"Come in."
Julian sat on the rug beside his desk, with his back against its edge. The cane lay several feet away. His left leg stretched stiffly in front of him; his forehead shone with sweat.
When Clara entered, his face grew more severe, as if he resented being seen even after calling her.
She picked up the cane and placed it within his reach. "What else?"
"The chair."
Clara brought it closer. Julian used the arms to pull himself upright.
Once he was seated, neither of them spoke for some time. Clara put another log on the fire, and sparks broke across the hearth.
"That portrait," Julian said at last. "You saw it?"
"Yes."
"My father spent the last seven years of his life in that chair." He spoke a sentence at a time, leaving silence between them. "When his father first fell ill, Eleanor still went to London and sometimes visited her own family. But whenever she packed to leave, her husband grew worse during the night. One year she went away for only three days. After she returned, she never traveled again. Everyone said she was the finest wife in England."
Julian stared into the fire. "I once saw her crying behind the staircase. She heard footsteps and had to wipe her face before anyone found her."
Clara glanced at the cane. "You are afraid you will become him."
"I already make everyone arrange their lives around me. My mother decides when I rest, Edmund manages my estate, the servants do not even ask where I want the cane placed."
"That is not what your father did."
"Not yet." Julian looked up at last. "If you marry me, you will say in the beginning that you chose it. By the time you realize every plan has to be made around my leg, it will be too late."
Clara sat in the chair opposite him. "When you are in pain, I will help you. But I will not close the school because you are in pain, and I will not cancel every engagement so I can sit outside your door. If you try to drive me away with a vile temper, I may actually go."
One corner of Julian's mouth moved. "That does not sound very tender."
"Three years ago, you did not ask me to be a tender nurse."
"Three years ago, I was more intelligent."
"Then you can recover that part slowly."
Rain tapped against the windows. When Clara left, Julian said only, "Good night, Clara."
He still did not come down to breakfast the next morning. But on the third day, he went to the study on his own and ordered the steward to bring him the unanswered correspondence.
In bad weather, he still shut the door. On better days, he attended estate meetings.
Once, he asked a servant for his cane. The man stood blankly for several seconds before remembering that he had left it on the far side of the fireplace.
On the day they visited the South Village School, the carriage stopped outside the little building. Julian studied the three front steps for a long moment.
Clara stood beside him. "Do you need my hand?"
This time, he did not answer at once. "Yes."
She held out her hand. Julian used only the support he needed to climb the steps, then released her when they entered.
The girls stood and curtsied, their teacher continued the reading lesson, and no one crowded around to ask about his wounds. He sat in the back row for half an hour. Before leaving, he promised them two new shelves for books.
On the ride home, Julian asked, "Why do you never praise me?"
Clara turned toward him. "For what?"
"I climbed three steps today."
"Three years ago, you jumped a horse over a stone wall. I did not praise you then either."
"I broke the saddle that time."
"Then today was certainly more successful."
Julian laughed. Clara turned to the window, but the corner of her mouth lifted with his.
As the end of the six weeks approached, Ashburn held its usual winter dinner. Edmund had prepared a statement announcing that he would remain in charge of the estate. Eleanor worried the evening would exhaust Julian and asked Clara to persuade him to stay upstairs.
"He listens to you now," she said.
"Then you have even more reason to ask him yourself."
Eleanor lowered her voice. "I am only afraid something will happen to him."
Clara thought of the portrait in the storeroom. "I know. But you cannot keep answering for him."
Julian was not in the ballroom when the dinner began. Edmund stood before the guests and thanked them for their support during the past year. He explained that the Duke required a long period of rest, and that for the stability of the estate, he was willing to continue carrying the burden of management.
Then the sound of a cane came down the staircase.
Julian stood at the top. He did not wave away the servant waiting at the steepest turn, and he made no attempt to hide the cane.
Slowly, he descended to the main floor, crossed the ballroom, and stopped in front of Edmund.
Edmund forced a smile. "You should be resting. I can finish the announcement."
"You have finished quite enough announcements on my behalf."
Julian first thanked his cousin for managing the estate during the war. Then he held out his hand to the butler. After a moment's hesitation, the butler placed the estate seal and the household keys in his palm.
"Beginning tomorrow, all papers come to my study," Julian said. "When I require your help, Edmund, I will ask for it."
Edmund reminded him of the doctor's orders.
"The doctor told me not to stand for too long." Julian tapped the cane once against the floor. "So please be brief."
A few guests muffled their laughter. Edmund looked at the seal now resting in Julian's hand and said nothing more.
When the musicians began another dance, Julian did not ask Clara to join it. "The set is too long," he said.
"I know."
"The terrace is closer. Will you walk there with me?"