Chapter Seventeen
He woke to pain. He woke to memory and dreams and a half-world he could not quite decipher.
He knew he was thirsty, but he was finding it hard to speak for the shivers ran through him in a constant stream of movement. A wet warm flannel came across his brow and he closed his eyes against the feel of it.
‘You are in the ducal town house, Nicholas, and you have been very sick. It is a week since the accident and we thought...’ Eleanor’s voice faltered and stopped.
‘That... I...would...die.’ Every word was difficult to get his tongue around. He felt as if he had a mouth full of cotton and so he swallowed and tried again.
‘Lucy?’
‘Is in her bed fast asleep and dreaming of the bravery of a father who came to save her.’
Save her? The words stuck dry in his throat. Save her from the danger he had placed them in in the first place? If he had not returned, none of this would have ever happened. He wanted to ask of Bowles, but didn’t, the effort too much to muster.
‘My...leg?’
‘The bullet punctured an artery and you were lucky to escape with your life. Frederick had seen the same thing on the battlefields of Europe and tied his neckcloth around the top of your leg.’
‘Useful...knowing a...soldier.’
She laughed at that and the sound warmed him as nothing else could have done.
‘You nearly lost your life for us, Nicholas.’
‘Worth...it.’
Then he closed his eyes and slept.
* * *
Next time he awoke he felt much better, more level headed, less dizzy.
Eleanor was still there by his bed, but dressed in other clothes now and the afternoon sun was coming in through the windows. How could that be? A few moments ago it had been night time. He lay perfectly still and watched her. Her eyes were closed and the pins in her hair loosened. One curl had slipped from its mooring and settled across the line of her breasts.
She was so beautiful she simply broke his heart.
As if she felt his gaze her eyes opened. Would he ever get used to the startling shade of blueness? he wondered, only to decide that it was very unlikely.
‘Hello.’ Her voice was soft with sleep. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘Better.’
‘Would you like a drink?’
He nodded and she brought a glass of lemonade to his lips, her hand behind his neck to help him as he leaned forward.
‘That is good.’ The liquid was like ambrosia to his dried mouth though she did not let him have too much.
‘The physician said that we were to offer this to you, but that I had to be careful about what you took.’
‘Physician...?’
‘He is retained by the Westmoors and has been earning his year’s stipend over the past week.’
Nicholas wiggled his toes just to make sure that the leg was still there, that he had not had the thing amputated or cut into whilst he had been asleep, but everything seemed in order save the sharp ache the movement brought forth.
‘You lost a lot of blood and there had been another injury in the same place which complicated things. But he says you should be able to start getting up after the next few days for the fever at least has gone.’
