Page 26 of Grace in Glasgow (Seduced in Scotland #3)

“A gauge broke on one of the power looms. Snapped right off and the entire operation went haywire. Heddles and shuttles flew everywhere.” He motioned to the bandaged man he was carrying. “Got poor Lonnie in the eye.”

James gave him a tight nod before facing the other man.

“What about him?”

“Daft thing. He tried to help Lonnie, but the reed snapped up and the way he was angled, he caught the blasted thing in the throat. He can’t breathe correctly.”

Grace came to stand next to James as they moved the men into one of the apartments. It was Mrs. Muller’s room. They brought the man with the eye injury to a straw cot while seating the man struggling to breathe on a wooden chair.

“Right. I’ll take the eye, you see what you can do about him,” James said to Grace. “He likely just has a swollen pharynx.”

Grace split from him instantly to tend to her patient, but knew almost instantly that something wasn’t right. The man’s body started to tense and the soft gurgling that she had heard in the hallway had stopped.

“He isn’t breathing,” she said, coming to her knees. “Bring him here, lie him down on the floor.”

The men were quick to follow her instruction, kicking away the chair as they laid him flat on his back as she leaned over him, her ear to his mouth. The gentle, scoffing of air being laboriously pushed in and out could just barely be heard. He was choking.

Just then, a young lady entered the room. Terror on her face, she saw the man lying on the floor and came around, trying to push Grace away.

“What has happened to my Michael?” she asked, tears welling up in her eyes.

Grace shouldered her away.

“He can’t breathe.”

“Can’t breathe? Oh, Michael.”

“Please, I need to see if there’s something obstructing his airway.”

Bending back up, she aligned his head, tilting his chin up and tried to see down his throat as she heard James calmly ordering someone to hand him one of the tools from his bag.

They were working in tandem but separately and while the situation at hand was serious, Grace felt a spark of kinship with him.

Trying to gaze down her patient’s throat, she couldn’t see anything, but using her fingers, she felt an unnatural dip against his throat and when she pressed on it, his arms flailed up, striking her against the cheek.

“Grace!” James called, but she ignored him.

“You’re hurting him!” the woman yelled, trying once more to push Grace out of the way.

“Hold him!” she barked at the men, putting the sting she felt out of her mind.

Once he was secure, she spoke to the woman on her left.

“If you do not get out of my way, this man, whoever he is to you, will suffocate and you’ll be helping him along to his final reward.

Now stand against the wall and let me work. ”

The watery-eyed young woman’s mouth dropped.

Seemingly believing Grace, she shuffled to her feet and hurried to the wall, while Grace leaned over the man once again.

“I’m sorry, I know you are in pain, but I believe your throat has collapsed.

” The man’s frightened blue eyes stared up at her. “Can you speak?”

He shook his head.

“I thought so. That means the damage has occurred in the larynx.” She bit her lip and shook her head. “I know what needs to be done, but I’m afraid it’s rather dangerous and painful. However, if this isn’t tended to…” She hesitated for only a moment before continuing. “You will choke to death.”

A chilling silence fell over the room. Grace glanced up at James who was watching her, when the woman against the wall interrupted.

“Please, Miss Lady Doctor,” she said, catching Grace’s attention. She glanced up to see the young person, hands clasped in front of her chest as if she were praying. “If you can, please. Save my Michael.”

Grace gave one last look at James; she focused on the patient. Touching his head gently, she saw his eyes flutter as a terrible, gurgling came from his throat. He started to shake and the men held him down tightly.

“I need a scalpel. Now.”

“Here, Miss MacIntosh,” James called out to the woman who crossed the room in Grace’s peripheral vision. “Give this to her.”

Grace waited with an outstretched hand until the cool metal was placed gently in her palm.

With her other hand, she felt along the front of the man’s neck for the cricoid cartilage, or the ridged rings that could be felt beneath the skin on the throat.

With a steady, but firm hand, Grace pressed the tip of the scalpel into the skin, and cut vertically.

“You’re slitting his throat?” the woman cried.

“I’m saving his life.”

Through the platysma muscle, exposing the strap muscles, she was able to see the thyroid gland. Breathing steadily through her nose, Grace cut a small portion of the thyroid, only enough to see and nick the trachea with the tip of her blade.

Instantly, a gasp of air pulled into the hole as the man’s chest lifted, now fully able to breathe. Grace needed a needle to suture the muscles when one appeared right before her eyes. Turning, she saw James, kneeling next to her.

“I’ll dab the incision with laudanum while you stitch. Hopefully, it’ll numb the pain.”

Grace took the silk thread and needle, bent low, and worked as though she were a lady working on a needlepoint. This was where she was her calmest, her most focused. Working to save a man’s life.

Within minutes, he was cleaned up and set up to a sitting position.

“Now, you must keep this area clean,” James was saying as Miss MacIntosh gripped Michael’s arm.

“Miss Sharpe was able to stitch you up, and it seems as though there might be a chance at recovering from your initial injury. I want you to visit my office in a few days. Do not speak until then. Miss MacIntosh? Might you be able to communicate for this man?”

“Aye, Doctor.” Miss MacIntosh reached for Grace’s hand. “And thank you, Doctor.”

Grace’s heart swelled, but she remained still.

“Of course,” she said, a little breathless as she and James left the room.

Grace let out a long breath as the door closed, and to her sudden surprise, James instantly grabbed her around the waist and lifted her up, twirling her around right in the middle of the hallway. When he set her down, he was beaming down at her, pride and amazement shining in his eyes.

“God above, Grace, that was brilliant. Brilliant!”

“I, no,” she stuttered, shaking her head. “It was just what needed to be done.”

“How did you learn to do it?”

“Dr. Barkley had me practice. On pigs.”

“At the butchers?”

Grace tilted her head.

“How did you know?”

“It’s where I learned how to suture myself. But a tracheotomy. That incision was clean, and done with a near diabolical speed.” He shook his head. “You’ve really an amazing talent for this sort of work.”

Grace swallowed, trying not to let his praise affect her, but she had to admit that she felt several stories tall as they made their way to the last room on their list. But as Grace went to follow James inside, Mrs. Monty stopped her.

“Oh, no, you don’t. You’re not allowed in, what with your loose tongue.”

Grace bobbed her head.

“I’ll wait in the carriage.”

“Miss Sharpe is assisting me,” James tried, but Grace held up her hand.

“Really, I wouldn’t want to make Mrs. Monty uncomfortable.”

After giving her a concerned expression, James nodded.

“All right. I shouldn’t be long. I’ll meet you in the carriage.”

Grace turned to walk the short distance to the front door and exited.

The streets were unsurprisingly empty as the rain had been steady in its downfall.

With a small bounce in her step, she hurried toward the carriage as she glanced around at her surroundings and just before she reached the door, she saw him.

Mr. Roberts.

At least, she thought it was him. He was wearing a rounded top hat, a coke hat, she believed it was called, and the collar of his great overcoat was turned up, hiding his chin, but she could have sworn it was him.

What was he doing in Gallowgate?

She paused, unaware of the rain that fell as she watched him hand two poorly dressed, rather rough looking men several paper notes as he glanced around them. He saw Grace, or at least, she thought he did when he froze, staring in her direction.

“Mr. Roberts?” she called out, only for the man to spin around promptly as he stalked down the street.

The other two men glared at her before turning back to enter the building behind them.

Unsure why she was provoked to investigate or what she even planned on doing, Grace glanced both ways along the street before hurrying across, where she saw a sign hanging above the door that had just been slammed.

Rabbit House Boarding. She glanced up the road, but couldn’t see Mr. Roberts anymore, and so, facing the door once again, she knocked.

But no one answered.

“Hello?” she yelled, knocking harder. “Hello!” She stepped back, to gaze up at the structure. She cupped her hands around her mouth. “Hello!”

Instantly, a hand wrapped around her arm and whipped her around. James’s intense, wide eyes were watching her as if she had lost her mind.

“What are you doing?” he asked loudly through the sound of the storm.

“I saw Mr. Roberts,” she answered, pointing down the road with her free hand. “Just now. He was paying two men who went into this building.”

“This is a boarding house for the poor,” James said. “And who is Mr. Roberts?”

“One of the students from Andersen University. One of Dr. Cameron’s men.”

James frowned, his expression doubtful.

“I don’t think so, Grace. This isn’t the sort of neighborhood one of Dr. Cameron’s students would frequent.”

“It was him. I saw him.”

“Come.” He pulled lightly at her arm. “Let’s go out of the rain.”

Grace allowed him to escort her back to the carriage where the previously missing driver was, holding the door open. She hurried inside, followed by James as they sat and within moments, the vehicle was moving.

James removed his hat to shake off the rain.