Page 58 of The Swan Detective (The Swan Syndicate #2)

The ride to the manor seemed to take forever, yet Stella wasn’t prepared for the abrupt stop. The door was ripped open, and Beckworth was there. He gently pulled her out, and considering the late hour, she was dazed by the number of people standing around.

Someone must have ridden ahead to alert the manor. Footmen with makeshift stretchers removed the injured men and hustled them up the steps.

“We need a blanket and a towel here.” Beckworth grabbed the towel first and cleaned Stella’s hands until all that was left were the crimson stains that had seeped and dried into her skin. He was handed two blankets, and he wrapped them both around her.

She hadn’t realized she was shaking until she tried to grip them, yet somehow managed. “There was so much blood. I tried to stop it, but it just kept coming.”

“Hush. That’s alright. We’ve got them now.”

Then Libby was there.

“Is she hurt?”

Beckworth shook his head. “Shock, I think.”

At some point on the drive back, a buzzing had begun in her ears, and it muted Beckworth’s last words, but it sounded like he needed to get to Hensley. The crowd began moving inside, and she was surprised to see Elizabeth waiting at the bottom of the steps.

“We need to get her out of those clothes.” The dowager started up the steps ahead of them. “And have coffee and brandy brought up.”

Stella wondered where Eleanor was, but she’d be with Bart and the injured men. That’s where she needed to be, but she couldn’t stop shaking. Coffee and brandy. That should do the trick.

When they reached the bedroom, Libby quickly removed her dress and washed the last of the blood from her hands and arms. She was settled in front of a blazing fire with a fresh blanket wrapped around her.

Libby stared into her eyes for a moment, then nodded, apparently satisfied with whatever she saw. “Just sit for a minute while I gather another dress.”

A glass was shoved into her hands.

“Drink.” Elizabeth stood next to her and wasn’t going to move until Stella followed her orders.

She didn’t hesitate. It was whiskey, not brandy, and she managed to hold off coughing until after the burn reached her belly. “Didn’t you say brandy?”

“The maid hasn’t brought it yet, but there was whiskey on the stand. It’s close enough.” Elizabeth was in her Dame Ellingsworth role, and Stella was too exhausted to fight, so she took another sip.

She couldn’t afford to be tired or have a breakdown. She hadn’t killed anyone this time. Well, that one bodyguard had a bolt in his side, but she doubted it had been a kill shot. Of course, without antibiotics, anything was possible. She blinked away the images of blood, but it wasn’t easy.

Her head popped up when Elizabeth stuck a mug of coffee in front of her.

The rich aroma stirred her brain cells, and the shaking began to subside.

Though the coffee was too hot, she took several long gulps.

Elizabeth and Libby paced behind her while she finished the brew. Once done, she held up the mug.

“Libby, another round.”

She struggled to her feet, tossing the blanket away and then tripping over it when she tried to put distance from the fire.

Between it, the blanket, and the whiskey, the shivering had stopped, and beads of sweat dampened her skin.

Once she found her footing, she managed to stumble to the bed and grabbed a bedpost to lean on.

Elizabeth shoved another glass in front of her. “This one is brandy, though I wouldn’t bother sipping it.”

She didn’t argue and slugged it down. The fire in her belly kicked her into motion. “I need one of my East End day dresses.”

The words were barely out of her mouth before Libby took the glass from her and handed it to Elizabeth. Then she nudged Stella to step into the dress she’d already had prepared.

“I’d make you change your undergarments, but luckily the blood didn’t seep through.” Once the dress was on, Libby handed her a refreshed mug of coffee. “Let me do something with your hair.”

When Stella fought against being pushed to the dressing table, Libby added, “I know you want to check on the men, but it would be easier if your hair wasn’t in your eyes.”

She relented, but after a few brush strokes, she shoved Libby’s hands out of the way. “Where did they take them?”

“They’re downstairs near the kitchen.” Libby managed to sneak in one hair pin. “Bart wanted to be close to hot water and a sink.”

Stella was headed for the door when she snapped her fingers and turned. “Can you grab my first aid kit?” While she waited, she refilled her mug.

“Are you sure you’re ready?” Elizabeth gave her a stern perusal but appeared satisfied with what she saw.

“I’m well enough.” She reached for the first aid kit, but Libby brushed her hand away.

“I’ll follow you down. I doubt you’re going to let go of that mug.”

“I have two hands.” She would start babbling soon if she didn’t get her head on straight. She’d need one hand for the railing. With her luck, she’d stumble down the stairs and be one more patient for an overburdened Bart.

She gave the woman a small smile and held out her hand. “See. Hardly shaking at all.” She ignored the women’s shared glance.

She gulped the coffee as she marched down the hall, taking another sip every few feet. Libby and Elizabeth trailed behind her as she made her way through the manor and down the stairs to the kitchen.

The scent of blood hit her halfway down, and though she hesitated for a moment, she refused to let it bother her.

She weaved her way through the footmen and housemaids who scurried around.

Two footmen carried buckets of water. One disappeared into a room where they handled minor household repairs, while the other entered the staff’s dining room.

A housemaid scurried out with blood-soaked towels while another went in with fresh ones.

Eleanor bustled from one room to another, calling out orders in a stern and commanding tone.

“We’ll be in the way more than we’ll be of help.” Elizabeth kept her back to the wall with Libby beside her.

Stella nodded and, emptying the last drop of coffee, exchanged the mug for the first aid kit. “I want to check on everyone’s condition and see if Bart needs the medication I brought with me.”

Instead of moving toward a room, her feet froze in place. If she didn’t go in, if she continued to hope, they’d all still be alive. Even if they weren’t, they would be in her head. At least for a little while longer.

Then Eleanor was there. “Stella. Stella.”

The second mention of her name pulled her out of whatever fugue she’d fallen into, and she wished Beckworth were next to her. Where was he, anyway? Hensley. He was going to Hensley’s.

She followed Eleanor’s wave before the woman ducked into the room where shoes and other items were repaired. She immediately recognized the man on the table. He’d been the one on the bench who’d been moaning.

His shirt had been ripped open, and the blood had been washed away, leaving only his bare, pale chest. Off to the side was a row of surgical equipment. They looked more like barbaric torture instruments compared to their twenty-first-century counterparts.

When she noticed Lincoln tying a suture, she came fully awake.

Lincoln was performing surgical tasks as he completed another stitch.

Bart must have trained him for simpler injuries.

Not that what she was witnessing appeared simple.

His movements were swift and methodical, but sweat beaded on his forehead.

She held back a hysterical giggle when one of the housemaids pressed a towel to his forehead.

She didn’t know anything about his technique, but he was going to make an excellent surgeon if his calm demeanor was any indication.

He glanced up at that moment, his expression more serious than she’d ever seen it.

“Bart said you might have something to deal with an infection. He’s lost a lot of blood.

They all have, but this man’s injury wasn’t too bad.

I got the ball out and most of the debris.

If we can keep the infection away, he should mend quickly once his blood is restored. ”

Stella laid the kit on a nearby table and pulled out several items before unfolding a piece of paper that she laid next to the kit. She ran her finger down the list of items and matched them to the labeled containers.

“I have antibiotics to help with the infection.” She pulled aside a small tin filled with pills.

Adam, AJ’s brother and a lawyer with questionable connections to a motorcycle gang to whom he once owed a rather large debt, had supplied her with a large quantity of antibiotics and a few other pharmaceuticals. Each drug had been written down with its intended use and the proper dosage amounts.

Maire, Finn’s sister, had a way with herbal medicines that she’d learned as a young woman from the Irish Travellers who visited her town every year. She’d added her knowledge of herbs to the list in addition to the herbs kept in the kit.

Stella looked at the injured man, guessed his body weight, and pulled out several pills and two types of herbs. She waved to a housemaid who waited nearby while Lincoln kept a kitchen maid busy helping with the bandages, his stitch work apparently completed.

When the housemaid came to her side, Stella provided instructions.

“It’s best to crush the pills and add them to water.

Make sure he drinks it all as soon as he’s awake.

He’ll need broth to help restore his blood.

Add these herbs to it. They should also help guard against an infection.

Bart has something for the pain, but we can reassess that later. Do you understand?”

The housemaid nodded, and Stella felt comfortable that her instructions would be carried out. “I’ll come back later and check in.”

She packed up the first aid kit, but before she left to go to the next room, she squeezed Lincoln’s arm. “Are you okay?”