the day. What was that, if it was not progress? Frankly, she was counting the minutes until she could be back there, roll up her sleeves and help those poor cherubs get better.
All she had to do was walk across this market square alone. Because Bella was tired of always being frightened and the real her was right. Living in fear smacked of surrender and she was determined never to let that bad man win.
She forced herself to smile politely at one of the market traders who greeted her, ignoring the irrational panic which occurred whenever she was close to a man. If she had been a little more observant and a little less terrified, she would have noticed the precarious basket of potatoes on his stall. But because she was feeling exposed and her tenuous grasp on logic was slipping, she did not see the laden basket topple, nor did she see a surge of muddy potatoes as they cascaded from the table like a waterfall and rolled haphazardly across the ground towards her. Too late, Bella turned, allowing a couple of the careening vegetables the opportunity to disappear, like mice in a haystack, beneath her trailing skirts and tangle hopelessly beneath her feet.
Her body lunged sideways when she stepped on one. Her heavy basket tilted, aiding gravity to pull her towards the floor at an alarming rate. Bella landed awkwardly on her front with enough force to knock all her breath from her lungs. The subsequent sharp pain in her ankle brought tears to her eyes. The palms of her hands, now muddied, burned angrily in protest. The puddles floating on the hard cobblestones were already seeping through her clothing whilst humiliation relentlessly seeped into her soul. If there was one thing Bella now hated above all others, it was being the centre of attention when invisible was safe.
Several market traders and locals rushed to her aid, but she assured them that she was quite all right and tried to stand. White-hot pain shot up her leg and forced her to remain exactly where she was. To make matters worse, she helplessly watched the back of the Braxton carriage turn out of the market square as it headed home and her only means of escaping this dreadful spectacle leaving with it. She smiled weakly at the growing crowd of onlookers and tried to pull together the tattered shreds of her dignity whilst fighting the panic of being at the mercy of others. Most of them male.
‘My lady—I am so sorry.’ The stallholder twisted his felt cap in his hands nervously. ‘Are you seriously hurt? Shall I fetch Dr Warriner? His office is just across the square.’
Mortified by the prospect of even greater humiliation in front of the brilliant Dr Warriner, Bella shook her head. The very last person she wanted to witness her clumsy stupidity was the handsome doctor. The man who, despite being a man, made her silly heart flutter every single time he spoke to her, thus rendering her mostly mute. Probably because of his brilliance, rather than his handsomeness, but it was difficult to be sure. ‘That will not be necessary—I think I will be able to stand in a moment or two.’ She would crawl home if she had to.
Two things soon became apparent. Firstly, standing was an impossibility. Bella tried three times and each time fresh, blinding pain shot up her leg and brought tears to her eyes. Secondly, despite her protests to the contrary, somebody had called the good doctor after all. The crowd of onlookers were parting like the Red Sea and he was suddenly striding purposefully towards her.
‘It’s just my ankle... I would prefer you not to waste your time on such a triviality.’ Bella tried to push herself up once again using her hands and failed miserably. The poor man had genuine sick people to heal and certainly far more important things to deal with than a clumsy, irrational girl’s superficial injury. ‘I shall put some ice on it when I get home and keep it elevated.’ She turned her head away and silently willed him to disappear.
‘Please do not try to stand, my lady.’ He knelt beside her. ‘I will need to take a look to properly assess the damage first.’ One arm slipped beneath her legs, making her flinch.
He was touching her!
Instinctively, she stiffened and tried to shuffle away. Undeterred, he continued. ‘Place your arms around my shoulders. I promise I won’t drop you.’
Good gracious! He intended to carry her and create even more of a spectacle. ‘I am sure I can manage to hobble to your surgery, Dr Warriner.’ Perhaps then everyone would stop gawping at her when nowadays she preferred to blend in. Except she wouldn’t hobble towards his surgery. She would drag herself back up the lane to the safety of home and never leave it again. Logic could go to hell in a hand cart. She never should have listened to the voice. She never should have come out all alone, but staying home after her sister had claimed a sniffle and remained in bed had felt like defeat. Clarissa had made no secret of the fact she was beyond tired of being her sister’s keeper. Not when it had been over a year and it wasn’t Clarissa’s fault Bella had suffered the incident. Bella had to get over it because it could have been worse.
Worse didn’t bear thinking about. Unfortunately, she thought about it all the time.
The doctor slanted her a superior glance. ‘Hobble, will you? And create more damage for me to fix in the process, no doubt? No, my lady—I will carry you if you don’t mind.’
But she did mind. He was a man and she was now a spectacle. A spectacle who was on the cusp of bursting into tears and apprising everyone of the fact that she was no longer capable of being rational, not quite right in the head any more, yet so desperate to be right again.
You are being ridiculous! Bella scrunched her eyes tightly closed, gripped his shoulders and willed herself lighter in the faint hope it would all be over soon. He hoisted her into the air and began to walk across the square. Less than half a minute later, he gripped her harder still and his breathing became more laboured with exertion. It was then she decided that willing herself lighter was not working in the slightest and began to wish herself invisible instead. Mercifully, he covered the distance to the surgery quickly, and once inside, he deposited her gently on an examination table.
‘I need to fetch some things. I will only be a moment.’
He returned with his housekeeper in tow, no doubt for propriety’s sake. Bella was ridiculously grateful for the woman’s presence and tried to relax.
‘Where does it hurt?’
She touched her left leg in response. ‘My ankle. I was sabotaged by a potato.’ She smiled weakly, praying the fear did not show in her face. Think logically! He was simply doing his job. He had no intention of hurting her. Perhaps if she repeated that mantra, her heartbeat would begin to slow and the tight bands of fear constricting her ribs would loosen.
Bella bit the inside of her cheek as he matter-of-factly lifted the hem of her ruined dress and carefully pushed it to her knee.
He has no intention of hurting you. He is simply doing his job.
To her own ears her breathing was laboured. Dr Warriner appeared to sense her rising panic, although he thought it was caused by pain rather than the acute reminder of another time when a man had lifted her skirts...one filthy hand clasped over her mouth while the other was fumbling with the buttons on his breeches. Touching her.
The unwanted memory made her whimper.
‘Breathe slowly and deeply. That will help.’
She did as he suggested, her eyes never leaving his hands.
He has no intention of hurting you.
His gentle touch around the bones of her ankle did not feel like
