamt. Abby brushed a strand of her ink black hair from her damp forehead and whispered her name until she stirred. She lifted her chin and held the fishy tonic to the child’s lips as Lady Octavia gulped the remedy down with distaste. The sickly child fell back into a slumber state quite immediately after downing the medicine – leaving Abby to retire to her chamber for a rest until dinner time.

Chapter Text

The doctor made no attempt to hide her indignation. No stilted cordial conversation was had between the two in passing over the next several days. Quite truthfully, he could hardly bear to look at her. Lord Kane found it difficult to believe that she truly had not spread that nasty rumor – although she presented a strong case. One would have to be simply stupid to do what the doctor may have just done. She would practically be digging her own grave.

He had letters to respond to (none from his son, though, as per usual), but he was so mentally depleted, he decided to take the time to stroll the garden for a breath of fresh air instead. He had never been affected by the cold, so the low temperatures outside troubled him not. He found great solace in the quiet of the garden, especially so in the winter when most are shut in. He always had a great affinity for nature.

Just as Lord Kane was starting to feel some semblance of calmness return to his mood, he was sought out by the footman, Miles.

“My lord!” The younger man was out of breath as he rushed into the gardens.

“Miles?”

“My lord,” he said between pants. “It’s… It’s your mother, sir.”

Lord Kane felt his heart nearly stop. “My mother? Is she ill?” Panic began to rise within him. All the times he had the opportunity to visit but decided against it suddenly flashed through his mind and he was riddled with guilt.

“No, sir. She’s—she’s here.”

“Here? As in on this property?” Lord Kane asked.

“Well, try not to sound too stunned, my dear,” said the familiar voice as it drew nearer from behind Miles.

“The Duchess, Her Grace Lady Kane,” Miles announced on cue.

There she was, the aging duchess, Lady Vera Kane, dressed in her mildly colored traveling dress and straw bonnet. Heavens, she looked so much frailer than the last he had seen her. “After all, does a mother not have a right to visit her son when she likes?”

“Mother, get inside right this instant!” he commanded, skipping the formalities, and grabbing his mother by the arm. “You will freeze!”

“Oh, nonsense! This feels like summer compared to the North.”

Still, she followed alongside him into the warm house. They sat beside a crackling fire and sipped on steaming hot cups of oolong tea in the parlor while his mother inquired about Octavia and Bellamy. He had no courage within him to be honest with her about Bellamy – that his son never wrote him, and he had no idea whether he was even alive – so his response was simply the same as always: “He is fine.” The conversation focused mostly on Octavia. They spoke of her treatments, her progress, and the like for quite some time.

“Speaking of…” his mother began, taking a long pause for thought. He gripped the edge of his seat, preparing himself for where he believed the conversation was about to go. “Octavia now has a doctor caring for her, correct?”

“Yes, mother. Doctor Griffin has done a fantastic job with Octavia.” Well, he would never let the doctor hear him say that anytime soon, but he would die before admitting to his mother that hiring the doctor may have been a mistake. He could already tell by the look in her eyes that this conversation was taking a downward turn.

“Oh, has she, now?”

Ah, yes. Just as he had suspected. “Why are you here, Mother?”

She sniffed, then cleared her throat. “Now, Marcus, I know that you are a grown man, but I simply do not approve of you…” she paused, searching for her words, and then, just barely above a whisper, she continued, “sleeping with the help!”

He blanched and went wide-eyed as he sputtered. “Mother!”

“Well, I am sorry to be so crude, but you started it! First of all, a mother should never have to learn about her son’s new relationship through a gossip column, let alone read about what you two have been doing within the linen closets.”

He opened his mouth to speak but his mother raised her hand to cut him off. “And secondly, I know plenty of available women out there who are more within society than this… woman doctor. Please tell me this awful rumor is not true! I was absolutely appalled when I read it. I nearly spat out my morning tea. You know, son, you have your soul to think of. You know what scripture says.”

“I am going to stop you right there. Yes, I am perfectly aware of what the scripture says. ‘By His wounds, you are healed,’ yes? Look at my daughter, Mother!” he spat. “Does she look healed to you? What kind of loving god would allow an innocent child to suffer as she?”

His mother sighed and pinched the bridge of her hooked nose. “Oh, I am so sick of having this same debate with you. Fine, Marcus. If you care nothing for your soul, then at the very least you have me to consider. I will have to change churches! No one will want to associate with me after this. I can forget all about any calls for tea!”

“Calm down…”

“NO! I will not calm down! These were your choices that brought us here, Marcus, and now it is time for you to fix it.”

He chuckled. “Fix it? And how do you suppose I do that?”

She folded her hands and looked at him with a glint in her eye that was completely unfamiliar to him. He nearly did not recognize this woman he called mother at that moment. But, he supposed, desperation brought out a different side to people. “You have a pen, do you not? And you have always been gifted with the power of words.”

“What are you implying I do?”

“I am implying, nay, telling you, to hit this Blythe girl where it hurts and beat her at her own game. The answer is obvious: you must write back to her! And in the process, you will be clearing your name – the family name!”

This made Lord Kane scoff. “The family name, you say? Mother, need I remind you of the man who gave us this family name? He was a bibulous, violent fool who spent more time in bed with his countless mistresses than he did at home with us – his own family! And you come here to preach to me about scripture…” he grumbled.  “Meanwhile, your husband went against every commandment listed and yet you still turned a blind eye!”

“It was different for me!” she screeched, shooting out of her seat. “You have options. You have wealth, status. Please do not throw it all away.”

He followed suit, standing up to tower over her. “This is infuriating! You are more concerned about a preposterous rumor than the years of mistreatment that you endured by that wretched man you called a husband.”

“DO NOT,” she began through gritted teeth, pointing a crooked finger towards his chest, “speak of him that way. He was your father—”

“He was a swine,” he replied, darkly. “Let us not waste our breath debating that which is fact. I love you, Mother, I truly do. I assure you that whatever choices I make in life, I will always be man enough to face the consequences and face them truthfully. Nothing has happened between the doctor and I, and I will handle this. Not for him, but for you.”

She wiped a tear from her eye and clasped her hand over his with a surprising amount of force for a feeble old woman. “Thank you, dear. I should be going. I will see myself out.”

And back she went to Arkadia Hall.

~~~

The rumor going ‘round was that Lord Kane’s mother had come for an unexpected (perhaps, unwelcomed?) visit three days ago. Abby had barely caught even a glimpse of her as she was busy with Lady Octavia at the moment. She did find it odd the woman did not even call for her own grandchild – Octavia may be an invalid, but she was still family.

By the end of Abby’s time with the child that day, the front door was swinging open and shut again, the duchess loading herself up into the carriage to be whisked away, back to her own estate.

Quite odd, that family.

Lord Kane had holed himself up in his chamber. He was, evidently, still upset with her, over something she did not do. One thing was for certain: the man had a vivid imagination; however, her blathering about their time spent together, (which was truthfully nothing to boast about, as barely a touch was shared between the two before he rejected her), was as unlikely as the fairy tales that Governess Indra reads to Lady Octavia. As she explained to him, this was as ruinous to her, if not more so, than it is to him! After all, should anyone take any heed to what Lady Felicity Blythe wrote? She certainly did not.

With her mind in tumult, she slumped down into an armchair in a very gauche, unladylike fashion to take a much-needed rest when suddenly a young servant, called Luna, gained the hall, looking unsure and shy. Abby caught a glimpse of Luna briskly wiping away a tear from her eye and motioned for her to sit down. She held what looked to be letters in her hands, at least a dozen or more. Calliope and Harper quickly followed behind Luna.

“Luna, dearest,” Calliope said softly as she approached the weeping young servant. “Won’t you tell us what the matter is?”

Luna snorted most unbecomingly to which Harper offered the young servant a plain, off-white handkerchief. After wiping her nose with the proffered napkin, she steadied her breath to explain her distress.

“He—he’s leaving me. My love… We were going to be married. He’d promised! And now I am with child and no husband. I’m ruined!” Instinctively, the young woman placed a hand on the small pudge of her stomach as she shrieked.

Abby gently removed the letter from Luna’s grasp and read over it. The young man was clear with his intentions: he was to wed another, and, to make matters worse, he was claiming the child was not his and was accusing Luna of being promiscuous, going so far as to call her a “harlot.” She could not believe her eyes that an individual could be so cold and cruel.

“Luna…” Abby began smoothly, “when was your last monthly?”

Luna sniffled as she rested her head against Calliope’s shoulder. “Three months, I believe. When Lord Kane hired me and I first moved in, I would check my bedsheets every morning, obsessively. Until, well… the truth became clear.”

“Wait just a moment,” said Harper, the cogs in her mind clearly turning with each thought. “You mean…” She paused, her voice barely above a whisper. “How did…”

“Go on, girl, spit it out,” Calliope interjected.

“How can you be with child if you are not married? I did not think that was possible.”

“Oh, bless you, dear child,” said Calliope, suppressing a snicker.

It was a startling thought to Abby at just how many adults were clueless about the inner workings of their own bodies.

Abby turned, ignoring Harper for now, and addressed Luna instead. “We must address this with Lord Kane straightaway.”

Calliope perked up. “OH! Perhaps I should write my cousin. You know, Abby, the one with the funny lips? He is eligible, he owns a nice plot of land up north… He would treat you right, as long as you could stand his accent.”

Harper chimed in. “It would be worth an effort, Luna. And, if he is not interested, as the saying goes: ‘Where one suitor goes, the rest will surely follow.’ And you, my dearest, do not have much time to waste.”

Everyone’s eyes fell to Luna’s soft tummy. Instead of agreeing to any of the women’s plans, Luna sank down into the chair and slumped over. “What am I going to do?” she asked through a loud groan.

“As I said, we will speak to Lord Kane about this. You will not be able to hide your pregnancy for too much longer.”

“If he will allow me to work at least until the baby arrives, perhaps I will have enough money to sustain us.

“What will he think of having a servant pregnant out of wedlock?” Calliope thought aloud, then gasped. “What if the rumors spread that the child is his?”

This seemed to upset Luna further. “Oh, my heart breaks at the thoughts of me and my baby living out on the streets!”

“Do not speak of such things!” Abby scolded. “The both of you! Lord Kane is many things, but he is certainly not cruel. It will all work out. We must have hope.”

Noting the time on her watch, Abby bid the women goodbye for now, heading upstairs to find Lady Octavia. Halfway up the stairs, she heard her name being called from a familiar voice she knew as Harper’s.

“Yes, Harper?”

“I was just hoping I could speak to you for a moment,” Harper said timidly.

Abby nodded. “Of course.” She led Harper into her room upstairs. Harper sat in an armchair by the window, Abby on the edge of her bed. “So, what is it that you wished to speak to me about?”

Harper’s cheeks began to tinge with pink. “It’s just that… Well, I’m not quite sure how a girl like Luna—unmarried, you see—could be with child. My mother told me that only married women get pregnant.”

Abby did not laugh. She did not jeer. Instead, for half an hour she sat with Harper privately in her chambers and gently explained to Harper as a medical professional how Luna fell pregnant and later answering any questions that Harper had on such matters. At the end of their discussion, Abby reassured Harper that there were many young women in this world completely uninformed on the subject matter and it was nothing she should feel embarrassed about.

~~~

Nearly a week passed, and Lord Kane was still hidden away in his study. No dinners in the dining room or tea parties with his daughter. He was like a phantom that haunted the halls, only showing up in glimpses here and there, mostly at night, before retreating back to the confines of his small study. He spoke to no one, let alone looked at them. Abby was just beginning to feel remorse over the entire situation; she considered just swallowing her pride and knocking on his door to accept his apology, willing to move forward and stop tip-toeing around one another the way they had been.

That was until she read the letter.

She felt as though she were the last person in Polis Park to read the letter, aside from the servants who could not read, but she was sure they had someone read it to them before she had even gotten the chance to merely touch the paper. Everyone in the parlor stared at her when she entered. She had heard the occasional whisper about a “pamphlet” from a servant here and there that morning, but she was so occupied with caring for Octavia and listening to her drone on about her new dollies that she had paid it no mind. She felt as though she were an elephant in a room, the walls felt as though they were closing in on her, the room feeling smaller and smaller by the second. She scrambled to reach for the newspaper in Indra’s hands. Her eyes glanced down at the paper, then back briefly at the small crowd, eyes locked on her. Would everyone JUST STOP STARING?

She found a quiet corner to read and braced herself for whatever was about to occur.

Dearest Readers,

In the spirit of expressing oneself through pen and paper, I, Lieutenant General Lord Marcus Kane, Earl of Arkfolk, have found it fitting to address what has hitherto been a frivolous concern regarding my personal life.

I condemn these preposterous rumours that I have been subjected to as of late. I have the power and the means to undo your – (I am addressing you, specifically, Lady Felicity Blythe) – odious attempt to defile my good name.

It certainly saddens me that the ton have nothing more productive to do than add fuel to the fire and mindlessly spread these baleful, ruinous rumours. I am inclined to write this and, in turn, clear my name, by stating the simple fact that I have never, nor shall ever, be romantically or amorously involved with anyone who has ever worked under me. That, readers, is beneath me.

Doctor Abigail Griffin is a member of my staff and no more.

I warn you all, the spirit of bavardage is dangerous and lest it begins to consume you completely, turn away from it; do not support Lady Felicity Blythe any longer – do not give her an audience; and finally, focus on the innerworkings of your own lives. I verily know the vast majority of you readers are in grave need of self-improvement. I condemn Lady Blythe and I condemn the abhorrent nature of these gossip columns that reek of hypocrisy.

Lady Blythe, do you imagine that you will escape the just repugnance that awaits you if so ever someone names you? I suggest that you silence yourself at once before you offend a lesser man than I.

In summary, dear readers, I shall leave you with a quote from The Holy Bible to which the lot of you so like to pick and choose from when it suits you:

“Thou hypocrite, first cast out the beam out of thine own eye; and then shalt thou see clearly to cast out the mote out of thy brother's eye.” Matthew 7:5.

Lieutenant General Lord Marcus Kane, Earl of Arkfolk

The room spun and righteous rage crashed over her like a tidal wave. It slithered up her body and danced in her throat, darkening every bit of her until the scream which was trapped in her throat clawed and fought its way out. Her hands shook and face burned scarlet. Unable to choke back the fury any longer, she reached for the vase at the end of the mantel, gripped it with both hands, knuckles white, and flung it against the stone fireplace as hard as she could. White glass shattered with a CRASH, sending shards all across the stone floor, bouncing under the fainting couch and some bits into the fireplace.

She blinked, attempting to focus.

She forced her breath to slow and steadied herself lest she crumpled into a heap on the floor. Russell soon entered the room, more concerned for the broken vase than her own well-being, which frustrated her further. She needed out of that estate, and fast.

She dashed out of the room, glass crunching and crackling beneath each heavy step, and burst out the front door, just as she felt someone grab hold of her wrist. “Oh, darling.” It was Calliope, and she pulled Abby into a tender, yet firm hug. Her body suddenly weighed too much. She felt as though she could barely keep open her eyes.

Why must her heart and body betray her? Was it not enough that Lord Kane had done the same? He desired her, he admitted as much, but then in the same breath he turned her away. That hurt her pride, but that pamphlet hurt her heart. She was nothing more than a member of his staff. He wrote that himself. She cursed her heart for reacting the way it did when she read those words. She fought back a sob. All she ever wanted was to live out the rest of her days making her parents and late husband and daughter proud as she strived towards her dream of being a doctor. She never wished to be the center of attention, especially of some high society gossip column. All she wished was to be treated with respect like any other professional in her field, yet somehow, she managed to get swept up in baseless rumors that were sure to destroy her just-blossoming career.

She did not recall walking back to her chambers, but in some way, she managed to make it to her bed, only coming back to reality at the click of the door closing, Calliope leaving her alone to rest. But she could not rest. The thoughts in her mind were far too loud, her heart too heavy for anything that even resembled rest. What she needed was answers.

Raising up from the bed, she steadied herself for a moment, head spinning from standing up too fast (or from the sobbing, or from the hunger), and then before she knew it, she was standing outside Lord Kane’s study.

She knocked once. Twice. Thrice. She was beginning to give up when she heard footsteps on the other side of the door.

He answered finally and Abby barely recognized the man that stood in front of her. His hair was loose and unkempt, and a full beard was now covering his face, wildly different from the stubble she had become accustomed to as of late. Baggy, dark circles protruded from under his brown eyes, and it was evident that he had been dealing with poor bouts of sleep.

“Is it true? Did you mean it?” She had steeled her resolve, but it crumbled as soon as she began to speak, voice cracking and tears straining to fall from her eyes.

Clearly, he knew what she was referring to, as he immediately answered. “No.”

He said it with such passion and remorse that she knew he was being truthful.

“Well…” She thought for a moment. “Then, why did you write it?”

He sighed. “I was thinking with my head and not my heart. And by the time my heart caught up with my head, it was too late. It had already been published and sent off to the printers.”

Such a remark left her stunned. Their eyes met and they both looked away with haste as if they saw something they should not have seen. Instead of making eye contact once more, she attempted to find the table in front of her most interesting. She paused for three beats, possibly four, then began to retreat to her quarters. She stopped for a moment and turned to speak again, “Pride, my lord, will cost you everything and leave you with nothing.” She said it with no venom in her voice, simply stating a fact. He may be sorry, but that still did not mean she had to stay put and allow anyone to treat her in such a way.

~~~

He had drunk himself to sleep, telling himself that he would deal with the aftermath in the morning. Now that it was morning, he wanted to kick his past self for conjuring up such an idea. He was not sure what woke him first – the gurling of his sour stomach or the pounding in his head, but he arose from his bed with haste, barely making it to the lavatory, his hands connecting with the mahogany wood of the toilet seat just in time before the contents of yesterday spilled out into the bowl. Stomach finally empty, he wiped the tears from his eyes and brushed himself off before calling for Russell to fetch some sort of remedy that would cure this self-inflicted ailment.

Self-punishment is what it was. He knew that he was in the wrong. In fact, he had admitted as such to the blasted woman but, understandably, he surmised (if her harsh words or cutting glare were any indicator), she remained cross with him.

Determined to finally lay the issue to rest, he sat at his desk, nursing a hot cup of tea, and began formulating another apology. Perhaps this time it would take.

So, when Russell informed him that the doctor was at his door, he gritted his teeth and stood, rolling his eyes. Of course. She simply could not wait a while longer until his headache was cured, could she? And above all, he was still ruminating on what exactly to say to her!

He swore under his breath and dusted himself off as Russell ushered her in. His brow creased as she approached him silently, handing him a half-piece of parchment with one simple sentence scribbled on it: I quit.

“What is this?” he asked once the initial shock and confusion washed away.

“Call that my letter of resignation. I am giving you a week’s notice. I intend to set off back home Monday next.”

His head began to spin, and it was not from the ill-effects of alcohol. “Doctor—Abby. Please. Don’t do this.” Glancing at Russell, then, he asked the man to give them a moment, to which he nodded and shut the door behind him, leaving Lord Kane and Abby alone in the privacy of his office.

She jutted her jaw at him stubbornly, bucking like an old mule. The thin line of her mouth indicated that she was in no way impressed with the gentle hand he placed on her arm. “I have already packed the majority of my belongings. I did, however, want to afford you the courtesy of an early notice. You see, some people do consider others and their feelings before they act.”

He winced at the sharp remark. He closed his eyes and rubbed his throbbing forehead. “Abby… Please—”

“Stop calling me that!” she demanded, and it was then he caught the briefest flicker of sadness in her eyes, the tremble of her lips, and the shakiness in her voice. It occurred to him then that this truly was not an easy decision for her to come by. He also realized that perhaps he could still convince her to stay.

“Doctor. Please, just listen to what I have to say.” He paused to allow her to speak but when she crossed her arms and said nothing, he assumed she was allowing him to continue. “I was irrational. Foolish. I overreacted and, feeling desperate, I thought that I needed someone to blame. But you must understand just how important reputation is in this society. Not only does my reputation affect me, but it also affects my mother, my children…”

“And as I said before, my lord: my reputation is important, too. I may not be wealthy, I may not own an estate, my father may not have a title, but I do have a job, one of which I worked very hard for years to obtain and had dreamed about for even longer. But because I am not from this high society of cunts and pricks, I am treated as though what people think of me matters not!

Now, I will ask you this once more: who in their right mind would hire me after a scandal such as this? I would have to leave the county – straying even further from my mother and father in their frail age – and not many counties are as progressive as this one. Even half the people here still scoff at me for being a ‘woman doctor’. I would certainly struggle elsewhere. The bottom line, Kane, is that you were selfish.”

He chewed at his lip, feeling not an ounce of anger towards her over her tirade. Instead, he was flooded with sympathy. She was right. He was selfish. He clearly did not think through how this could affect her, and when she tried to explain to him the first time, he refused to listen. “You’re right,” he said hastily as she turned to leave, likely thinking their conversation had come to an end. “I was an arse. But Abby… Octavia needs you. I need you. She has made great strides since you have entered her life and it was stupid of me to ever risk losing such an amazing doctor due to my poor decisions. She lost her mother, she never sees her brother, and I have not been much of a father myself. Every adult in her life has either left her or disappointed her…” He paused, not realizing he had been rambling, and felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment. He watched her, hoping she would speak so that he could shut up, but she stood stubbornly silent, so he went on. “If you expect me to stand here and grovel, I am sorry, but I am not that kind of man. But if you do not wish to see this through for me, please think of my daughter… and… know that I am sorry. Will you please stay?”

He watched the slow roll of her throat, imagining her swallowing down the ‘yes’ he so badly wanted from her but did not expect. So, when he heard that one little word aloud, he shook himself, sure that he had imagined it.

“What?” he asked.

“I said yes, I will stay. I at least wish to see Octavia’s treatment through. She deserves that much.”

He smiled as though she had just versified a sonnet, and when she returned a small smile back, he felt his heart give a very loud thud in his chest.

Chapter Text

“It’s a lovely day out, isn’t it, my lady?”

“It certainly is, Doctor Abby.”

Abby pushed Octavia’s wheelchair through the gardens as the girl happily combed her dolly’s hair and hummed a tune under her breath, smiling contentedly.

“You know, once spring arrives, perhaps you and I could start a garden.” Abby inspected the grounds; rich, dark soil peeked out from beneath the winter slush. “We could grow our very own tomatoes, peas, carrots, etcetera.” It was the doctor’s hope that involving the young child in growing her own food would perhaps make her more interested in eating it, as she certainly could not continue her current diet for much longer.

“Mmm. Alright,” the ebony haired girl replied with mild disinterest. An alright was not a no so Abby did not press anymore.

“I miss our tea parties,” the little girl stated suddenly. “Me, you, Papa…” Her pout twisted Abby’s heart.

“So do I, dear.” Abby did not even have to lie to the child to appease her. She truly did miss those days. They were still complicated, certainly, but nothing of the sort of what she had been dealing with. The gossip column, Lord Kane’s response… yes, a tea party sounded quite nice all of a sudden.

As if on cue, Lord Kane appeared on horseback, looking, dare Abby thought, roguishly handsome with his wind-blown chestnut waves and scruff. The weeks since her agreement with Lord Kane to remain at Polis Park had given her time to quiet her discontent to some degree; at least she did not seethe when in his presence, though her heart still ached – not unlike an old injury that still caused some pain during the winter months.

“Papa!” Octavia called as he stepped off his horse. Helios, Abby believed, was the name of the stallion. “We were just talking about you, Papa.”

Lord Kane cocked an eyebrow and smirked smugly, though cautiously, Abby’s way. And curse Abby’s heart, it leapt at the sight. She opened her mouth to speak, object, perhaps, but Octavia continued before she had the chance.

“We were just talking about how we so miss our tea parties. It has been forever, Papa!”

“Indeed, it has, darling,” he said, placing a tender kiss on the top of her head.

“Can we please have a tea party today? All three of us?”

Lord Kane’s smile wavered. He hesitated but finally locked eyes with Abby. She smiled guardedly at him and nodded, nearly imperceptible, yet he did not miss the motion.

“I am afraid I cannot today, little one, but… soon. I promise. Perhaps tomorrow, or the next day.”

Octavia’s face fell for a moment, but she quickly recovered. “Soon! I will hold you to that promise, Papa,” she said seriously, deriving a laugh from both adults.

With one last kiss to his daughter’s head, Lord Kane departed, citing he must clean his kill from his day hunting pheasant. 

~~~

An hour or so before suppertime, Abby and Calliope arrived at Lord Kane’s office to address the private situation regarding the young servant, Luna, who was with child.

“With… the rumors going around as of late,” Calliope mentioned carefully, eyes darting between Abby and Lord Kane as she stumbled on her words, “I think it best that we tread with caution regarding young Luna’s predicament.”

Lord Kane twisted his lips. “Ah. Yes. We cannot have Lady Blythe writing how I have impregnated one of my servants.” He sneered as he said the wretched woman’s name. “People will always find something to gossip about, Calliope. And the girl must work. Since she has no husband to provide for her, it is in her best interest that she continues to work to support herself and her unborn child for as long as bodily able during her pregnancy.”

Abby chimed in. “Aren’t you concerned for your reputation, sir? I know for a fact it will not be a good look on you – an unwed pregnant servant working under your godly roof?”

Lord Kane smirked and rolled his eyes at her obvious sarcasm. “I care not what the ton thinks of me. It is safe to say that the public has already formed their opinions. Why should I worry now? I certainly cannot in good conscience send the poor girl out onto the streets. Once she gives birth, however, she will need to figure something out.”

“Not interested in having a new baby under your roof?” Abby jested.

Lord Kane was not amused. “If it must come to that, so be it. But I would prefer other arrangements.”

“We could marry her off quickly to an eligible bachelor before she begins to show!” Calliope offered.

“Ah. Like your cousin with the wide nose that you tried to marry me off to?” Abby asked.

That got Lord Kane’s attention. He could be so animatedly comical at times without intention. His eyes grew as wide as saucers at the mention of Abby possibly being married off.

“He had odd lips, not a wide nose,” Calliope corrected, “and you know, perhaps he would be just dull enough to not realize a thing once the baby arrives a few months earlier than expected, yet still being at a healthy weight.”

“I will allow you ladies to brainstorm that. If you do not mind, I have other work to attend to.”

~~~

Unfortunately, that tea party never came for Octavia. She should have been sitting on the floor, cross legged with her dollies surrounding her, pinky sticking up as she sipped on imaginary tea, but instead, she lay pale and weak as a lamb, burning with fever in the confines of her bed. Her constitution grew feebler with each passing day.

Nearing three days into the girl’s sudden illness, Abby awoke with a start in the middle of the night to a blood-curdling scream. She stumbled out of bed, grabbed her doctor’s bag, and raced into the girl’s chambers to discover her in the throes of a fever-induced nightmare. She was crawling into the bed, shushing the girl and gently shaking her awake when Lord Kane finally staggered inside, mind still foggy with sleep if his bleary eyes were a trusted indicator.

Lord Kane, obviously pleased at the sight of Abby holding his child despite the sickly girl’s circumstance, gave a sad smile before placing a hand upon Abby’s shoulder as she rocked Octavia back to sleep following an extra dosage of the new tonic she had concocted for her – saffron, sage, and snakeroot.

Octavia’s eating habits were not improving, in fact, they were getting worse. She refused to eat hardly anything they tried to feed her to help her improve her health. Abby counted herself lucky she could coerce the girl into drinking the tonics she created for her. Of course, taking one gulp was much different than clearing a plate at suppertime. Even the foods Octavia once enjoyed – milk, salmon, cheese – she no longer agreed to eat. Pain and stubbornness kept her holed inside her room, practically attached to her bed. She was developing terrible bedsores all over her tiny body, and what movement she did have was nearly completely lost in her legs. Octavia’s braid of long, black hair had come frayed and lay wild as Abby positioned her head on the stack of pillows, then slipped quietly out of bed. Octavia’s forehead, still hot to the touch, told Abby that the tincture of herbs she had been giving her over the past week must not have been doing the child any good. Abby caught Lord Kane’s gaze as she pulled her hand away from the child’s forehead, and she longed to smooth out the worried crease in his brow.

“My office,” he said, barely audible. Abby was unable to determine whether what he just said was a question or a command, but she simply obliged, too weary to consider an alternative. She felt the stinging of her eyes, the pressure in her chest, and it took all she had to hold it all in until they were privately inside his office. And then the dam burst. Abby let out a deep sigh as the tears flooded from her eyes and her body quaked.

“I’m failing you. Failing her,” she said, her voice shaking like it never had done before. Feelings of anxiousness soured the supper in her stomach. She tried looking up at him but tears blurred her vision. She had promised she would save his daughter and she was failing. His usually stony face was awash with worry. Despite this, he placed his hand on her shoulder, as gently as a lover’s sigh, and spoke just above a whisper. “This is not the end,” he said. He reached for a handkerchief and, finding none in his sleepwear, took the liberty of drawing her into his embrace. She found unexpected comfort in his strong arms. They stood like that for several beats, both silent and hurting.

It was Abby who finally broke the silence between them with her sniffles, followed by a question that she thought she already expected the answer to. “Do you believe in miracles, my lord?”

He wet his lips with a swift flicker of tongue. “No,” he said, voice hoarse. She was expecting as much. “But,” he began, his voice taking on the strength of conviction, “I believe in you.” That, she was not expecting. His intense gaze silenced her and she snapped her mouth shut. They shared a look of longing, Lord Kane’s eyes darkening hungrily for her as their heartbeats began to race. She closed her eyes, barely able to contain her sudden desire before a caress from his calloused hand awoke something within her. Her breath quickened as he trailed her cheek with the pad of his thumb, swiping away a stray tear.

The sound of footsteps startled them at once. They broke away just soon enough to find Lorelei carrying a load of linens. Goodness, did that woman ever sleep? Abby mused. Lord Kane stopped the servant in the hallway and quietly loomed over the short-statured woman. His expression was almost sinister.

“I know it was you,” he said, voice deep and violent. Abby was terribly confused.

“My lord?” Lorelei asked.

“You were snooping now just like you were snooping then. You saw us together and told the Sydney help. That blasted Diana Sydney has always despised me and would use whatever she can against me. I will be damned if I allow such a disgraceful traitor to work under my roof. This is my warning to you, Miss Tsing. Be careful who you call your friends, because for a mere couple of quid, they will quickly become a Judas.”

“I have no idea what you are referring to,” Lorelei replied stiffly.

Lord Kane scoffed. “If you value your position here, you will keep your mouth sealed about anything that you see or hear within these walls. Do I make myself clear?”

“Understood, my lord,” the servant replied through gritted teeth before quickly taking her leave.

“Oh,” Lord Kane called out after her. “No more shopping trips to town for you, Lorelei. Not until I can trust you again.”

Lorelei nodded stiffly before continuing onwards with her arms full of the linens.

“She started the rumor?” Abby asked incredulously.

“If I was not short-staffed already, I would have fired her immediately. As it were, with Octavia being ill, and with Luna expecting, I simply cannot afford to let anyone go. I surely would not be able to find a suitable replacement very quickly this day and time. One can only hope that I startled her enough into submission.”

“Well, you certainly startled me.”

Lord Kane’s lip curled as he snorted. “Oh, please.” They held eye contact for a socially unacceptable amount of time before Lord Kane spoke again. “Would you like me to walk you to your room?”

Abby rolled her eyes good naturedly. “I’m confident I can manage to walk the three meters to my room, but thank you. Your chivalry is noted.”

“As you wish. Goodnight, Abby.”

“Goodnight, Lord Kane.”

~~~

The sound of rapping on her chamber door cut through her dreamless nighttime reverie. Abby glanced at the clock on the table, the numbers readable by the moonlight shining through the slit of the curtains – it was four in the morning. She had been asleep for three hours at the most.

Lord Kane stood behind the door at the entrance to her chamber. She startled at the sight of him and regarded him curiously. “I apologize, Abby… But I could not sleep.”

Abby licked her lips in thought, she could smell the whisky on his breath. “Are you still worrying for Octavia?”

He huffed a humorless laugh and scratched his neck. “I am always worrying for my children. I should be accustomed to that by now. No, I am actually here to see you.” He shifted on his feet, seemingly suddenly unsure of himself. “I apologize, I should not have disturbed you.”

Abby scanned the corridor, and, seeing no one, spoke. “No. Do come in.”

She took a quick, undignified step aside to allow him entrance into her chamber.

He stood there, silent, breathing heavily as he examined the room. Abby looked at him expectantly and laughed despite herself. He returned her laugh. “Sorry. I did not expect to make it this far.” He paused. “I… have not been in this room since I lost my wife.” There was a slight catch in his voice that did not go unnoticed by Abby. “I simply could never bring myself to come here after she was gone,” he admitted.

“How are you?”

He smiled and eyed her up and down. “Just fine.”

He might have been a little more in his cups than she originally had thought. She watched him with a demure smile. He blinked away whatever impure thoughts he might have had and steeled himself. “I said I am not one to grovel but… I deeply regret how I have treated you, how I have spoken to you… You have done nothing but work tirelessly to help my daughter’s health improve and I have been… selfish? Cold? Rude? I have been anything but pleasant. And you have every right to pack your bags and leave but the fact that you are choosing to stay for Octavia shows me you are much greater a person than I ever previously thought. I did not wish to disturb you; however, I simply could not rest with you on my mind. I felt that I owed you a sincere – not half-hearted – apology.”

Abby thought for a moment. He was nearly sweating as he awaited with bated breath for her response. “Perhaps it would be better if you refrain from thinking of me at all,” she said cloyingly, a grin playing on her lips.

Clearly, her joke did not fall flat, and he snorted unbecomingly. His lip curled into a smirk, and he bobbed his head. “Easier said than done, Doctor.” He leaned in and pressed his lips to her ear, causing goosebumps to form up and down both arms as her body tingled expectantly. Warmth thrummed through her veins and coiled deep within the pits of her stomach. “Goodnight,” he whispered. She became a warm puddle of desire as he left her standing alone in her room, wanting for more. She felt mushy and languid, the ghost of his lips still haunting her lobe. He really had to stop whispering in her ears, that devil.

~~~

The road to recovery for Octavia was long and grueling but after four days of an unrelenting fever, it finally broke, evidenced by her soaking wet bedsheets. Abby prayed a silent prayer of thanks to the heavens above. A fever as high as the one Octavia had for much longer would have left her brain permanently damaged if she were lucky enough to survive at all.

While Octavia rested and recovered from her bout with fever, Abby tended to her bedsores. Turmeric for pain, turmeric with myrrh to clear out any toxins, saltwater to keep the wounds clean, beetroot and honey to decrease the redness and itching, aloe vera for healing. When she used the aloe vera daily, new sores seemed to have not appeared at all, Abby noted. That would be something they would have to work into Octavia’s nightly routine to prevent future outbreaks. Abby needed to get Octavia out of that bed and back to a healthy diet if she wanted to see this girl recover properly.

Feeling desperate, she simply asked the girl. “What would make you more inclined to want to do what I ask of you to get better? Like eating foods that are good for you and going outside for fresh air?”

Octavia scrunched up her face. “It just really hurts to move sometimes.”

Abby nodded. “That’s understandable. But it’s going to hurt, darling. It will not hurt forever if you would just do what I am asking of you as your doctor.”

She thought for a moment. “My daddy. It makes me feel better when he is around. Maybe we can eat together and go for walks together outside.” A wide smile grew on her face as her imagination took flight. “We could play tea parties and plant a garden in the spring like you had mentioned!”

Abby smiled sadly. “You want to spend more time with your father?”

“Yes.”

“I will speak with him, then.”

~~~

Lord Kane was in the midst of having lunch when Abby stepped into his office. He had not been alone with the doctor since interrupting her slumber several days prior. Not purposefully, however; she simply had been too preoccupied with Octavia to pay any mind to him. Doctor Griffin was certainly a determined woman and he knew he could not have made a better choice in choosing care for his daughter, even if he was wary at first.

“Abby,” he said, catching her smile as he said her first name. He could not help but to smile back. “How can I help you? Please, sit down.”

Abby gathered her skirts and obliged. “My lord. I spoke to Lady Octavia. I inquired what it would take to encourage her to try to make improvements in her routine so that she can successfully recover. Her answer was simply: you.”

“Me?”

She smiled again, more distantly this time, like she was deep in thought. “She said that you make her feel safe. She wishes to have supper with you, take strolls outside with you, have tea parties… with you. I may have bonded with her, my lord, but you are her father. So pray tell, why are you so aloof with her? She craves your attention and I know you love her but, clearly she wants – no – needs more from you. Why can’t you give that to her?” She did not speak accusingly to him, her tone was more concerned than judgmental.

He breathed deeply, swallowing back a lump in his throat. “When I look at Octavia, I see my wife. She resembles her so much. And it breaks my heart. I fell into a deep sadness when I lost Aurora. I was unable to put one foot in front of the other for days, weeks even. I endeavored to never open my heart again lest I fell victim to the aches and pangs of irrevocable loss once more.

“Bellamy could not stand it anymore. He fled. He would rather be on a battlefield than in the same room as his father. He hardly ever writes me. Bell always told me I was too gloomy and he could not take it. I have failed my own children. I was too focused on my own pain to ever bother comforting theirs. Bellamy lost his mother and misses her dearly, Octavia never knew of a mother to miss, and she barely knows her father. I have been a terrible excuse for a father.”

He slouched in his chair, a feeling of emptiness overwhelming him. A light touch of Abby’s hand startled him out of his self-depreciating thoughts. “It doesn’t have to be this way,” she said softly. “There are days where you must choose happiness, my lord. I have been there…”

Lord Kane wiped the tears from his eyes and sniffled, cheeks flushing in embarrassment. “Look at me. You have lost a spouse and a child.”

“My grief does not negate your grief. And, as simple-minded as it sounds, sometimes it is okay to not be okay.”

With a parting pat on his shoulder and one last heart-stopping smile, Abby left him with his thoughts as she returned to check on her patient.

~~~

The love he felt in the beginning for Aurora, he realized now, was but a fraction of what he would feel towards the end. The early years were easy, their love was simple, untested. They did not know one another yet – not the breadths nor the depths. That came later. He knew Aurora would think their daughter to be beautiful, though she would never know. They began to lose her just as soon as Octavia drew her first breath.

Aurora was a fetching dark-haired beauty with deep brown eyes. They had met at a ball just days after he returned home from war. Aurora, in her third season, had been standing amongst her friends, a gentleman nowhere nearby, which baffled the lieutenant general. A handsome, graceful woman as she and no one offered her to dance? Marcus had straightened his medal on his chest and calmed his nerves before asking her to dance. They were wed by spring.

He missed easy, simple love. Truly, no love was easy, but it had been certainly far less complicated in the early days than his current situation.

Now, the moments when he and the doctor would lock eyes, something unfamiliar would stir within him. A strange concoction of affection, loathing, and an intense amorous desire. A deep passion he had never felt before. He had pushed it away before, feeling as though he was betraying Aurora, but now he wondered if she would be happy for him, glad that he was moving on. He supposed it mattered not, as she would never know. Why was he sitting around, lonely and miserable, as if that would bring his wife back? Perhaps it truly was time for change.

Chapter Text

As winter truly began to set in and the days grew shorter, Octavia’s outdoor strolls were moved indoors. Abby was impressed with how quickly the child turned her attitude around once Lord Kane began to be more involved in her care and recovery. It was never a question of whether he cared for his daughter or not – his heckling of Abby’s over every little decision she made regarding the child’s care made it evident that he cared – but his aloofness certainly gave Abby pause a time or two. After their emotional discussion that led to his admittance of the reason for his distance, a shift in Lord Kane and Octavia’s dynamic was almost instant. It had been a week since that shift and Lord Kane had not missed a single meal at the table, where Octavia sat happily beside him, eating whatever she saw her father eat (thankfully Lord Kane followed a rather healthy diet which was exactly what Octavia needed).

Evidently, using tea parties as bribery was sufficient leverage for Lord Kane to entice his daughter to eat at the table. Abby was not sure whether bribery should be involved in the upbringing of a child but when, in Octavia’s case, it was life or death, perhaps it was acceptable.

~~~

With each passing day, the mood at supper time around the table grew lighter and lighter. Bantering and boisterous laughter was shared among all who dined, including the help who happily joined Lord Kane upon his invitation. Octavia sat to his left and to his right was Abby, who, on the first day of their evening suppers together, looked at him with raised eyebrows when he insisted that she sit beside him. They spoke of their pasts and exchanged stories back and forth and continued their conversation long after the plates were cleared and Octavia was taken upstairs for bed.

“This has been… nice.” He inwardly smacked himself for his poor vocabulary. He cleared his throat. “I just mean that it has been much better lately now that we are seeing eye to eye.”

Abby gave a sudden smile, brief and quick as summer lightning.

“It is for the best,” he continued. “For Octavia’s sake, that is.”

Abby chewed at her lip and nodded quickly. “Yes. Of course. For Octavia’s sake.”

Lord Kane braced himself and downed his drink. He was certainly in his cups by now. “Perhaps not just for Octavia…. I have enjoyed myself. Talking with you brings me great pleasure. It is the most fun I have had in many years.”

For the first time, he noticed a bright red blush streak across the doctor’s face. Something that he was certain was impossible. She looked away shyly and began to grin. She flicked her gaze back onto him. “It has been nice finally spending time with you and getting along. Although I somewhat miss giving you hell. It’s quite endearing when you’re flustered.”

It was clear that she was in her cups, too. This night could have an interesting conclusion if they were not careful.

“It is amazing, is it not, how quickly things can change?” he asked in a dreamlike state, looking past her as he fell into deep thought.

“How so?” she probed, bringing his focus back to her.

“Take us, for instance. We were at one another’s throats and suddenly we are spilling our hearts out to one another.”

“You’ve spilled your heart out. I’ve kept mine rather guarded, I think.”

The corner of his mouth quirked up. “For now.”

She gave an almost mischievous grin that was mostly hidden behind her cup. He finished off his own drink and poured another. Not wanting to allow too much silence at risk of Abby bidding him goodnight, he changed the subject to keep the conversation going.

“Not long ago, women in England were only permitted to study medicine, not practice it. Yet another way things can quickly change in a lifetime.”

Abby scoffed. “That’s what they do, isn’t it? They show you the world and then tell you that you can’t have it.”

She was correct. He could never imagine what life was like for a woman, but he knew for certain he wanted life to be better for his daughter. He was grateful that she had Abby as a role model. As they lapsed into a thoughtful silence, Lord Kane thought hard on how to phrase what he wanted to say. The alcohol fogging his mind, he just went ahead and said what was on his heart.

“Someone as brilliant as you deserves the world,” he said as quietly as a snowflake hitting the cobblestone. Regardless, she must have heard him, if her pink cheeks were any indication. Twice in one evening – he was sure that was some kind of record. Despite the conviction in his tone, she laughed timidly. (He never thought “timid” could be a word that described Doctor Griffin). “I do not mock you,” he added. “I am being sincere.”

~~~

No one could ever accuse the earl of being unpretentious, but there was another side to him, a side not often shown to others, a side which Abby felt drawn to. That side was often seen when interacting with his daughter but when he complimented her with fire in his eyes, she was left speechless and blushing unbecomingly. When she spoke, he listened intently with great affection. She felt truly seen and heard by him, something she thought would never be possible from the likes of him. She found she could not get enough. And how he looked at her? She felt like a puddle. After losing her husband Jacob, she had withered under the gaze of hungry gentlemen, uninterested in whatever they sought to offer her, but under Lord Kane’s brown-eyed gaze, she blossomed. She wanted that feeling to never end.

Unfortunately, it was getting late, and she still had a job to do.

“Thank you, Lord Kane, for such a wonderful evening. I’m afraid I do need to be off to bed.”

“Of course. I will get a candle and walk you to your chambers.”

Once outside her chamber door, the pair stood awkwardly for a moment, awaiting a word from the other. Finally, Lord Kane spoke. “Um. Goodnight.” How very eloquent. But at least he spoke. Something which Abby still had not managed to do.

“Goodnight,” she finally said once she found her voice.

Lord Kane hesitated for a beat and then, before she knew it, his lips were on her cheek planting a chaste but lingering kiss. Her pulse quickened; her breath caught in her throat. He slowly began to pull away and just as an apology began to escape his lips, she had him by the hand pulling him into her chambers.

And he never asked her to stop. Once inside with the door shut behind them, Abby’s mouth waited like a question. Lord Kane sat the candle down on the table to his left and began to fill in the space between them. The room was deathly quiet, the only noise was their panting breaths as they waited in anticipation. His breath was hot against her as he towered over her. She watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard before reaching up to undo the bun in her hair. He brushed a tender hand across her cheek and finally, his lips were on hers.

In swift gradation their kiss turned from sweet and unsure to greedily hungry. Abruptly, Lord Kane pulled away, concern flickering his face. “Is this alright?”

“Absolutely,” she breathed out.

Like a sudden crashing wave, his mouth closed over hers once more, with such a hunger that nearly frightened her. Or perhaps the hunger which frightened her was her own.

Wasting no time at all, he began to undress her and her face warmed as she realized her compromised state, only her knickers between them.

“Now this is not fair,” she said. “Why are you still dressed?”

But as his hands slid down the small of her back and lower with such carnal intimacy, there was no liberty she would not have allowed him in her lust-filled state.

~~~

He shunned her the next day and the day after that. Whether due to shame or regret from their clandestine encounter or from embarrassment due to his abrupt departure just before they began to touch skin to skin, Abby was not certain. Exasperated and down-right miffed by his apparent snub, Abby could take it no longer and confronted him in his study that second evening, about 48 hours after their meeting. 48 hours ago, his lips were on hers, demanding and urgent. She shook the thoughts, and the feelings that coincided with them, away, brushing her hands against her dress and striding right up to his desk.

Getting right to the point, she inquired, “What are you so afraid of?” The query sounding more confrontational than she had originally intended, but she stood strong, jaw jutted forward and hands firmly on her hips.

Lord Kane, still not looking up at her, sat frozen, pen held in hand midair above the parchment. She could tell by the look on his face that he was thinking, contemplating what to say. Finally, after what felt to Abby like ages, he cleared his throat. “I cannot be seen fornicating with the help.”

“And is that all that I am to you? The ‘help’?” She felt the hurt twist in her chest, but she would be damned to let it show.

He sniffed. Eyes still not meeting hers, he croaked out a weak, “No.”

“No,” she repeated. “I am more to you than that. Now tell me what this is truly about.”

He wavered but Abby continued to push. “Why can you not simply say what is in your head?”

He blew out a breath – clearly frustrated – and set down the pen, finally meeting her icy stare. “Why can you not keep from saying what is in yours?” he asked through gritted teeth.

“Tell me!”

“Why must you push me? Why? What gain comes to me for saying that you are in my every thought? What do I gain by telling you that you are on my mind every waking moment of the day and even while I sleep? Why must I tell you those things?”

She was overtaken by a stunned silence, completely reeling from his confession. She knew he had a degree of feelings, but to be something so deep, so… so much like… love.

She realized herself, remembering she had not spoken. Good, keep him guessing a bit, she thought to herself, but finally showed mercy by gracing him with a response. “Why wouldn’t you?” she asked. “What are you truly afraid of?”

“You,” he said with such raw emotion.

All she could do was laugh in disbelief. “Me?”

He stood as if his seat was on fire and before she knew it, he was just a step away from her. “You could break me, Abby. Destroy me. Never have I felt these feelings for anyone. Not even my late wife. I miss her, I loved her, I grieve her, but you… you make me feel such passion. Fondness, fervor, and at times contempt,” he added with a low chuckle. “All of that, Abby, terrifies me – deeply so, to my very core. I desire you. I burn, I ache for you. I cannot sleep at night for wanting you.”

Somehow, they had drifted so close, their lips were brushing together. Abby felt her breath hitch in her chest as she placed a hand on his shoulder. She gulped. “What do you want, my lord?”

His breath shuddered. “I want you. All of you. Assuredly. Fervently. Loudly. Through all the dissension, deep within remains complete, utter devotion for you, Abby.”

“My lord,” she whispered.

She loved him. It was the first moment the thought had ever occurred to her. A terrifying thought to entertain, admittedly, but exciting all the same. She attempted to release her hold on it but her palms were scorched, scarred with proof she once held it there.

He pressed his lips against her ear. “Call me by my name.” His voice was as smooth as expensive whisky.

“Marcus.”

“Again.”

“Marcus.”

His hands began to roam greedily over her body, setting her heart into a thunderous beat. His mouth captured hers, showing her with his kiss what he was still learning to express in words. Hyperaware of every rustle of clothing, every sound of skin against skin, she braced herself for a servant to interrupt them and catch them entangled with one another at a moment’s notice. It made her heart race with an equal amount of apprehension and excitement.

Chapter Text

The following day, Abby's step was noticeably lighter, buoyed by memories of the previous evening spent in the company of Lord Kane – or rather, Marcus, as she corrected herself, chiding the familiarity of her own thoughts. She still felt like a puddle, blushing madly at the indecent images that flitted through her mind in public. How was she to carry out her duties in such a state?

Whilst Octavia, who was vastly improving much to Abby’s relief – certainly a prayer answered – was practicing piano forte with her governess, Indra, Abby decided to sneak away for a spot of tea. In the parlor, her gaze landed on Calliope, who sat with her own steaming hot cup beside her as her dark brown eyes scanned the paper. Based on the expression on her face, Abby could only deduce that it was not the weather that Calliope was reading about.

“Oh, pray tell, what is so interesting that you are reading, my dear friend?” Abby jested.

Calliope's eyes betrayed a flicker of surprise upon realizing she was no longer in solitude, but she quickly regained her composure upon recognizing Abby, for whom she held a great fondness.

Calliope's lips twitched ever so slightly, a minuscule smirk playing at the corners. "Might you believe, my dear, if I were to offer 'the obituary' as my answer?”

“Surely the death of Ebenezer Thackeray is not all that amusing.”

“Well, he was a right cad.”

Abby could not help but snicker at Calliope's words. "Oh, come now. We mustn't speak ill of the departed," she chided, leaning in to peer over Calliope's shoulder at the parchment in her hand. Calliope snatched it away with surprising speed, but it was too late - Abby had already caught a glimpse of the words written down. The name "Lady Felicity Blythe" practically leapt off the page, and Abby's eyes were drawn to it like a magnet. She frowned, her disapproval clear. A derisive scoff escaped her. “Surely you do not believe this balderdash, Calliope?”

Calliope pursed her lips. “I must admit, I do love a bit of gossip,” she said regrettably through gritted teeth. At Abby’s sidelong glance, Calliope added, “As long as it does not involve my dearest of friends!”

Abby shook her head furiously. “It’s probably all false, too, just like those rumors regarding me and Lord Kane.”

“Oh, those are simply rumors, are they?”

Abby blanched. “Of course!”

Calliope smirked knowingly, but said no more, focusing her eyes intently on the pamphlet as if studying it – committing it to memory – although Abby could tell by looking at her eyes that she was not actually reading anymore.

“Come now. Out with it. When have you ever been one to hold your tongue, my friend?” Abby stood with her hands on her hips at her friend’s side, leaning in slightly as she awaited her reply, and mentally preparing herself for what she were to say in response.

Calliope smiled fondly at Abby’s candor. “All I will say is if you do care about him – or anyone else, for that matter – that you should forget what the world thinks. Throw caution to the wind and go get your man!”

Abby raised an eyebrow at that and lifted her chin, saying nothing more. She reached down and snatched the pamphlet from Calliope – “Hey, I was still reading that!” – and headed off to find Marcus.

But first, she would allow herself this one indulgence. At least it would be nice to read about someone else for a change. Although she truly felt the others’ pain in being in such a situation as having one’s own portion of spotlight in Lady Felicity Blythe’s society papers.

Dearest readers,

Welcome back to Lady Felicity Blythe’s Society Papers, where I bring you all the latest and most delightful gossip from the high society of Victorian England! I do have quite some mischievous gossip to impart to you all. Let us begin with Lady Emori, who has been seen sneaking out of her husband's estate at all hours of the night. Rumour has it that she has been having a secret affair with a handsome stable boy. Oh my, scandalous! Speaking of scandal, the infamous Lady Anya has been caught cheating at cards again. It seems that her love for gambling and her love for scandal are two sides of the same coin. ‘Tis truly a wonder how she manages to keep up her reputation while being such a brazen cheat. But it is not only the ladies who are up to no good. Lord Cadogan has been seen spending an awful lot of time at the local opium den. It seems that the stresses of running a large estate have finally gotten to him, and he has turned to the devil's medicine to ease his pain. And, oh dear, the most scandalous of news has emerged from the ton. It is said that the wealthy Duke Cage Wallace has been caught in a compromising position with the baker’s daughter, Miss Ontari. The pair were spotted sneaking out of a secret rendezvous in the early hours of the morn. It remains to be seen what is to come of the secret love affair that the Duke has gotten himself entangled in, although the current insinuation that they are connected is generally disbelieved by those whom are close to the Duke. So, take that as you will. The ton is buzzing with rumours of secret love affairs and secret marriages! But there is only so much I can fit onto this parchment, dearest readers. Shall we move onto a more positive note? Lady Raven has finally found herself a suitable match. After years of searching, she has accepted the proposal of the charming and wealthy Mr. Wick. It is lovely to see her happy after the hurt that she endured by that rake, Finn Collins. We wish Lady Raven and Mr. Wick all the best in their future together. And last but not least, we have a bit of a scandal involving a member of the royal family. It seems that Prince Edward has been caught in a compromising position with a young maid. Oh dear, what will the Queen have to say about this? That is all for now, dearest readers. Keep your ears to the ground and your eyes peeled for more scandalous tidbits from Victorian high society. Until next time!

Yours Truly,

Lady Felicity Blythe

Society Papers

~~~

Abby entered his dimly-lit study without knocking to discover Marcus staring blankly at what appeared to be a telegram in his hands. Upon noticing her arrival, his creased brow smoothed out. He cleared his throat and lifted his chin in a nod of greeting, remaining silent. As she drew nearer, her attention was drawn to his tear-streaked cheeks and reddened eyes, evident he had been crying. The smile she had developed at the sight of him died like a flame in a monsoon. Under her sympathetic gaze, his attempt at presenting himself with a stoic demeanor crumbled, giving way to a look of vulnerability and pure anguish.

“Marcus?” she whispered, a hand reaching for his forearm.

“It is Bellamy,” he croaked out, his voice raw with emotion. “He… He was killed in combat.”

Abby tried to steady herself, gripping for the desk in front of her. She drew in a quivering breath and, once composed, reached for Marcus once more, drawing his head to her bosom in a comforting embrace, letting him break in her arms. He realized himself a moment later, however, and pulled away, furiously wiping the tears from his eyes as he sniffled.

“Leave me be.”

“But Marcus—”

“I said… Leave me be.”

“You needn’t do this alone,” she persisted.

“Can’t you perceive that I wish to be alone?” he snapped, his raised voice echoing in the confined space. The quiet that followed was just as deafening as a church bell tolling, and Abby could no longer bear the space between them. As she turned to leave, she felt a firm grip on her wrist, halting her in her tracks. He seemed to realize his misstep immediately, releasing her with a muttered apology, eyes downcast. She stared at him, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard, his eyes scanning the floor for words that were escaping him like grains of sand slipping through his fingers.

“I don’t mean to push, Marcus…”

“No, I am aware,” he said, ostensibly much calmer now, his features having relaxed slightly. “I apologize, Abby,” he added, pausing to collect his thoughts. “Time after time I fail to merit the confidence and esteem of the man you deserve to have.” He shook his head slowly, a look of shame spreading across his face. “How can you care for someone like me?” he asked, looking at her with a mixture of sadness and bewilderment. His eyes then drifted towards the window, and Abby followed his gaze to the slightly parted curtain. They both turned their gaze outside, out to the grounds, watching the snow fall gracefully from the heavens, landing on the patch of grass near the carriages. The peacefulness of the winter landscape brought a momentary sense of calm to the room, as if the gentle snowfall was a respite from all their troubles.

A soft smile of affection came to her then and she reached for his shaking hand, finally answering his inquiry. “With great ease.”

~~~

Lord Kane’s heart weighed heavily in his chest as he paced his chamber. It had been three days since learning the grievous news of his dearly departed son and his grief had not abated in the slightest. Despite his intentions of informing Octavia of their loss in a timely manner, his emotions had remained tumultuous, and he had yet been able to find the composure necessary to share the heartrending news with her. The mere thought of speaking the words aloud to her sent chills down his spine, and the weight of his sorrow hung heavy upon his every waking moment. He was aware that he must overcome his own grief in order to deliver the tragic news to his daughter, but the task seemed insurmountable in the face of his overwhelming heartache.

Abby had let him grieve the rest of that first day, but into the next she began to ask if he had relayed the information yet to Octavia, and she would subtly imply that the sooner he told her, the better. In all his best attempts to remain patient with Abby, knowing that she only meant well, he eventually, and regrettably, snapped at her (once again that week), stating that Octavia was his and he would inform her when he saw fit. Abby stiffened at his words and left him to wallow in his misery. That morning, into the third day of his grieving, when he had convinced himself that he had irreparably damaged all progress he had made with her, he caught the slightest glimpse of sympathy and compassion in her eyes as they locked gazes. Though it was for just a fleeting moment, it was enough to fill him with a small measure of hope and solace, before she retreated to the library whilst Octavia napped.

He knew it was time. He would never truly feel ready for the task at hand, but Octavia deserved to know. He crept into her chamber, watching her for just a beat. She lay in bed, her small frame frail and weak, as it had been for most of her short life. He was loathe to disturb her at rest, but if he turned away now, he was unsure when he would find the courage to do so again.

He perched himself gently onto the edge of her bed, the mattress dipping with his weight. He began to rub her back just as he did when she was much smaller, and she began to stir.

“Octavia, my dear,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Octavia tried to open her eyes, failing to do so several times until he persisted a bit more. “Octavia.”

Her eyes opened once more, and she rubbed the sleep from them. “What is it, Papa?” she asked with a frown that made her look just like him in that moment. Despite the melancholy he felt, he found himself fighting a small smile.

He took a deep breath, feeling as though his heart was about to shatter like glass within his chest, as he prepared to deliver the devastating news to his daughter. With each passing moment, the weight of his grief had grown heavier, and he struggled to maintain his composure in the face of such a painful reality. Finally, steeling himself for the task at hand, he spoke the words he had been dreading. “I am afraid that your brother, Bellamy, has passed away.”

Octavia’s reaction surprised him. There was no look of sadness or shock. Her face was simply… blank, as if she did not quite grasp the gravity of what he was saying. For a moment, there was only silence between them, and he feared he had not articulated the news with enough clarity for her to understand.

Then, in a soft voice that belied her tender age, Octavia spoke. “Oh,” she said, her gaze distant as she considered her father’s words. “He is with the angels now, Papa? In Heaven? Like Grandpa and Mama?”

He swallowed hard, fighting back the tears in his eyes as he nodded in confirmation, realizing his young daughter had experienced more loss in her short life than any child should suffer through. Perhaps that explained her lack of emotion to the news, or perhaps she just had not quite processed it yet, or, he registered with a pang of sorrow, she may be too young to remember Bellamy clearly. It had been nearly three years since he had gone to war, and Octavia’s tender years had likely obscured many of her memories of her older brother. He realized with a start that it had been ages since she had asked for him, and his chest welled up with emotion at the thought that she may have forgotten Bellamy, her flesh and blood, who adored and protected her like his life depended on it ever since she was born.

He felt a profound sense of loss and regret wash over him like a tidal wave and it was in that moment that he resolved to do everything in his power to keep Bellamy’s memory alive for his precious daughter, no matter how acutely it might afflict him. He had already made that mistake with Aurora, Octavia’s mother who they had lost not long after Octavia was born. He recalled the pain being unbearable whenever Octavia would ask about her and how he avoided the subject entirely, falsely believing it would be easier for them both if they did not dwell on the past. But his surliness and living as a near-recluse was him living in the past. He had drifted so far from his daughter that she barely knew him, he drove his son away because he would have rather spent time on a battleground than in the company of his miserably sad father.

As he looked into his daughter’s eyes, he realized he had it so wrong. He could not bear the thought of Octavia growing up without any memories of her mother or brother. That was simply unfair. He knew that he could not erase the pain of their loss, but he could keep their memory alive in his daughter’s heart.

With a newfound sense of determination, he resolved to relay stories of Bellamy and Aurora, sharing memories of their time together and the love they had all shared as a family. Though it pained him deeply to think of his lost loved ones, Lord Kane knew that it was his duty as a father to keep their memory alive for his daughter. And as he looked into her eyes – Aurora’s eyes – he felt a sense of hope that, in time, Octavia would come to know and love her mother and brother through the stories that he would share.

Through the rest of that day, and far into the evening, he regaled Octavia with story after story. She listened with rapt attention, her thin, dark eyebrows raised as high as they would go, and interjected with questions and fond recollections along the way. (“I remember that, now!”). Her adoring smile never faded as she hung on every word, eager to hear more of her father's tales. And somewhere along the way, that grief began to fade ever so slightly as they reminisced on happier days of yore.