by Ted Bader
Chapter Eleven
The next morning, Clara, the housekeeper, came to Sarah’s bedroom door and said breathlessly, “Little Anna has had another seizure, just a few minutes ago.”
Sarah grabbed her housecoat and hurried with Clara to the second flour bedroom. She said, “I’m afraid the heat and worrying over Edgar and her cousins yesterday was too much for her. Has Lady Staley been notified?””
“No, they were called out to the Mayor’s office. We have sent a messenger to inform them.”
Arriving at Anna’s bedside, Sarah observed her beloved charge slumbering in a post-ictal state. She quickly sat on the child’s bed and began gently stroking the girl’s hair into a semblance of order. Then she took the small hand in her own. With tears in her eyes, she looked up to see Clara still standing by. Smiling weakly, she said, “With her hair straightened, it appears more that she is taking a brief rest, rather than suffering the after affects of a seizure.”
Clara nodded to a group of servants gathered in the hall, as if to inform Sarah of the resources at hand, and asked, “What can we do to help the poor dear?”
“Please bring me a cold compress and let us change the bedsheets.”
The servants disappeared with alacrity to bring the desired items. The little Staley girl was a favorite in the household and was doted upon by all.
Sarah began sponging Anna’s forehead and whispering softly to her “God will take care of you.” After several minutes, she motioned to Clara to help her change the sheets. Trying not to disturb the exhausted child more than necessary, the twosome carefully changed the soiled bedding. Then Sarah dismissed the housekeeper and the staff, who seemed to be milling about the hallway. “Quiet rest is what she needs now. I will sit here until her mother arrives.”
After an hour, Anna opened her eyes, focused on Sarah, and asked, “What happened?”
“You had another seizure.”
“Why do I have seizures?”
“I do not know.”
Anna looked away and quietly said, “I heard one of the servants say it might be demon possession. Is that true?”
Sarah smiled at the weak, bewildered girl. “No, my child it is not. Your spirit is so gentle and full of love. . . no one could ever seriously level that charge at you.”
With a sigh, Anna turned back to look directly at Sarah, “Then, why do I have fits?”
“The doctors say they only know some of the causes; such as, alcohol, fever, or too much excitement. I am afraid there is not much known about your condition.”
“Will I always have it?”
“Again, my child, no one knows. The doctors say some children outgrow it, while others do not.” At this, Sarah leaned down and hugged Anna. “I love you. I think the Almighty watches carefully over little ones like yourself. Please rest a while longer. I will be here if you should need me and your mother will join me as soon as she is able.”
As she sat watching Anna rest, Sarah began to wonder what kind of person would even suggest that such a delightful child could possibly be demon possessed. Oh, she knew people were superstitious, but no one acquainted with Anna could think there was anything but goodness in the girl. Somehow, she felt it her duty to make sure none of the servants who came in close contact with Anna would ever say such a thing again.
Later in the day, Sarah received a message that Sir Thomas and Lady Staley were to be detained overnight in Lyon and that they would plan to return in the evening on the morrow. “Oh, dear,” Sarah said to herself, “They apparently did not receive the message about Anna’s seizure and I have no way of contacting them. Hopefully, she will sleep quietly tonight.”
Sarah elected to construct a pallet so she could sleep by Anna. She laid down and listened to the child’s quiet breathing for a long time before falling asleep. She awakened to the distressing sound of rhythmic thumps in her charge. She instantly moved over onto Anna’s bed and began gently caressing her hair and speaking softly to her. After Anna calmed into a post-ictal state, Sarah wanted to get medical help. Who could be trusted? The servants might be afraid to help. She certainly couldn’t leave Anna to her servants. Her mind turned to Andrew. She would go to him.
As she stood outside Andrew’s door with her candle, she felt a little foolish in her night clothes as she knocked repeatedly. After a delay, a yawning Andrew opened the door. He saw Sarah and his facial countenance rapidly focused. “What is going on?”
“Anna had another seizure. Can you take one of the servants and find her doctor?”
“In the middle of the night?”
“Please.”
“I am at your service. I shall dress quickly and meet the servant downstairs.”
Sarah returned to wait in Anna’s room for what seemed an interminable amount of time until the French physician entered with Andrew behind.
The doctor bowed and spoke in broken English, “Your friend was, how do you say, insistent.” He then leaned to examine Anna. “I am afraid she is very ill. She has had several seizures today, no?”
“Yes.”
He then lapsed into a rapid flow of his native language, which she could only partly follow. She could make out his cursing the lack of some medicine. After he became quiet again, she asked, “Are you having difficulty finding a medicine?”
“It is true, mademoiselle. I wish we had Assafoetida drops to treat her fits.”
“Where can we get them?” Sarah asked.
“None are to be had in Paris.”
After a moment, Andrew asked, “Assafoetida is a plant species from Central Asia - is it not?”
“Yes,” the doctor nodded.
“Then, perhaps one of my fellow botanists in Paris will have some.” Without explanation, Andrew nudged the servant out the door and left.
At the doctor’s instruction, Sarah placed cool compresses over Anna’s forehead and they sat down to wait.
Sarah awakened at a noise in the embassy and noticed the darkness outside was becoming a pre-dawn grey. Andrew burst into the room and brought a few dry leaves to the doctor. “Can you use these leaves? My Parisian colleague just brought some back from his eastern expedition.”
The doctor put his glasses on and exclaimed, “Yes, yes, of course.”
Sarah and Andrew anxiously watched the doctor grind the leaves with his mortar and pestle and then liquefy the powder. Using a sipping dish, Sarah assisted the doctor in gently rousing Anna and helping her take the solution.
After an hour, Anna fell into a restful sleep.
Early in the morning, Sir Thomas and Lady Staley unexpectedly returned to the embassy. Sarah and Andrew met them at the foot of the stairs.
Sir Thomas said, “A messenger overtook us on the way to Lyon. We turned around immediately.”
Sarah hurriedly told of the events and of Andrew’s assistance. Sir Thomas and Lady Staley were not comforted until they beheld their peaceful Anna.
The adults quietly stepped outside Anna’s room to continue talking.
“Thank you, Andrew for helping with Anna last night,” Sir Thomas said as he shook hands.
His aunt said, “She is resting so peacefully now, I am glad you came to our family’s aid.”
Andrew rose in Sarah’s esteem and gratitude as the Staley’s continued to talk about Anna’s condition and as they heard the servant tell about Andrew’s persistence in gaining entrance to a fellow botanist’s house in Paris.
Chapter Twelve
A week later, Sarah was absent-mindedly gazing out the second floor window of the embassy, watching the activities of the people on the street below. The quiet sounds of conversation drifting up to her were interrupted by the harsh sounds of a carriage rapidly approaching the embassy. As the driver pulled the lathered horses to a quick stop, Sarah was surprised to see Andrew Darcy step down and rush towards the embassy entrance. The glimpse Sarah had of his face filled her with alarm, for his countenance was troubled.
She went to the landing at the top of the stairs and watched h
is rapid ascent. He seemed surprised to see her, perhaps a bit disoriented.
Sarah signaled a servant to take the gentleman’s coat and as soon as they were alone on the landing, Andrew whispered, “Something terrible has happened. . . .”
“Pray tell, what is the matter.”
“John is in jail for murder,” he blurted.
“No. It cannot be.”
“I need to speak to Uncle Thomas, immediately.”
“Yes, of course,” Sarah said as she grasped his arm and began to walk. “Come this way, he is in the parlor.”
As they entered the room where Sir Thomas and Lady Staley were seated in conversation, Sarah quickly released Andrew’s arm and rushed to sit by her aunt. Andrew paced back and forth for a moment before mumbling, “It is entirely my fault.”
“Andrew, calm down and tell us what the problem is--it cannot be as bad as. . . .”
“It could not be worse! John is in jail for murder!” the young man barked.
“What!?” Sir Thomas jumped to his feet. “Tell me what happened.”
“John appears to have fatally wounded Captain Wiley in a duel.”
Thomas took the young man by the shoulders, “Sit down, Andrew. John certainly knows that dueling has been outlawed. How did this come about?”
Andrew sank into the chair and ran his hand, nervously, through his hair as he continued. “Captain Wiley challenged him to the code de honor. John might have been able to ignore it, except the French captain began speaking horribly about Laura.”
Lady Staley interrupted, “What did he say?”
“Well, he called Laura a ‘slut’ and other words I do not wish to repeat. He egged John by with continuing to insult her; and, as a result, John accepted the challenge to fight the Captain.” He looked chagrined, “I am sorry to be the bearer of such tidings.”
“Nonsense. At least we know you will tell us the truth, no matter how uncomfortable it might be,” Thomas said. “Pray, tell us all.”
“Lieutenant Fabry was Captain Wiley’s second and I, obviously, became John’s. Instead of waiting until the morning, we proceeded to a nearby field, where John chose pistols as the weapon. I had little apprehension for the skill of John, but I little thought of how a code de honor is settled. . . . I should have talked my brother out of it.” He stood and paced again, “Now, I may lose my only brother” He turned to Sir Thomas, “How will I ever explain this to my parents?
“We will pray that the situation is not as glum as it appears,” Sir Thomas said. “You stated that Captain Wiley appeared to be fatally wounded. Is he dead yet?”
“I do not think so; however, the attending surgeon is quite pessimistic.”
“Where there is life, there is hope,” Lady Staley said without much conviction.
“Where is John now?” Sir Thomas asked. “Was he injured at all?”
“He lies in the city gaol. He has some cuts, but of what concern is that when his life is threatened?”
“Let us go there immediately,” Sir Thomas said. “This will require all the diplomatic skills I have learned. Though the revolution is over, we have little ability to predict the new government’s response. Georgiana, I trust you will pray for us while we are on our errand.”
She surprised him by standing and saying, “I will be in constant prayer, but. . . .”
Sarah interrupted and completed Georgiana’s statement, “We wish to accompany you.”
Thomas furrowed his eyebrows for a moment and then replied, “A gaol is not a place for women to visit; but, I can see you are both intent on your purpose, so you may come along.”
Sarah asked, “May I have just a moment to run to my room. I should like to take a few items that may be of use.”
As she left the room, she heard Georgiana ask, “Shall we inform Laura and Maria? They are at Madam Duval’s.”
Sir Thomas replied, “There is not time. They will find out soon enough.”
The group was quiet as the carriage raced to the gaol. As they arrived at the stone entrance, Sarah was sick to her stomach with apprehension about John. Sir Thomas showed his credentials and talked with the guard for several moments before they were led into the gaol.
Sarah noticed a distinctly unpleasant odor emanating from the entrance of the gloomy building. The smells became overpowering as the guard led them down a flight of steps, to a dimly lit landing.
Catcalls rang out and whistles were directed at the women. Sarah decided to keep a stony face and not react. She was thankful that her sheltered life prevented her from understanding many of the words they used--they certainly were not ones she had learned in her French language studies!
The guard yelled at one point to the surrounding cacophony of sounds, “Keep it down.” He then opened the door and let the ambassador’s group in.
John stood in his blood stained clothes and mustered a rakish smile as he bowed, “Welcome to my resplendent quarters. The servants will see to your every desire.”
Sir Thomas said, “John. This is serious. Even as ambassador, I may not be able to disentangle you from this affair.”
Lady Staley softly asked, “John, what happened to your leg?”
“Only a nick from my opponent. It is not my leg I am worried about, but my neck.”
Sarah rushed over and knelt down on the filthy floor to examine his leg. She removed a clean cloth and flask from her package and began wiping off the dirt and blood from around the wound, thankful for the small bottle of water she had brought along.”
As she ministered to his injury, John looked at his uncle and asked, “What are we to do?”
“I really do not know. Napoleonic law is quite different from English Common Law. I don’t know how we can prove your innocence. We will find the best lawyer in Paris for you.”
John asked, “Is Captain Wiley dead?”
Sir Thomas replied, “We do not know. I will ascertain his status as soon as possible.”
Lady Staley asked, “Is there anything you need?”
“I do not think even you can get rid of the vermin--both two-legged and four-legged; however, I think you are permitted to send food, since I see other prisoners receiving food from the outside.”
His aunt replied, “Of course, we will arrange food to be sent.”
John then asked quietly, “Must you tell my parents?” There was no answer immediately forthcoming, so John raked his hand through his hair and answered it himself, “Yes, yes. Of course you must.”
“Time to go,” the guard interrupted. By this time, Sarah had bandaged his leg wound reasonably well. She handed John the remaining water in the bottle.
As the foursome left the prison, Andrew was the first to speak.
“I am not sure John fully understands his predicament. Uncle Thomas, what are his chances of. . . of. . . .”
“Execution,” his uncle filled in the sentence. . . . “I do not know. In England his chances would be lesser, since family connections mean a lot there. Here, at this moment, I can not think how we shall begin to procure his release if the captain dies. Fortunately, General D’Arbley has not yet been purged by the new govenment. ”
The group remained solemnly silent for the remainder of the trip to the embassy.
Word had been sent to Madame Duval’s and Laura and Maria were impatiently waiting for their arrival. “What has happened to John?” Laura asked as tears continued to run down her face. “Is it true he got into this mess because of some foolishness about me?” Sarah thought it had been a long time since she had seen her sister lose her composure.
Lady Staley took Maria on one side and Laura on the other and explained the situation as they entered the embassy and ascended the stairs. At the top of the landing, Laura cried out, “He should not have done it! I deserved whatever names the Captain called me. Why did John risk his life for my honor?” Sarah saw her sister begin to cry in earnest and run to her room. Sarah’s attitude softened toward her sister as she saw real concern exhibited. Had Laura not been touch
ed by their cousin’s plight, Sarah would have concluded her sibling had a heart of stone. Maria looked shocked, bewildered, and very frightened; she clung to her aunt as though trying to absorb some of her strength.
Sir Thomas quickly departed to ascertain the status of Captain Wiley.
Sarah ascertained the Staley children were accounted for and Georgiana was settled in the parlor, trying to console Maria. Andrew spent most of the time pacing, seemingly unaware of the others waiting with him.
The few hours Sir Thomas was gone seemed an eternity for Sarah and her companions. Occasionally they would attempt to talk. The group could not decide if John’s main fault was his desire for pranks or his intense pride in family.
Maria said, “His pranks have always provided a great diversion. Perhaps if I had not laughed so at his antics, he would have outgrown his delight in trickery.”
Andrew put his arms around her, “Little sister, I am sure John would have found fun in teasing others regardless of your response. It is not your fault, you could have done nothing to stop him.”
Sarah experienced anxiety at a depth she had not sensed since the loss of her own mother. Her cousin, John, felt like a brother to her. Losing him would create one more void in her life. Aunt Elizabeth was very close to each of her three children--what would the loss, especially in such a horrible way, mean to Elizabeth and Uncle Fitzwilliam?
Eagerly, Sarah searched her uncle’s face upon his return. His inscrutable look left her unable to decide if he had discovered favorable information during his excursion.
Finally Georgiana asked him, “Please, tell us what you found?”
“I think the French surgeons are very much like our English surgeons,” he said as he sat down. He was quiet for a moment, gathering his thoughts before continuing. “I went to the house where Captain Wiley lies in a first floor room. I met the surgeon, who clearly speaks very little English, so I was thankful to be fluent in French. He emphasized to me the gravity of the officer’s condition and pronounced that he is likely to die. Then, he looked at me and asked if I were going to pay him since my relative had caused the wound. He said the magistrate would take it into account if we paid for the damages.”
