“How is he?”
The Madame’s mouth turned down at the corners. “Not well, I’m afraid. I was wondering if I might ever get a message to you. You have been as slippery as an eel to find, of late.” She lifted a delicate brow. “Especially since I’ve been tracking down an alias, MissMiller.”
Mara decided not to ask her to elaborate on that statement. The woman had an uncanny ability to find things out that should have been impossible to know.
“I’m sorry,” she replied apologetically. “I had to resort to secrecy for some time, but no longer.”
“So I gathered,” Celeste remarked dryly.
As she turned to lead her down a dimly lit hallway, Mara asked, “Has he said anything?”
“No.” The other woman said grimly. “A man brought him here just a few hours ago. He said he was an agent hired by Mr. Andrews. Since the investigator was also missing, he wasn’t sure where else to take him. I guess Bentley had mentioned my establishment to him in France before he…lost consciousness.”
“Did the agent mention where he’s been?”
“From what I gathered, after Bentley eluded Larkin in Calais, he ran into more trouble. Since he was branded as a former slave and couldn’t speak to defend himself, he was thrown into a French prison. This man managed to secure his release and smuggled him back into England, but the damage had already been done.”
“What sort of damage?” Mara whispered.
Instead of answering, Celeste stopped at the last door on the right. “He’s in here. I’ve summoned a doctor, but he hasn’t arrived yet.” When Mara would have entered, the other woman laid a hand on her arm. “Brace yourself.”
Mara swallowed before she slowly turned the knob and walked inside. She glanced at the still form on the bed and slowly moved forward. She gasped as she drew near, and as the tears threatened to spill forth, she let them fall.
It hurt her to see this battered shell before her when she remembered how hale and hearty her dear friend had been when she’d last seen him. His dark face was so swollen and bruised she nearly didn’t recognize him, as he’d lost nearly two stone. His left arm was mangled, and she knew that even if such a break managed to heal properly, his fighting days had come to an end.
“Oh, B,” she whispered. She sat down on the edge of the bed and took his right hand in hers, stroking it gently. “This is all my fault. I did my best to protect you from such ill treatment, but still I failed miserably. Forgive me.”
She put her head on his chest, and although his breathing was shallow and slightly rattled, at least his heartbeat was strong and sure.
She wasn’t sure how much time had passed before she felt a hand on her shoulder. With a start, she glanced up.
“Dr. Harris is here,” Celeste announced softly.
Mara nodded and reluctantly left Bentley’s side so he might examine him. Celeste waited with her outside the door as the doctor worked. After a time, he joined them.
Removing his stethoscope with a sigh, he shook his head. “I’m afraid there’s no easy way to say this. You must prepare yourself.”
Mara felt herself pale. “Do you mean he’s going to…die?” She could hardly even say the dreaded word.
Instead of answering directly, Dr. Harris said, “I’ve set the bone, but while I didn’t see any indication of any infection, his lungs are weak, and there is a rash on his body.” He glanced from one to the other. “I fear he has all the signs of typhus brain fever. The disease has been running rampant these past three years in Ireland, although it’s also rather common for those who’ve been subjected to particularly foul conditions.”
“What can be done?” Mara asked.
“Naturally, the usual method in these situations is leeching to remove the infected blood…”
“No,” Mara said emphatically.
Celeste glanced at Mara, before turning back to the physician. “There’s nothing else you can do?”
“There are experimental procedures, of course,” Dr. Harris concurred, “Mercury has been quite effective with various diseases, as well as honey and certain herbs, including basil, garlic, and ginger. Oregano oil is also helpful in some cases. If you wish, I can leave some instructions for a tincture and a poultice.”
Mara held out her hand. “Thank you, Dr. Harris. I’ve taken care of Bentley for the past few years, and I’m certain I can put your instructions to good use.”
“Very well,” the doctor said. “I’ll leave them with the footman. I wish you the best of luck. It’s all in God’s hands now. All you can truly do is pray.”
“Believe me,” Mara said quietly, “I have been.”
As he took his leave, Celeste took her arm. “I’m closing for a couple days while Bentley convalesces.”
