Chapter Twenty-Seven #2
“The next twenty-four hours are critical. The sooner he wakes, the better for the prognosis. That said, I shall take advantage of his comatose state to set his collarbone with a sling, bandage his ribs, and stitch the wound on his face. I require a piece of linen for the sling, about two feet square, and bandages.”
“Of course!” Ava turned to Mrs. Grundy, who had brought the bandages herself along with the ointments Ava had requested.
She nodded to Ava with a quick bob and said, “I’ll fetch the linen straight, my lady.”
To Ava’s massive relief, Jerome came around as soon as the doctor touched his arm. Leyton had cut him out of his clothes to minimize moving him and had been so careful and gentle, he did not disturb the patient. But the doctor’s touch provoked a groan and fluttering of the eyes.
Ava, standing on the opposite side of the bed from the doctor, took Jerome’s left hand—it was his right clavicle that was broken—and bent over so that she brought her face into line with his eyes. “Jerome? My love—?”
He blinked at her for a moment and then a smile broke out across his face, swiftly replaced by a wince as the movement pulled at the wound on his cheek. “Ava!”
Relief made her sob as she raised his hand to her lips and kissed it, tears coursing down her cheeks and wetting his fingers.
“You’re a very lucky man, Your Lordship,” said the doctor, observing these encouraging signs.
“Banged myself up a bit, I think,” said Jerome, wincing as the doctor manipulated his arm into position.
“You have. I’m going to make you more comfortable with this sling. You’ve broken your collarbone and, I suspect, some ribs. Once I’ve done that, I’m going to stitch your face. You have a nasty gash on your cheek.”
“I thought I could feel something. How bad is it? Will it scar?”
“I’m afraid so, yes.”
Ava squeezed his hand and said with a tender smile, “You will look quite piratical I’m sure, my love.”
He glanced at her but said nothing.
“Does your head hurt?”
“Like the devil,” admitted Jerome.
The doctor frowned down at him as he folded the square of linen that Mrs. Grundy had just brought him diagonally and then slid it around Jerome’s bent arm and tied the ends behind his neck.
“There, that should hold it still. You will need to sleep propped up and with a pillow beneath your arm to keep it steady until the bones knit. About six to eight weeks. Now let’s have a look at that head of yours. ”
He took Jerome’s chin in his fingers and held up one finger on his other hand. “Track my finger with your eyes,” he said, his gaze fixed on Jerome’s. He moved the finger back and forth and observed Jerome’s efforts to track it.
“Hm. Your pupils are a little dilated, but you were able to track. That is good. Your head will ache for several days, I suspect. You sustained quite a blow. Do you feel dizzy?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Well, you’ll be staying in bed for a few days, anyway. Do you have any sharp or dull pain in your abdomen or back?”
“I can’t tell. To be honest, everything feels like it hurts at the moment.”
“Well, monitor it. If the pain gets worse, let me know. Nausea?”
“I bit, but that might be my head,” admitted Jerome with a grimace.
“Yes, likely, but if you start to vomit, let me know. Any breathlessness?”
“I can’t breathe deeply because of the ribs. You’re right, at least one is broken. I can feel it.”
The doctor nodded.
“It is important that your wounds are dressed and kept clean to avoid fever. Let’s bandage your ribs and then I’ll get to that face.”
*
With a bandage around his rib cage and his upper body propped against pillows, his arm at rest in its sling, Jerome braced himself for the stitches.
He had sustained wounds before and been stitched, so he knew what to expect, but the notion of his face being scarred bothered him more than he wanted to admit. Am I so vain? It seemed he was.
His cheek was raw pain, and hot throbs of it pulsed through his already aching head, making his stomach roll ominously. He felt wretched. How could he have made such a dreadful error while driving? Because I was tired and not myself!
When it was over, he was fed some drops of laudanum for pain and slipped into an uneasy doze.
His next sensations were of heat. He was burning up. Had he died and gone to hell for his sins? He felt awful enough to be in hell. His whole body ached and stung from a dozen small wounds and the big one on his cheek. His collarbone ached. His ribs throbbed.
A cool cloth on his forehead brought some momentary relief and a soft, “There my darling, is that better?” Ava. Tears of gratitude stung his eyes. My sweet, darling Ava.
He twitched his right hand, looking for her. He couldn’t open his eyes, they felt leaden. Then her small hand was in his, squeezing gently, and he sighed, slipping into another doze.
*
Ava spent a terrified night by his side as his temperature spiked and his body became bathed in sweat. She wiped him constantly with wet cloths to keep him cool and prayed harder than she had ever done in her life.
By morning, the fever seemed to have abated, and he slept through until midafternoon, enabling her to seek her bed for a few hours of sleep. When she returned from her nap, she was pleased to see Jerome’s eyes open as she approached the bed.
Leyton had stayed with him while she was sleeping, and he rose when she entered and bowed. “He’s just woken, my lady,” he said quietly. “Do you require anything?”
“No, you go and rest. I’ll take over now.” She smiled at him gratefully, and he took his leave of Jerome, who thanked him.
She approached the bed and drew up a chair to take his hand.
“How do you feel?”
“Somewhat better. Everything aches, but my head is pounding less, and I’m hungry.”
“Oh, that is excellent news! I shall ring for a tray for you.”