Ethan stepped in. He was also covered in mud. “Me new coat, too,” he said, looking dolefully down at the mud-caked garment. “Miss Tibby fell in tryin’ to save Nicky and I fell in tryin’ to save her.”
“I didn’t fall in at all,” Jim announced proudly. “I just picked the leeches off ’em. The ones I could see, anyway. Here y’are.” He handed over a jar containing a black mess of writhing leeches. Callie felt squeamish looking at them.
“What do you mean, the ones you could see,” Tibby said suddenly. “Do you mean I could still have some of those horrid creatures on me?”
“Bound to,” Jim said cheerfully. “You did a lot of splashing around and they like that. And you wouldn’t let me look on your legs, remember?”
“She wouldn’t let me look, either,” Ethan murmured.
Tibby gave him a severe look. “I should think not.” She turned to Callie. “I must go upstairs immediately. Could you help me, please?”
Pick those dreadful, slimy things off someone? Someone on whose flesh they’d attached themselves, whose blood they were drinking? She felt her gorge rise at the thought.
But someone had to help poor Tibby. There was only herself or Mrs. Barrow. She looked at Mrs. Barrow, who was attending to Gabriel’s injuries.
She could face any amount of blood without turning a hair, but those ghastly wriggling, black, slimy things…She felt queasy just thinking about it.
She turned to Mrs. Barrow and in her most gracious, princessly manner she said, “Mrs. Barrow, would you mind assisting Miss Tibthorpe? I will attend to Mr. Renfrew’s injuries.”
“Yes, of course I will, lovi—Your Highness,” Mrs. Barrow said. “You’ve gone quite green, haven’t you? Miss Tibby, you get along upstairs and get those wet things off you. Take this salve.” She took the small pot from Jim and handed it to Tibby. “Leeches hate the smell of that; one touch and they’ll drop right off you, no harm done to you or them. I’ll see to Mr. Gabe here, then I’ll come up and check you over for any in places you can’t see.”
She turned to the boys. “You boys go upstairs with Mr. Delaney. Change into clean clothes and ensure no leech remains on any of you.” She handed Ethan another little pot and gave them a look that had all three exiting meekly.
“If Mrs. Barrow had been a general, I would not have been at war for eight years,” Gabe said to no one in particular.
“Right, let’s see to you,” Mrs. Barrow said. She reached into the jar and fished out several leeches. They looked like dark, slimy worms.
Callie’s stomach lurched as Mrs. Barrow placed the creatures against the swollen and discolored flesh under his injured eye. The creatures instantly attached themselves to the tender flesh.
Callie shuddered and turned away. “Doesn’t it hurt?”
“Not a bit. Can’t feel a thing, as a matter of fact,” he told her cheerily.
After a few minutes Mrs. Barrow said, “That’s that. Now, Mr. Gabe, you know what to do—you can see Her Highness can’t stand the things—they take some people like that, I know. When they’ve finished, put ’em in the jar again. There’s a market for good leeches and young Jim could earn a few pennies for ’em. I’ll go and see how those others are doing and then I’ll be back to do the rest.”
“I am perfectly capable of tending injuries,” said Callie feeling ashamed of her weak stomach. “Tell me what needs to be done after those creatures are finished.”
“If you really don’t mind, Your Highness.” Mrs. Barrow passed her a jar. “Rub this salve into the cuts and bruises on his back. He can do the front himself, but he can’t reach the back.”
“Of course I don’t mind. It’s my fault he was injured in the first place,” Callie said.
“Rub it in well. It’s my own special mix. It’ll help loosen up the tightness and help him to heal faster. But it has to go on after all the leeches are finished—they can’t abide the smell.” The elderly woman hurried out and they were left alone.
“I don’t mind blood, you know,” Callie said defensively, even though he hadn’t said a word and she had her back to him so she couldn’t see his face. But she was sure he must be laughing at her.
“Really?”
“I’ve tended some quite serious injuries and not turned a hair. And vomit—I have cleaned that up before. I didn’t mind.” Much.
“Dear me.”
“And pus. I’ve dealt with pus and I wasn’t the least bit sick.” Not true. She had felt quite ill when that pus had come gushing out of Papa’s swollen leg that time, but she wouldn’t have Gabriel thinking she was some sort of weakling who felt ill at the sight of a small black leech.
“Even pus, eh? Well, well, well.”
He was laughing at her, she could tell by the way his voice quivered. She turned to glare at him, but was forced to turn her back again, quickly.
The wormlike creatures fastened under his eye had thickened, like slugs, engorged with his blood. The creatures dotted his torso, clinging to every major bruise, feeding off his body.
