Billy and Dom: A Regency Tale Ch. 2
Oct. 23rd, 2006 12:53 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kitsune_writesAuthor: Fox
Rating: this chapter PG at best
Pairing: Will be Monaboyd. This bit is gen.
Disclaimer: This isn't real. It didn't happen. I am not making any money from this, only using my (admittedly) overactive imagination.
Warnings: Most of the players in this story have either been aged up or down, however there are no squicks with how I've written it nor why I needed it to be that way.
A/N: Thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
pippinmctaggart and dicorvo for the lovely betas. ♥
This chapter begins immediately following Chapter 1.
Bloom entered the room, Maggie right behind him. He could see the supine form on the bed; on the right side another young boy sat gently stroking the injured child’s arm and shoulder, on the left Miranda sat wiping the still dirty forehead with a cloth.
His practiced eye caught the dislocation of the left shoulder immediately and he moved forward, his hand coming to rest briefly on Miranda’s shoulder.
“Hello, Bloom,” she said softly, the small smile she greeted him with at odds with the worry in her eyes.
“Miss Otto,” he said just as softly. He gently squeezed her shoulder, and she gave one more careful swipe with the cloth before placing it back in its bowl of water and backing out of Bloom’s way.
Dull green eyes flew open as the boy felt the bed shift. He saw the tall man bending over him and whimpered in terror. Bloom stopped moving immediately, his brown eyes calm. “You’ve been hurt, lad. I’m here to help you now,” he crooned in a low, soothing tone.
Dominic stroked the boy’s arm again. “’s true,” he said, nodding as the boy’s gaze turned to him. If Miss Miranda and Maggie said Bloom could help, then Dom believed them, and he would make sure the other boy believed it as well.
“What’s your name, then, lad?” Orlando asked as he gently ran his hands over the frail body searching for other injuries.
“Wi…William…” the child managed in a voice hoarse from lack of use.
Maggie gasped sharply, but said nothing, allowing Orlando’s attention, momentarily turned to her, to go back to his patient.
“Had a fall in your work?”
“Aye,” came that croaking voice and then a slight flinch and his brows pulled in before he amended himself. “Meant…t’say…yes.”
Dominic and Matthew looked at each other, confused by the sudden current of anger in the room.
Orlando cursed under his breath, angry, as always, that a modern and civilised society would allow such a fate to befall one of its citizens, no matter the class or manner of speech. If either of the other boys in this room had been injured in such a way, they would have been cared for immediately, not beaten or worse for speaking their own dialect. He had no idea how long young William had had this dislocation, but he feared it might already be too late for the boy to regain full use of his left arm.
“What have you found, Dr. Bloom?” Lady Sommersby’s cultured voice came from behind them and everyone in the room, previously engrossed in Bloom’s exploration of the patient, turned quickly to face her.
“Just Bloom, milady,” he said, making his leg.
Aureen waved him off. “Can you save—”
The bedroom door flew open, slamming against the back wall. William startled and tried to back away, crying out in alarm and pain. Orlando instinctively moved between the door and the boy, intent on the intruder, and not even noticing that Dominic began to rub William’s good shoulder and arm again.
“Mr. Bloom,” came a low voice dripping with venom as the Mr. was emphasized.
Orlando tensed. “Sommersby.”
“Lord Sommersby to the likes of you.”
“The lad doesn’t have time for this, James,” Bloom replied, dragging his hand through his curls. “Must he suffer for our past failings?”
Sommersby’s blue eyes widened, first in outrage at being referred to by his Christian name; then in realization, as he caught sight of the frightened child on the bed, his own son attempting to calm him. He released an explosive sigh. “Treat the boy, and then get out of this house,” he said, voice deceptively even.
“My Lord,” Bloom said with no hidden intent as he turned back to the injured child. He could ask no more from the livid man standing by the door.
Sommersby looked over to the bed one last time and met Dominic’s imploring gaze. He turned and left the room, his tread heavy on the stairs.
“How do you know James?” Aureen asked quietly. “How is it that…”
“Lady Sommersby, please,” Bloom broke in before turning to Maggie. “I’ll need laudanum if I’m to reduce this shoulder. I won’t have him awake for that. Go as fast as ever you can, Mag, we haven’t a moment to lose.”
Maggie ran out of the room and Orlando felt a small hand on his arm. He looked down into Dominic’s worried face. “Yes, young Master?”
“Please, sir, will it hurt too terribly much?”
When Bloom answered, he looked into dull green eyes, not Dominic’s blue. “It will hurt, that’s why the laudanum, William. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” came the harsh whisper. William knew pain, had lived with it in varying stages since he’d been in the Workhouse. He had vague memories of being held, cuddled, loved, but it was as if in a dream, not anything concrete in his life.
“Good lad,” Orlando said quietly, lightly brushing the sweaty hair off the child’s forehead. “The worst will be over soon.”
Maggie came rushing back within minutes, a dark bottle and a cup in her hands. Aureen watched as Bloom measured out a dose in the cup and held it steady as William put his mouth to the rim. He drank it slowly, his frightened eyes not leaving Orlando’s steady and soothing gaze until the lids slid shut and he was under.
Bloom checked pulse, breathing and reflexes before stretching the injured limb straight out from the boy’s body. He looked over at Miranda. “Be so good as to hold his right shoulder down on the bed, won’t you?”
Miranda nodded and moved quickly to secure the arm.
“When it moves, it will make a grotesque sound, I warn you now, and the child will likely make an upsetting noise as well. He will be in terrible pain, even dosed.”
“Is there anything else you can do to help him with the pain?” Lady Sommersby asked desperately.
“Nothing, milady,” he said grimly. “Only hope I don’t have to do this more than once.” He turned to Miranda. “On the count of three, my dear.”
On three, the arm was jerked out, then up, but nothing except William’s cry of pain was heard.
“Hell and damnation,” he spat. “On three, Miranda.” He gave the arm a truly vicious yank. There was a heavy, wet sound as the joint slid back into place and then William screamed, a terrible scream that rose in pitch and intensity until there was no air left in the child’s lungs to carry the sound.
“Give him more laudanum!” Aureen cried, distressed by his obvious pain.
“I cannot, Lady Sommersby. He is weak and it would likely kill him.”
William lay whimpering on the bed, tears squeezing out of his tightly closed eyes. Dominic moved from his former position and went to get the washcloth. He continued his gentle motions with the cloth, wiping away the sweat and tears on William’s face and neck. He had quite a job trying to keep from crying aloud himself at the terrible pain on William’s face. He swiped at the tears on his own cheeks and felt a gentle hand rub his back. He looked up into Bloom’s calm gaze.
“You are a good lad. William is lucky to have a friend such as you right now.” Then he turned to face the others. “His arm and shoulder must be kept immobilized. Bind the limb tightly to his body and put some blankets underneath it so he cannot roll onto that side while sleeping. If his fever remains for longer than five days or if it gets any higher, you’ll need to fetch a doctor.”
He quickly recapped the laudanum and handed it to Miranda. “Try not to give him anymore. If it is unbearable for him”, he said looking harshly at everyone in the room including Dominic and Matthew, “then you may give him a small dose. Small. No more than four drops in a full glass of water. This will kill him faster than any infection or lasting pain, do you understand me?”
He waited until he’d received nods or affirmatives from all before he went to take his leave.
“Bloom?”
“Yes Lady Sommersby?”
“I do not know what passed between you and my husband, but I will not allow this child to suffer because of it.”
“Very kind of you, milady,” he said, a sad smile accompanying his bow.
She watched him leave with Miranda and Maggie, staring long after the door had closed quietly behind them.
Master’s Chambers
James sighed at the quiet knock. He’d known that Aureen would come looking for answers--he’d reacted badly to the sight of Orlando Bloom in his home again after so many years. He wasn’t ready to talk about it yet, wasn’t sure if he’d ever be ready. All that aside, he truly loved and respected his wife, and had never deliberately turned her away without explanation. He wasn’t going to start now, old pain reawakened or no. He opened the door and sighed heavily as she swept by him in a rustle of skirts.
“What are your intentions towards William?”
“William?” His eyebrows drew down as his brow furrowed. She’d lost him completely.
“The boy upstairs, James. The one you frightened so badly when you slammed into Miranda’s room?”
“I didn’t know his name,” he admitted as he ran his hand through his hair.
Aureen realized she’d seen Bloom do the same thing earlier that evening. She’d thought it odd when he’d done it, and now she knew it was because it had been so similar to her husband’s habit.
“The honest truth is that I didn’t even know there was a child involved at all. Cranston informed me that Bloom was here, and then, to see you and the boys with him – I just wanted him gone.”
“Cranston informed you that Bloom was here?”
“She said Maggie –who is Maggie?—had gone to fetch Bloom, and that he was up in Miss Otto’s room. Frankly, I was going to dismiss the lot of them.”
“Maggie is a scullery maid, James, and frankly,” she said, putting the same inflection on the word he had a moment ago, “I find Cranston’s behavior abhorrent. To know a thing, and willfully disregard it, in order to bring about a self-serving result? I do not need such happenings in my household, most especially not perpetrated by one who is entrusted to run it.” She paused, clearly collecting herself before going on. “All of that will be sorted soon enough. For now, I must ask you again – what are your intentions toward William?”
“He can stay until he can be comfortably moved elsewhere.”
“Where would you have him moved to, James? He was in a workhouse. That means he had no family who could care for him and obviously he’s no good to a workhouse now. To send him away with nowhere to go in his shape is nothing but a death sentence.”
“Don’t work yourself into a tizzy, Aureen. We will find somewhere for him. I know you should like to oversee his complete recovery, but this is not a charity house and none of us are doctors.”
“But Bloom—“
“NO,” he cut her off brusquely. “Orlando Bloom is not an acceptable guest in this house, Aureen. You will yield to my wishes on this, and that is final.”
“What is the reason behind this vehemence?” she asked, narrowed eyes studying her husband closely.
“It is not fit discussion for a Lady,” he said, his voice flat. Final.
“We won’t be discussing it, James. You will tell me so that I can find a way to tell our children why their father has sent away the man who was caring for the boy.”
“God’s life, woman, this is my house and that’s all the reason any of you need!”
Aureen’s eyes widened at his outburst. She’d never seen James act like this before, but it made her sad rather than frightened of him. She moved to him and took one of his hands in one of hers, her free hand rubbing gentle circles between his shoulder blades. She caught a flash of deep pain in his eyes before they slid shut.
“What is this that eats at you, James? Please let me help you.”
“It is an old hurt and there is nothing to be done, my love,” he said on a weary sigh.
“Will you help me to understand?”
“I cannot.”
“Do you want me to go and leave you to your thoughts?”
James turned to face her, the pain still on his face, in his eyes. “No.”
She took her husband in her arms and swore she would get to the root of this issue. She would find out what was broken in James and she would fix it.
Miranda’s Room
Maggie and Miranda stood at the foot of the bed and looked down at the two sleeping boys. They’d all done what they could to make William comfortable, but it had been Dom who’d worn himself out by continually wiping William’s head and neck and petting back the sweaty hair when it stuck to the feverish skin, and by worrying. He’d kept it up for a few hours before he’d finally succumbed to his own exhaustion, the palm of his hand still on William’s shoulder, his fingers still curled lightly around the other boy’s upper arm.
Maggie sighed softly. “Orlando is right. Such a good lad.”
“Maggie,” Miranda said turning to look at the younger maid, “who is William to you?”
“I—“
“Is he yours?” She asked gently.
“No,” Maggie said, taking a deep breath. “He’s not my son. He’s older than he looks. He’d be nine now.”
“Nine? My God, he might even be smaller than Dom!”
Maggie smiled sadly. “I think it’s because he’d been shunted to the workhouse so young. Used as a ‘weep and underfed, I’m not surprised he’s small for his age. Can’t keep getting in chimneys if you grow too big.”
“Who is he to you, then?”
Maggie knew that Miranda would not leave it alone until she’d gotten answers. She looked back down at William, her faced suffused with love, joy and wonder at finding him again. “He’s my brother, Miranda.”
Rating: this chapter PG at best
Pairing: Will be Monaboyd. This bit is gen.
Disclaimer: This isn't real. It didn't happen. I am not making any money from this, only using my (admittedly) overactive imagination.
Warnings: Most of the players in this story have either been aged up or down, however there are no squicks with how I've written it nor why I needed it to be that way.
A/N: Thanks to
pippinmctaggart and dicorvo for the lovely betas. ♥This chapter begins immediately following Chapter 1.
Bloom entered the room, Maggie right behind him. He could see the supine form on the bed; on the right side another young boy sat gently stroking the injured child’s arm and shoulder, on the left Miranda sat wiping the still dirty forehead with a cloth.
His practiced eye caught the dislocation of the left shoulder immediately and he moved forward, his hand coming to rest briefly on Miranda’s shoulder.
“Hello, Bloom,” she said softly, the small smile she greeted him with at odds with the worry in her eyes.
“Miss Otto,” he said just as softly. He gently squeezed her shoulder, and she gave one more careful swipe with the cloth before placing it back in its bowl of water and backing out of Bloom’s way.
Dull green eyes flew open as the boy felt the bed shift. He saw the tall man bending over him and whimpered in terror. Bloom stopped moving immediately, his brown eyes calm. “You’ve been hurt, lad. I’m here to help you now,” he crooned in a low, soothing tone.
Dominic stroked the boy’s arm again. “’s true,” he said, nodding as the boy’s gaze turned to him. If Miss Miranda and Maggie said Bloom could help, then Dom believed them, and he would make sure the other boy believed it as well.
“What’s your name, then, lad?” Orlando asked as he gently ran his hands over the frail body searching for other injuries.
“Wi…William…” the child managed in a voice hoarse from lack of use.
Maggie gasped sharply, but said nothing, allowing Orlando’s attention, momentarily turned to her, to go back to his patient.
“Had a fall in your work?”
“Aye,” came that croaking voice and then a slight flinch and his brows pulled in before he amended himself. “Meant…t’say…yes.”
Dominic and Matthew looked at each other, confused by the sudden current of anger in the room.
Orlando cursed under his breath, angry, as always, that a modern and civilised society would allow such a fate to befall one of its citizens, no matter the class or manner of speech. If either of the other boys in this room had been injured in such a way, they would have been cared for immediately, not beaten or worse for speaking their own dialect. He had no idea how long young William had had this dislocation, but he feared it might already be too late for the boy to regain full use of his left arm.
“What have you found, Dr. Bloom?” Lady Sommersby’s cultured voice came from behind them and everyone in the room, previously engrossed in Bloom’s exploration of the patient, turned quickly to face her.
“Just Bloom, milady,” he said, making his leg.
Aureen waved him off. “Can you save—”
The bedroom door flew open, slamming against the back wall. William startled and tried to back away, crying out in alarm and pain. Orlando instinctively moved between the door and the boy, intent on the intruder, and not even noticing that Dominic began to rub William’s good shoulder and arm again.
“Mr. Bloom,” came a low voice dripping with venom as the Mr. was emphasized.
Orlando tensed. “Sommersby.”
“Lord Sommersby to the likes of you.”
“The lad doesn’t have time for this, James,” Bloom replied, dragging his hand through his curls. “Must he suffer for our past failings?”
Sommersby’s blue eyes widened, first in outrage at being referred to by his Christian name; then in realization, as he caught sight of the frightened child on the bed, his own son attempting to calm him. He released an explosive sigh. “Treat the boy, and then get out of this house,” he said, voice deceptively even.
“My Lord,” Bloom said with no hidden intent as he turned back to the injured child. He could ask no more from the livid man standing by the door.
Sommersby looked over to the bed one last time and met Dominic’s imploring gaze. He turned and left the room, his tread heavy on the stairs.
“How do you know James?” Aureen asked quietly. “How is it that…”
“Lady Sommersby, please,” Bloom broke in before turning to Maggie. “I’ll need laudanum if I’m to reduce this shoulder. I won’t have him awake for that. Go as fast as ever you can, Mag, we haven’t a moment to lose.”
Maggie ran out of the room and Orlando felt a small hand on his arm. He looked down into Dominic’s worried face. “Yes, young Master?”
“Please, sir, will it hurt too terribly much?”
When Bloom answered, he looked into dull green eyes, not Dominic’s blue. “It will hurt, that’s why the laudanum, William. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” came the harsh whisper. William knew pain, had lived with it in varying stages since he’d been in the Workhouse. He had vague memories of being held, cuddled, loved, but it was as if in a dream, not anything concrete in his life.
“Good lad,” Orlando said quietly, lightly brushing the sweaty hair off the child’s forehead. “The worst will be over soon.”
Maggie came rushing back within minutes, a dark bottle and a cup in her hands. Aureen watched as Bloom measured out a dose in the cup and held it steady as William put his mouth to the rim. He drank it slowly, his frightened eyes not leaving Orlando’s steady and soothing gaze until the lids slid shut and he was under.
Bloom checked pulse, breathing and reflexes before stretching the injured limb straight out from the boy’s body. He looked over at Miranda. “Be so good as to hold his right shoulder down on the bed, won’t you?”
Miranda nodded and moved quickly to secure the arm.
“When it moves, it will make a grotesque sound, I warn you now, and the child will likely make an upsetting noise as well. He will be in terrible pain, even dosed.”
“Is there anything else you can do to help him with the pain?” Lady Sommersby asked desperately.
“Nothing, milady,” he said grimly. “Only hope I don’t have to do this more than once.” He turned to Miranda. “On the count of three, my dear.”
On three, the arm was jerked out, then up, but nothing except William’s cry of pain was heard.
“Hell and damnation,” he spat. “On three, Miranda.” He gave the arm a truly vicious yank. There was a heavy, wet sound as the joint slid back into place and then William screamed, a terrible scream that rose in pitch and intensity until there was no air left in the child’s lungs to carry the sound.
“Give him more laudanum!” Aureen cried, distressed by his obvious pain.
“I cannot, Lady Sommersby. He is weak and it would likely kill him.”
William lay whimpering on the bed, tears squeezing out of his tightly closed eyes. Dominic moved from his former position and went to get the washcloth. He continued his gentle motions with the cloth, wiping away the sweat and tears on William’s face and neck. He had quite a job trying to keep from crying aloud himself at the terrible pain on William’s face. He swiped at the tears on his own cheeks and felt a gentle hand rub his back. He looked up into Bloom’s calm gaze.
“You are a good lad. William is lucky to have a friend such as you right now.” Then he turned to face the others. “His arm and shoulder must be kept immobilized. Bind the limb tightly to his body and put some blankets underneath it so he cannot roll onto that side while sleeping. If his fever remains for longer than five days or if it gets any higher, you’ll need to fetch a doctor.”
He quickly recapped the laudanum and handed it to Miranda. “Try not to give him anymore. If it is unbearable for him”, he said looking harshly at everyone in the room including Dominic and Matthew, “then you may give him a small dose. Small. No more than four drops in a full glass of water. This will kill him faster than any infection or lasting pain, do you understand me?”
He waited until he’d received nods or affirmatives from all before he went to take his leave.
“Bloom?”
“Yes Lady Sommersby?”
“I do not know what passed between you and my husband, but I will not allow this child to suffer because of it.”
“Very kind of you, milady,” he said, a sad smile accompanying his bow.
She watched him leave with Miranda and Maggie, staring long after the door had closed quietly behind them.
James sighed at the quiet knock. He’d known that Aureen would come looking for answers--he’d reacted badly to the sight of Orlando Bloom in his home again after so many years. He wasn’t ready to talk about it yet, wasn’t sure if he’d ever be ready. All that aside, he truly loved and respected his wife, and had never deliberately turned her away without explanation. He wasn’t going to start now, old pain reawakened or no. He opened the door and sighed heavily as she swept by him in a rustle of skirts.
“What are your intentions towards William?”
“William?” His eyebrows drew down as his brow furrowed. She’d lost him completely.
“The boy upstairs, James. The one you frightened so badly when you slammed into Miranda’s room?”
“I didn’t know his name,” he admitted as he ran his hand through his hair.
Aureen realized she’d seen Bloom do the same thing earlier that evening. She’d thought it odd when he’d done it, and now she knew it was because it had been so similar to her husband’s habit.
“The honest truth is that I didn’t even know there was a child involved at all. Cranston informed me that Bloom was here, and then, to see you and the boys with him – I just wanted him gone.”
“Cranston informed you that Bloom was here?”
“She said Maggie –who is Maggie?—had gone to fetch Bloom, and that he was up in Miss Otto’s room. Frankly, I was going to dismiss the lot of them.”
“Maggie is a scullery maid, James, and frankly,” she said, putting the same inflection on the word he had a moment ago, “I find Cranston’s behavior abhorrent. To know a thing, and willfully disregard it, in order to bring about a self-serving result? I do not need such happenings in my household, most especially not perpetrated by one who is entrusted to run it.” She paused, clearly collecting herself before going on. “All of that will be sorted soon enough. For now, I must ask you again – what are your intentions toward William?”
“He can stay until he can be comfortably moved elsewhere.”
“Where would you have him moved to, James? He was in a workhouse. That means he had no family who could care for him and obviously he’s no good to a workhouse now. To send him away with nowhere to go in his shape is nothing but a death sentence.”
“Don’t work yourself into a tizzy, Aureen. We will find somewhere for him. I know you should like to oversee his complete recovery, but this is not a charity house and none of us are doctors.”
“But Bloom—“
“NO,” he cut her off brusquely. “Orlando Bloom is not an acceptable guest in this house, Aureen. You will yield to my wishes on this, and that is final.”
“What is the reason behind this vehemence?” she asked, narrowed eyes studying her husband closely.
“It is not fit discussion for a Lady,” he said, his voice flat. Final.
“We won’t be discussing it, James. You will tell me so that I can find a way to tell our children why their father has sent away the man who was caring for the boy.”
“God’s life, woman, this is my house and that’s all the reason any of you need!”
Aureen’s eyes widened at his outburst. She’d never seen James act like this before, but it made her sad rather than frightened of him. She moved to him and took one of his hands in one of hers, her free hand rubbing gentle circles between his shoulder blades. She caught a flash of deep pain in his eyes before they slid shut.
“What is this that eats at you, James? Please let me help you.”
“It is an old hurt and there is nothing to be done, my love,” he said on a weary sigh.
“Will you help me to understand?”
“I cannot.”
“Do you want me to go and leave you to your thoughts?”
James turned to face her, the pain still on his face, in his eyes. “No.”
She took her husband in her arms and swore she would get to the root of this issue. She would find out what was broken in James and she would fix it.
Maggie and Miranda stood at the foot of the bed and looked down at the two sleeping boys. They’d all done what they could to make William comfortable, but it had been Dom who’d worn himself out by continually wiping William’s head and neck and petting back the sweaty hair when it stuck to the feverish skin, and by worrying. He’d kept it up for a few hours before he’d finally succumbed to his own exhaustion, the palm of his hand still on William’s shoulder, his fingers still curled lightly around the other boy’s upper arm.
Maggie sighed softly. “Orlando is right. Such a good lad.”
“Maggie,” Miranda said turning to look at the younger maid, “who is William to you?”
“I—“
“Is he yours?” She asked gently.
“No,” Maggie said, taking a deep breath. “He’s not my son. He’s older than he looks. He’d be nine now.”
“Nine? My God, he might even be smaller than Dom!”
Maggie smiled sadly. “I think it’s because he’d been shunted to the workhouse so young. Used as a ‘weep and underfed, I’m not surprised he’s small for his age. Can’t keep getting in chimneys if you grow too big.”
“Who is he to you, then?”
Maggie knew that Miranda would not leave it alone until she’d gotten answers. She looked back down at William, her faced suffused with love, joy and wonder at finding him again. “He’s my brother, Miranda.”
