Page 52 of Hold Me Fast
Mother Wilson knelt on the other side of Patricia, and Tamsyn took over from the innkeeper so the woman had more room. Behind her, she could hear Jowan organizing the villagers, sending some off to make a device to carry the patient, instructing two of them to take up positions on the road and divert traffic, and telling the rest to stand back and make room.
“I can’t examine her properly without undressing her,” Mother Wilson said, “which I cannot do on the road. However, I believe it is safe to move her. She reacts to pain, though she is unconscious, and she does not show any signs of pain when I touch her back or her abdomen. She might have one or more broken ribs, and she certainly has a broken arm, but with care, she can be shifted to somewhere close.”
Tamsyn had retrieved Patricia’s reticule and checked inside it. She must have been visiting the cottage, for her set of keys was inside. “Apple Cottage,” Tamsyn said to Mother Wilson and Jowan. “We planned to move in tomorrow, but it is all ready, and it is just around the corner.”
Some of the neighbors came back with poles and sheets, and within a few minutes, they had carefully slid the sheet under Patricia, made up the stretcher taking care not to jostle the patient, and were on their way.
Tamsyn hurried ahead to unlock the cottage and fold back the blankets and top sheet in Patricia’s room. She then assisted Mother Wilson with her examination, and afterward let Jowan into the room to hear the experienced woman’s assessment.
“The ribs are just bruised, I think, Sir Jowan and Miss Roskilly. In fact, most of the injuries are bruises or grazes. The horses would have tried to avoid her, of course. Even the kick to the head was a glancing blow, or she’d have a broken skull, and as far as I can tell, it is intact. And the wheels also missed her. Also, the arm seems to have a clean break, or two clean breaks, to be precise. It could have been much worse. She has been lucky.”
Given that the doctor could be several hours, they decided Mother Wilson would clean and, where necessary, bandage the cuts and bruises. The leg she immobilized between two straight boards. “I’ll not bandage it more than needed to keep it still, for the doctor will undoubtedly want to see it when he comes.”
Tamsyn helped, and so was there when Patricia stirred and came to. “I hurt,” were her first words.
“Just lie still, Patricia,” Tamsyn told her. “You have been in an accident. Mother Wilson says it is mostly cuts and bruises, but you have broken your arm.”
“Not an accident,” Patricia insisted. “He swerved to hit me.”
Chapter Twenty
Tamsyn and Jowanexplained it all to Lord Trentwood when Jowan took her to Trentwood Manor to fetch those items of hers and Patricia’s that had not yet been moved to Apple Cottage. Trentwood sent for the constable, who was the head ostler at the inn and who had already, on his own initiative, questioned many of the witnesses.
“He came in on the Launceston Road, my lord,” he told Lord Trentwood. “And drove off across Bodmin Moor. He was well muffled up, and no one could give me a description, but I’ve sent stable lads off to the likely inns where he might have changed horses with descriptions of the team and instructions to ask about the driver.”
“Good man,” Lord Trentwood approved. He was, as Jowan had told her, a remarkably slothful man, but he achieved the peace in which to be slothful by choosing good lieutenants and giving them their heads.
“We will find out what we can, my lord,” the ostler said. “Miss Roskilly, will you let me know when Mrs. Mayhew is well enough to give me her statement?”
It would not be tonight, Tamsyn discovered, when she returned to Apple Cottage. The doctor was present and had approved the work Mother Wilson had done so far. After Tamsyn returned, he gave Patricia a dose of laudanum before he set the two bones and bandaged the arm firmly within its splints.
Patricia was unconscious by the time he was finished. He handed the bottle to Tamsyn. “She is to have no more than two tablespoons and not more frequently than every four hours, Miss Roskilly. Otherwise, give it to her as she needs it for the pain.”
Tamsyn nodded while her mind whirled with confused longing and iron determination. She would not take the laudanum. She would not.
“The bruises and the wrenched knee will mend easily enough, and I do not expect complications. The main danger is infection in one of her scrapes or cuts. Even the arm could be a problem, but the breaks are clean, and the skin is not broken. Watch for fever. Send for me if you have any concerns. Can you watch her through the night? Don’t be a fool about it. If you need someone else to share the duty with you, ask. Almost any woman in the village will be willing. They are all offended she was run down by a carriage on their Main Street.”
“I can manage.” Tamsyn produced the words with that part of her brain that was not totally focused on the mix of opium and alcohol sitting so temptingly within a few feet of her hand. She had to stay focused on her friend, whose aura was fading, and losing even more color as the energy leaked from it through several tears.
Jowan was waiting downstairs when she went down to see the doctor out. She sent the maid up to sit with Patricia, with firm instructions to call Tamsyn if there were any changes, and sat with Jowan to have a cup of the tea he had asked the maid to order from the kitchen and a slice of the cake the cook had sent up with it.
“Do you think it was Coombe, Jowan?” she asked.
“I cannot see why,” Jowan answered. “What was to be gained? They cannot have thought she was you. She is six inches taller and far more buxom.”
Tamsyn wasn’t sure which was worse—to think Patricia was run down on purpose because of some plot of Coombe’s, or to believe it was a random attack from a stranger. For an attack it was. Patricia had been sure that the driver aimed his team and equipage directly at her.
One thing was certain. If it was Coombe, he hadn’t finished. Tamsyn vowed to be very careful.
*
Tamsyn sat throughthe night with Patricia. Twice, she fed her another dose of laudanum, struggling not to show how much the sweet perfume of the concoction affected her. For the rest, she sat with a book or a piece of needlework, fighting the siren call of the bottle. By morning, she felt as if she had climbed a mountain or run for miles—exhausted and aching in both body and soul. But she had not taken the laudanum.
After she and the maid helped a sleepy Patricia to attend to her bodily needs and wash, Tamsyn went to bed for a few hours’ sleep. It was a blessing and a relief to leave the laudanum bottle behind and guarded. Her last thought as she dropped into oblivion was that she had faced temptation and won. This time, at least.
*
A week afterthe accident, Patricia was fretting about still being confined to bed, but the doctor forbade her to get out of it for at least another week. “After that, you can get up, but you are not to use the arm until the splints come off,” he told her. She was still taking the laudanum at night. And Tamsyn was still fighting the urge to help herself to some of it. The desire dominated her days and kept her awake at night, but she was determined not to succumb.
