Merlin looked up at Mr. Harold, who stood off to the side. “Please fetch my medical bag from my room. I should also like two bowls of hot water and more linens for cleansing and binding the wound.”
Mr. Harold nodded and left the room. When he returned with Merlin’s bag, two maids accompanied him with linens draped over their arms, each carrying a washbowl and a pitcher of hot water. They set about organizing the area for Merlin’s surgery as if they had done it many times before.
Merlin nodded in appreciation. “Thank you.” He turned again to Mr. Harold. “I’m sorry, could you also procure a bottle of wine and a glass?” he asked. He took a Tincture of Opium out of his bag and held it up to the light to check the volume. “I’d like one footman to stay and to help me shift Candelstone around as necessary to bandage him. Aunt Catherine can stay if she stands behind me to hand me what I need when I need it, not to hover over her husband.”
“Everyone else out of here,” Merlin declared. “That includes you, Uncle Aidan,” he said, staring at him through the top half of his thick eyeglasses.
Aidan nodded. “I’ll be right outside if you need me.”
“I won’t,” Merlin said dismissively. He poured some wine into the glass, then squeezed a few drops of the tincture into the wine. He stirred the mixture.
“Can you lift him a little for me?” Merlin asked the footman. “Let’s see if we can get this into him,” he told the man. He spotted Aidan still in the room. “Out!” he barked.
Aidan left the room and closed the door softly behind him, impressed at his nephew’s take-charge ability.
He dragged a straight-back wood chair from down the hallway to beside the door, then collapsed into the chair. Leaning forward, elbows on his knees, he laid his face in his hands as he closed his eyes and thought of the evening.
It had been a night for emotions. He held his close in, though they clawed at his insides like caged beasts. He wanted to go out into the night and scream until he had no more breath left to scream with. But he couldn’t, for that was not the man others depended on. That was not the steady, responsible gallery owner. The stalwart protector of the family, the one to keep everything together when the world goes mad.
God, some days he hated his family role. They were so carefree and boisterous, trusting him to set things straight. Tonight, he wanted someone to share the weight. Not take it away, but ease it.
He straightened and leaned his head back. He breathed in deeply once, twice, willing the beast back in its cage, those claws sheathed. Time for plans, not emotion.
The guests need to be interviewed. Did anyone see anything? He should contact Mr. Martin, the Bow Street Runner who had helped them last month at Versely Park. They would talk to him; he had that way about him. And Bella. Someone needed to talk to Bella. How had she been there? When he glanced back at her to assure himself she was all right, he saw her hand something to Ellinbourne. It looked suspiciously like a small gun. But by Ellinbourne’s lack of reaction, he didn’t think it implicated Bella in anything, but how did she come to have it? Did anyone else see her? He acknowledged he was watching her closely. He couldn’t seem to keep his mind away from her. Was there truth in the tale she told him, or was that a web of lies as well?
Everything surrounding Candelstone seemed to be a tale within a tale, spun by a master spider. It did not surprise him that someone shot his brother-in-law. What he could find surprising is it had taken so many years for it to happen. But his nephew was an excellent doctor. If anyone could bring Candelstone through this, it would be Merlin. He was a magical being in medicine, as his namesake was with real magic.
There were soft footsteps in the hall. He opened his eyes. It was Gwinnie approaching.
“Grandmother sent me,” she said.
“I don’t know anything yet,” he told her, rising to his feet. “Merlin is still in there with him. He ordered me out.”
She shook her head. “I’m not here about Uncle. Grandmother wanted to know howyouare doing. She said this has been a trying night for you.”
He looked at her in surprise. “Yes,” he affirmed, nodding. He compressed his lips. “Yes, it has been. I trust the worst is past us. What concerns me now is the stories society will create in whole cloth. They will decide who the guilty party is through guesswork, supposition, and things they thought they have seen or heard. You know that.”
Gwinnie bit her lower lip. “Yes, I do, but we will get the truth sorted… You know, Uncle has many enemies,” she said.
“And by the events of this evening, I would say I am high on his list.”
“And Bella as well.”
“Yes, Bella as well.” He shook his head at the mess that lay before them. “Once we know Candelstone’s status, I will send for Mr. Martin.”
“Is he the Bow Street Runner who was at the house party last month?”
“Yes.”
She nodded. “I wish I had been there.”
Aidan laughed as he remembered the house party. “You would have enjoyed it. Why weren’t you?”
She shrugged. “Previous commitments.”
“You know, we may be here awhile, waiting. Sit down in this chair, I’ll get another,” he said.
They sat down next to each other to wait. It was quiet save for the faint strains of music coming from the ballroom upstairs. Gwinnie listened, swaying gently to the music. “How odd, there should be a ball still going on,” she said. “I’m surprised people haven’t left.”
