Xavier returned his focus to Vic. “It’s out Vic. The cannonball is out and sounding just like you. Don’t you dare give up now. I can’t do this alone.” He began a long litany of promises, if only she’d stay with him. “I promise never to throw anymore ink wells at people who enter my office without permission. And you may use the typewriter whenever you like and I’ll not complain. And when you interview clients, I will not show my impatience nor poke at you for questions you failed to ask.”
Connors eventually ended the list of promises when he pushed Xavier aside and listened to Vic’s heart with his stethoscope. Not wishing to, but unable to stop himself, Xavier looked at Connors’ handiwork.
The ever-so-proper Dr. Connors had covered her with a sheet, but Xavier needed to assure himself the gutting had been repaired. He lifted and stared at the ugly, eight-inch long gash neatly sewn with catgut.
Connors re-dipped his vulcanized gloves into carbolic acid and carefully removed them, placing them upon a towel to dry. Returning to Vic, he nudged Xavier aside and tugged the sheet over the wound. “Everything went well. If infection does not set in, then she should recover.”
Xavier’s eyes rounded in outrage. “She has to recover. So what do I need to do to ensure no infection sets in?”
“The biggest threat I see here is the manure used to fertilize the grape vines. Even a small particle of soil on your shoe could end up killing her.”
His words were like a blow. How the hell could Xavier keep her safe from such a ubiquitous danger? “Should I move her into town?”
“I would strongly recommend against it. For one, to move her now would likely kill her. Secondly, a farm town is no cleaner than its farms. You are better staying here, but if you plan to open a window, you should have finely meshed screens put in place first. Also clean the room and change the linens every day.” His focus turned to Sara who was seated on a stool holding the child.
“Are you all right?” he asked as he approached.
Sara’s dark hair had fallen out of her maid’s cap during her faint, making her look years younger than her seventeen years, but otherwise, she seemed fine.
For the first time, Xavier focused on the child: his child, Vic’s child.
“Bring me the baby,” Xavier said, refusing to leave Vic, even to walk across the room.
Sara rose and brought the infant to him. “It’s a boy,” she said and placed it into his arms.
Xavier had planned to love their child no matter its gender. Still, the fact it was a boy pleased him greatly. He had a son, someone to carry his name into another generation—something he’d never expected to have.
Life was full of surprises. One dreary cold day while he attended Madeline’s funeral, he’d met her impressive nephew, a young Oxford man of twenty-two, determined to find out who murdered his aunt and why. Xavier hired the fellow as his secretary, not realizing that ‘he’ was a ‘she’. Soon after, Vic became the most important person to both his heart and his business.
And now they had a son.
“Is this child clean?” Xavier asked.
Sara nodded. “I just washed him.”
“Connors. I wish to place our boy on Vic’s chest. Do you need to rub him down with alcohol or carbolic acid first?”
Connors choked. “No, he’s sufficiently clean. And for future references, neither of those substances should be used on a baby. Soap and warm water will suffice.”
Xavier placed their son on Vic’s magnificent breasts. “Should I expose a breast for him to feed?”
“No. The child won’t be hungry for hours.” He walked to Xavier, smiling at the baby lying on Vic’s chest. “To be honest, we need to clean the bed linens. I suggest that you take the child while we let Tubs lift Vic so Sara can lay new linen.”
Xavier nodded his consent.
“Have you decided what you’ll name him?” Connors asked.
“I’m thinking about Sebastian Hamilton Thorn.”
Connors’ brow furrowed.
“You don’t like it?” Xavier challenged.
“It’s just naming the boy Hamilton might make people see the truth about Vic. I mean the evidence is always there to be seen. How many men do you know who have no evening shadow at the age of twenty-four? Not to mention the lack of a prominent Adam’s apple”
That Connors was thinking of Vic’s future eased his worries. It proved England’s premier doctor actually believed Vic had a future. “I’ll wait and discuss the matter with Vic. The pup should wake soon.” Denied the use of normal terms of affection, given her normal masculine appearance, he’d always called her ‘pup’.
“Yes, which is why we need to change the linens now.”
Xavier reached down to remove his son, but the moment he tried, Vic growled and muttered, “Mine.”
Joy rushed through him at the small possessive claim. “Ours, and I need to hold him while Tubs picks you up so your linen can be changed.” He looked around. “Where is Sara? We can’t do this without her. No one else knows how to change linens.”
“I do,” Tubs said.
“Of course you do, Tubs. You are a man of immense experiences. However, you are needed to hold Vic, and while I probably could do that—“
“No, that’s my job,” Tubs said.
“Precisely.”
Just then Sara returned with her arms full of linens.
In short order, Xavier took their child, Tubs carefully lifted Vic, and Sara changed the linens. Once Tubs returned Vic to the bed, Xavier placed their child onto her beautiful mounds.
Her eyes fluttered open and she focused on their son. A faint smile came to her lips. “My big-headed cannonball.” Then her lids closed and her head slumped to the right.
“Connors!” Xavier yelled. God help him! Had Vic just died?
Chapter 2
Dr. Connors pressed the stethoscope to Vic’s chest and, after an intolerable wait, smiled. “She’s fine.”
Xavier caressed her cheek. “She’s more than fine. She’s perfection.”
“We should let her sleep.” Connors attempted to lift the child from her chest, but her hands held firm to the boy, and a low growl emanated from her throat.
“I believe Vic wishes to keep her hard earned cannonball,” Xavier said. “Sara, will you stay and watch over Vic and the baby?”
Tubs rubbed his tree trunk arms and stared intently at Xavier. “I’ll stay too, in case Vic wants to get up.”
“She has to remain bedridden for several weeks,” Connors scolded.
Tubs nodded once at the doctor and then refocused on Xavier, his brow furrowed. “Which is why I should stay.”
Xavier appreciated Tubs’ diligence in performing his main duty: protecting Vic. “If the pup wakes, let me know,” Xavier said and led Connors to the library where he poured them both a generous glass of whiskey.
“You’ll stay until she’s out of trouble,” Xavier said. He supposed he should have made that a question, but he couldn’t risk the answer being anything other than an affirmation.
“I’ll write the Queen and let her know I’ll be out of the country for several weeks. She will not be pleased, but yes, I will neglect even my primary patient to protect my country from losing its most valuable citizens.”
The doctor sat down in a leather chair, facing the fireplace where a small fire took the chill out of the early spring air. While balmy compared to England, the room still required some assistance to be comfortable.
Xavier handed him his drink. “If the old miss gives you trouble, I will visit her and set matters right.”
The doctor choked as he took his first sip. “Not if you refer to Her Majesty as ‘old miss.’ I am confident once she learns Vic has been shot in the stomach—“
“With a cannonball,” Xavier added.
Shaking his head, Connors grimaced. “The Queen is not a master of weaponry, but I assure you, she’d challenge such a claim.”
“Fine, tell her whatever you wish, only don’t say it was a p
iddling bullet within Vic’s hearing.”
Xavier finished his first drink as he stood by the bar. Refilling his glass to the rim, he finally sat in the chair next to Connors. “I feared you wouldn’t make it in time.”
“I’m sorry. Matters have been in an uproar since you left. If there was ever a doubt that you and Vic are vital to England’s stability, it has been squashed now.”
“What’s happened?”
“What hasn’t? The Earl of Roseberry has lost his seat as First Minister. The underworld is at war with itself and innocents are getting caught in the crossfire. And someone is systematically killing off police officers.”
“Which police officers?” Xavier asked. If it were the lot terrorizing the lower docks, then he might applaud the killer’s effort.
“Stone’s lost several good men. Captain Meyers—“
“Meyers is dead?” Xavier threw back the rest of his drink. Meyers was Vic’s favorite policemen. She’ll be devastated. “Don’t tell Vic.”
“I won’t, because he’s not. If you had allowed me to finish my sentence, I was saying Captain Meyers may have killed the man responsible, and while he took a bullet, he is very much alive. It was his injury that caused me to miss the first boat out upon receiving your letter.”
“But he’s fine?” Xavier asked. Truth was he liked Meyers as well. Unlike Stone, the man recognized Vic and Xavier’s superiority when it came to solving crimes. Stone, on the other hand, only attributed their better success rate to their ability to skirt the constraints of the law.
“And what of Jacko? Is he just lounging about, drinking my good whiskey?” Xavier had left the gypsy-turned-pirate-turned-thief in charge of his business.
“As far as I can tell, Stone is utilizing all of Jacko’s time trying to solve some highly confidential matter.”
“I’m of a mind to write Stone a letter insisting upon the release of my employee,” Xavier muttered.
“The last thing you want is Stone arriving here to demand your return.” He eyed Xavier over his glass. “Vic is not looking much like a gentleman presently.”
Xavier huffed at the idea. If Stone showed up, he’d refuse to allow the head of Scotland Yard into the house.
“Why hasn’t Jacko written to inform me of any of this?”
“To what purpose? It’s not as if you and Vic could cut short your holidays and return. Jacko has done the best he can. He has a young man who used to work for you running the office, taking interviews, and managing Claire and her husband.”
Xavier didn’t know where to start with the questions. “Jacko has put Ben in charge of my office?” While the young man had shown much promise, he was not close to being prepared for such responsibility.
“No, Ben’s still your secretary. This is a young man you sent to a gentleman’s school.”
Xavier stared at his friend. “Barnacle is managing Claire?
“He goes by the name Barnaby—bright young gentleman, well-educated.”
Laughing for the first time in days, Xavier leaned back in his chair. Barnacle had been born in the docks until Xavier created a better past for the boy and sent him to a boy’s school and then to Cambridge. The idea of a street urchin managing Vic’s intolerably pompous sister amused him greatly.
“And what is he managing Claire to do?”
“Stone says she’s oddly clever in the sciences, but intolerable to deal with personally, and Jacko refuses to act as middle man, so the young man is invaluable.”
“I dare say.” He’d be tempted to hire the boy permanently for the job of managing Claire, only it would never work. Barnacle was irrationally jealous of Vic and if he hung around the office, eventually, like all Xavier’s employees had, the fellow would discover Vic was not the young gentlemen he purported to be. And unlike his other employees who would give their lives to protect the pup’s secret, Barnacle would probably deliver proof to every paper in London.
“Something wrong?” Connors asked. “Can Claire not be trusted?”
“To a degree. However, Barnacle is a different matter. He’s very jealous of Vic. I wish Jacko had spoken to me before hiring the fellow.”
“He was a desperate man. He even has his wife and his eldest son working cases.”
“Those two I approve of. Alice is a fine, intelligent woman with a practical approach to life and L’il Pete has worked for me for years.”
Connors choked on his drink. “Years? The boy is only six at best!”
“I believe he recently turned ten. He’s always been small for his age. His real mother tried to abort him with starvation then he was raised in extreme poverty until Jacko and Alice adopted him.”
“And how long has he worked for you?”
“He provided critical information to locating me when I was dying in Dragon’s Cloud. I hired him the moment his mother refused to let him work for Jacko anymore. That was back in late ‘93 or early ‘94. Can’t remember.”
“March 1894. I remember it all too well. I wasn’t sure I could save you. You were literally minutes from death when I arrived. That’s when I met Vic. She—“
“He. Whenever you speak of Vic aloud, always refer to him as a ‘he’. Otherwise, you will eventually slip up and reveal his secret.”
“He was most impressive. How he found you, I’ll never know.”
“The pup has the greatest intuition I’ve ever seen. Take today, when he begged me to cut the cannonball out. How did he even know such a thing was possible? I certainly didn’t. I was under the impression that either the baby came out between the legs or the mother and child died.”
“The cesarean is rarely attempted. In truth, this was my first one.”
Xavier rose and poured himself another drink. “Glad you failed to mention that before you cut.”
“I’ve read thoroughly on the topic. Dr. Berry performed a successful cesarean around 1820, but in England, most of the women successfully operated on since have died from infections, so I was loath to attempt it.”
Xavier downed his glass. “Vic has to make it.”
Connors leaned forward. “I believe with your assistance he will. The pup’s very stubborn. That is a good point when death comes knocking.”
“If we had another child…”
“Vic would have to undergo this surgery again, and the risk would be even greater. A woman’s bones are meant to give way to the head of the baby. Hers did not. I cannot tell you why. I can only tell you that it would eventually kill her if she continued to have children.”
“I assure you, this is our only child,” Xavier said.
“Then you should know, once I removed the child and placenta, I performed a tubal ligation.”
Xavier frowned. “And what is that?”
“The tying off of the ovary tubes, preventing further children. If I did it then, Vic would not have to risk a second surgical procedure. I apologize for failing to discuss it, but you were hardly in a state of mind to make decisions. I acted in Vic’s best interest, to save his life. Our country needs him not just today, but for many long years to follow.”
Xavier eyed his friend. “I’m curious. Did you purposely wait until I consumed half a bottle of whiskey before telling me you sterilized my wife without my permission?”
“I hadn’t intended to tell you at all, but I realized I couldn’t keep such a secret from a friend.”
“Well, had you asked, even in my distressed state, I would have given you permission, and when I tell Vic, and I will, I will take responsibility for this decision. The pup would not appreciate you deciding such important matters.”
“Do you?” he asked softly.
He stared at his friend, hunched with worry. “Actually, I do. While most mistakenly believe I am the brains of our partnership, in truth Vic’s value surpassed mine after his first year with me.”
“I wouldn’t say that. You have experience and knowledge she does not.”
“He!” Xavier snapped. “Do not dare to save his life one moment only t
o destroy it the next with a careless tongue.”
Connors grimaced and set down his glass of whiskey, still half full. “I consider both of you equally irreplaceable. Had it been you under the knife and I believed sterilizing you was in the best interest of the country, I would have acted without telling Vic.”
Xavier chuckled. “In that scenario, I strongly advise you not to ask permission and keep it a secret to your death. Vic would never forgive you.”
“But do you?” Connors’ brow furrowed and he leaned forward, almost begging penance.
“Nothing to forgive. I gave you permission to save Vic’s life. End of story. Now, where the bloody hell am I expected to acquire screens in Spain?”
Connors smiled. “I will go into Seville, tomorrow, to pick up some acetylsalicylic acid to help ease Vic’s pain. I can place an order for the screens if you’ll be so kind as to measure the windows.”
Xavier pushed himself up. “I’ll ask Tubs to do so. He’s a great dealer taller and soberer than I.” He swept his arm from left to right. “Jacko’s casa es tu casa. Choose whatever room you like. I intend to spend the night with Vic.”
“Not in her bed,” Connors warned. “She won’t be ready to have sex for three months at least, possibly longer.”
Xavier smiled. “I will sleep in a chair or the floor. It’s quite clean now.”
Weaving his way down the hall to their bedroom, Xavier entered to find Tubs sitting in the only chair the room possessed. Normally, the fellow would have jumped up, but Sara was curled against his massive chest, sound asleep. She looked unnaturally small compared to Tubs, rather like a different species.
“She’s asleep,” Tubs whispered.
He wasn’t sure if the fellow was talking about Vic or Sara. Xavier finally concluded he was talking about Sara, because Tubs always referred to Vic as ‘he’.
“Stay where you are,” Xavier said as he walked to the side of the bed and stared down at Vic and their precious cannonball.
God, he was exhausted…and drunk.
He sat on the edge of the very large bed and looked longingly at the fresh sheets. What harm would it do if he were to lay here?
Pack of Trouble (The Adventures of Xavier & Vic Book 5) Page 2
