Page 40 of Regency in Color

When morning came,Thomas was glad to have rested the night before. He’d tired himself out and had slept soundly all night. When sitting up, he grimaced when his ribs protested, but he managed to do it alone. He studied his bandaged and splinted fingers and attempted to flex them. His left hand was healing quickly, most of the fingers did not pain him.

The right hand however still hurt. Nonetheless, he managed to dress himself, but gave up at combing his hair the comb kept slipping from his fingers. Feeling somewhat presentable, he neared the mirror to study his face.

There was purpling around his eyes, although the swelling was now minimal. The bandage wrapped around his face keeping his chin in place was neatly done and did not distract too much. Other than a somewhat swollen left side of his face, not much more was visible.

There was plenty of bruising around his chest and sides, but thankfully those could be hidden by clothing.

After a slow but productive morning, Thomas walked with measured steps to the kitchen and entered finding that Harold and Moira sat at the table, while Mary and Lottie cooked.

“Sit, I will fetch your tea,” Lottie called out shaking a spoon at him.

Mary looked over her shoulder, her eyes softening at meeting his. “We’re making steamed pudding.”

“It smells very good,” he said then thanked Lottie for the tea. “How much longer?”

“Any moment now,” Moira replied with a gleeful rubbing of hands. “I was promised first taste.”

“If it is Mary’s famous plum pudding, then I demand the second serving,” Mrs. Yarnsby pronounced entering. “Mary, you haven’t made it in a long time.”

Mary and Mrs. Yarnsby giggled, seeming to share a secret, while Moira turned to him and narrowed her eyes.

“Something is afoot,” Moira pronounced. “I intend to find out what it is.”

Lottie hurried over. “What happens? What am I missing?”

Mrs. Yarnsby came to the table with two bowls of pudding with warm cream poured over them. “Everyone must try it. You will think to be in heaven.”

She slid a plate in front of him and Thomas thanked her. “I’m sorry Mrs. Yarnsby,” he scrambled to stand grimacing at the pain the sudden movement caused.”

“No-no-no,” Mrs. Yarnsby cried out. “You mustn’t hurt yourself.”

Once everyone had a bowl, they began to eat. It was like Mrs. Yarnsby had said, the pudding was absolutely delicious.

“I best get breakfast ready,” Moira said after emptying her bowl. “Mrs. Yarnsby, let me get that for you.” She took a tea kettle from the woman and poured it into a different cup than the one Mrs. Yarnsby had retrieved.

Poor Moira was either overly tired, or excited about the prospect of a second helping of pudding.

Clark, the gardener, came to the doorway. “Someone comes.” He looked to the table with longing.

“I will save you some, don’t fret,” Mary assured him.

Right before anyone could move, Mr. Yarnsby entered the kitchen and went directly to the counter to be served pudding from Mary.

Mr. Yarnsby looked out the window and then to Thomas. “When you were still very injured, I sent for your parents. That is probably them arriving.”

At first he couldn’t quite understand clearly what the man said. It took several minutes for him to realize everyone stared at him. “My parents?”

Clark went to stand by the side of the house to await the arrival of the carriage, while Thomas gawked in the doorway without speaking. He’d not seen any of his family since leaving his home, and he’d missed them dearly.

Not wishing to make a fool out of himself in front of Mary, he walked out to stand next to the gardener and was joined by Harold, who had followed him out.

In the doorway stood Lottie and Mary, through the window, Mr. and Mrs. Yarnsby peered out. Moira must have been fretting over what to cook, much too busy to look like the rest of them.

Finally, the carriage came to a stop. His father exited and waved to him, he hobbled over, doing his best not to breathe too deeply. Just then, his mother’s sweet face appeared, already crying, she hurried down and tentatively hugged him.

“Oh dear, dear me. You look horrible darling.” She wiped at tears and attempted to smile. “I have missed you so.”

He hugged his mother close, not caring that the action hurt.