Page 74

By the time the doctor arrived, Leyton and Ava had contrived to disrobe Jerome and remove the worst of the blood from his person, and he had still not regained consciousness. Ava was so terrified she was shaking. Her magnificent husband had never looked so—reduced! Pale, vulnerable, broken! His beautiful face ruined. Her heart ached, and her stomach churned with worry as she waited in silence for the doctor’s verdict.

The man, infuriatingly, took his time examining Jerome thoroughly. Ava wanted to scream at him to tell her that Jerome would be all right. But she kept her impulses in check, clenched her hands tightly together, and waited.

Finally, the portly little balding doctor stood back and said, “My lady, your husband has a number of serious injuries. The first, and I fear the most dangerous, is a severe concussion, suffered by a blow to the head. You see this lump here?” He pointed to the side of Jerome’s head.

She bent and observed a swelling that had turned an ugly purple on his temple. She nodded.

“That is why he has remained unconscious for so long and is the most worrying aspect of all his wounds. We will not know until he comes around how much damage may have been sustained to his brain.”

Ava stifled a whimper and swallowed, nodding her understanding but unable to trust her voice to speak.

“The second most worrisome injury is this nasty gash to his face. It would seem your husband collided with some sharp rocks at considerable speed and slid across their surface, acquiring both the blow to the head and this gash, as well as sundry scratches from some wickedly sharp plant.”

“Yes,” she managed around the lump in her throat. “That is what the gentleman who brought him home said. That he was catapulted from his curricle and landed in a briar patch, which concealed some rocks.”

The doctor nodded with a little smile, clearly pleased with his reconstruction of events from the evidence before him.

“As to his other injuries, I believe he will probably have a cracked rib or two and he has a broken collarbone. His other limbs appear to be intact, although he has suffered some bruising from the force of impact.”

Ava sagged a little in relief at this testimony.

“However, it is possible that there has been internal damage to organs that we cannot see. If there is such injury, symptoms will manifest in the coming days.”

“What symptoms, doctor?” she asked, her voice trembling.

“Blood in the urine, pain, vomiting, difficulties breathing, all of these would be signs of internal bleeding or damage to organs, for which we can do little.”

Ava blinked rapidly, her heart squeezing in panic. She took a breath, trying to calm herself. I can’t afford to give into my terror. Jerome needs me.

“Fortunately, your husband seems to be a fine specimen, in excellent health. Provided his wounds are kept clean and bandages changed daily, he should make a full recovery from those wounds. The question, as I said earlier, is the extent of the damage to his head. And only time will tell that.”

“How—how much time?” she asked shakily.

“The next twenty-four hours are critical. The sooner he wakes, the better for the prognosis. That said, I shall take advantage of his comatose state to set his collarbone with a sling, bandage his ribs, and stitch the wound on his face. I require a piece of linen for the sling, about two feet square, and bandages.”

“Of course!” Ava turned to Mrs. Grundy, who had brought the bandages herself along with the ointments Ava had requested.

She nodded to Ava with a quick bob and said, “I’ll fetch the linen straight, my lady.”

To Ava’s massive relief, Jerome came around as soon as the doctor touched his arm. Leyton had cut him out of his clothes to minimize moving him and had been so careful and gentle, he did not disturb the patient. But the doctor’s touch provoked a groan and fluttering of the eyes.

Ava, standing on the opposite side of the bed from the doctor, took Jerome’s left hand—it was his right clavicle that was broken—and bent over so that she brought her face into line with his eyes. “Jerome? My love—?”

He blinked at her for a moment and then a smile broke out across his face, swiftly replaced by a wince as the movement pulled at the wound on his cheek. “Ava!”

Relief made her sob as she raised his hand to her lips and kissed it, tears coursing down her cheeks and wetting his fingers.

“You’re a very lucky man, Your Lordship,” said the doctor, observing these encouraging signs.

“Banged myself up a bit, I think,” said Jerome, wincing as the doctor manipulated his arm into position.

“You have. I’m going to make you more comfortable with this sling. You’ve broken your collarbone and, I suspect, some ribs. Once I’ve done that, I’m going to stitch your face. You have a nasty gash on your cheek.”

“I thought I could feel something. How bad is it? Will it scar?”

“I’m afraid so, yes.”

Ava squeezed his hand and said with a tender smile, “You will look quite piratical I’m sure, my love.”