More people joined the fray until mugs were thrown across the room and the tables were overturned.
“Stop fighting!” the publican yelled over the chaos.
Not that anyone paid him the slightest bit of attention. Perry and Edith had almost reached the door when a chilling shout rent the air.
“Blood,” someone cried out.
“We need a doctor! Help!”
Edith came to a stop. “What happened?”
“I bet someone got stabbed,” he said.
“Perhaps we should take a look.”
“Of course.” He didn’t hesitate.
As the fight died down among mutters and whispers, the patrons formed a circle around a grovelling woman on the floor.
“I didn’t mean to stab her.” A man raised his bloodied hands. “It was an accident.”
“Is there a doctor here?” the publican asked.
“There’s one over there,” the man said.
Perry and Edith turned towards the doctor in question. The man was slumped over a chair with an empty bottle on his lap and his glasses askew on his nose. He snored so loudly Perry could hear him from across the room.
“Someone sends for a sober doctor,” the publican said.
“It’s going to be too late. She’ll bleed out,” a man said.
Perry tugged at Edith’s hand. “Can you help?”
Her chest rose and fell quickly. “I haven’t practised anything in years, and when I practised, my father was always with me.”
“That woman is going to die. There’s no time to wait for the doctor.” He took the leather bag lying at the feet of the drunk doctor and handed it to Edith. “Please.”
She was breathing harder now than when she’d danced. “I’m not a doctor.”
“Take a look at her.”
“She’s the mother of two,” the publican said. “Nice woman, she is.”
“Please,” Perry said.
“I’ll see what I can do.” She took the bag and straightened. “She’s unconscious. Lift her gently and put her on a table. I need hot water, clean cloths, and lots of light.”
The change in her voice and posture fascinated Perry. One moment, she trembled and paled. The next, she hardened and took charge.
She waved the people away. “Give her space. Perry, will you help me? You’ll need to clean your hands with carbolic acid.”
That caught him off guard. “Yes.”
She cut the woman’s shirt, untied the worn corset, and lifted the chemise revealing a slash in her abdomen. Perry twitched his mouth at the coppery scent of blood. The publican brought what Edith had asked and made sure people kept their distance.
After washing the wound with carbolic acid, she wiped it with a cloth soaked in hot water.
“The cut is not deep, but she needs stitches.”
