Page 54 of The Pursuit of Mrs. Pennyworth
Charlotte rapidly swallowedthe bile that rose to the back of her throat as the bullet was sucked out of Elliot’s arm. Blood began to ooze from the wound as the doctor grinned at her. “It came right out. Now we just have to clean him up and do a bit of stitching.”
Oh Lord. Stitching? Surely, she would faint watching a needle go into Elliot’s skin. She looked at him, and he gave her a smile that told her the brandy had begun to do its work. That was no surprise, since with the two glasses he’d downed, half the bottle of brandy was gone. Hopefully, while he was in his cups, he wouldn’t say anything embarrassing in front of the doctor. The look he was giving her was not encouraging in that regard.
“Madam, hold this pad on his wound to stem the flow of blood while I prepare the needle and thread.” The doctor handed her a wadded-up cloth that she placed against the gaping hole in his arm. He didn’t even wince. Instead, he looked up at her and winked.
Winked!
Oh Lord, maybe she should call Bridget back in and have her tend to the stitching. Then, she remembered the difficult time the girl had when she was faced with watching the bullet be extracted.
“If you will, ma’am, pour a bit more alcohol on this clean pad, and pat the wound with it. Then I will be ready to sew.” The doctor pulled the thread through a large needle, and deftly tied the end. She had the urge to cover her eyes with her hand when he began to stitch but managed to watch and not toss up her accounts. She stepped back once the job was finished and wiped the sweat from her forehead with the sleeve of her gown.
The doctor leaned over and examined his work. “That should hold you, young man.”
While he gathered up his implements, he shot off instructions. “I am leaving laudanum with you, but don’t give him any until the brandy has worn off. Also, don’t use it for longer than a day or two. I have learned this can become addictive.” One by one, he added items to his bag, making a small pile on the floor of the bloody cloths. “Mr. Baker should rest in bed for a few days. The blood loss will weaken him, so he should not fight you on that, anyway.”
He snapped the bag shut and turned to her. “Infection is my biggest concern. I picked out a few pieces of fabric from the wound, and I think we cleaned it up nicely, but if he should run a fever, keep giving him water, and have one of your male servants wipe him down with a cool, wet cloth.”
They both looked down at Elliot at the same time. He was fast asleep. “Good for him. Sleep is the best curative. Our body heals itself if we just get out of its way.” Charlotte followed him as he strode from the room, shouting more instructions over his shoulder. “See that he gets strong beef broth several times a day. It will help build up his blood.”
Down the stairs, and then shrugging into his jacket, he continued. “There are fool doctors who will tell you to keep the room closed up, no open windows. I say fresh air is the best thing for a sick room. Not that the air in London is very fresh, but you know what I mean.” He started to step out the door when he turned back. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Pennyworth, I never asked what your relationship to Mr. Baker was, and if it is all right for him to recover here.”
She saw no condemnation in his eyes, but she didn’t want to cause any talk, either. “Mr. Baker and I are friends. We attend social events together. Since I have the room and staff to help, including a footman, it is no trouble to have him recuperate here.”
“Good, good. Glad to hear it. No foolish nonsense about female sensibilities.” He pulled up the collar of his coat against the night air. “Be sure to call me if he has a fever that doesn’t go away in a couple of days. Also, I will remind you once again to be careful with the laudanum.” With a brisk nod, he climbed into her carriage and Bones drove him off into the night, the carriage disappearing into the mist.
Charlotte slowly closed the door and thought about all that had happened. She shivered and ran her hands up and down her arms. There was absolutely no doubt in her mind that Elliot’s beating, this evening’s shooting, and the strange, distasteful packages being left on her doorsteps were all connected. Had it reached a point where she should again attempt to involve Scotland Yard? The last she’d heard, it was against the law to shoot at people on their doorsteps.
With weariness all the way to her bones, she climbed the stairs as Beatrice came down, the bundle of bloody cloths in her hands. “I’ll soak these, ma’am, and wash them in the morning.”
“Yes. Thank you, Beatrice. And then see that you and Bridget find your beds. It’s been quite an evening, and I’m sure we all need our rest.”
“Yes, ma’am. Good night.”
Charlotte thought about asking for tea, but assuming her servants were just as weary as she was, it did not seem fair. For a few seconds, she hesitated, thinking about fixing tea for herself. Instead, she climbed the stairs and entered the bedroom where Elliot was ensconced. He remained asleep, which was a good thing. He was sure to have some pain once he woke up.
She pulled the quilt up over him, thinking she would have to have Thomas see to undressing him in the morning, and provide something more comfortable to wear. She covered her mouth to stifle a yawn and eyed the brandy bottle.
With a shrug, she crossed the room, poured some into the glass they’d used for Elliot and took a deep swallow.
She coughed and wheezed all the way to her room, tears running down her cheeks.
