Chapter 23 The Sweet Sting of Poison #2
“Of course,” Josiah agreed, nodding. “I am so very glad you did.” With a wave to Amos, who waved back once he started driving up the beaten path, he added, “How long do you intend to stay? All withdrawals are different, but—”
“For as long as it takes,” Clara assured him. “My family thinks I’m visiting my cousin, and it’s never unusual for us to stay a fortnight or so. If I am needed beyond that, I’ll write to them.” Lifting her valise, she added, “Am I to stay in my old room?”
Josiah smiled and gestured for her to accompany him. “You will, indeed. Once you get settled in, I’m sure Benjamin would delight in a visit.”
With a soft intake of breath, Clara nodded and followed after.
Teetering upon the thin divide between mania and clarity, Benjamin’s eyelids fluttered and he groaned, shivering violently while a restless wave crashed over him.
Feeling the need to move, he weakly managed to roll onto his side, his body quivering from the strain, before he ultimately slumped onto his back again.
Help me, Father in Heaven. Help me, help me. I want to die. I want to die!
All he could think of was his laudanum, of how he’d be overcome by warmth, much like the sweet relief of easing into a pleasant bath. He needed it, he needed that, and with a low growl, he wrapped his arms around himself and gnashed his teeth in despair.
That was when the door opened.
Amidst his sleep-deprived delirium, for just one moment, Benjamin genuinely believed he was hallucinating.
The stunning green eyes, delicate nose, and ripe, rosy lips belonged to a sweet, heart-shaped face he would know blind.
Clutching himself more strongly, a full-body shudder rolled through him as the woman carefully closed the door.
“Clara,” he choked.
“Rebel scum,” she greeted, unmistakable tears sparkling in her eyes.
She came toward him, untying her bergère hat and casting it carelessly to the floor.
She sank into the chair at his side and took one of his clenched hands, smoothing her fingers over his fist before stroking his brow.
“Oh, Ben,” she whispered. “What have you done to yourself?”
Unable to resist, he leaned into her touch like a bloom seeking sunlight, his cheek nuzzling into her palm as he shivered harder. “W-what are you doing here?” he demanded. “You…y-you came back to us.”
“I did,” she agreed, sounding surprised herself.
“I’ve come to realize you are more important than my pride…
than my heart. I couldn’t live with myself, were I to find out…
th-that you’d…” Unable to speak the fateful words, she exhaled and brushed back his sweat-matted hair.
“It doesn’t matter. We are going to get you well again, and you’ll be able to return to your duty. You’ll see.”
Chin tensing, Benjamin’s nostrils flared and he seized her wrist, making her cry out. “Do you have it?” he demanded, his voice pitching in desperation. “You’ve met Dr. Wagner…do you have my laudanum?”
Bemused, Clara shook her head. “No, Ben, of course not. No one has your laudanum, because it is making you ill.”
“No, it’s making me better!” he snarled, causing her to draw back in alarm. “When I don’t take it, I am sick. When I do take it, I feel good. There’s a clear path here, yet both you and Father refuse to see it!”
Gnashing his teeth, Benjamin whimpered as the restlessness returned full force. His irritation spiked, and he shoved Clara’s hand away from his face, his body squirming as the nausea returned. “Please,” he rasped, “I’m getting worse…I need my laudanum!”
Unsure of what to do, Clara fetched the pitcher of water on his nightstand and poured him a drink. “Here, take this,” she entreated. “You look feverish.” Extending the wooden cup, she yelped once Benjamin furiously knocked it from her grasp, sending a sluice of water across the floor.
“You know what I need!” he screamed at her. “You know it, you know it!”
He bucked and feebly kicked beneath his blankets, and Clara gasped before drawing a hand to her breast. “Ben,” she choked, “you…you can move.”
“What of it?” he snarled.
“What of it?” she echoed, stunned. “Why, a mere year ago, mobility was all you yearned for, and now you don’t even care?
” He groaned and weakly rolled onto his side, and with tears blurring her vision, Clara hesitated before crawling over him onto the bed.
Had this been a normal situation, Benjamin would’ve halted at once, perhaps even blushed in that sweet, endearing way she loved.
But that Benjamin was gone. In his place was a hurt, fearful animal, and as she lay alongside him and the wall, she wrapped her arms around his waist and nudged her face between his shoulder blades.
Each time he screamed and thrashed, she embraced him more strongly, pinning his arms as she tried not to cry.
“I’ve got you,” she whispered into his sweat-drenched shirt. “Just hold on…”
Please hold on.
When Clara came out to supper that evening, her eyes were bloodshot, and she was pale with exhaustion. Despite Benjamin having fallen asleep, she could still hear his screams while she’d desperately held on to keep him from hurting himself.
Josiah looked up from setting the table. “Miss Boyd? Are you all right?”
“No,” she whispered, not feeling the need to lie. “Ben is…h-he’s so lost and cruel, and angry. I barely recognize him.”
“It’s the laudanum,” Josiah assured her. “It can destroy even the best of us. Believe me, I’ve seen its effects. When I served in the French and Indian War, some of the soldiers became dependent upon their tinctures. The recovery was nearly as dreadful as the addiction, itself.”
Clara shivered. “For how long?”
“It varies,” he said, “and Benjamin only stopped receiving the tincture as of three days ago. He’s going to be at his very worst, but the most harmful of his symptoms will taper off with time.”
Nodding, Clara touched a hand to her throat. “And his legs…you didn’t mention he could walk.”
“I’m not sure he can,” Josiah admitted. “That, too, happened a few days ago, a complete miracle.” With a tearful smile, he gestured for her to join him at the table.
“We were arguing, and suddenly his toes moved…and before we knew it, he had limited mobility in his feet, his ankles, and later on, the entirety of both his legs. I didn’t wish to rush him, especially in light of his situation, so he hasn’t yet attempted to get out of bed.
I think he’s too unwell to try, truth be told. ”
Clara nodded, sinking into the chair across from him. “Before this moment, I never thought Ben capable of violence. He grabbed me, and…attacked me several times.”
Closing his eyes, Josiah nodded before filling her cup with ale. “I know he’d never hurt you,” he replied, “though I also know this is of very little consolation. The man he was—is—won’t be showing his face for quite some time.”
Gripping the edge of the table, Clara gaped at the chicken and potatoes on her plate and exhaled.
“They say you don’t understand true helplessness until you see someone you care for at their very worst,” she agreed.
“I hope and pray this is his poorest state, Josiah, because I’m not sure I can bear much worse.
If anything, my presence is doing very little. ”
“He asked for you every day,” Josiah replied. “Perhaps not always by name, but the moment I entered his room each morning, he would inquire if I’d received a letter in your hand.” His lips quirked and he lowered his eyes. “I assure you, Miss Boyd, you are the absolute best person to be here.”
Tears sprang to Clara’s eyes, but she didn’t cry. Swallowing around the knot in her throat, a swell of emotion churned within her breast. “I won’t leave him,” she promised. “And I won’t leave you, either.”
She reached across the table and Josiah took her hand, squeezing gently as he murmured, “Let us pray.”
Over the next several days, Benjamin was unbearable to be around.
He’d curse and spit, throw whatever was within reach, and sometimes attempt to physically lash out at whomever was in the room.
Clara reminded herself this wasn’t personal, that this wasn’t him attacking her, and yet it still stung.
It hurt, and as she lay awake that night, listening to his moans of pain and restless agony through the wall, she could stand it no longer.
Ripping back her covers, Clara swung her legs over the side of the bed and fetched her candle, foregoing her dressing gown as she padded into the hall on quiet feet. Benjamin wailed again and she winced.
With a sharp, fluttering stab of nerves, Clara lifted her arm, then rapped against his door with purpose. The moaning stopped, and she quietly pushed her way into his room. “Ben?”
He panted in response, covered in sweat as he lay there in bed, his limbs tangled within his sheets.
With her heart plummeting at the sight, Clara set aside her candle and came over to him, already trembling as she reached out a hand.
These days, she never knew if concern would enchant or infuriate him, and as her fingers brushed through his loosened locks, a twinge of relief unfurled within her breast as he leaned into her palm.
Her fingertips were cool against his feverish skin, and as they locked eyes within the dancing candleflame, she asked, “How are you feeling?”
He shook his head. “I-I don’t feel very…” With a queasy retch, Benjamin broke away and dove toward the side of his bed, grasping his chamber pot before hurling unceremoniously into the earthenware vessel.
Wincing, Clara fiddled with her braid slung over her shoulder, only halting once he ceased being sick.
She approached and sat alongside him, ignoring the sickly sweet odor of vomit as she wrapped an arm around his waist. Benjamin’s teeth chattered and she stroked her fingertips through his hair, her voice low as she asked, “May I do something for you?”