Chapter Four
Cynthia reappeared a few minutes later, her arms full of bed linens.
“I hope you brought the old sheets, at least,” said Ruby.
Cynthia laughed. “They’re all old, Ruby dear, as well you know. I had a hard time finding any that weren’t so thin he’ll put his foot through. These are sewed sides-to-middle, which isn’t very comfortable to sleep on, but it’s the best I could do.”
“And lucky he is to get these,” grumbled Ruby, nevertheless helping her mistress to put a sheet over the bottom of the old sofa, pushing the ends well down into the space between the seat and the back.
“We can’t put him in bed with his boots on,” said Cynthia. “I’ll do one, you do the other.”
“Nice pair of boots,” remarked Ruby, taking her one off. “Worn and in need a good polish, but quality, you can see that.”
“Yes,” said Cynthia, shortly. From the minute she’d heard his voice, she was sure he wasn’t a tramp. But what was he? It was intriguing. “Now we need to get off his coat and pantaloons.”
“You ain’t thinkin’ of stripping the man bare?” Ruby was scandalized.
“No, but he’ll be more comfortable without his coat, and we’ll need to wrap his legs in wet linen to bring down the fever. We can’t do that with his pantaloons on.”
“I don’t know what your Mama would say if she saw you undressing a dirty vagrant. You’d best let me do it.”
When Ruby invoked her mother, Cynthia knew it was serious. “But didn’t you notice how his coat fit across the shoulders? It must have been made to measure. You won’t just be able to slip it off, I’ll be bound.”
This proved to be the case. It took two of them to extricate the man from his jacket, which, though worn and in need of mending here and there, was good quality, made of superfine wool. The shirt underneath it was a soft linen, too, not the heavy cotton most working men wore.
“Let’s lift him onto the sofa before removing his pantaloons,” said Cynthia. It will be…, well, easier than holding onto his bare legs.”
“I should think so, too,” grumbled Ruby. “Holding his bare legs, indeed!”
It was a struggle lifting the unconscious man, but they finally achieved it.
Cynthia put a pillow under his head, while Ruby undid the flap on the front of his pantaloons and began to pull them down, revealing well-muscled thighs covered with fine blond hair beneath his long shirt tails. Cynthia averted her gaze.
“I’ll go and wet some towels,” she said, and scuttled out of the room.
She returned with towels in a pail of water.
She wrung them out and busied herself winding a damp cloth around his head, while Ruby wrapped the towels around his legs.
Then she began again dropping water between his lips.
Teacup had been crouching in a corner while they got the man settled, but now scrambled up the side of the sofa and onto his chest again, and began purring.
“That confounded cat!” said Ruby. “Shall I take her out? I can keep her in the kitchen along ’o me. I’ve got to go and see to the dinner or it won’t be ready when we need it.”
“No,” said Cynthia. “For some reason, she seems attached to our visitor. She’ll just stand outside and cry if you take her away. But would you make a tea with those leaves of feverfew we kept from when Will had that infected tooth? I’ll try getting that into him.”
Cynthia continued dropping water into the man’s mouth, then when Ruby brought in the feverfew tea, she patiently gave him that instead.
At last, his eyelids fluttered open. He looked at the ceiling, blinking, before turning his head towards her.
He seemed unable to focus for a moment, but then she saw recognition come into his eyes.
He drew a breath to speak but was wracked by a deep cough. His chest heaved, and he lay gasping.
“S…sorry, m…madam,” he said at last. “Bad c…cough….”
“You fainted on our doorstep,” said Cynthia. “You are quite ill, I think. You must lie quietly.”
The damp towels should be removed before he got cold, but Cynthia could not imagine handling his naked limbs while he was conscious! For she was now sure he was a gentleman. His clothes told her, but more than that, his voice confirmed it.
She went to the door and called, “Ruby, please come and remove the towels from the gentleman’s legs.”
Ruby came in and deftly unwrapped the man’s legs, while Cynthia did the same to his head.
“We’ll keep the damp towels here,” she told him, “In case we need them again, but for now, we need to make sure you don’t get cold. I think you have an inflammation of the lungs.”
With the commotion caused by the unwrapping, Teacup had slipped off the man’s chest and onto the floor.
But when the women had tucked him securely into a sheet and blankets, she leaped back up and settled on him again.
He must have felt her, for he looked down and, seeing her, gave a gasping chuckle. “L…like c…cats,” he rasped. “N…Name?”
“Teacup,” said Cynthia. “And this is Ruby. I am Cynthia Rowley.”
“A…Andrew F…Fielding, Ma…’am. A…At your s…serv…,” said the gentleman, and giving up the struggle, he closed his eyes and fell asleep.