Page 4

~April 12~

“M y lady.” Someone shook Ellen’s shoulder. “My lady.”

Ellen startled awake. “What? What is it?”

“I’m so sorry to disturb you, my lady, but there’s a man here who says he’s from St. Camillus Hospital. Apparently you’re needed most urgently,” said the maid standing next to her bed.

“Oh, goodness. Very well. Tell him I’ll be down in a trice.” Ellen shook herself awake and climbed out of bed. She wondered what sort of emergency could require her presence. Surely, there were much more qualified people there. Still, she could not say no when she was called. She dressed quickly and stuffed a few pins into the hasty bun she’d made with her plaited hair.

George, the orderly from the hospital was waiting in the foyer, pacing back and forth anxiously.

“George, what is it? I’m here,” Ellen said as she reached the bottom of the stairs.

“Och, milady, I am that sorry to drag ye from yer bed, but it’s Sergeant Jones. In a bad way, he is. Burnin’ up with fever and callin’ for ye.”

“For me? But… well, never mind why. Do you have a carriage? Shall we go?”

“Got a hack waitin’,” he said as he led the way out into the night.

“Lady! Lady M-m-m-moreton!” a man was shouting as she entered the ward.

She rushed down the room. “Sergeant Jones! What is all this? Why are you disturbing everyone else in the room?” she asked, approaching his bed. At least two or three blankets were piled on top of the shivering man. His eyes were open, but she had a feeling he was seeing nothing but his own demons.

“L-l-l-lady M-m-m-moreton!” he called out again.

She accepted the bowl of water and a cloth from the nurse standing next to him, looking helpless. “He hasn’t stopped calling for you for the past half hour or more, and he won’t let anyone get near.”

“Oh, the poor man. He is burning with fever,” Ellen said. She sat down on the stool and placed the bowl on the floor at her feet. “It’s all right, Sergeant Jones, I’m here now,” she said, soothing the cool cloth over his burning forehead.

“L-l-lady Moreton?” he asked, his scruffy chin, quivering.

“Yes, that’s right. I’m here. Now, why don’t you just relax and let me cool you down a bit. You’re burning up.”

“No, no, don’t cool. I’m f-f-f-freezing. I need a blanket, please, my lady,” he said, his eyes coming to focus on her.

“It looks like you’ve already got three,” she said, smiling at him as she placed the cool, damp cloth on his forehead.

“Still cold,” he said with a shiver to prove his point.

She nodded. “It’s just the fever. It will come down soon. You’ll be all right.” She paused and turned toward the nurse behind her. “Have you checked his wound already?”

The young woman’s eyes widened. “No, my lady, I didn’t even think of it. We’ve been so concerned with trying to control his temperature and with him yelling for you.”

“It’s all right. You’ve had your hands full.” She pulled the covers off his leg as the nurse moved a candle closer so she could see.

She didn’t even need to pull off his bandage to see that his leg was horribly red and inflamed. “Well, that doesn’t look very good now, does it?” she asked. It was probably the most understated thing she’d said in her life. She quickly said a little prayer that the doctors wouldn’t have to amputate. “Let’s get this cleaned and rebandaged.”

She looked up at the nurse who nodded, understanding immediately that she was being asked to do the cleaning. She was a trained nurse, after all, which Ellen wasn’t.

Half an hour later, after a good bit of pain and discomfort for Sergeant Jones, his chills had abated, and he’d managed to fall back asleep. The fever still raged, but at least now he was able to get some rest and, therefore, so could Ellen. Sadly, she didn’t think it was safe for her to go far just in case he woke up again.

She shifted her stool so she could lean up against the wall next to the bed and closed her eyes.

She awoke to the sound of chattering teeth. It was such an odd sound and completely unexpected that she woke and immediately knew where she was and what she needed to do. The bowl of cool water was still at her feet. She picked up the cloth that had slipped off of Sergeant Jones’ forehead and went back to bathing his fevered brow.

Sunlight began to creep slowly into the room as she rinsed out the cloth again and again. A few times the man had seemed agitated even in his sleep, but the sound of her voice seemed to calm him.

Another few hours later and her eyes simply refused to stay open. She fought her heavy lids as hard as she could, but sleep pulled at her. No! She shook herself awake and rinsed out the cloth before wiping the back of his neck, behind his ears, and finally across his forehead.

The next thing she knew she felt a sharp slap on her arm. Her eyes shot open. Sergeant Jones was flailing. His arms were flying, and his legs were kicking as if he were running in his sleep. Ellen jumped up. That couldn’t be good for his leg.

“Sergeant Jones! Sergeant! Wake up. You must stop this,” she said urgently. She jumped to her feet and tried to hold his legs steady, but he was too strong for her. She let out an ooph! when he inadvertently kicked her in the stomach.

“Jones, that’s enough! At ease!” a man’s commanding voice shouted from just behind her.

Sergeant Jones went limp immediately.

Ellen couldn’t help the sigh of relief. She stood and turned around. She was surprised to find Lord Pennyston there, looking with concern at his friend. He turned to her. “Are you all right?”

She gave an embarrassed little laugh. “Yes, thank you. He’s been feverish most of the night. Until now, he’s been quiet, going from chilled to boiling hot, calling for more blankets only to throw them all off. I think he must have been having a bad dream just now.”

“Have you been here the whole night?” the man asked, sounding surprised.

She brushed back a lock of hair that had fallen from her bun and realized she must look a fright. “Since about two or so.”

“My goodness! You poor thing. Have you eaten? Taken any sort of a break?”

She shook her head, realizing what that feeling in the pit of her stomach was—hunger. “I haven’t had a moment.”

“Come with me. There’s a coffee house just down the street,” he said, beginning to turn around.

“I can’t leave him!” she protested immediately.

“Surely someone else can look after him for a time?” he asked.

“No. For some reason, he becomes quite agitated if he doesn’t hear my voice now and then.”

He looked at her skeptically.

She sat back down on the stool. “Just watch and see.” She indicated another stool on the other side of the bed, inviting the gentleman to seat himself on it. He did so, and she stayed quiet, although every so often she did rinse out and reapply the cool cloth.

As expected, after about five minutes Sergeant Jones began to turn his head this way and that, mumbling as he did so. His mumbles turned into words. “Lady… Lady… Lady Moreton. Lady Moreton. Lady Moreton!” His cries became more excited.

“It’s all right, Sergeant Jones, I’m here. You just sleep. There you go,” Ellen said, wiping his forehead with the cloth once again. The man immediately calmed.

Lord Pennyston reached out and took her hand in his, turning it over so he could see her palm. He smoothed a hand gently over her fingers. Her skin was wrinkled from rinsing the cloth in cold water all through the night. “You have been working so hard,” he said gently.

“It’s all right. I don’t mind the work, but now that you mentioned coffee and breakfast…” Her stomach gurgled loudly. “Oh! Excuse me!”

He just laughed. “I’ll send someone for some food for you.” He got up and strode away. When he returned, he sat back down and said, “It’ll be just a few minutes.”

“Thank you.” She gave him a grateful smile before going back to her never-ending task of trying to keep her patient comfortable.

~*~

Christopher had never seen a disheveled woman look more beautiful. With her hair half-falling down and dark circles under her eyes, Lady Moreton was probably the loveliest thing he’d seen in a long time. The fact that she’d been up all night with his batman just astounded him.

She held no loyalties to him or Freddie—she hardly knew either of them. And yet, she’d sat by Freddie’s bed all night bathing his forehead until her hands had turned dry and red from the water with which she wrung her cloth. Never in his life would he have ever imagined a lady of society working so hard for someone she hardly knew.

“You’re staring at me,” she said quietly, her eyes focused on Freddie.

Christopher started and looked at his batman. His eyes were closed. He was asleep. He couldn’t… “Oh! You mean me?”

She laughed and looked up at him. “It wasn’t Sergeant Jones.”

“No.” Christopher felt like an idiot. Now she was laughing at him. “I do beg your pardon, I just… I was wondering why a lady of society would spend the entire night caring for an enlisted man she didn’t even know.”

She cocked her head as she considered his words. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“It’s… it’s highly unusual.”

She smiled. “Well, then, I suppose I am not your ordinary lady of society.”

“Why do you do it? Why volunteer here? Why take care of these men?”

She shrugged. “It’s my way of giving back. It’s my way of…” She paused, her gaze turned toward the floor and lovely lips turned down ever so slightly.

“Of what?” he prompted.

She gave a little smile. “Of honoring my husband. He was killed in Austria at Ulm—in his very first skirmish. He hadn’t even been gone three months when we received word.”

Christopher felt that familiar hollow sensation in the pit of his stomach. “I’m so very sorry.”

She shook her head and gave a little sniff. “It’s all right. I imagine it was his own fault. Stupidly brave. He’d always been stupidly brave, not giving a thought to the possible consequences of his action. Thinking himself invincible,” she said, clearly remembering the man.

“There are too many like that,” Christopher agreed. “I was one, but I was lucky all I got was a saber swiped across my face. I lived.”

“Your family must be so grateful.” She rinsed out her cloth again.

Christopher couldn’t help but chuckle at that one. “I don’t think that’s the word they would choose.”

She looked up at that, but now it was he who couldn’t make eye contact. “My mother did nothing but cry when I got home and still—nearly a year later—tears come to her eyes every time she sees me. My father still can’t even look at me. I’m embarrassed to say it, but I was relieved when I received the letter telling me Freddie was here. It gave me an excuse to leave my family’s estate and come to London.”

“It’s because they love you,” she said gently.

Christopher could only shake his head. Did they? Or were they simply disappointed in him? He rather thought it was the latter. Before he could say anything, though, an older man joined them.

“I hear Sergeant Jones has had a rough night,” the newcomer said, looking at the sleeping man.

Lady Moreton stood. “Yes, Doctor. He’s been running a very high fever all night. We changed his bandage, but his leg is horribly swollen and red. Would you mind taking a look at it?”

The man lifted the blanket on the side closest to Lady Moreton, looked underneath and shook his head. “Looks like we might have to take that off after all. Shame. I’d thought we could avoid that but with this infection…” He tsked his tongue and lowered the blanket again. “I’ll schedule the surgery for later today.”

He started to walk away, but Lady Moreton stopped him. “Isn’t there a chance the infection could go away? Isn’t it possible—”

The man gave her a condescending look. “You are entirely too soft-hearted, Lady Moreton. We will do what is best for the man. If I don’t take the leg, that infection could spread and eventually kill him. I’m sure he’d rather be alive.” With that pronouncement, he turned and walked away.

Lady Moreton just stood there frowning after him. She turned toward Christopher. “Do you have a footman or a groom nearby?”

He stood. “He should be here any minute with your food, why?”

“Could I borrow him? I need to send a message to a friend of mine.”

Christopher raised his eyebrows, but said nothing. Honestly, women were the strangest creatures. How could she be thinking of friends or social obligations when Freddie was about to lose his leg? A small piece of him felt a deep, disturbing sadness.