A Chance Meeting in Glasgow

Chapter 2

Katherine lay in her bed, propped up with innumerable pillows.  “Glad you ate so much of the soup, Miss Cameron.  Let me clear this away.”

“Thank you, Mrs. MacVail.  You’re very kind,” Katherine said to her old cook.  “I’m sorry to be such a bother by making you climb the stairs.”

“Don’t you be troubled over that, now.  Ring if you need anything at all,” she replied.  “Doctor Stewart,” she said with a small curtsy as she left the room.

“Miss Cameron,” the doctor said after the door closed, “you have some bumps and bruises.  You’ll probably feel worse over the next few days before you start feeling better.  Such is life.

“Your man is all right; I examined him before I came up.  He ought to say off that leg for a few days.  Do you have a crutch here?  I wouldn’t let him lie about; servants will go lazy on you.”

“There is no worry along that path with my man Forrester, Dr. Stewart.”

He scowled at her.  “Good, because your old cook can barely climb the stairs.  With no other maid or servant and no companion, the next few days will be the type of a trial we are sent to keep us humble.”

“Of course, Dr. Stewart.”

He made a sort of snorting sound.  “By the way, your manservant told me that the fellow who came to your aid was careful to ascertain the extent of your injuries before he moved you. You were fortunate – very fortunate – in that.  Now it is late and rainy and I want to get home.” 

“I fear you shall have to show yourself out tonight, sir.”

The doctor made one last disapproving glance through the walls at her home and living arrangements then muttered a goodbye and left.

After the he left, Katherine’s thoughts turned to her benefactor.  The shock of the impact had begun to wear off by the time she and Forrester had arrived at the Tower, but she told both Forrester and Mrs. MacVail that she couldn’t remember much of anything after leaving Lady Margaret’s home.  This was true enough, but as the evening wore on a cloudy memory of the stranger’s hands running down her legs from thigh to foot, grasping her ribcage just below her breasts and finally gathering her in his arms had returned.  Indeed, at this point she was unsure if the memory was becoming clearer or if her imagination was filling in details.

Probably the only positive thing Dr. Stewart had said was how lucky she was that her mysterious rescuer had not compounded any injuries by moving her in ignorance, so it seemed most uncharitable to feel violated.  This was her rationalization, at any rate, for the only emotion she had at the memory was an odd sort of happy thrill.  She shook her head, winced at the resultant pain, and set about getting to sleep.

The doctor’s long experienced predictions came true and Katherine did feel worse when she woke the following morning.  Despite this, she slipped out of bed and with great economy of effort and no small amount of discomfort dressed herself after a fashion – which was a long way from the fashion.  Clutching two large pillows and breathing shallowly, she had eased herself nearly all the way down to the ground floor when she was spotted by the watchful Mrs. MacVail. 

“Miss Cameron!  You’re not to be up!”

“Mrs. MacVail, whatever would I do without you?  Would you be a dear and put these pillows in my favorite chair in the parlor, and then fetch me some tea?”