Page 86 of The Condemned (Echoes from the Past #6)

SEVENTY-THREE

Aboard the Constance

White hot sun flooded the deck, making Mary squint against its brightness.

It was unseasonably hot, and she felt too warm in her woolen gown as she leaned against the rail and peered out over the tranquil sea.

It was hard to tell where the water ended and the sky began.

She thought she might catch sight of land today, but the ocean stretched before her, just as it had for the past two months.

Mary’s hand flew to her belly as a particularly vicious kick startled her out of her reverie.

The baby could come any day now, according to Dr. Paulson, and despite her fear for the future, she was ready.

She was uncomfortable and hot, even when the temperature dropped after sunset, and had to use the pot so frequently there was almost no point in trying to sleep.

Mary stepped away from the railing. She was terribly thirsty.

Her mouth was so dry her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth.

She closed her eyes as a terrible headache began to build just behind the forehead, the pain reverberating into her temples.

A telltale flush began to creep from her neck and into her face, her cheeks aflame within seconds.

Mary wet her hands in a barrel of water and patted them against her flushed face, but the warm water did nothing to cool her down.

She began walking toward the ladder that would take her down below, but her vision blurred, and terrible vertigo knocked her off balance.

The deck rushed up to meet her and Mary fell hard, landing on her left side and slamming her head against the planks .

Rough hands lifted her, and she was transported to the cool sanctuary of the cabin.

She heard Dr. Paulson’s voice floating somewhere above her, its cadence distorted and muffled by the roaring in her ears.

She couldn’t open her eyes, and her whole body seemed to quake as the blood rushed in her veins and pounded in her temples, leaving her nearly insensible with pain.

“Mary, can you hear me?” the doctor was asking. Mary tried to reply, but all that came out was a pitiful moan.

“Mary. Mary,” Dr. Paulson called. She felt his fingers on her wrist and his palm on her forehead. “I need to do something to relieve her blood pressure, or she’ll suffer an apoplexy,” he said, addressing someone in the cabin with them.

“Will you bleed her again?”

“No, that will take too long and isn’t guaranteed to help. Unbearable pressure is building in her head. Look how flushed she is, and the whites of her eyes are tinged red from broken blood vessels. I must save her.”

“What will you do?” the voice asked.

“Make a hole in her skull to relieve the pressure on the brain. I will trepan her.”

Mary heard a sharp intake of breath. “Will she survive the procedure?”

“If I don’t do something, she won’t survive the day. And even if she does, the physical strain of delivering a child will surely kill her. I will do what I can to help, then find her lodgings once we come ashore. She will need ample time to recover.”

“You don’t expect her to survive the birth, do you?”

Mary didn’t hear Dr. Paulson’s whispered answer, but she didn’t need to.

It was obvious enough. What would happen to her baby if she died?

Would someone look after it or just throw it into the gutter?

Mary desperately tried to marshal her thoughts, but the pounding in her head obliterated every coherent thought, plunging her into a thick fog as she began to lose consciousness.

The fog grew heavier, pressing down on her chest and suffocating her.

She struggled to breathe but fought the darkness with every last reserve of her energy.

“Help me,” Mary whispered. “Please, help me.”

“Mary, I’m going to do everything in my power to save you,” Dr. Paulson promised.

“The baby.”

“I will make sure your baby will be looked after if you’re not there to look after it yourself. You mustn’t worry. Try to relax and breathe deeply.”

Mary tried to respond, but her brief spell of awareness was swallowed by the ever-encroaching fog. She seemed to be floating on it, enveloped in its soupy thickness.

“Will you not give her some laudanum?” the voice asked.

“I’m afraid I don’t have any left,” Dr. Paulson replied. “She’ll have to do without.”

Mary cried out when a sharp pain roused her from her stupor and nearly sent her flying off the berth.

She would have sat bolt upright, but strong hands held her down as Dr. Paulson leaned over her and bored into her skull.

The pain was like nothing Mary had ever experienced.

It was sharp and relentless. She convulsed in agony and screamed for the doctor to stop, but he only increased the pressure, rushing to get the job done.

“I’m almost done,” he assured her in a breathless voice. “You’ll feel much better once it’s all over.”

She couldn’t respond. She was whimpering and crying like a wounded animal, her heart contracting from the pain as if it would burst.

“Hold her still,” Dr. Paulson barked .

“No,” Mary moaned, but no one seemed to be listening to her. They didn’t seem to understand that her head felt as if it were being cleaved in two by a very sharp axe. At least that would have been a quick death. This was torture.

“Just a little longer,” Dr. Paulson was saying. “I’m almost there.”

Suddenly, the pain vanished, leaving behind a strange feeling of peace. Mary no longer cared about anything. She’d only wanted the suffering to end, and now it had. She floated on a gossamer cloud of tranquility.

“There now. She’s feeling better already. Mop up the blood, will you,” Dr. Paulson said above her head.

Mary heard a gagging sound. “Dear Lord in heaven, is that her brain?”

“It’s nothing to be frightened of, Master Halsey. The pressure has been relieved, and a natural balance will soon be restored. We will leave her this way until she’s out of danger and then replace the skull cap.” Sounds of retching reached her from far away.

Mary felt the welcoming embrace of oblivion as darkness descended on her battered senses. She was no longer floating, but falling, falling into an abyss. She tried to fight it, but she was too weak, so she gave in and allowed the darkness to take her.