CHAPTER THREE #3
Was there a note of dissatisfaction? Henri’s half-gaze shifted to Grace’s face, and found her looking at him. Impelled by an imp of devilry, he allowed one lid to close in a wink. Her eyes widened, and he thought a faint tinge of colour entered her cheeks. Her gaze went hastily to the doctor.
“How can you tell?”
“The blood is beginning to coagulate, and there is no evidence of infection.”
“Then we may dismiss the fear of fever?”
“If the wound is kept clean and dry, there is every hope of it,” said the physician, adding on a sombre note, “It is early to be counting our chickens, however. He looks less pale, but the heavy loss of blood cannot be discounted.”
“Then tell me what to do to build up his strength, if you please.”
Henri heard eagerness in Grace’s tone, though he noted that she refrained from looking at him. There was something changed about her, but it took him a moment or two to work out that she was wearing a different gown.
“Yes, the sooner you do that, the sooner you may be rid of the fellow,” said the other, in a tone that made it clear enough Grace’s prognosis had been none too severe.
Had she not warned him others would try to take him away?
He had expressed himself satisfied that they should, but that was before he’d had time to consider his position.
Certainly, he would do well to recover his strength before he was obliged to face those whose questions must be answered with circumspection.
Nor had he any desire to be set adrift until he knew whether Jean-Marc and his compatriots had left the area.
It was logical to suppose they would not go unless they could assure themselves of his demise.
“Keep him on broth and easy solids for the next four and twenty hours,” the doctor was saying.
“Chicken is excellent. No beef or mutton, and definitely no offal, if you please. Potatoes in the broth will give substance. Only barley water to drink, though a little warm milk at night may not go amiss.”
Milk! Would he might persuade his nurse to give him wine instead. Though Henri dared swear it would take much to make his formidable rescuer veer from the doctor’s instructions.
“Should we continue with the hot bricks, do you think?”
Was it that which had contributed to his feeling of warmth? He must give thanks for it, then, for the comfort had been immeasurable.
“By all means. There is no sense in risking the patient taking cold. Recollect that it is little more than four and twenty hours since you found him. By Mayberry’s account, he may have fallen in the creek when he was shot, and —”
Fallen? No, he had rolled himself in, desperate to hide among the reeds when Jean-Marc and the others came looking for his body. From the tenor of their speech as they hunted about the nearby marshland, they had known he had gone down.
“— had thereby put himself in greater danger from cold, as well as losing blood all the way here.”
Cold, perhaps. But it had saved his life.
Had his ex-comrades found him, they would undoubtedly have finished him off.
They had left with reluctance, determined to return upon the following day in the expectation of discovering him lifeless.
Had they done so, and found him gone? It was certain they would not leave until they could be sure he was no longer alive to bear witness against them.
“Now, I have a preparation, Miss Dovercourt, that may help the wound to heal quicker than the powder I gave you. Only I must press it well down into the hole. As well the patient is asleep, for I’m afraid I am obliged to hurt him.”
The warning came too late. Whatever pain Henri had felt from the earlier handling had died away.
A sudden thrust directly into his wound drew from him a shout of protest, and the flaring agony robbed him of all power of coherent thought.
Dimly in the recesses of his mind, he knew he must refrain from speech, and it was only by a superhuman effort of will he resisted the temptation to curse aloud the finger jabbing like a poker into his shoulder.
“There, that is done.”
Relief flooded him as the finger was removed, but a burning sensation started up in its place and it was all Henri could do to hold his tongue upon the fulminating urge to revile his tormentor.
His eyes rolled open, and encountered concerned grey ones close above him.
He knew he must say nothing, but he threw all the eloquence he possessed into the message of his eyes.
Grace’s heart hammered a frantic tattoo. She must get Ffrith out of here. Quickly, she passed a warning finger across her lips, and then turned to the doctor, who was busily employed in replacing his instruments in his case. Grace hurried around the foot of the bed.
“We had best leave Reuben to dress him, sir. Do, pray, come with me downstairs, where we may talk without disturbing the patient.”
Ushering the doctor out as speedily as she dared, Grace carefully closed the door behind her, horribly aware of the muttering already breaking out in the bedchamber.
Poor Henri! He was likely giving vent to his feelings in a flood of French.
There was nothing for it but to take Reuben into her confidence.
She would have to trust to Mab to ensure his silence.
For once in her life she gave thanks for her ungainly step, clunking her boot more heavily than she need in an effort to drown out Henri’s complaints.
Ffrith had preceded her, and since he moved more swiftly than she could, Grace allowed herself to hope he had heard nothing.
Or if he had, the likelihood was he had not made out the words to be in French.
She entered the parlour to find the doctor already in the process of informing Mayberry that the patient must remain in situ. Grace’s relief was short-lived, however, for his next words could only dismay her.
“I am of the opinion, Mayberry, that Sir James should be informed. He is, after all, our Justice of the Peace, and it is properly his province to decide what should happen to the stranger.”
“Aye,” agreed the farmer. “Mr Wooferton said the same and all. Only I’d like fine to be able to give Sir James more in the way of information concerning them as done the deed.
I ain’t been able to find hide nor hair of no one, and seemingly there got to be someone as hear or seen summat.
Them as done it can’t have disappeared into thin air, to my way o’ thinking, and I had ought to put the question to the villagers roundabout before bringing it before Sir James. ”
Deeply thankful for Mayberry’s point of view, Grace did her best to encourage it.
“I do so agree, Mr Mayberry. Besides, you have said yourself, Doctor Ffrith, that the man’s condition is uncertain.
It seems to me a trifle pointless to be troubling Sir James at this time.
Would it not be wiser to wait a day or two? ”
“Just what I’m thinking, Miss Grace. It ’ud give me time to find a mite of evidence, which I ain’t yet. Nor I don’t think Sir James can do nothing neither, when the feller can’t be moved.”
“Exactly,” Grace chimed in. “After all, what can he do that you cannot, Doctor Ffrith? He is not a medical man, and I don’t see that his presence can do other than complicate matters.”
She was thankful the doctor allowed himself to be persuaded by these arguments, but less gratified at his further interference.
“It would make me a deal easier in my mind if Reuben were to remain upon the premises. Could you not arrange for the parish to pay him something, Mayberry? A truckle bed might be set up in the fellow’s chamber, and —”
“I would hope, sir,” uttered Grace frigidly, “that you might consider asking me whether I am prepared to accommodate Reuben.”
She received a questioning stare over the doctor’s spectacles. “Why should you not be, ma’am?”
There was no difficulty about that. “Easily answered, doctor. Although neither Jemima nor I can be in any possible danger from the patient, the same cannot be said of my maid’s reputation, should Reuben take up residence in this house.
What is more, I think you will find Joe Piper objecting mightily to any such arrangement. ”
“That’s true enough,” conceded Mayberry. “Very hot agin Reuben is Joe. He thinks the lad’s been making sheep’s eyes at his Jemima since I don’t know when.”
“Then what is to be done?”
Grace gave him a glittering smile. “Why, nothing, Doctor Ffrith. Apart from the night watches, I dare say there is scarce an hour in the day when there will not be visitors in the house — apart from Reuben and Mab. This affair has generated a good deal of interest among the villagers, you must know. I have no doubt we will be inundated over the next few days.”
Conscious of a sense of dissatisfaction he knew to be unwarranted, Henri contemplated his own face in the mirror held up for his inspection.
The boy had certainly effected an improvement.
Not that he cared for what he looked like.
Only Grace had evidently instructed the lad to shave him and to wash and comb out his hair.
Token, he hoped, that she might intend to visit him.
She had been in evidence enough while he lay more or less helpless, or so he surmised from the brief memories.
As he grew stronger, she left him more and more to the care of others.
Except upon the occasion of the doctor’s last visit.
Reuben was waiting for his verdict. Henri noted the pallor of his reflection and the blue shade under his eyes.
Was he thinner? He was glad at least of the fresh smoothness at his chin and upper lip.
What a figure he must have presented to his hostess with his unkempt hair and a six-day growth of beard! He waved the mirror away.
“It is well, mon brave.”
The lad looked gratified. “I’ll tell Jemima as you’re ready for breakfast, sir.”