If anything, Henry turned pinker. “Don’t need laudanum,” he muttered. “Doesn’t hurt that much, anyway. I’m practically healed already. I’ll be walking in no time at all.”
He probably thought that was true. And in a few days, the worst of the pain would fade. Last night, there’d not been much chance to explain matters.
Jonas sat down on a chair next to Lydia. “Henry,” he said, “you fractured the lower end of your tibia right by your foot. If you walk on it before it is healed, you will displace the fracture, and any subsequent weight you place on it thereafter could very well make the fracture a compound one.”
Henry frowned. “What does that mean?”
“If you walk on your leg, you might break it again in multiple spots. A compound fracture so close to your joint would likely mean amputation. You must not walk on it until it is healed.”
Henry gave him a stoic nod. “How long’s that going to be? Once it’s stopped hurting?”
“You won’t be able to move your leg for three weeks.”
“Three weeks!” Henry’s eyes widened. “Doctor Grantham, I can’t go three weeks without pay.”
“Henry,” Jonas said, “not only are you not going to move for three weeks, after that you will wear a splint, and you will not put excessive weight on your limb.”
Henry’s jaw squared and he looked off into the distance. “Let’s say one week without moving,” he said sullenly. “And then—”
“This is not a negotiation, Henry. If you want to keep your leg, you must stay off it.”
Henry didn’t say anything, but his jaw set mulishly.
Beside him, Lydia leaned forward. “Surely something can be managed. Perhaps, as you were injured at work, your employer might be willing to pay something…”
“Ha.” Henry stared down at the floor. “You haven’t met the old—” He looked up at Jonas, and then looked away, remembering that his employer held a special position in Jonas’s life. “You don’t see it. I’m not clever, but Peter and Billy are. If I have no wages, my brothers will have to get work. And if they give up their places in the boys’ school…” Henry poked morosely at the cast on his leg. “How long, do you think, before I can risk it? A week and a half, maybe?”
“I said you weren’t allowed to move,” Jonas told him. “I never said you couldn’t work. As it happens, it’s lucky for you that your injury is tricky. I’m writing a paper on recovery of the use of a limb after a difficult fracture, and I find myself in need of a subject. Someone who will do exactly as I say and nothing more. If you agree to allow me to write you up, I’ll pay you for your time.”
“I don’t need your charity.”
Jonas had found him the job with his father. He’d been the one who let matters slide, dithering about what needed to be done simply because it was his father. It wasn’t charity, not in the slightest. It was blood money.
“You think I’m doing this for your benefit?” he snapped back. “You’d have to remain still all day—no running, no playing with the other boys until I tell you you’re able. Any man can stand about on his feet all day. But it takes real talent to remain sitting.”
Henry frowned. “It does?”
“Yes. In fact, I’m not sure you can manage it. Sitting all day with nothing to do but twiddle your thumbs. And don’t think I’ll pay you if you can’t comply with the stringent requirements I have.”
Beside him Lydia twitched, leaning down to open her basket.
“Almost nothing to do,” she said. “I’ve brought a bandalore. Shall I show you how to use it?”
“YOU’RE NOT EVEN TRYING TO WIN THIS WAGER,” Lydia said, as they left the small house behind. “You can’t very well bring me along on your house calls on the assurance that there is no bright side to be found, when you are planning to sweep in and hire the poor boy yourself.”
He looked over at her and smiled, and that expression made her feel…
No, it didn’t make her feel anything. She looked away.
“I don’t even have to look for the bright side! I was prepared to talk about the way he cares for his brothers—anyone can see he loves them—but then you went and ruined things for yourself. You have already counteracted any repressive, morbid things you might say. Henry suffered a terrible accident, but by an act of generosity, he will do very well. Your actions make no sense.”
He simply smiled. “On the contrary. I am doing precisely what I planned.”
“Do you not want to win?”
“I want to win. I want to win very much.” He’d offered her his arm again on the way back and she’d taken it. Some men folded a hand over a woman’s when they walked with her. He set two fingers against her wrist, yet that lesser contact seemed intimate in a way that she couldn’t explain.
She glanced down.
Or maybe she could explain why it seemed so different. He’d insinuated his hand in that small gap between her gloves and her cuff, and his fingers were bare. She could feel the warmth of his skin directly on hers.