A Kiss for Midwinter (The Brothers Sinister) by Milan Courtney

Author:Milan, Courtney [Milan, Courtney]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9781937248062
Publisher: Courtney Milan
Published: 2012-12-15T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

JONAS HAD SET AND SPLINTED HENRY’S LEG LAST NIGHT. He’d given the boy a dose of ether when he’d set the leg, enough that he’d not been in his right mind by the time he left. Henry had waved him off, grinning goofily. It was his father who looked on grimly.

This morning, the drug had worn off. Henry was propped up in a chair with nothing to do but look out the window. His pupils had returned to normal size; his eyes were sunken and dark.

Lydia came forward and sat in a chair next to the boy. While Jonas checked his vital signs, she introduced herself.

“I am Miss Lydia Charingford,” she said warmly. “Doctor Grantham asked me to come because he thought I needed to see an example of someone who conducts himself with decorum under difficult circumstances.”

Henry—who had slouched every minute that Jonas had known him—straightened subtly. “He did?”

“He did,” Lydia said, with absolutely no regard for the truth. “And I can see that he chose a good subject.”

“Right.” Henry nodded. “Speaking of difficult circumstances. Doctor, I don’t suppose you could give me more of that…whatever it was you gave me last night, could you? My leg aches something awful.”

“No,” Jonas said. “I can’t. I don’t carry around ether as a general matter. And I prefer not to administer laudanum unless it’s absolutely necessary. It contains morphia, which causes constipation and impotence.”

“Uh.” Henry glanced at Lydia, and his cheeks flushed. “Did you just say—uh—”

Jonas gave him a repressive look, and Henry bit his lip.

Lydia simply smiled angelically. “Someday, you’ll thank him for it.”

If anything, Henry turned pinker. “Don’t need laudanum,” he muttered. “Doesn’t hurt that much, anyway. I’m practically healed already. I’ll be walking in no time at all.”

He probably thought that was true. And in a few days, the worst of the pain would fade. Last night, there’d not been much chance to explain matters.

Jonas sat down on a chair next to Lydia. “Henry,” he said, “you fractured the lower end of your tibia right by your foot. If you walk on it before it is healed, you will displace the fracture, and any subsequent weight you place on it thereafter could very well make the fracture a compound one.”

Henry frowned. “What does that mean?”

“If you walk on your leg, you might break it again in multiple spots. A compound fracture so close to your joint would likely mean amputation. You must not walk on it until it is healed.”

Henry gave him a stoic nod. “How long’s that going to be? Once it’s stopped hurting?”

“You won’t be able to move your leg for three weeks.”

“Three weeks!” Henry’s eyes widened. “Doctor Grantham, I can’t go three weeks without pay.”

“Henry,” Jonas said, “not only are you not going to move for three weeks, after that you will wear a splint, and you will not put excessive weight on your limb.”

Henry’s jaw squared and he looked off into the distance. “Let’s say one week without moving,” he said sullenly. “And then—”

“This is not a negotiation, Henry.

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