“He was attacked. I didn’t see it, but I think he was hit with a board over there somewhere,” I nodded. “I saw him kicked in the stomach or the ribs… It was from a distance.”
He pulled Mrs. Ainsley’s hand away from the wound. No gush of blood came forth and that was a relief.
“Just the one blow to the head?”
“I don’t— I think so.”
“Was he unconscious when you found him?”
“No, and he woke up for a moment.”
Nodding thoughtfully, he reached down to probe Will’s ribs. A quiet groan came from deep in his chest, and it was the sweetest sound I had ever heard.
Still hovering above us, Kit asked, “Will, can you hear me?”
“Shh,” Will murmured through closed lips. I lied before—thatwas the sweetest sound. I choked on something that might have been a laugh or a sob, it was impossible to tell.
“All good signs,” the doctor added. “As long as he does not take a turn, he will likely recover to some extent.”
“To some extent?” I demanded, panic flooding me again.
“Head injuries are tricky business, miss…”
“Hart,” I lied, needing to say it—at least once.
“He may be completely fine. He may never be the same. He may never wake up. The only way to know for certain is time. There are a few broken ribs here too,” he prodded Will’s ribcage, earning another groan. “They don’t feel out of alignment though. Those aren’t life-threatening, but they’re certainly painful. Unfortunately, anything we give him for pain could make his head worse. He is in for a long few nights.”
“There’s no way to tell?”
“We’ll know more if he wakes fully. In the meantime, we’ll need to get a stretcher built and get him somewhere more comfortable. Where are his lodgings?” Everyone pointed simultaneously to the charred second floor of the building.
“Perhaps somewhere else then,” he responded.
Mrs. Ainsley slipped her hand over mine and squeezed gently. Offering what comfort she could.
The doctor turned to me. “And you? Is your throat the worst of your injuries?”
“Yes,” I answered with a hollow tone.
“Are there any others injured?”
“The man who hit him, I stabbed him in the foot. And I kicked him between the legs.”
“Well done!” Kit interrupted.
“I think one of the gentlemen has him and his accomplice restrained over there,” I nodded toward the alley.
“I’ll take you to them,” Mrs. Ainsley volunteered, her tone conveying the displeasure she had with the task. “You two work on a stretcher,” she instructed.
One by one, the onlookers dissipated, the darkened alley and street emptying. And I sat there on the pavement as people grumbled while they passed, annoyed that they had to maneuver around us.
William’s hand was still in mine, and his chest rose and fell with each precious breath.
“Lady Rycliffe?” Mrs. Ainsley asked. “The constable would like a word. I tried to explain that this wasn’t the best time, but…”
“He’ll have to come here. I’m not moving him.”
“Of course.” She wandered off, returning a moment later with a portly gentleman.
