The Ragged Heiress

by Dilly Court

  ‘No, Sam. I’ve told you that I can’t leave Lennie.’

  ‘Then I will bring supper here to you.’ Sam snatched up his cap and rammed it on his head. ‘We’ll dine here and you can keep an eye on the old boy while we share our first meal together.’

  He was gone before she could raise any further objections, and when he returned he was carrying a bundle wrapped in newspaper. ‘Where are the plates? I’ve bought hot pie, pease pudding and baked potatoes. What is more …’ From his pocket he produced a bottle of rum and a large yellow lemon. ‘For hot toddy,’ he said proudly. ‘Put the kettle on, Lucetta. We’ll dine like royalty and drink a toast to our future.’

  Sam sat opposite her at the small table and he ate with relish, drinking copious amounts of hot toddy and becoming more and more expansive beneath its influence. He told her stories of his adventures at sea and Lucetta began to relax a little. She had forgotten what an amusing companion he could be and the tension between them eased. She kept an eye on Guthrie but he was heavily sedated and his moans were muffled and less frequent. Lucetta could only hope that the healing process had begun, and that the poisons were leaching from his body.

  ‘He’s fine,’ Sam said, refilling her glass. ‘Stop worrying about him and drink up. This is a night for celebration.’ He thrust his hand into his breast pocket, producing a folded document with a flourish. ‘And this is the key to our future happiness.’

  Despite her misgivings, Lucetta could not help being curious. ‘What is that?’

  ‘A special licence, my darling. We can be married when and where you choose.’

  Lucetta felt panic rise in her breast. ‘I–I can’t think about it while Lennie is so ill, Sam. You must give me more time.’

  Sam reached across the table to clasp her hand and his eyes shone with an unnatural brilliance. ‘Don’t take too long, Lucetta. I will have to leave London as soon as my ship is seaworthy. I want to make you mine before I set sail again.’

  She could see that he had drunk too much and she was suddenly nervous. ‘I think you should leave now, Sam. It’s getting late and we’re both tired.’

  He stood up, swaying slightly as he pulled her to her feet. ‘I’m not leaving you alone tonight.’

  ‘You’re drunk.’ She had not meant to shout but something in the timbre of her voice must have reached Guthrie’s drugged brain and he stirred in his sleep.

  Sam drew her slowly to him, holding her captive and gazing into her eyes with a triumphant smile. ‘I may be drunk but I’m not stupid. You belong to me and tonight I’m going to stake my claim.’

  There was no doubting his meaning and Lucetta attempted to break free from his grasp but her struggles only seemed to amuse him and he swept her off her feet, lifting her in his arms as he strode towards the staircase.

  ‘No, Sam, please put me down. I have to stay with Lennie. He might die …’

  Sam carried her up the stairs to the bedroom and tossed her onto the bed. ‘He’s had enough laudanum to stun an elephant. My needs are greater than his.’ He began unbuttoning his shirt, but a look of uncertainty crossed his features and he sat down heavily on the edge of the bed. ‘Hell and damnation.’ He collapsed against the pillows, closing his eyes. ‘I need to lie down for a moment or two. That bloody rum must have …’ He drifted off into a drunken stupor.

  Lucetta clambered off the bed and ran from the room, closing the door softly in case the sound should awaken him. Her heart was pounding as she crept downstairs and she was trembling with fear and mounting anger. How dare he treat her like a common street girl? That wasn’t the Sam she had known and loved. He had been a gentleman. She went to the table and on examining the bottle she realised that he had drunk the best part of its contents. He would have a sore head in the morning but she could not bring herself to pity him. She picked up the empty kettle and went outside into the frozen night, taking a candle with her and holding it to the metal pump until it thawed just enough to allow a trickle of water. Above her the sky was a dome of blackness pierced by tiny pinpricks of twinkling light. A full moon turned the snow-covered yard into a fairyland of sparkling prisms and she took deep breaths of the crisp air. Sam’s drunken actions had sullied her home, making her feel uncomfortable and unclean, but out here seemed to have been purified by the freezing temperature and the drifts of virgin snow. It was too cold to linger for long but it was with great reluctance that she went indoors. She hoped and prayed that Sam would sleep until morning when she intended to ask him to leave.

  She slept fitfully in a chair by the fire, waking every time Guthrie stirred. She gave him sips of water and when the pain grew too intense she dosed him with more laudanum. She was stiff and sore and it seemed that the night was going on forever, but she must have drifted off to sleep eventually as she awoke with a start to find pale slithers of daylight slanting through the windowpanes. Half awake, she realised that someone was rapping urgently on the doorknocker. She dragged herself to her feet and hurried to open the door to find Giles and Mary standing on the pavement and the Harcourts’ carriage and horses waiting at the kerbside.

  Mary rushed past Giles to fling her arms around Lucetta’s neck. ‘Oh, Daisy, I’m so glad to see you.’

  Lucetta found herself being hugged until she was breathless, but Mary’s enthusiastic greeting was infectious and she returned the embrace. ‘Come inside out of the cold.’

  ‘Mary insisted on coming,’ Giles said, stamping the snow off his boots before following them indoors.

  ‘Yes, of course I did,’ Mary said, smiling happily. ‘Giles has told me everything, Daisy, and I’ve come to help you care for the patient.’

  Lucetta stared at her dazedly. ‘But I thought you were still in Dorset. Or are you back at the hospital now?’

  ‘I’ll tell you everything after Giles has examined Mr Guthrie and given me my instructions. You are not alone now, Daisy dear. I intend to stay as long as you need me.’ She took off her bonnet and fur-lined mantle and hung them on the row of pegs. She rolled up her sleeves. ‘We will look after him together.’

  Lucetta waited hardly daring to breathe as Mary undid the bandages and Giles examined Guthrie’s livid wound. The stench of corrupting flesh filled the room and Lucetta clapped her hands over her mouth to stifle a cry of despair. She knew even before Giles confirmed her suspicions that the poison had spread.

  Giles rose to his feet and his expression was grave. ‘He has to go to hospital, Lucetta. The limb is gangrenous and must be amputated. Even then his chances of survival are slim, but without an operation he has only hours to live.’

  Mary put her arms around Lucetta, giving her a sympathetic hug. ‘Listen to Giles, my dear. He really does know best.’

  ‘So you’re here again are you, quack?’

  Lucetta had almost forgotten that Sam was sleeping off the effects of the rum toddy, and he had come downstairs in his stockinged feet. His shirt was unbuttoned to the waist and he leaned against the wall, folding his arms across his chest with a challenge in his eyes as he glared at Giles.

  Lucetta could see by the expression on their faces that Giles and Mary had leapt to the wrong conclusion. After all, what would anyone think when they saw a man half-dressed coming from a lady’s bedchamber? She raised her hands in a gesture of desperation. ‘This isn’t what you think, Giles.’

  His expression was dark and unreadable as their eyes met. ‘It’s none of my business, Lucetta. My main concern at this moment is Guthrie. I must get him to hospital right away.’

  ‘That’s right, cully,’ Sam said, grinning. ‘Take the worthless fellow and put him where he belongs. Lucetta and I have a wedding to arrange.’

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Lucetta sat on a hard bench in the hospital atrium with Mary at her side. They were surrounded by people of all ages, some of them barely conscious and others groaning with pain from multiple injuries. The stench of blood, pus and urine was barely concealed by the strong smell of carbolic acid, and the sound of coughing, snee
zing and retching reverberated off the high ceiling, rumbling over their heads like distant thunder.

  Every time a nurse walked past, Lucetta was tempted to stop her and beg for news, but somehow she managed to contain her anxiety and maintain an outward appearance of calm. Guthrie had been admitted to a ward immediately on their arrival at Bart’s. There had been no waiting in line and Lucetta knew that she had Giles to thank for that. He had sought out Dr Richards, who had examined Guthrie and had had no hesitation in agreeing with Giles’ diagnosis and prognosis. The two doctors had accompanied Guthrie to the ward and Giles had returned some time later with the news that the operation was to be carried out with the utmost urgency, and he had been granted permission to be present in theatre. Lucetta had murmured her thanks but she could not look him in the eye. Even now, several hours later, her cheeks reddened as she recalled the embarrassing scene earlier that morning when Sam had appeared at the foot of the stairs, half dressed and tousled from sleep. Despite her attempts to explain that she had spent the night tending to Guthrie, Sam had given her a conspiratorial wink and a smile, as if to confirm the intimate nature of their relationship. To make matters worse, he had produced the special licence, declaring their intention to be married as soon as the necessary arrangements were made. The implication that they had spent the night together was left floating in the air like a putrid waft of marsh gas. If Guthrie had not been quite literally at death’s door Lucetta would have refuted this slur on her character, but it had not been the time or the place for heated arguments. She had wished that the dirt floor would open up and swallow her, but Sam had been unrepentant. He had maintained a cheerful flow of conversation while he buttoned his shirt and tied his tie, but Giles had turned his back on him and Mary was too busy attending to Guthrie to pay much attention to Sam’s suggestive remarks. Eventually, to Lucetta’s intense relief, Sam left the house, promising to return after he had arranged for work to begin on repairing the damage to the Sea Eagle.

  She would meet that challenge when it happened, but now she sat with her head bowed and her hands clasped tightly in her lap as she waited for news from the operating theatre.

  ‘They’ll do everything they can for him,’ Mary whispered. ‘Try not to worry, Daisy.’

  Lucetta nodded and flashed a weak attempt at a smile in Mary’s direction, but she couldn’t speak. In the beginning she had hated both Stranks and Guthrie, but Lennie had proved himself to be a true friend. He had stood by her when she most needed help and he had asked nothing in return. In the beginning she had been dependent upon him, but now their roles were reversed and now her feelings for him were verging on the maternal. She could not bear to think of him dying alone amongst strangers.

  Mary squeezed her hand. ‘I understand. I really do.’

  ‘I know, and thank you for coming with me. I’m sorry I left Dorset without telling you.’

  ‘Don’t be. Papa told me everything and he was very ashamed of himself. He said he was an old fool for deluding himself into thinking that a girl like you would want to marry a man old enough to be her father.’

  ‘Sir Hector is a fine man. I was honoured …’

  ‘There’s no need to explain. I love my papa but you two wouldn’t suit.’

  ‘I would make a poor wife for a politician.’

  ‘I didn’t mean that, and anyway, you were always in love with Sam. Or has that changed now?’

  Lucetta met Mary’s steady gaze and she shook her head. ‘I don’t know, Mary. I honestly don’t know. I’m totally confused and all I can think of at the moment is Lennie.’

  ‘I know, dear,’ Mary said softly. ‘I’m praying for the poor man.’

  Lucetta stiffened as she heard approaching footsteps. She knew instinctively that it was Giles and she rose to greet him with outstretched hands. ‘Is he …?’ the words stuck in her throat.

  ‘The operation was a success. He’s back on the ward and you can see him now, but don’t overtire him. He’s very weak and still has a long way to go.’

  ‘I’ll wait here,’ Mary said. ‘We’ll take you home when you’re ready, Daisy.’

  Lucetta hesitated. ‘I don’t want him to wake up amongst strangers. Could you get a message to Sam and tell him that I’m here?’

  ‘Of course. You mustn’t worry about a thing, must she, Giles?’ Mary looked up at him with a trusting smile that was not lost on Lucetta.

  Giles nodded his head. ‘We will take care of everything, Lucetta. You have no need to worry.’

  Lucetta allowed him to escort her to the ward. Their offers of help had lifted a weight from her shoulders, but even though her main concern was for Guthrie, Sam’s presence loomed large at the back of her mind. The man she had loved and thought she had lost was now desperate to make her his wife, and yet she was uneasy. Her friends had forgiven her for her ill-considered behaviour and it was obvious that Giles and Mary were as one in their thoughts and actions; she should have been happy for them, but she was not. Lucetta entered the long ward with feelings of deep misgiving and it was not just for Guthrie that she was concerned.

  The iron bedsteads stretched in serried ranks down the length of the ward. Nurses bustled about bristling with starched white aprons, caps and cuffs, and there was a cathedral-like hush. The male patients lay on their backs with the sheets tucked up to their necks like well-behaved schoolboys asleep in their dormitories.

  Giles led her to the bed nearest the door where the curtains were drawn together. He held them apart. ‘You’ll be allowed to stay for a short time only. We’ll wait for you.’

  Lucetta laid her hand on his arm. ‘Thank you, Giles, but I’d rather you took Mary home. I’m not leaving Lennie here alone.’

  ‘They won’t allow you to stay, my dear.’

  She raised her chin. ‘We’ll see about that.’

  He smiled in response and brushed her cheek with a kiss. ‘We’ll be here when you need us.’ He let the curtain fall and she was alone at the bedside.

  Guthrie stirred and his eyelids fluttered as if in response to her presence.

  ‘Lennie, it’s me,’ Lucetta said softly. She pulled up a chair and sat down beside him, taking his hand as it lay on the white counterpane. ‘You’re going to get better now. You’ll soon be home.’

  He opened his eyes, focusing them on her face with an obvious effort. ‘Lucy?’

  ‘Yes, it’s me, Lennie. I’m here.’ She squeezed his fingers gently, forcing her lips into a smile, but she was frightened by his gaunt appearance. His skin had a grey tone to it and his eyes appeared sunken in his skull. His lips were dry and cracked and he seemed to find it difficult to speak.

  ‘Thirsty,’ he murmured.

  Lucetta looked round for water but there was none. She was about to get up and look for a nurse when the curtains were pulled aside and a nurse appeared as if by magic. She placed a jug and a glass on the locker beside the bed.

  ‘Sips of water only,’ she said sternly. ‘You can stay for five minutes, miss, but then I must ask you to leave. The patient needs rest.’

  She was gone before Lucetta had time to argue. She poured water into the glass and held it to Guthrie’s lips. ‘Don’t go,’ he gasped. ‘Don’t leave me.’

  ‘I’m not going anywhere, Lennie. I’ll be here when you wake, I promise.’ She settled back on the chair, taking hold of his hand once again and stroking it gently as he drifted back to sleep.

  She must have dozed off herself as she awakened suddenly to find the nurse standing beside her. ‘You must leave now.’

  Lucetta shook her head. ‘I would rather stay.’

  ‘It’s against the rules, I’m afraid. I must ask you to go now, please.’

  ‘Damn the rules,’ Lucetta said stubbornly. ‘You will have to carry me bodily from this place. I promised Lennie that I would be here when he woke up.’

  ‘I’ll fetch the doctor.’

  ‘Do that, but he won’t make me change my mind.’

  Minutes later the curtains were pulled apart
and Dr Richards faced her with a worried frown. ‘I’m sorry, Miss Guthrie, but I must agree with Sister. You should go home and get some rest. Visiting hours are from three o’clock until four on Tuesdays and Fridays, and two o’clock until three on Sundays.’

  ‘Then I’m definitely not leaving,’ Lucetta said, settling further down onto the hard wooden chair. ‘If I go now it will be two days before I can visit again, and that is just not good enough.’

  Guthrie opened his eyes and he gave a start when he saw the doctor. ‘Don’t let them take me leg, Lucy. Tell him I can wiggle me toes. Look.’ He stared down at the hump in the bed where a cage covered the afflicted limb. ‘I’m wiggling them, can you see? They itch something terrible. Will you scratch them for me, Lucy?’

  Lucetta looked up at the doctor for confirmation, but he shook his head. ‘They often feel the amputated limb as if it were still there,’ he whispered. ‘Don’t be alarmed.’

  ‘What’s he saying?’ Guthrie demanded. ‘Tell him to go away, Lucy. I won’t have me leg cut off.’

  Lucetta leaned forward to stroke Guthrie’s brow. ‘It’s all right, Lennie. I won’t let them touch you.’

  Dr Richards beckoned to the nurse who was hovering at the far side of the bed. ‘Make up a dose of laudanum, nurse. And allow the young lady to stay as she seems to have a quietening influence on the patient. Keep the curtains drawn so that he does not disturb the rest of the ward.’

  Lucetta twisted her lips into a semblance of a smile. ‘Thank you, doctor. I’m most grateful.’

  ‘Giles told me that you were a very capable young lady. I can see that he was right, but this is strictly against the hospital rules.’

  ‘I understand, and I’ll be very quiet.’

  He acknowledged this with a nod of his head. The curtain rings rattled as he drew the curtains behind him and Lucetta was left alone with Guthrie.

  She lost all track of time as she kept her vigil at his bedside. The routine of the ward went on outside the curtains but Lucetta concentrated her attention on Guthrie, willing him to pull through. They were left alone except for the occasional visit from one of the nurses as she checked Guthrie’s pulse and temperature. The daylight faded and shadows deepened. Lucetta found herself drifting off to the other-world place between sleeping and waking, and although she fought to stay awake she only realised that she had lost that particular battle when she opened her eyes and found the cubicle suffused by the soft glow of gaslight. She was stiff, cold and her stomach rumbled, reminding her that she had eaten nothing since the previous evening. She sat upright, listening to the now familiar sounds of pattering feet and the clank of bedpans, the moans of the other patients and the soft whispering voices of the nurses going about their duties.