Page 21 of A Zephyr Rising
Large, looming, safe.The home of her family and the earls of Braddock since the civil war a few hundred years earlier.Her Royalist ancestor had distinguished himself at the Battle of Braddock Down and been bestowed a title accordingly.
She couldn’t help but wonder what other tribulations had befallen the gates of her home.Yet it had survived wars and plagues and conflict, hadn’t it?She couldn’t be the one to destroy it all with an ignorant mistake.
Taking comfort in the idea, Ginger turned back toward the car.Charlie lay on the seat in front of them, his leg in a makeshift splint.He appeared to be sleeping, thank goodness.The doctor had also appeared to have applied iodine to the cuts and scrapes on his face and arms.
Ginger’s hands clenched into tight fists.Who would do this to a child?The inhumanity of it was beyond appalling.What would they have done to him if she hadn’t found him?
She studied Henry’s profile.“The men who did this—they did it rather brazenly.Right beside a public house.Do you think they?—”
“They won’t be likely to see any consequences if that is what you’re asking.”Henry reclined his head against the seat.His eyes were unreadable in the car’s darkness.
“But they attacked you.”Ginger reached toward his cheek.
He scowled and pulled back.“This world is a lot less friendly to those of our ilk than you believe, dear sister.Socialism and communism are on the rise among the lower classes.Don’t be surprised if the people who resent us will take this war as an opportunity to declare their own.”He dabbed at his lip with a handkerchief.“I should have asked Pierce to fetch me some ice before I left.”
A chilly silence, black as the horizon, surrounded them.Henry’s words had brought the fears of the evening into the car.“I don’t know what my role should be in the coming months, but I can’t sit back and see everything around us destroyed.If the world is changing, we must prepare to change with it.Otherwise, we’ll be swept away by the winds of the coming storm.”
“I don’t disagree, but I can’t find your place for you.”Henry closed his eyes, his voice terse.“You’re going to have to prove you can rise to the challenge on your own.”
She stared at him in confusion as the car jolted and bumped along the road.What was Henry suggesting?She swallowed the question.If she couldn’t even come up with her own way of proving her worth, then maybe Henry was right.
Poor Bosworth.A trip to London this late at night was a difficult thing to ask of him.Within a few minutes, Henry seemed to have drifted off to sleep, a skill she didn’t possess.Tired as she was, she didn’t sleep well outside her own bed.
Curling her knees up, she examined her ankle.The area near her ankle bone still ached when she moved her foot in a circle.Dropping back onto the seat, she covered her chest with her hand.Her heart beat was steady.Not at all what she expected.
She’d practically lit the match for Thomas Winser—or whoever had destroyed the Martins’ shop and home.If she had kept her mouth shut, the Martins would have been safer.
Her throat thickened, and she wiped her eyes.Nothing had changed, despite her posturing.She’d even made things worse for herself by potentially putting herself in Stephen’s favor.Stephen was the type to only give favors if he had something to gain.Tears slipped from the corners of her eyes, making trails on her cheeks.
She’d been so foolish to think she could help.After all, she possessed no skills.The only thing they meant her for was the role her father pushed her toward—to be the wife of a well-connected gentleman.
One wheel of the car hit a bump.She lurched forward.She put a steadying hand on Charlie.He moaned softly, and she switched seats, placing his head gently in her lap.
Though she was grateful Henry had agreed to come with her, she wished he would have stayed awake a while longer.Dr.Morgan had entrusted her with Charlie’s care to mock her or as punishment, she was sure, but she was glad he had.She felt helpless enough.At least now she had something to do.
Ginger closed her eyes, feeling the smooth sway of the wheels below her.Her father had been one of the first of his friends to buy a motorcar.He’d also installed a telephone well before anyone in the area.New technology fascinated him, and he kept a close eye on opportunities to invest in industry.The advantage they had now was that the new motorcar her father had purchased last year drove much faster than many others.The roads would slow them down, especially while they were still in the country.
Time seemed to pass slowly and Ginger practiced finding her own pulse.Digging her fingers into her wrist, she chewed on her lip.Nothing.She tried repositioning her fingers.
Still nothing.
Maybe she was dead.
She laughed to herself, despite it all, and tried again.Once again, she failed.This can’t be so hard, for goodness’ sake.
Frustrated at her failure to do even the most rudimentary thing, she stomped her foot.She’d conquer this.She had to practice.Reaching up to her neck, she tried there.At last, she detected the faint beating of her pulse beside her throat.
“Henry,” she hissed, excitement clear in the increasing speed of her own pulse.
He groaned and opened one eye.“What?”
“Loan me your pocket watch.”
“You couldn’t have asked before I fell asleep?”Fumbling with his vest, he pulled it out and unclipped it.The metal was warm from his body as she took it from his outstretched hand.
She gave him an overly sweet smile, but he didn’t pay attention.Within minutes, he was asleep again.Another attempt to find the pulse in her wrist proved successful, and she angled the pocket watch toward the sliver of moonlight beside her, counting it.
When she had practiced a few times, she reached for Charlie’s wrist.Finding his pulse, she counted it.Strong.
