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| �The bandages are soaking through and she�s gone cold!� cried Nell, desperately rubbing Rose Hannah�s hands between her own. West checked the bandages at her throat; the wounds had opened again. �God damn him, he shouldn�t have bothered them�Miss Wilkins, my bag!� �What are you doing?� cried Dr. Munro, hovering over his shoulder. �I�m going to stitch them up�for God�s sake, Munro, go get yourself some brandy and stop breathing down my neck.� West used the washstand in Miss Munro�s dressing closet to wash up and had Nell bring an old towel to spread over the pillow where she lay. �Move her blasted hair out of the way,� he muttered, and Nell attended as he sewed up the wounds with the surgical thread he carried for that purpose. They were deeper and more ragged than he had first thought in the crush of emergency. The one that got her was a damned animal� �You�re a good nurse,� he told Nell when they were done. �Clean Miss Munro up a bit and wrap her up again.� Out in the sitting room again, he found Munro leaning against the mantel, a glass in hand. �West�� �She�s well enough for the moment,� he said. �But she needs blood desperately. What�s her group?� �Oh God�it�s O,� said Dr. Munro. �And yours?� �Group A�� �Damn it,� muttered West. �So�s mine. O can�t have anything but O�� �Her mother�s was O�� said Munro helplessly, as if by way of explanation. ��and we don�t have any. Damn it. You don�t know the servants� blood groups, do you?� �No�do we have time to test them?� From the bedroom doorway came a small voice: �Mine is O.� They turned and stared at Nell. �How do you know?� asked West. �Miss Rose pricked my finger for an assignment at the university,� said Nell. �We had the same type, I remember.� �Hurry, then,� he said to Munro, waving him off to collect what they needed from his study, and descended upon Nell, dragging her back to Rose Hannah�s bed. They jury-rigged a transfusion setup as best they could with Munro�s equipment; West sent Nell downstairs for boiling water to sterilize the beaker and tubing. �Damned primitive, this is,� he growled. �We can send for Waverly, or Lambert�� �Can�t risk discovery. If word gets out, it�ll only be worse for her.� So Nell sat in a chair by the side of the bed and they dragged a small writing desk over to serve as a surgery table. �This will hurt, Miss Wilkins,� said West as he advanced with the needle. �A lot.� �It doesn�t matter,� said Nell. �Whatever you need.� They watched over Rose Hannah long after they had forced Nell to lie down in for a bit. �She�s fine now,� Dr. Munro reported, coming back from her room. �Nell is strong; she might not even feel it by morning.� West was still standing, arms crossed, by the bed. �I don�t like the look of this. She�s tossing, she�s flushed. Might be fever.� �Fever? Is it the blood? Is it not taking well? Nell said she had the same type�� �It�s not the blood,� said West. �That is to say, she isn�t rejecting it, at least. I�ve seen this before, in cases like this.� He rummaged through his bag for a syringe and a bottle. Munro grabbed his arm��Laudanum? Don�t give her that!� �Nothing else to be done but help her sleep through it. She�ll suffer less,� West said simply, and Munro backed away. When she opened her eyes again, the room was dim but ruddy with firelight, and Dr. West was stationed by her bed�he had his feet propped on it, as a matter of fact, and was absorbed in some large, hoary book, the page edges visibly dirty with age. A haze swam before her eyes so thick that she only watched him for several minutes, her head clearing gradually; whatever was now in her veins felt like opposing streams of fire and ice, battling each other for possession of the current. �You ought to light a candle to read by, at least,� she rasped. West looked up, startled, and jerked his feet down from the counterpane. But all he said was, �I can see well enough.� �You couldn�t save Mary Ann, could you?� she asked. �No,� he said quietly. �It�s the same thing from the newspapers, isn�t it?� �Yes.� �Am I going to die?� He gazed at her face longer than he intended. �We all do, you know,� he said. She was still very pale, very weak, by morning, but had rallied enough to sleep peacefully; the fever seemed to have abated. By early afternoon, she was able to sit up and listen to Nell read correspondence to her, among which was a consolatory note from a Mr. Seward�the man who had come to the house, the man she had heard West call by name through a thick oak door. Rose Hannah was not particularly impressed, given the newspaper headlines of that morning. Seward had used his almighty powers of influence to be certain that the story appeared only as a wild animal attack on �the M---- family in Kensington, leaving a young lady in nervous prostration,� which was still clear enough that the Misses Morland had immediately paid a call that morning. West, however, had instructed all visitors to be stonewalled with the announcement that Miss Munro had taken ill, which only seemed to confirm the story in the papers. Half her friends ended up sending cards and flowers by lunch; the torrent of competing fragrances nearly drove her mad, and even after she had Nell carry them all down to the conservatory, the miasma kept creeping up the stairs to taunt her. Nell didn�t know what to make of all that, given that a few bouquets of roses and lilies and such had merely a light fragrance to her. The whole thing was surpassingly strange, particularly when Rose Hannah woke from a mild doze to announce hoarsely, �Camilla must be here. I smell� Egyptian Garden? Her perfume�� A blonde, veil thrown back over her hat like a war headdress, was haranguing Parkes to let her see Miss Munro when he came back from his errands; West vaguely recognized her as that older friend of Miss Munro�s. It didn�t occur to him at all to acknowledge her; he had a patient to attend, after all, and had sailed past the woman, halfway up the stairs, before she cried, �See here now!,� forsook Parkes, and grabbed West by the elbow. He was thrown off his guard because she did not dress like the sort of woman given to chasing down unacquainted men, but then, he had been wrong before. �I must see Miss Munro�� �Miss Munro is indisposed. If you will excuse me�� She gripped his arm more tightly: �I�ll have you know I�m not some mindless biddy she met in passing at a party,� the blonde hissed. �The last time I saw Miss Munro was Wednesday night, and I want to know where she is and what in God�s name happened here�� �Wednesday night?� West looked at her with a new alertness. �Come with me for a moment, Mrs.�?� �Kirke.� �Mrs. Kirke. To the parlor, for a moment.� The winter light was bright enough that he didn�t bother to turn on the lamps, nor did he offer her a seat; instead, they stood chin to chin in the dim room, as if hiding from someone. �When did you see her last, at what time?� �We went to a lecture at her University club , and were going to tea afterwards with Lady Selverstone, but she wanted to come home directly after it was over, and so I brought her back here instead.� �Was there any reason she wanted to come back early?� �Nothing particular. That�s normal for Rose�Miss Munro�she�s always backing out of things or going home early. The last I saw her was at the garden gate�look, what is all this about?� �Come back tomorrow,� West said abruptly. �She�s ill, very ill at the moment. Sleeping heavily. I wouldn�t want her to wake just now. She may be able to take visitors tomorrow.� �What�� �I can�t say more at the moment. Only that a true friend will keep this quiet. Tomorrow�� And he left her standing there, staring after him as he ran up the stairs with his bag. Nell was helping Miss Munro sip warm tea when he arrived. The patient was still haggard and pale, but the transfusion seemed to have taken well. �Let me see the stitches,� he said, and Nell helped her sit up. Rose Hannah began to unwind the silk scarf with which she had covered the bandages; he wondered how much she knew or remembered regarding her injuries, what had given her the impulse to hide them. �It looks better. No sign of inflammation, at least.� �You smell like opium. Did you give me morphia?� He gave her a strange look, mostly on account of the first statement. �Laudanum. Don�t talk, you haven�t the strength.� �I have the strength,� she rasped. �I can�t lie here forever.� �You seem weak enough to me,� he said; Nell had to help her ease back down onto the pillows, where she seemed almost languorous. �It�s my body that�s weak. Not my mind�which keeps running around and around. And please, if you would, do not give me morphia, or laudanum, or any combination thereof. Awful stuff.� |
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