Chapter 19 #2
Blocking out the horrid sound he’d made when she pierced his throat with that dagger was impossible. It remained imbedded deep in her brain, reflecting her terrible actions back at her with haunting precision.
Her stomach turned over as nausea hit her. She shivered and drew the coverlet more firmly around her shoulders. Though the action helped ward off the chill a little, it didn’t soothe the prickly sensation now sweeping her skin.
She glanced toward the fireplace where only embers remained. Perhaps she should make an attempt at sparking some flames?
Could she even figure out how to?
It wasn’t something she’d done before, but it couldn’t be that complicated, she reasoned. And she desperately wanted the warmth.
Cocooned in the coverlet, she climbed from the bed and padded across the floor in her stocking-clad feet. She’d slept fully clothed. Hadn’t even let down her hair.
After tending to Murry and eating the stew that one of the serving girls brought, she’d simply collapsed on the bed.
A soft grunting sound filled the air, drawing her attention back toward Murry.
His eyes remained closed, his chest slowly rising and falling beneath his crossed arms. Lips parted, he produced the same sound again — an almost imperceptible snoring that made the edge of Edwina’s mouth curve in amusement.
It was the strangest sensation, but there was something indescribably charming to be found in the moment. A kind of intimacy she knew she’d forever after struggle to put into words.
Another shiver rolled through her, breaking the spell.
She hastened toward the fireplace and dropped to a crouch before it.
A brass pail containing wood stood to the left.
The usual tools hung from a stand that sat to the right.
Inside the fireplace, only small fragments of the log that had burned through the night remained.
She pulled a new one from the pail, set it on top of the still-glowing embers, and waited for them to catch hold.
When nothing happened, she nudged the log with the poker, moving it slightly to keep it from blocking the embers completely.
Still nothing.
She frowned. It seemed increasingly clear that the embers would not re-ignite.
What she needed, was a tinderbox. No sooner had the thought presented itself, than a wave of unease turned her stomach.
She gasped in response to the feeling, her mind no longer on lighting a fire but on finding a suitable container to use before she cast up her accounts.
Desperate, she yanked the remaining logs from the pail they’d been placed in, barely managing to remove the last one before the contents of her stomach made an appearance. She retched, and vomited again, then panted for air before a fresh wave assailed her.
Drained of energy, she clung to the pail for dear life while cramps twisted her insides.
“Unfortunately, this is only the beginning.”
Murry’s voice not only startled her, it also filled her with bone deep humiliation. “I’m sorry.” It was all she could think to say while tears pricked her eyes.
“I’ve been where you are,” he murmured. “The opium has you in its grasp, my lady. ‘Twill be a while before it releases its hold.”
She considered this while surrendering to the chill sweeping her body. If being denied the smoke was what put her in this wretched state, then surely acquiring it would make her feel better.
“You wouldn’t happen to have some on you by any chance, would you?” The frantic entreaty she heard in her voice made her cringe.
“No, but even if I did, I wouldn’t give it to you.”
She shot a look in his direction. “You would rather I suffer?”
“It’s in your best interest.”
“No.” She shook her head, her body trembling with each move she made. “You’re wrong.”
“I’m afraid not.” Wood creaked and he groaned. Then came the heavy tread of feet as he moved about with what sounded like a laborious effort. “Here. Drink some water.”
She stared at the glass he shoved under her nose and finally took it, even though she feared she wouldn’t be able to hold the water down.
Her hands shook as she set the glass to her lips and carefully sipped.
The cool liquid was wonderfully soothing even though it seemed to accentuate her tremors.
She hugged the coverlet tighter around herself, seeking whatever warmth it provided.
“Can you…please…” Thin bursts of air swept in and out of her lungs, impeding her ability to speak. She nodded toward the fireplace and nearly wept with gratitude when Murry struck a flint and lit some charcloth he found in the tinderbox that sat on the mantle.
Squatting beside her, he then began turning the piece of wood she’d added to the fire earlier, until a spot where some loose bark curled away from the wood faced upward. He held the flame to it and waited until the bark caught it, then leaned back and snuffed out the charcloth.
“Tha…thank you,” Edwina managed between her chattering teeth.
Instead of responding, he set his palm to her forehead and grunted. “The fever’s set in. You ought to get back into bed.”
Instead of responding, she stretched her hands toward the fire and felt the blessed heat warm them.
Neither of them spoke for a while, and then Murry said, “I think I’ll go deposit that.”
He reached for the pail and her hand shot out, her fingers curling around his wrist in order to stop him. “I can set it outside the door. A maid will collect it.”
“I’m going downstairs anyway.” He moved to pull his arm from her grasp but she only tightened her hold on him more.
“Please,” she murmured. The idea of him dealing with her unsavory mess was more than she could bear. Mortifying didn’t even come close to expressing the awfulness of it.
He took a breath and slowly expelled it. “I’ve dealt with much worse than this in my lifetime. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
Gently, as though she might break if he weren’t careful enough, he pried her fingers away and withdrew, taking the pail with him as he walked to the door.
“I’ll let you be for the next ten minutes, so you can tend to your toilette in private.
If you like, I can order a bath for you so you can wash. ”
All she could manage was a miserable nod.
He paused by the door, his gaze holding hers for a drawn-out moment. Then he quit the room and closed the door. She heard the key turn in the lock and wondered once more if it was to keep her in or others out.
Lacking the energy to worry about it, she shifted closer to the fireplace and prayed for the sickness that gripped her to run its course as swiftly as possible.