Page 22 of Dark Embrace
“And you’ll do a better job than the lot of them,” Elinor said with a nod, her gathered curls bouncing. She leaned in to get a better look at Sarah’s handiwork. “Why bandage the wound in fresh cloth? Why not just wipe it like the surgeons do and rewrap it? Or leave it alone? Mr. Franks says it is best not to disturb a healingwound.”
“Almost done,” Sarah said to the patient, who offered a nod and a wan smile. Then she answered Elinor without looking up, her movements deft and sure as she tied off the bandage. “I do as my father did. He believed it necessary to unwrap and examine the wound. And he never set a used dressing back in place. He said the foul humors would result inputrefaction.”
“Did he?” Elinor sounded interested rather thandubious.
The sounds of footsteps carried from the hallway. Sarah glanced at the open door. One of the apprentices hurried past, and she looked away, disappointed. She had seen Mr. Thayne—Killian—only in passing since their exchange in the closet. But she had found an orange on the stool beneath her cloak four days past, and yesterday, he’d left a ham sandwich. He seemed determined to feed her. And he somehow divined herfavorites.
Raising her head, she found Elinor watching her with a knowing gaze, one tinged withconcern.
“I saw one of the apprentices watching you,” she said. “He’s young and sweet. Pleasant face. Clean fingernails. I could point him out ifyoulike.”
Sarah huffed a short laugh. “I think not. Though clean fingernails do much torecommendhim.”
Elinor shook her head. “Don’t be soured on men just because I am. They aren’t all like my lump of ahusband.”
“I know that. I just…” Sarah shrugged. “A young and sweet apprentice does notinterestme.”
Elinor sighed. “You’ve set your sights on him and no other will do.” She caught Sarah’s wrist and Sarah glanced at her, reading all the worry and distress in her friend’s expression. “Mr. Thayne is neither simple nor sweet, Sarah. He is young and handsome. I’ll give him that. But his soul is old. And there is something…” She shook her head. “Somethingotherabout him. Something distant anddangerous.”
Sarah opened her mouth. Closed it. Finally, she said, “I have not set my sights onanyone.”Liar.
She moved to the next bed, the next patient who lay snoring. Elinor followed and with a quick glance about, lowered her voice and said, “I passed Mrs. McKeever on her way out as I was coming in this morning and she said that some believe Mr. Thayne killed all four of the dead patients in amadfit.”
The words came as no surprise. The entire hospital had been buzzing with conjecture and whispered supposition for days. Some thought an animal with a burrow in the walls had killed all four. Some thought a creature of the night stole through the darkened corridors. There was all manner of conjectures as to the culprit. One thing she knew: no one who was a patient of Mr. Thayne’s had a bad word to sayabouthim.
A mad fit.She had never seen Killian less than composed and controlled...except for a single moment in the closet when she had thought he might kiss her. There had been a tiny fracture in hiscontrolthen.
“Mr. Thayne is an extremely competent surgeon,” Sarah replied as she unwound the dressing from the patient’s arm. The woman stirred and mumbled a protest but didnotwake.
Elinor made a sound of displeasure. “He is. That fact is not inquestion.”
Sarah cut her a sidelong glance. “And you, Elinor? Do you believe thegossip?”
Elinor searched her face. “I believe people gossip too much. Including me.” She lowered her voice once more. “A constable was here yesterday. From the MetropolitanPolice.”
Sarah murmured a wordless reply, for she already knew of the constable’s visit, having heard about it not only from the night nurse, but one of the lads who brought the morning gruel, the laundress, and two of the apothecaryapprentices.
“The constable spoke with Mr. Simon and Mr. Franks, and after that with Mr. Thayne, but in the end, he left. I thought he might like tea, so I went after him and askedaboutthat.”
“Of course you did,”Sarahsaid.
“I’m nothing if not hospitable.” Elinor smiled, dimples in hercheeks.
“And inquisitive. Out with it, then. What didhesay?”
Elinor shook her head. “He very politely declined the tea, saying he found the place off-putting.”
“I can’t imagine why...” Sarah swabbed the wound, pleased to see the healthy pink of newly healed skin and no sign ofinfection.
Elinor snorted. “He did share enough conversation that I can tell you he was called in to investigate by Mr. Simon, and that he will not be back.” She unfolded another bandage and handed it to Sarah. “It seems that the constable holds the opinion that people die in hospitals, and without further evidence, he cannot think there is foul playafoot.”
Something in her tone made Sarah pause in her work and turn her head to offer her fullattention.
Elinor tapped her foot on the wooden floor, a rapid patter. She pursed her lips, and after a moment continued in a whisper. “But I wonder. I do. I worked at Guy’s Hospital before I came here, and I’ve never seen the like of those wounds, ripped open and not a drop ofbloodshed.”
Sarah stared at her for a long moment, having no words, but so many thoughts. Because she, too, wondered, not just about the wound, but about the shadow she had seen the morning Mr. Scully died, and about Killian Thayne’s presence beside the bed of the woman who had died two weeks before that. She was certain that he was not responsible, a certainty that dwelled in instinct rather than quantifiable fact. But was such faith in himfolly?
Wetting her lips, she shook her head. “We need more bandages, Elinor,” she said, her voice soft, her heart heavy. She did not want to wonder about him. She wanted to believe that he was exactly the man she conjured in herdreams.