Harry was looking at me in awe. ‘How do you know all this? Are you secretly a doctor?’
I laughed.
‘I borrowed a couple of Jane’s father’s books from his library once because I was interested in human anatomy. One was a medical encyclopaedia with all sorts of common injuries. Broken ribs was one of them. Unfortunately, there is not much you can do for it except binding and attempting to keep the infection at bay.’
The way I was talking sounded very knowledgeable, and I was sure that if an actual doctor was in the room, evenhewould have been impressed!
‘I am surprised that the doctor Maurice brought in to see him did not suggest anything of that nature,’ said Harry, rubbing his unshaven jaw. ‘Then again, this is London; one shouldn’t expect services without paying for them.’
When the water had boiled and cooled off enough so it would not burn his skin, Maurice and Harry—or ‘the clean team’, as I had dubbed them—went to work on Dorian while I collected the dirty items when they were passed out to me. I boiled up more water, intending to give everything a good sterilising soak.
Eventually, Harry stuck a damp hand out the door and said from within, ‘Bandages, if you please, Dr Fitzroy’, which made me giggle.
There had been no sounds of protest from Dorian as this was happening, so I assumed that they had been able to undress and wash him without moving him too much. Butthe chest binding would be another matter. By my (un)professional reckoning, it was going to hurt—a lot!
I swirled a blood-streaked bandage around in the steaming water with a stick and braced myself.
From the bedroom came pitiful screaming, and I gripped the stick hard, trying not to imagine how bad the pain was. It tapered off into a faint whimper and then silence. I released my white-knuckled grasp on the stick. Yech, I was glad that was over. I liked the theory of being a doctor, but not the practical part!
Maurice came out carrying a bundle of dirty linens, looking green around the gills. ‘Master Dorian fainted when Master Harry did the bandaging, so we took the chance to change the bedding while he was out to it. He’s trying to revive him now.’
I nodded, blanching.
Harry came out after a few moments and told us that Dorian had regained consciousness but was resting.
I ventured into the bedroom to check on him. Dorian’s skin had lost its grey pallor, and now there was even a faint bloom of colour in his cheeks. His chest rose and fell more evenly, and his breathing sounded better too. That alarming rattle had vanished. He was wearing one of his newly purchased nightshirts, the sheets were snowy white, the pillow his head lay on was soft and fluffy, and the yellowembroidered comforter brightened the shabby room considerably. All in all, the clean team had done an excellent job!
Sidling closer to his sleeping form, I checked the new bandage around his head. Blood was soaking the temple again as if the wound was bleeding afresh. I made a mental reminder to keep an eye on it.I really need some paper and a quill to make some patient notes,I thought, feeling driven to my cause.
I would do so tonight at Harry’s house after I had written to Jane to let her know we had arrived. There was much to tell her of the day’s events!
There was nothing else left to do, and Maurice was busy lighting candles as it was getting dark. So Harry suggested we leave and come back tomorrow.
I thought that we, as Dorian’s principal carers, should remain vigilant throughout the night in case the fever worsened. But he did seem more comfortable. There was nowhere for us to sleep, and Harry looked exhausted after his ordeal. So I reluctantly agreed, giving Maurice overnight instructions for the patient, and he promised to follow them faithfully. Harry had also bought some food supplies, so we left Maurice happily preparing his supper, saying we would return bright and early the next day.
Gas lamps had been lit outside, and the murky street hadconsiderably thinned of people. Indeed, now that the butchers had shut up their shops, Saffron Hill now reeked of danger rather than offal.
As we hurried along, I stepped in something squishy with an exclamation of disgust and paused to inspect my boot. But Harry, peering into the shadowed alleyways, said anxiously, ‘Make haste, Fliss. Otherwise, we may come to the same end as the day’s butchered meat!’
With that in mind, I scampered after him, and we managed to hail a hackney as darkness fell and a fetid fog rolled in off the Thames.
Only when we were safely ensconced in the carriage and travelling at a fast clip towards Holborn did I feel easier. I settled back against the seat, listening to the comforting sound of the horses’ hoofbeats on the cobblestones. The tenseness from my shoulders eased.
Harry, across from me, had his eyes closed. He looked as shattered as I felt, but he recovered a little when we were well away from Saffron Hill, enough to make conversation.
‘How do you fare, Fliss? That thing looks awkward to wear.’ His eyes were trained on my stomach as I was still wearing the padded corset. It had made running through Saffron Hill most cumbersome, and I could not wait to take the blasted thing off!
‘I am well, thank you. Yes, it is awkwardandheavy. Butthankfully, I am not with child. Otherwise, it would have made the whole experience today much more harrowing!’
Harry’s gaze went to the window, and he stared out at the passing street, now blanketed in fog. ‘Did Dorian notice your condition?’
‘No, I do not think he noticed much, apart from who I was.’
Harry nodded. ‘He was too ill to say anything to me except to grasp my hand and say, “I am sorry, Harry, for Rose ... for everything. Please forgive me”.’ He shook his head and looked sad.
‘You can take comfort from that, at least, if he happens to take a turn for the worse during the night,’ I said, trying not to feel miffed. After all, I had been dragged away from Godmersham and Lucy with the expectation that Dorian wished to atone for his sins, and he had not mentioned anything of the sort to me. I supposed I could live without an apology if he snuffed it overnight. At least I had done everything in my power to save him and then some.
Harry idly scratched his arm and then again, harder, and I too scratched my ankle. I fervently hoped we were not bringing fleas back to Holborn, and my thoughts turned to remedies for fumigation.
