Chapter 21
F or the next two hours, Gabriel occupied a corner of the waiting area with his coat draped across his knees.
He was silent and withdrawn, only distantly aware that Devon, Kathleen, and Cassandra had come to wait with him and the Winterbornes.
Thankfully they seemed to understand that he didn’t want to be approached.
The sound of their quiet voices was an irritant, as was Cassandra’s sniffling.
He didn’t want emotion around him or he would crumble.
Finding Pandora’s necklace in one of his coat pockets, he held the rust-smeared pearls in his hands, rolling them in his fingers.
She’d lost so much blood. How long did it take for the human body to produce more?
He stared down at the tiled flooring, the same kind that had been in the examination room, except they’d installed gutters in there.
The operating room must have them too. His mind kept returning helplessly to the thought of his wife unconscious on the operating table.
A knife had pierced that smooth ivory flesh, and now more knives were being used to repair the damage.
He thought of those moments leading up to the stabbing, the unholy fury he’d felt upon seeing Nola with Pandora.
He knew Nola well enough to be certain she’d said something poisonous to his wife.
Was that going to be the last memory Pandora had of him?
His hand tightened on the necklace until one of the strands broke, sending pearls scattering.
Gabriel sat unmoving while Kathleen and Helen bent to retrieve the pearls, and Cassandra went around the waiting area to pick up the strays.
“My lord,” he heard her say. She was standing in front of him, reaching out her cupped hands. “If you give them to me, I’ll make certain they’re cleaned and restrung.”
Reluctantly he let them slide into her hands.
He made the mistake of glancing at her face, and started at the sight of her wet eyes, blue rimmed with black.
Dear God, if Pandora died, he was never going to be able to see these people again.
He wouldn’t be able to bear looking into those damned Ravenel eyes.
Standing, he left the waiting area and went to the hallway, setting his back against the wall.
In a few minutes, Devon came around the corner and approached him. Gabriel kept his head lowered. This man had entrusted him with Pandora’s safety, and he’d failed utterly. The guilt and shame was overpowering.
A silver flask was thrust into his field of vision. “My butler, in his infinite wisdom, handed this to me as I left the house.”
Gabriel took the flask, uncapped it, and took a swallow of brandy. Its smooth fire seared its way down and thawed his frozen insides a degree or two. “It’s my fault,” he eventually said. “I didn’t watch over her well enough.”
“Don’t be an idiot,” Devon said. “No one could watch over Pandora every minute. You can’t keep her under lock and key.”
“If she lives through this, I’ll bloody well have to.” Gabriel broke off, his throat knotting, and he had to take another swallow of brandy before he could speak again. “We haven’t even been married for one blasted month, and she’s on an operating table.”
“St. Vincent...” Devon’s voice was edged with rueful amusement.
“When I inherited the title, I wasn’t at all prepared to take responsibility for three innocent girls and an ill-tempered widow.
They were always heading in different directions, acting on impulse, and landing themselves in trouble.
I thought I’d never be able to control them. But then one day I realized something.”
“What was it?”
“That I’ll never be able to control them.
They are who they are. All I can do is love them, and try my damnedest to keep them safe, even knowing it won’t always be possible.
” Devon sounded wry. “Having a family has made me a happy man. It’s also robbed me of all peace of mind, probably forever.
But on the whole... not a bad bargain. ”
Gabriel recapped the flask and silently extended it to him.
“Keep it for now,” Devon said, “I’ll go back to wait with the others.”
Just before the end of the third hour, a hush fell over the waiting area, followed by a few quiet murmurs.
“Where is Lord St. Vincent?” he heard Dr. Gibson ask.
Gabriel’s head jerked up. He waited like a damned soul, watching the woman’s slim form appear from around the corner.
Dr. Gibson had removed the cap and surgeon’s gown.
Her chestnut hair was confined in neat braids that went along the sides of her head and joined in a coil at the back, a tidy style vaguely reminiscent of a schoolgirl.
Her green eyes were weary but alert. As she faced him, a faint smile broke through the layers of formidable self-possession.
“We’ve passed the first hurdle,” she said. “Your wife came through the operation in good condition.”
“Jesus,” he whispered. Covering his eyes with one hand, he cleared his throat and hardened his jaw against a rough tremor of emotion.
“I was able to reach the damaged portion of the artery without having to resection the clavicle,” Dr. Gibson continued.
At his lack of response, she continued speaking, as if trying to allow him time to recover himself.
“Rather than tie it off with silk or horsehair, I used specially treated catgut ligatures that are eventually absorbed into the tissues. They’re still in the late developmental stage, but I prefer to use them in special cases like this.
No sutures will need to be removed later, which minimizes the risk of infection and hemorrhage. ”
Finally controlling the surge of excess emotion, Gabriel looked at her through a hot blur. “What’s next?” he asked gruffly.
“The main concern is keeping her completely still and relaxed, to minimize the risk of having a ligature give way and causing hemorrhage. If there’s a problem, it will occur within the first forty-eight hours.”
“Is that why none of them survived? Hemorrhage?”
She gave him an inquiring glance.
“Havelock told me about the previous cases like Pandora’s,” he said.
Dr. Gibson’s gaze softened. “He shouldn’t have.
At least not without putting it in proper perspective.
Those cases were unsuccessful for two reasons: the doctors relied on old-fashioned surgical techniques, and the operations took place in contaminated environments.
Pandora’s situation is quite different. All of our instruments were sterilized, every square inch of the operating room was disinfected, and I sprayed carbolic solution on every living thing in sight, including myself.
We’ve cleaned the wound thoroughly and covered it with an antiseptic dressing.
I’m quite optimistic about Pandora’s recovery. ”
Gabriel let out a shaken sigh. “I want to believe you.”
“My lord, I never try to make people feel better by shading the truth one way or the other. I merely relate the facts. How you react to them is your responsibility, not mine.”
The resolutely unsentimental words almost made him smile. “Thank you,” he said sincerely.
“You’re quite welcome, my lord.”
“May I see her now?”
“Soon. She’s still recovering from the anesthesia.
With your permission, I will keep her here in a private room for at least two or three days.
I’ll stay around the clock, of course. In the event that a hemorrhage occurs, I’ll be able to operate right away.
Now, I must assist Dr. Havelock with some postoperative.
..” The doctor’s voice faded as she noticed two men entering the front door and walking through the lobby. “Who are they?”
“One of them is my footman,” Gabriel said, recognizing Dragon’s towering form. The other man was a stranger.
As they approached, Dragon’s gaze fastened on Gabriel with dark intensity, trying to read his expression.
“The operation was successful,” Gabriel told him.
A look of relief came over the footman’s face, and his shoulders relaxed.
“Did you find Mrs. O’Cairre?” Gabriel asked .
“Yes, milord. She’s being held at Scotland Yard.”
Realizing he hadn’t yet made introductions, Gabriel murmured, “Dr. Gibson, this is my footman, Dragon. That is... Drago.”
“It’s Dragon now,” the footman told him in a matter-of-fact tone. “As her ladyship prefers.” He gestured to the man beside him. “Here is the acquaintance I told you about, milord. Mr. Ethan Ransom, of Scotland Yard.”
Ransom was improbably young for a man of his profession.
Usually by the time a man was promoted to detective, he had served on the force for a number of years, and had been worn down by the physical hardships of the police beat.
He was lean and big-boned, well over the height of five feet and eight inches required by the Metropolitan force.
His coloring was Black Irish, with dark hair and dark eyes, and fair skin warmed with a hint of ruddiness.
Gabriel stared at the detective closely, thinking there was something familiar about him.
“Have we met before?” Dr. Gibson demanded of the detective, evidently thinking the same thing.
“We have, doctor,” Ransom replied. “A year and a half ago, Mr. Winterborne asked me to watch over you and Lady Helen, as you went on an errand in a dangerous part of town.”
“Oh, yes.” Dr. Gibson’s eyes narrowed. “You’re the man who stalked after us and skulked in the shadows, and interfered needlessly as we went to hire a hansom cab.”
“You were being attacked by a pair of dockyard navvies,” Ransom pointed out gently.
“I had the situation well in hand,” came her brisk reply. “I had already dispatched one man, and was about to put away the other, when you jumped into the fray without even asking.”
“I beg your pardon,” Ransom said gravely. “I thought you might need assistance. Obviously my assumption was incorrect.”
Mollified, Dr. Gibson said in a grudging tone, “I suppose you could hardly be expected to stand by and let a woman do all the fighting. The masculine sense of pride is fragile, after all.”
A smile flashed in Ransom’s eyes, but disappeared quickly. “Doctor, could you briefly describe Lady St. Vincent’s wound for me?”
After receiving a nod of consent from Gabriel, Dr. Gibson replied.
“It was a single acute puncture just to the right of the neck, entering an inch above the clavicle and extending three inches deep. It pierced the anterior scalene muscle and lacerated the subclavian artery. Had the artery been severed completely, it would have caused unconsciousness in ten seconds and death in approximately two minutes.”
Gabriel’s stomach dropped at the thought. “The only reason that didn’t happen,” he said, “is because Dragon blocked the forward tug of the knife with his arm.” He glanced at the footman quizzically. “How did you know what she was going to do?”
Dragon spoke while tucking in the loose edge of the makeshift bandage over his arm.
“As soon as I saw Mrs. O’Cairre aim for the top of the shoulder, I thought she would jerk the knife down like a pump handle.
I once saw a man killed that way in an alley near the club, when I was a boy.
Never forgot it. An odd way to stab someone.
It made him drop to the ground, and there was no blood. ”
“The blood would have drained into the chest cavity and collapsed the lung,” Dr. Gibson said. “Quite an efficient way to murder someone.”
“It’s not the method of a street thug,” Ransom commented. “It’s... professional. The technique requires some knowledge of physiology.” He sighed shortly. “I’d like to find out who instructed Mrs. O’Cairre how to do it.”
“Can you not question her?” Dr. Gibson asked.
“Unfortunately the detectives with the seniority are managing the interrogation, and they’re fouling it up so badly, it almost seems deliberate. The only real information we’ll end up with is what Mrs. O’Cairre told Dragon when he caught her.”
“Which is?” Gabriel asked.
“Mrs. O’Cairre and her late husband were part of a group of Irish anarchists who aspire to overthrow the government. Caipíní an Bháis, they call themselves. A splinter group of the Fenians.”
“The man Lady St. Vincent saw in the warehouse is a collaborator,” Dragon added.
“Mrs. O’Cairre said he’s a man of position.
When he feared his anonymity had been compromised, he told Mrs. O’Cairre to take a knife to Lady St. Vincent.
Mrs. O’Cairre says she’s sorry it had to be done, but she couldn’t refuse. ”
In the silence that followed, Dr. Gibson glanced at Dragon’s bandaged arm and said, “Has that cut been seen to?” She continued without waiting for an answer. “Come with me and I’ll take a look at it.”
“Thank you, but I don’t need—”
“I’ll disinfect and bandage it properly. You may require stitches.”
Dragon followed her reluctantly.
Ransom’s gaze lingered on the doctor for a few extra seconds as she strode away, the divided skirt swishing around her hips and legs.
He returned his attention to Gabriel. “My lord, I hesitate to ask at such a time. But at your earliest convenience, I’d like to see the materials that Lady St. Vincent brought back from the print works. ”
“Of course. Dragon will help you with anything you need.” Gabriel gave him a hard glance. “I want someone to pay for what was done to my wife.”