Page 117 of Taming Ivy
Sebastian drifted in a no man’s land of unconsciousness and elusive lucidity. A high fever gripped him despite the cold compresses and numerous soakings with ice cloths. Incessant nausea meant nothing substantial stayed on his stomach, although he held down sips of water for periods of time. The discovery of a strange, pale rash erupting on his stomach and thighs the next morning proved cause for great concern.
With the breaking of dawn, Lady Garrett was the first to visit the sickroom, slipping in with the maids as they arrived to carry away soiled bedclothes and linens. Distressed over Sebastian’s lack of recovery during the night, a distinct shade of green discolored her pinched features. Mumbling something about increased prayers for her nephew, she rushed back out, and Ivy was not saddened to see her go.
The doctor was scheduled to return sometime after breakfast. Ivy swallowed against the flip-flopping in her stomach at what he might say. The rash inflaming Sebastian’s body alarmed her more than she cared to admit; even more so when Gabriel blinked twice at the sight of it.
Dr. Callahan did the same. Blinked twice, then reached for his bag to pull out the same instruments Ivy demanded be put away the day before.
“What are you doing, Dr. Callahan?” The position placed Ivy between the elderly man and her husband. Molly, William and Miss Agnes, stood to the side, watching the impending confrontation. Gabriel, sitting guard again by the door, narrowed his eyes.
“Lady Ravenswood, I had my suspicions yesterday. This rash confirms it. His Lordship is the victim of poisoning. Whether intentional or not, I cannot say, but if the infected blood is not removed, it is unlikely he will survive another day. As it is, the earl is tremendously fortunate to have lived this long.” Running a hand through a shock of white hair, Dr. Callahan subjected Ivy to a stern glare over the rim of his wire spectacles. His mouth no longer curved with a sympathetic smile and there no were soft murmurs of comfort for the wife of his patient. His manner turned brisk and cool. “It is only speculation, but I believe His Lordship’s exceptional physical condition has enabled his survival thus far.”
“Poisoned?” Ivy stuttered in shock. “That’s - that’s impossible.”
“Is it?” Dr. Callahan placed a small canvas bag on the table, rolling it open to reveal an array of lancets, tubing and a small box with tiny, razor-like blades protruding from it. “We rarely travel in the same social circles, my lady, but even I’ve heard rumors of His Lordship’s enemies. Is it that unreasonable to assume someone wished him harm, and took steps to see the deed done?”
“But how?” Ivy’s arms and legs felt as if they were suddenly carved of stone. Enemies? The Earl of Clayton and Lord Danbury. Brandon Madsen. The new Duke of Richeforte. Oh God...there were more than a few to consider. The room seemed so tiny all of a sudden, every bit of the air sucked out until she was dizzy and lightheaded.
Her eyes latched on the lancets, mesmerized by their shiny, cruel beauty. Behind her, Molly choked on a little hiccup of a sob; Miss Agnes crossed herself and whispered a prayer.
Bloodletting was an accepted practice of curing many diseases and ailments, although Ivy never quite believed in the concept. Her mother insisted upon the procedure during the last few months of her illness, convinced it would restore her health. But every visit by the doctor only resulted in an increasing fragility until Caroline eventually faded away, like a pale golden light slowly blocked out by a bigger, brighter world. This was not the answer to making Sebastian well. Ivy believed with every thread of her soul this treatment would weaken him, depleting his body and strength until there was nothing left.
Dr. Callahan noted the grim loyalty of the servants and Ivy’s stricken features, unwilling to completely dismiss the fact Her Ladyship had tended her husband faithfully, and with the utmost care, for the past forty-eight hours. She appeared ready for the sickbed herself, but it was no secret this couple quarreled in full view of thetonjust two weeks prior. “Perhaps someone intimately associated with milord might be the culprit?”
Like a mountain unfolding, Gabriel’s huge form was both sheltering and intimidating when he moved to Ivy’s side. “It’s time the doctor took his leave,” he growled. “Another physician can be procured, milady. One with yours and His Lordship’s interests at heart.
Dr. Callahan swallowed hard but still busied himself drawing stark white bandages and other items from the bag. “If I don’t remove the blood poisoning this man’s body, he will die. It’s only a matter of time.”
“If you do this, he will die. Perhaps even quicker,” Ivy argued.
Molly and Miss Agnes stepped closer to William while Gabriel brazenly took up a stance beside the bed, guarding it like a bulldog. Brody, arriving to check the earl’s prognosis, paused in the doorway, a last-minute witness to the scene. Judging from the ominousness expression on his face, he’d heard enough. Catching Ivy’s eye, he gave an infinitesimal shake of his head.
It was all Ivy needed. Surrounded by those who cared she felt infinitely stronger. Still frightened half out of her wits, but stronger. And more resolute. She was doing the right thing. She must be. Without realizing it, she touched the gold butterfly pinned to the lace at her neck.
“Dr. Callahan, I have no idea who may have poisoned my husband, but I intend to find out. If you wish to be helpful, put those things away and tell us what to do to help His Lordship. There must be another way. And if there isn’t, I suggest you come up with something quickly.”
CHAPTER 42
The room was dark, the bedside lamp providing the only light. Ivy was unsure what woke her. Stirring, she opened her eyes, allowing them to adjust as she straightened in the chair.
The clock on the mantle began to strike. She counted out nine chimes as she reached for the cloth draped over the basin’s edge. The water was still cool but a new bucket of ice was needed. How she hated to disturb any of the servants. They were as exhausted as she, running back and forth for the past three days tending to Sebastian’s needs.
With a half hysterical sob, Ivy tried to recount the order of the days, what happened when, but things were so desperate, and she was so fraught with worry, it was all a blurry mess. She recalled bits and pieces, people bustling about, caring for Sebastian, and for her too. There was the awful visit by Dr. Callahan, his diagnosis of poisoning, although he could not say with definitive certainty what served as the lethal substance. Sebastian’s symptoms did not fit with known elements of readily available poisons. That he could keep down a substantial amount of water was in his favor. Dr. Callahan’s consultation with various colleagues led to a recommendation of a small cup of salted water as a strengthening aid. The elderly man administered it, although he clearly held no faith in its value as a medical tool.
Both her father and Alan had taken a turn watching over Sebastian earlier that day while Ivy met Sara in the west drawing room, taking comfort in her sympathetic embrace. Her friend wiped her tears away, made her eat something more substantial than broth and forced Ivy to lay down on a settee, promising to wake her immediately should Sebastian’s condition change.
But worry and fear twisted her restless sleep until Ivy apologized to Sara and hurried back to Sebastian’s side.
She ran a gentle hand down her husband’s sunken cheek. Poor Sebastian. The things they’d done to hurt each other. Should he ever wake from this fevered nightmare world, where he fought invisible monsters and sobbed and cursed for reasons unknown, she would tell him over and over of her love for him. Until he tired of hearing the words from her mouth.
"How touching.”
With the stealth of a deadly spider dropping from an unseen web, Rachel emerged from the darkness to stand at the shadows at the foot of the bed.
"Good evening, Lady Rachel. Sebastian is resting comfortably at the moment." Ivy rose automatically, a strange sense of protectiveness trickling in her veins. “His condition has improved somewhat.”
A ghost of a smile played on the older woman’s pinched lips. Hovering at the edge of the lamplight, her blue eyes assessed the earl before she slit her gaze at Ivy. "My dear nephew has disturbed my plans.” The light glinted off something she held in her hand.
At first, Ivy did not comprehend Rachel, neither her words, nor the pistol she held. The information processed at a much slower speed than normal, a result of her exhausted state. Why did Rachel require a weapon? Did she fear Sebastian’s enemies might come for him here? Inside his own home?
