Page 56 of Gwen and Art Are Not in Love

‘Oh, no, it’s fine,’ Gwen said quickly, very glad that Bridget couldn’t see her expression. She worked away in silence, feeling her wrists begin to ache.

‘She wanted me to come with her,’ Bridget said quietly. Gwen didn’t pause; she didn’t want Bridget to stop talking.‘When she left. She was marrying a lord, and she asked if I’d go too, as a member of her household.’

‘But you didn’t want to?’

‘No.’ Bridget stretched, catlike, her back rolling under Gwen’s fingers. ‘No, that didn’t sound like much of a life to me. Can you – just up under my ribs, if you can.’

‘Is it helping?’

‘Yes. It is. But you’re not quite – if you just …’ She reached around and closed her hand over Gwen’s, her palm against Gwen’s knuckles, so that she could guide her into position. She turned to the side to make it easier and they finally made eye contact. The colour had returned to Bridget’s face, and her eyes were dark and heavy-lidded, lips parted slightly in what must have been relief; for a moment Gwen just stared down at her, captivated and useless, for all intents and purposes holding her hand.

‘Er – hello.’ At some point Adah had apparently returned with a handful of guards in tow. Gwen immediately removed her hands; she saw Adah bite her lip and look away, as if trying hard not to smile. ‘Your highness. Lady Leclair. I’ve brought … aid.’

‘Lady Leclair is unwell,’ Gwen said, with as much dignity as she could muster, addressing the nearest guard. ‘I need assistance taking her back to the castle. Thank you for your help, Adah.’

‘I can walk,’ Bridget said, but the moment she stood up she looked in imminent danger of falling over; Gwen quickly braced her with her shoulder, and a guard propped her up on the other side. They all started slowly walking back through the woods.

When they finally reached the castle, they made it as far as a private antechamber on the ground floor, and then sent for the doctor; when he arrived, he took one look at Bridget lying on a chaise clutching her abdomen and tried to turn around and leave again.

‘I’ve already discussed this with – er – with her ladyship,’ he said, looking anywhere but at Bridget. ‘There’s nothing to be done but – rest. Rest, and fortitude of spirit.’

‘Fortitude of … ?’ Gwen said disbelievingly. ‘Surely you can give her something for the pain?’

‘It wouldn’t be appropriate, your highness,’ the physician said. He was actually inching towards the door. Gwen looked at him, retreating, then looked back at Bridget, who seemed to be biting down on her lower lip to keep the pain at bay. There was an odd kind of panic rising in her chest, battling with disbelief and indignation.

‘No,’ she said suddenly, her voice cracking. ‘No, I’m sorry – I would like a second opinion.’

‘It’s all right,’ Bridget said heavily.

‘I assure you, your highness,’ the doctor said, ‘I am the king’s physician – with all due respect, I have a fair knowledge of ailments of the body, and this is not the sort of thing that requires medical attention.’

Gwen faltered, feeling her chest thrum with nerves, but one glance at Bridget’s furrowed brow strengthened her resolve. ‘I am – I amorderingyou to either give her something for the pain or fetch somebody else who is willing to see reason. The Wizard has a good knowledge of herbalism, does he not? Fetch him.’

The physician looked outraged, working his jaw butseeming unable to find the words, and then abruptly left the room. A few minutes later he was back, with the Wizard, Master Buchanan, in tow. He was an old, pale man with a smiling face, closely shorn grey hair and robes that were surprisingly simple, based on Gwen’s limited knowledge of cultist tradition; he took one look at Bridget and frowned, putting down the small case he was carrying and walking over to her.

‘The good doctor was a little light on specifics – is it your bleed that troubles you, Lady Leclair?’

Gwen had never in her life heard a man be so matter-of-fact about the intimate details of a lady’s health; even Bridget looked slightly taken aback.

‘Yes. I experience fatigue, extreme pain, nausea—’

‘Fainting,’ Gwen added. ‘You nearly fainted.’

The Wizard rummaged in his case for a few moments, mumbling to himself under his breath as he searched, and then rose and handed Bridget a cup stuffed with herbs.

‘Ginger, fennel and cinnamon bark. Have them add some hot water in the kitchens.’

‘Thank you,’ said Bridget, taking the cup and looking at it with tentative hope.

The Wizard smiled, his eyes crinkling. ‘It is my pleasure to be of use – please call for me any time.’

The physician flounced from the room, and the Wizard followed; Gwen sat down in the chair next to Bridget’s, heart still hammering.

‘Thank you, too,’ Bridget said, giving Gwen a tired smile and briefly pressing a grateful hand to her wrist. ‘For saying what you said. I thought the doctor’s head might fall off.’

Suddenly, Gwen wasn’t sure she could blame her racing pulse on her altercation with the physician.

Arthur was uncharacteristically quiet when he and Sidney visited Gwen that evening. He perused her books while she went through the charade of sending Agnes away – she and Sidney gazed at each other like one of them was being sent off to war – and then simply gave her a half-hearted salute before exiting through the window.