Georgiana took the bit of cloth from him and he leaned over Peter again. “Now to stitch him up. It is most fortunate for the young man that he is passed out.”
Dr. Milton took his time with his needle work, and Georgiana felt her arm muscles cramp as she held the candle for him so he could see better. When he finally rose, she helped him make a bandage of a sheet she tore into strips, and they bound Peter’s shoulder as best they could.
“He is running a terrible fever from the infection, but there is not much I can do for that. He will have to fight that on his own.”
She helped Dr. Milton wipe his instruments and then showed him out the door.
“I will return to see if he is still alive tomorrow.”
“Thank you, Dr. Milton.” She locked the door again and taking another blanket from her bed, she covered Peter’s feverish body. Then she settled in the chair next to him and waited.
13
The knock at the door became louder and Georgiana rose from her sleep and lifted her head.
“Lady Fairchild, it’s me, Harriet.”
Georgiana sat up straight and winced at the pain that shot though her neck and back. She had fallen asleep in the chair.
“I’m coming, Harriet,” she called and stood, moving awkwardly across the room. Her left leg was completely numb and she limped her way to the door. She unlocked it and blocked the opening with her body. “I’m sorry, Harriet, for my strange behavior, but I require only to be left alone today. Would you please bring me my breakfast?”
“Yes, of course,” Harriet said frowning. “But m’lady, you are still dressed in yesterday’s clothes.”
She glanced down at herself. “So I am, but that is not important. I need some warm water, please, to wash with. And Harriet, again, please don’t mention any of this especially to Grace.”
“No, m’lady,” she said and with a curtsy, she left and went down the hall.
Georgiana locked the door again, and leaned back against it closing her eyes. Poor Harriet, such strange behavior in her mistress must be hard to conceal. Still, she could neither move Peter nor have the staff know of his presence in her room. She made her way back to Peter, and kneeling down next to him, she touched her hand to his forehead. He was burning up. She knew she had to do something, or he would die.
When Harriet returned, she opened the door wide, much to the girl’s surprise, and let her in. “Harriet, I’m going to need your help, and I am going to trust you with a great confidence because I know I can rely on you.”
Harriet nodded her head.
“You will tell no one,” Georgiana insisted and took the warm water from her.
“I will not,” Harriet said, looking frightened.
Georgiana led her to where Peter lay on the floor, and the girl dropped down next to him.
“It’s Peter,” she said her voice horrified. “What’s wrong with him?”
Harriet sounded upset but Georgiana did not pay much attention to the girl. She placed the bowl of warm water on the table.
“I have to get his temperature down, so you will have to help me.”
“How?”
“We will have to wrap him in cold sheets. We will wet them and hang them out the window for a while, then wrap him up in them until his temperature drops. Will you help me?”
“Of course,” she said.
“Good. We will need more sheets and buckets of water. Make sure no one sees you.”
When Harriet had gathered all they would need, they set to work. First, they soaked the sheets in water and hung them out the window. Then Georgiana removed Peter’s clothes, while Harriet tried valiantly to avert her gaze from Peter’s nakedness.
“Have you never seen a naked man?” Georgiana asked, smiling.
“No, miss,” Harriet said quietly.
They retrieved the sheet from the window and wrapped it around Peter’s body, being careful with his shoulder. He lay like a mummy wrapped up as they waited. When the sheet had lost all of its coldness, they unrolled him again and rewrapped him in the next sheet. They repeated the process all morning until, finally, his skin was no longer burning, and they sat exhausted next to him, eating a well-deserved breakfast together.
“Oh, miss, he is lucky to have one as you to take care of him. Not many gentry would care so for their servants.”
Georgiana took a bite of her bread. “And he is lucky to have a friend such as you that cares so for his well-being. That is why you must tell no one he is here. Do you understand?”
“Yes, miss,” she said quietly. “I would not want anything bad to happen to him.”
“Excellent,” she replied and took a sip of her tea.
They sat on the bed and ate in silence for a while, both of them gazing at Peter. Georgiana could feel the curiosity behind the small glances Harriet sent her way.
Finally, Harriet said, “How did it happen?”
“I cannot really say.”
“Has it to do with the smuggling, miss?”
Georgiana lowered her teacup back to her plate. “What do you know of the smuggling?”
Harriet looked suddenly frightened.
“It’s all right, Harriet. I am not angry with you. I promise nothing you tell me will leave this room.”
She glanced at Georgiana nervously. “It was only rumors, miss, at first about the boys you brought from London. Then I overheard them talking of it. Please don’t be angry, miss.”
“I am not angry, Harriet. Did you tell the other servants about this?”
“No, miss, I swear, but most people knows anyway.”
Georgiana studied her and knew the truth of what she said.
“You best go back downstairs and remember a word to no one.”
“I swear no one will hear of it from me.”
Georgiana locked the door after Harriet left, collapsed on her bed, wanting nothing more than to sleep for long uninterrupted hours. She lifted her arm above her head and flinched at her own smell. She needed to wash and change her clothes.
She pulled herself off the bed again and made her way to the table where she had left the water Harriet had brought. She ran her hand through it, and sighed. It was no longer warm. She glanced at Peter who had yet to stir, but decided to move the silk screen into place anyway. She took off her clothes and ran the wet cloth quickly over her skin. She used some lavender soap and held it to her nose breathing in the wonderful fragrance. It was one luxury she made sure the boys returned with on their trips to France. When she was finished, she dried her skin, and then slipped her arms into her blue velvet robe and tied the belt above her bulging middle. When she came out from behind the silk screen, she found Peter watching her.
“You are awake,” she said and sat down next to him, touching his forehead. His temperature was warm but not as bad as before.
“Water,” he said softly.
She rose and poured a glass of water then returned. She held his head up, and put the glass to his mouth. His lips were dry and cracked. He coughed and choked and she lowered his head. She wiped the water that had spilled down his face and neck with the sleeve of her robe. His eyes were closed again, and she made to move away, but his hand wrapped around her arm and held her.
“What happened?”
“You passed out and I had Dr. Milton tend your wound. There was a piece of your shirt buried in your shoulder, which caused an infection. He dug it out and sewed you back up again.”
“You shouldn’t have done that,” he breathed.
“I had to, or you would be dead now. We can trust him. No one else knows you are here except for Harriet.”
“Harriet?”
“My lady’s maid.”
“I know who she is,” he said, struggling to get the words out.
“I had to get your temperature down and I could not lift you by myself, could I?”
“Where are my clothes?”
“On the chair over there,” she said.
“Bring them. I need to go.”
> She frowned. “You can’t even walk, and you are staying right here, at least for another day. Then I’ll have the boys come fetch you in the dead of night.”
“No.”
“Very well,” she said and stood up. “If you think you can walk out of here, then you can certainly retrieve your own clothes.”
He sat up with great difficulty, and then managed to pull himself into the chair. She crossed her arms watching him, and he glanced at her.
“Now all that is required is that you stand and walk a few paces.”
He stood up and swayed across the room, putting one foot in front of the next, and letting the sheet that covered him fall to the floor. She had seen him naked before but it was different when he was wide-awake.
She felt suddenly like Harriet and glanced away from his body in confusion as she felt her face flood with color. She heard him laugh softly and she stamped her foot in anger and turned her back on him. The next instant she heard him stumble, and then a loud thump as his body fell to the floor. She turned around quickly and was at his side, helping him turn around to lie on his back.
“Now look what you have done,” she cried seeing the blood on his chest. “You opened the stitches on your shoulder.”
He was laughing, and she dropped his head from where it lay on her lap and stood up angrily. His head hit the floor, but still he laughed.
“You find this amusing?” she hissed. “Can you get up with my help and make it to the bed?”
He nodded and sat up. With his good arm over her shoulder, she pulled him up and helped him to the bed where he lay down heavily. She pulled a blanket over his nakedness, and then fetched some water and a cloth. She placed the bowl of water on the bedside table, and then sat down next to him. She carefully untied the bandage around his shoulder, pulling it carefully away from his skin, and then studied the wound.
“Just as I thought, you pulled some of the stitches open again.”
She wiped the blood as best she could, then retrieved her sewing kit.
“What are you going to do with that?” he asked, eyeing a thick needle she pulled out.
“Sew you up, of course,” she said.
“Don’t you have something smaller?”
“Not for your thick hide. As stubborn as a mule, aren’t you?” she said and smiled slowly.
“I never took you for the vengeful type,” he grumbled.
“Hold still.”
She had saved some of the strong thread Dr. Milton had used and threaded her needle with it.
“I thought you said you hated needle work.”
“I do,” she said, concentrating hard on threading the needle. “Was never any good at it.”
“Shouldn’t we wait for Dr. Milton?”
“No need,” she assured him. “I watched him earlier and it didn’t seem so complicated.”
She finally had the needle threaded and bent over his shoulder. She hesitated and turned her head to glance at him.
“This is going to hurt,” she said. “But you can’t move.”
“Bloody hell,” he said. “Get on with it if you are determined.”
She pinched the skin together where the stitches had pulled away and pushed the needle through the first layer of skin and flesh. She felt his body tense under her hand but he neither moved nor cried out, and she continued as quickly as she could to stitch him up. She had to pause occasionally to wipe the blood that made her needle slippery but she dared not glance at him as she worked. When she was finished, she tied off the thread and sat back.
“All done,” she said and glanced at him.
His face was pale and he closed his eyes in relief. A trickle of blood ran down his chin from where he had bitten his lip, and she realized the effort it had cost him to remain still. She rose and washed her hands then wiped the blood from the wound and dried it before applying a new bandage. When she had covered him with a blanket, she summoned Harriet for some hot soup to be brought up.
Georgiana fed her patient with a spoon and his color returned slowly. When he was asleep, she had Harriet help her dress and then left him in her care, while she went downstairs.
“There you are,” Grace said as she walked into the drawing room. “I was almost on my way up to see you.”
“I wasn’t feeling well, so I thought I would rest this morning,” she smiled.
“Oh dear, I do hope the long walk yesterday is not at fault. Should I fetch Dr. Milton?” Grace asked, concerned.
“No need,” she said. “He has already been here and said I am fine. He recommended lots of rest until I am fortified.”
“Then you must comply. Should you not be in bed?”
“Yes, but first I must see Harry about a small matter. I did not see him in the study. Do you know where he is?”
“I imagine he is at the post in the village. He had some letters that needed going out.”
“I see. When he returns, would you send him up to me?”
“Send him up?” Grace said surprised.
Georgiana sighed. “I know it’s not done, but there is no harm in it.”
“Of course,” she said. “Would you like me to sit with you?”
“No, that’s not necessary,” she smiled. “I will probably just sleep.”
She left the drawing room and made her way back up the grand staircase, her hand running along the smooth marble as she went. She was aware of the portraits as she passed, and felt them watching her. Edward’s ancestors all seemed to scowl and frown. Only his great Aunt Prudence had a smile on her face. She paused in front of the portrait and studied the lady. She had been a handsome woman in her youth, with a generous mouth and eyes full of life. She wore a huge white hat on her head and a sparkling diamond necklace. Georgiana now realized the necklace was the very same that Edward had given her to wear the night of the Regent’s fete.
“Prudence, what must you think of all this business?”
“Why are you talking to her?” a small voice said from beside her, and she jumped in fright.
“Dear Lord, Rupert,” she said and glanced down at his small upturned face that watched her curiously. “Never sneak up on old people, little one. You are likely to scare them to death.”
“You aren’t old,” he pointed out and turned to look at James who sat a few steps further up the stairs. “She’s not old, is she?”
James shrugged. “I don’t know, looks old to me.”
Rupert scowled at him then turning back to her, he pointed at the portrait. “Who is that?”
“Your father’s great Aunt Prudence. She was his great grandfather’s sister, I think.”
“Why do you talk to her?”
Georgiana shrugged and turned to look at the other portraits. “She seems friendly, not like that lot,” she said and waved a hand toward the other portraits. “Look at them all frowning in their self-importance.”
“I will smile,” Rupert said.
“You will?” she asked. “When?”
“When I get my portrait done.”
“You aren’t really the smiling kind. Is he, James?”
James shook his head. “No. You don’t smile.”
“I will.”
“I don’t know,” she said doubtfully. “You have to sit still and smile for a long time to have your picture painted.”
He frowned at her in his usual way.
“He could practice,” James suggested. “Like we practice our reading.”
“Maybe,” she said. “Let’s see your smile then.”
He pulled his mouth into an exaggerated grimace. She turned to look at James and they both shook their heads sadly.
“It needs a great deal of work.”
“I can do it,” Rupert said frowning again.
“You shall have to practice a great deal,” Georgiana said. “James could remind you every day.”
“Yes,” he said seriously. “Come along, James, I have to practice.”
She watched him marching down the stairs with James follo
wing. Mud waited for them just outside the door, and barked as they came out. She turned back to Prudence.
“Pru, you must admit, it is funny,” she said then turned up the staircase and down the hall to her room.
***
She was curled up with a blanket in the window seat, and watched James digging a hole in the garden while Rupert sat on the side watching. The book she had been reading lay forgotten in her lap. They were talking but she could not hear them. What was the hole for, she wondered, and why did James allow Rupert to order him around? She didn’t like it. She wanted Rupert to see James as an equal, but clearly he did not, and James seemed just as happy with the arrangement. She watched as James put down his shovel and went to fetch something in the house. He returned with a jacket for Rupert, then got back in the hole and continued to dig.
She snorted in disgust and turned away from the window.
“Why are you angry?” Peter asked.
She sat down on the bed next to him and touched his forehead. Warm but not hot.
“Rupert is treating James like a servant.”
“James is a servant.”
She frowned. “No, he isn’t, not to Rupert.”
“So you would rather James grew up thinking he is Rupert’s equal, and then when James is older you will tell him he is nothing but a servant and make him fetch and carry. You think that is kinder?”
“I’m not naïve but I refuse to allow society to dictate to me how I must treat others.”
She poured him a glass of water and helped him hold it so he could drink. He watched her as she wiped his mouth.
“You live in your own world, don’t you?” he said.
She shrugged. “Why not? I don’t care much for the one I’m in.”
“But you can’t force others to live in it with you.”
“No,” she said sadly. “I suppose not.”
“Did you speak to Harry?” he asked.
She nodded. “They will come for you at midnight.”
The words seemed to relax him and he closed his eyes again.
“Peter, why was Haskell dressed up like a gentleman today?”
He opened his eyes to look at her.
“I saw him and Harry returning from the village in the carriage. They were both dressed.”
Raven's Shadow (Book 2, the Ravenstone Chronicles) Page 24
