Estelle brought a bowl of clean water closer to Juliet's hand after removing the cloth. Slowly, she lowered her mistress’s wounded hand into the bowl and let the water run through it.
“You should have seen his face, Estelle.” Juliet continued, ignoring the slight stings the water gave her. “It was pure terror. It was like he thought I was going to die.”
“Then he would not have survived seeing you in the garden back home. Do you remember how you got your knee badly scraped while tending to the lilies?”
“Like yesterday.” Juliet responded, feeling a wave of memories, both pleasant and unpleasant, swim into her mind. She had finished her daily work and was just about to leave. As she moved towards the garden’s exit, a row of unattended flowers caught her eye. She decided to take care of them before she left. As she knelt to touch the flowers, her leg slipped off the rocky pavement, and she fell straight on her face, dangerously bruising her knee in the process.
“Your father was angry. He had almost every physician in town coming over to check you.” Estelle said, grabbing the vial from the bedstand after getting rid of the water.
“He was scared I may get caught with the fever.” Juliet responded, her voice followed by tense silence. For a minute, she wondered if Weston had the same worry as well. Did he have someone in his past who had died from the fever? Well, apart from the former Marchioness?
“You are one of the strongest persons I know.” Estelle said. She was back in front of Juliet and was slowly applying the ointment to her palm. Juliet ground her teeth hard, trying to absorb the sharp, biting pain from the ointment.
“You're doing great, milady.” Estelle commended, applying one last dab.
“Perhaps there is a space in Weston's heart for love after all. He may not wish to speak to me, but he saved me today.”
“Ah, yes. The gentleman.” Estelle responded, the mild disdain in her voice immensely palpable.
Juliet shook her head. “Do not be like that, Estelle.”
“Well, is he still the doting man he once was after the injury?”
Juliet grew silent.
Estelle nodded. “That's what I thought. Perhaps a broken arm may cause him to have more time to speak with you next time.”
“Estelle!” Juliet warned with a slight smile on her face. “I know it may not look like it. I didn't even know this until today but he does care for me. In his own aloof, stony way, he truly does.”
“Hm.” Estelle remarked. “There may be a place of warmth in that ice palace known as your husband after all.”
“There may be.” Juliet responded.
Estelle wrapped a fresh sash of cloth around Juliet's hand after letting the ointment sit for a while.
“Will you go to the garden tomorrow, milady?”
Juliet sighed. “Perhaps not. It will be wise to let the wound heal for a while.”
Estelle nodded and rose from the floor. “Very well, milady. I was afraid I would have to douse your food in sleep medicine.”
“Then, I would not have to face Lady Beatrice.” Juliet replied. As Estelle opened her mouth to speak, a knock came from the door.
Juliet exchanged confused glances with her maid. “Lady Beatrice?”
“I do not think so. She does not knock. It is probably Lady Anne.” Estelle replied. She headed to the door and, without wasting time, pulled it open.
Anne appeared in a light green gown and her wavy dark hair down. It was apparent she was gearing up for sleep.
“Anne?”
“How are you feeling?” Anne asked, walking in almost instantly. “I heard Irene gave you some of the hard stuff.”
In response, Juliet raised her wounded hand and bared her teeth in a giant smile.
“You must have been scared, falling off the ladder.” Anne said, lowering herself onto the bed beside Juliet.
“Well, not as scared as my husband was.” Juliet responded, her voice floaty.
