Mr. Fuller needs medical care

“Miss Charlotte?” A servant stood with a plain folded note on a silver tray. “Mam, this note came to you from Reverend Edwards.” Charlotte opened the note with a hint of disappointment, she was hoping for news from Lieutenant Easton, not the elderly pastor. Her excitement grew as she read the brief note. The vicar’s short message noted apologetically that the infirmary at the infantry post was woefully under-stocked and respectfully requested some lotion or unguent that might help with the captive’s lacerated back.

“Thank-you Margaret.” Charlotte told the servant still waiting at a polite distance. “Would you send word to the stables that I’d like Copper saddled immediately?” Thankfully, her aunts and father had all retreated to their private domains, so she did not have to deal with her relatives. She could certainly have passed the message along to the Major Talbot, but the household’s pharmacy was her responsibility and with barely a moment of hesitation she made up her mind.

Fewer than 20 minutes later she was cantering briskly towards the village with several different cleansers and salves in her saddlebags. As she rode into the courtyard of the 43rd's encampment she was met by Lieutenant Easton who must have been either warned of her arrival or was expecting her.

“Thank-you for coming Milady.” He bowed stiffly as she dismounted and handed the reins to a waiting private. “I had expected you to send a groom down with the supplies; I hate to think that the Reverend and I have bothered you personally.”

“No bother, Lieutenant.” She assured the somber man as he guided her to the large house behind the barracks “It is the least I can do.” As she followed the lieutenant, Charlotte had time to admire the clever way that Lieutenant Easton had found to fulfill his end of their bargain. Once they were inside the privacy of the house and descending to the cellar that had been converted into a makeshift jail the young officer confirmed her suspicions. He made no direct reference to the private moment they had shared in the gardens of her estate, but Charlotte knew that he too must be thinking about how she had used her charms to pressure him into this arrangement.

“Lady Marlton, I still have grave reservations about leaving you alone with Fuller.” He told her bluntly, but she met his gaze calmly and with only a slight sigh he bowed and unlocked the heavy door at the bottom of the steps. “The prisoner is securely chained, so he cannot hurt you, and I will be right outside if he becomes insolent or if you need anything.” The wooden door had no window and was so thick that Lt. Easton had to use all his weight to get the door to move; before he let her in, the somber young officer gave her one final warning. “Once this door is closed you will have the privacy you asked for, but I won't be able to hear you if you need help. Are you sure you want to be locked in her with this roughian?” Charlotte reassured Easton with a confident smile, and with a sigh the officer let her in and closed the door behind her.

The make-shift cell had once been a wine cellar, which explained the lock and thickness of the door, but the wine racks were now empty and the cellar room was used for storage with a row of shelves against the far wall. The only sign of the re-purposed nature of the chamber was the canvas cot set up against the far wall and a covered bucket in the corner for Mr Fuller's necessities. There were no windows but a small oil lamp was hanging from the rafters and in the yellow light Charlotte could see every one of the bloody welts that scarred his back.

“Oh my God!” She muttered aloud and saw Fuller stiffen as he recognized her voice. He had been chained facing the wall with his arms attached to shoulder height rings but he was able to turn his head until his eyes met hers in disbelief.

What was she doing here? Since he had been carried down to the cell and chained to the wall Randy had drifted in and out of consciousness but having Lady Marlton suddenly appear was more than he could fathom. Randy had been mildly surprised by the relatively decent way that he had been treated by the redcoats. Much of that he was sure must have been the iron will of the young Lieutenant who had found him in the vast forest and brought him to Marlton’s court. Without his steady manner Randy had no doubt his treatment would have been even more brutal.

“I’m sorry.” Her words were quiet, but steady. “I didn’t know you’d be whipped.”

Randy bit back his biting retort. What did she think her father was going to do? Speak to him sternly and then send him on his way? Frankly he expected a **** sentence.

“Why are you here, Lady Marlton?” He asked instead “Did you come to gloat?”

“No Mr. Fuller.” Her voice was as gentle as he had remembered it from their encounter last weekend. “I came to help.” She paused “And to let you know that I do not concur with my father’s judgment.”

It must have been excruciatingly painful for the man as Charlotte used a solution of witch-hazel to clean the layers of dried blood and flayed skin from his muscled back. As she worked as gently as she could she tried again to explain.

“I thought you’d be sent to serve in the King’s Navy.” She told him as she worked “All the newspapers have strong editorials about the pros and cons of pressing men to serve in the fleet, and you are healthy and a sailor…” She lapsed into silence not sure what to say.

Randy wondered how she could be so naïve about the vindictive nature of Lord Marlton. Did she really think that her father would remand him to the Royal Navy just because he had experience at sea? Furthermore didn’t Lady Marlton know the fate of men sentenced to the ships of the line? Randy had seen too many beaten and starved men that served on His Majesty’s ships to see that fate as much better than banishment to the penal colonies in Australia. He bit back the angry response and concentrated instead of the feel of her soft hands as they cooled the burning fire of his back. Oh his back still hurt, but her touch was far gentler than any surgeon he’d ever known and the ointment that she used after she cleaned off the worst of the damage had some sort of numbing agent.

As she smoothed the ointment onto Mr. Fuller’s striped back Charlotte sensed that the powerful man was responding well to the treatment. She had been in his cell for a little over ten minutes now and she knew she’d have to leave soon, but she allowed herself the luxury of running her hands across his strong shoulders. This time it was Mr. Fuller who was bound and helpless and Charlotte who could touch him freely, she allowed her hands to caress his broad shoulders and feel the strength of the same arms that had held her tightly as he had pressed his lips to hers.

Perhaps Mr. Fuller was aware of the change in her touch because he was suddenly as tense as he had been when she first began washing his back. What would he do if she permitted her hands to feel the firm muscles in his chest, his square jaw and the strength of his neck?

Charlotte should leave now before she behaved any more inappropriately than she already had. She should, but would she?