Twenty Seven Part Two

Gwen now had her answers and she almost wished she did not. She would never walk, talk, or feel anything ever again. She was broken beyond repair.

Everything she had previously held of value, all she had held dear, now held nothing for her. All of her lofty ideas, all her planning and scheming, all of her dreams to be with Jude and not Marcus, all for naught.

The Medeiros men would live on, in health and happiness, while she would die.

She, eventually, would die.

Until then, Jude would see her like this.

It was more than she could bear.

She ranted, screamed and cursed. She sobbed, wailed and moaned, all inside her shell of a body.

Then she mourned. She mourned her loss of mobility, her loss of speech, her loss of feeling in her limbs.

Though from what the doctor told her, it was fortunate she could not feel her body, even though this meant

she would never touch Jude again, or feel his touch upon her.

She would not be here to be his lover any longer.

But the thing that galled her, even in her desolate state, was that Marcus would live on. He would have his estate in addition to all her holdings also. He would now be free to spend her funds in any way he wished. She could do nothing about it, and this brought frustration and anger as she had never felt before. She did not want Marcus to win, and he had, with her death he would gain it all.

She finally came to the point of emotional exhaustion, her eyes closed, and she gratefully slept.

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Alfred, Jude and the doctor went to confer in the parlour while Gwendolyn was sleeping.

Jude explained how the accident had occurred to a bewildered Alfred. Jude's surprise at Gwendolyn's touch, and his reaction that had caused the fall. More or less, a repetition of what Jude had already explained to the doctor.

"And it caused that much damage?" Alfred was white as a sheet. The doctor had explained Gwendolyn's injuries, leaving Alfred somewhat in a state of shock.

"It was the way in which her body took the fall, she is a fairly tall, thin woman, if she had weighed more, she may have had something to pad the impact. As it was, her bones took the brunt of it." The doctor surmised.

Alfred shook his head, "She always prided herself on her thinness, she ridiculed other women who had more weight on their frames, she often called them gluttonous." The fickleness of fate, Alfred thought.

Alfred suddenly realized how he must sound, he turned quickly to the doctor, "I am sorry, I know she is my mother, but she has never been a very pleasant person, not that I would wish this upon her or any such thing."

"No apology is necessary," The doctor assured him, "I understand this has upset you."

The doctor then looked to both men, "You may want to bring in a nurse to care for her. The treatment for patients who are paralysed, is to administer nutritional enemas thrice a day........unless you would rather be shown how to care for her yourself."

Alfred and Jude exchanged frantic glances.

Jude assured the two men, "I will see about getting a nurse for her immediately."

The doctor nodded and continued, "Of course, this will not heal her, it may keep her alive a short while longer, giving her loved ones a chance to spend some time with her before she ultimately goes."

"How long do these patients usually live?" Alfred was not sure that longer would be better in this case.

"Could be days, or even a month. The fact is, that she cannot eat or drink, her throat is also paralysed, you see. It will be a matter of how long until dehydration, or starvation, takes her. The enemas are simply an attempt at having the body absorb those things she cannot swallow." The doctor informed them.

Being a medical man, these things were not new to him. However, Jude and Alfred both felt they would rather not know any more details.

Alfred was sorry he had asked.

"She will be able to stay here and receive care?" The doctor asked Jude.

Jude was still trying to get over the fact that his dying cousin would be ensconced in his home, with a nurse, receiving.......care, for however long it took.

"I will hire a nurse, she can stay in the spare room, and I shall keep Gwen where she is." Jude said decisively.

The doctor gave Jude his options, "You could try to take her home, or to a facility, but if she can stay where she is, she should."

"Then she shall." Jude answered.

Alfred was surprised that Jude would be willing to see to her needs. "Are you sure, cousin? It truly is not your fault she was here, it also was not your fault that she fell, it was an accident."

"Your mother helped me out a few too many times through the years, it is the least I can do to repay her until your father returns and we know what he would want done."

"I thank you, Jude, I do not know what she would want, but I am relieved to trust her care with you." Alfred rose, as the doctor did.

The doctor inclined his head towards both Jude and Alfred, "I will come by this evening to give further instructions to the nurse. Until then, my Lords."

The doctor left Jude and Alfred alone together. Their eyes met, and with the look that dwelt in Jude's eyes, something dawned on Alfred.

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Violet and Betsy returned from a walk about deck. Violet surmised it would still be a few hours until they docked. They decided to return to their cabin until they were closer to their destination.

Betsy retrieved her Papa's journal. Now that she knew about her father, she was curious as to what else Bernard may reveal.

Papa wrote of his deep grief upon learning of her parent's accident. He had leaned heavily upon the Lord, in faith, that God had a plan he could not see or understand.

He thanked God for what he did have, the Lady Eleanor's friendship, his little flock of believers, and his own health.

Then when he received Elizabeth to care for, Bernard thanked God mightily for her, as she was a balm to his soul. Betsy was reminded of events and occurrences during her youth, as her Papa had journaled her life very diligently.

He wrote of how Elizabeth, even at ten years of age, looked so very much like her grandmother Penny, it wounded his heart even as her shining face brought him such joy.

"I did not know I looked like my grandmother." Betsy turned her gaze to Violet, who sat beside her on the bed.

Their backs against the wall, they shared the journal on their laps, their sides pressed against one another.

"She must have been very beautiful." Violet squeezed Betsy's hand as she ducked her head.

Pretty, mayhap, beautiful she would never be. Her Lady, Arianna was beautiful, Betsy felt blessed to be at least pretty enough to catch Violet's eye.

"You are, you know, beautiful." Violet raised her face with a finger to her chin, he kissed her and smiled into her eyes as she blushed.

"I am passably pretty, Violet, Arianna is beautiful, you are beautiful, Brutus is beautiful, also."

Violet raised a brow at this.

"However, I have never been one that stops others on the street as my Lady did, neither have I had swains follow me with their eyes and swoon, as the ladies must with you and Brutus."

"That is because you allowed your Lady to shine, hiding in those drab dresses as you did, most likely one step behind your Lady as a good maid should." Violet nodded at his wisdom. "If you were to be dressed as your Lady was, and paraded down the street, you would have noticed all eyes following you."

"Highly doubtful, my love, but very sweet of you to say, none the less." Betsy returned his smile before returning to the journal.

Violet was determined to show her just how lovely she was.

As she read, he imagined her as he had once or twice before, gowned, bejeweled and coiffed. She would catch the eye of many men, those who were attracted to unworldly, innocent young misses.

Violet thought on how he would rather keep her all to himself, but he did want her to know she was beautiful by any standards. She was a humble, little thing, he thought.

He returned his attention to her reading, Bernard had written about his little smuggling operation. He wrote of the joy to be had in helping families who could not afford the basic necessities of life.

He wrote of how the guilt had eaten at him for his illicit activities, so he had taken a tenth of all he made and set it aside. His plan being, that when he passed, Eleanor would pay his duty taxes on the pilfered items.

Betsy assumed Eleanor had.

She and Violet found it amusing that a 'criminal' had such a deep conscience. No one would have ever known, yet Bernard had done what he felt was right, given the situation.

The more they read, the more Violet liked this man that had raised his wife from a toddler. He was humble, giving and kind. Just as Elizabeth was, unless you were a sea commander who pointed a gun at her husband.

Violet grinned at this thought, as Betsy continued on, finally reaching the part in the journal Eleanor had been referring to.

Bernard had prayed for a way to help the children of the world who had no families. He wrote of when he and Elizabeth had taken in orphans for short amounts of time, while families were found for them.

"You and your Papa were about doing the same thing I was before he passed away." Violet noted.

"We did, we tried to help as many as we could, Papa would be so thankful that you and I plan to continue doing so."

"If we are blessed enough to raise this orphanage I dream of, it shall be dedicated to your Papa, in light of his prayers being answered." Violet put his arm around his wife and tucked her closer into his side. "I just pray we are able to accomplish it somehow. I do not have as large an amount of funds stored up as I would like, and all I do have, the King may want in repayment of what I have taken from him in the past."

Violet knew however, where there was a will, there was a way. "I am hoping Her Grace can help us find donations, mayhap even set up a committee dedicated to helping us finance this dream."

Violet had liked the duchess very much. They had come to a mutual understanding of friendship and respect. He was sure that when she heard the true motives that drove him, she would help if she could.

"I believe Arianna may help too, once she knows the truth." Betsy smiled up at her gorgeous husband. Hearing the desires of his heart made him that much more beautiful to her.

"Go on, he prayed for the children...." Violet nudged her to continue.

"Here, he prays for you. The man I am destined to marry. He prays for a man worthy of my love." She turned her head to kiss Violet's neck. "I believe I have found him."

"I hope so, I hope to always be worthy of your love." Violet squeezed her lightly as they smiled at one another.

"I have no doubts you are and always shall be, now let me read, we are almost finished." Betsy bent her head to the journal once more, reading her Papa's words aloud.

Forgive me if I have walked a selfish path, keeping my sweet granddaughter to myself. I have bent to the desires of my own heart in keeping her sheltered and safe. I would not have her jaded and influenced by the King's court, though I know he would be interested in her welfare. She may have been given advantages I could not give her myself, but at what price? I know You would have cared for her no matter where that may have led, but as I said, I have found myself to be selfish with this last gift you have given me. Until Elizabeth has children of her own, she is the only family I have been left with, thus I have kept her for myself. I know that in Your infinite wisdom, if I have done wrong, You have the power to rectify this, a decision I have made on my own. I ask Your will in Elizabeth's life, Lord, guide her to where You would have her be.

Betsy turned tear filled eyes to Violet. "I miss him so very much."

"I can see why, Kitten, he was a good man who loved you very much." Violet held her tight, knowing her loss hurt her heart.

"I wonder what he would make of all this." Betsy looked up to Violet's suit and her grey dress hanging on the back of the door to their cabin. "I am not wearing that, you know." She looked askance at Violet, her nose wrinkled, and her visage determined.

Violet chuckled and kissed her tiny nose. "You, my kitten, may wear whatever you like, I simply provided a choice."

"Good, because that is not who I am any longer. If you are determined to present yourself as you are, I should be allowed to present myself as I wish, not as a drab maid." This was said with much determination on her part, making Violet chuckle some more.

"I believe we have more important things to worry about than how we present ourselves, love. Can you reach the bible? I would have us fortify ourselves with His good word before we arrive."

Betsy smiled and left his embrace momentarily to fetch the book from Violet's bag.

They then settled in once again, to read the good book, and to pray together that their endeavor be blessed.

Betsy did end up asking forgiveness for the way she had treated the commander, even though, she still felt a little justified in doing so.

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Jude owed her something. Alfred did not know what it was, but he was sure there was something that Jude was not telling him.

Is that why his mother had asked Jude to kill Marcus? Because he owed her something? Was it money? Or could it be a case of blackmail?

It had to be more than that she had helped Jude in the past. Because really, why would Jude come to the country in the first place? Who, given a choice, would want to spend time with Gwendolyn? Jude would have to enjoy hunting very much to volunteer to spend time with her.

And now that Alfred thought about it, Jude had told him he only hunted that one morning to establish the poacher scenario. What was there between this man and his mother?

Alfred could just feel that there was something Jude was hiding.

He could only know if he asked Jude outright, though, and he was not sure if he wanted to.

Much less, would he gain an honest answer?

"You do not think she came because she knew we had turned on her do you, Jude?" Alfred ventured, "When you left her, do you suppose she suspected anything?"

"I do not think so, I think mayhap, once I left she felt bored and alone with your father gone, and thought to come to town to shop. I can think of no other explanation." Jude was ready to get some sleep, he was exhausted, mentally and physically. Yet he still had to hire a nurse and have things prepared for a new addition to the household.

"Can I do anything, cousin? Should I stay until she wakes again?" Alfred offered.

"That would be up to you, Alfred. I will need to be about finding her care, so I will leave you to decide what you would like to do. You may come back at any time, you know where she is." Jude ran his hand through his hair, and then massaged at the stiffness in his neck.

This action made him think of Gwen's broken neck, he let his hand slide back down to his side.

At least he could feel his own neck, even pained, he could feel it. He was grateful for that. He felt guilty that Gwen could not feel anything. Accident or not, it was his fault that she lay there broken.

It was strange how he had felt no guilt when planning on sending her to the hangman, but now that he himself had caused her demise, he was riddled with it.

Jude sighed heavily.

Alfred took the cue, deciding to go home and try to get some more sleep, if he could. His plan was to come back later before he went to Terese's. He would see if his mother was awake then.

Alfred rode home in a daze, so many thoughts ran through his head he did not even remember the ride home, he only realized his surroundings once he arrived there.

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Ok, when I wrote her fall and paralysis I had NO idea what the treatment would have been. This is what my research uncovered.... :0