“General Warsham,” Doctor Warren said, “if you try to move your son now, you risk infection. His body has suffered an immense trauma; he must be allowed to rest and heal in peace.”
“Yes, I’m well aware of what these people have done!” He pointed at Lady Rose and Charlotte.
“I won’t have you speak about my wife and daughter in that vile manner. And certainly not under my roof!” Sir Benedict shot out of his seat.
“Your wife’s kin stabbed my son! And why? Because of your daughter! And now you hold him hostage.” The general thrust the newspaper at Sir Benedict. The headline read,Family FeudTurns Deadly.A sketch of Lucas accompanied the headline. He’d been captured a day after the attack, but not before Theseus paid him a visit and thrashed him within an inch of his life. It seemed that Mrs. Dove-Lyon had some powerful friends.
“He’s a distant cousin of my wife’s. I’d hardly call him my kin,” Sir Benedict shot back. “And as for my daughter, she gives your son reason to live.”
Tears stung Charlotte’s eyes.How could they argue like this when Hugh lay injured and unable to move? And even if he did recover, what hope was there for a future with him? In spite of her hopes, General Warsham clearly wasn’t the forgiving type.
“I’ll be sending my own doctor in here to examine Hugh, and if he gives me the all-clear, I’m taking him home. And when he has regained his strength, I will do everything I can to make him see the error of his ways and convince him to end the sham marriage that sorceress Dove-Lyon tricked him into.”
Charlotte bit her lip but could not stop the tears from flowing down her cheeks. Lady Rose put a comforting arm around her daughter.
“No one is taking my son anywhere, including you, William Warsham.” Mrs. Warsham, who had been sitting and silently observing her husband’s outburst, stood up and put herself between the two warring men. “Last week, our son, a grown man capable of making his own decisions, eloped to Scotland with the woman he loves, precisely what you did five and twenty years ago.”
Charlotte felt her mother tense beside her as Lady Rose cleared her throat loudly.
“Hugh’s marriage is no more a sham than our own. And if that is what you’ve thought these past five and twenty years then—”
“No,” General Warsham interjected. “Of course, I don’t believe that.” To Charlotte’s surprise, the general’s face softened.“You’re right. If this was indeed Hugh’s choice and not something he was tricked into, then—well, I can only know the truth when I hear it from his lips.”
“You will, I can assure you,” Mrs. Warsham said, “and in the meantime, you must—”
“Dr. Warren, a word if you please.” Charlotte looked up to see that the doctor’s assistant had entered the room. He was a young man, no older than Hugh, tall and reed thin, with a thick mop of dark hair and large dark eyes that stared out from behind round spectacles.
“I’m sorry to disrupt in this way, sir,” he looked nervously at Sir Benedict, “but—”
“What is it?” Charlotte stood up and faced the assistant. The dread that had settled in her stomach since the stabbing now climbed her throat. “Something’s wrong, isn’t it?”
“Fever. It came on suddenly.”
Everyone moved forward simultaneously and followed Dr. Warren to Hugh’s room.
“Don’t crowd the patient,” Dr. Warren warned as he removed Hugh’s bandages and examined his wound. “I don’t see evidence of infection,” he said, turning to his anxious audience, “but it could be internal that we cannot see. And that can be extremely dangerous, I’m afraid.”
“It can’t be.” Charlotte’s knees turned to jelly, and she clung to her mother for support. “This morning, he seemed better. He whispered my name. I heard him.”
“That’s possible, but healing is a journey, and there are sometimes setbacks. The best we can do for him now is keep his body cool and draw out any poisons from his blood.”
Painful as it was to watch, Charlotte remained by Hugh’s side as the doctor made cuts in Hugh’s arms and let his blood drain into a bowl. Charlotte felt as though she was watching the lifeflow out of her husband, who seemed to grow weaker by the minute.
Two days hadpassed with little improvement to his condition. Charlotte sat beside her husband, holding his limp hand in hers. Her mother had tried and failed to get her to take a break and rest. She simply refused to leave Hugh’s side, so they sat with her, alternating, to ensure she was never alone.
General Warsham entered the room as his wife left Charlotte’s side for a much-needed break. He seemed to have aged ten years and sank into a chair in the corner of the room, his energy clearly drained. Charlotte’s heart went out to him. His love for Hugh was plain, and for that, she could forgive him anything.
Several hours passed, and Charlotte grew heavy. As if they had a mind of their own, her eyes insisted on closing, even though she kept trying to force them open. And then it happened. Hugh’s limp hand came to life, and he squeezed her hand.
Her eyes flew open. Had she imagined it? Again, his fingers squeezed hers.
“Hugh,” she said, looking down at him.
“Charlotte,” he whispered, blinking several times before opening his eyes and smiling up at her.
“General Warsham,” Charlotte called, “Hugh’s awake!”
The general stirred in his chair and then leaned forward. “What did you say?”
