Page 12 of A Bluestocking for the Wicked Duke
His Mother’s Solution
“The injury isn’t as serious as it looks. The sword didn’t go too far,” the physician said as he cleaned up the wound.
William grunted as the lotion touched the wound. There was a biting sensation like a thousand soldier ants biting down on the same place. He found he couldn’t lift the arm, it hurt too much. The arm was beginning to feel very heavy like extra weight had been tied to it.
The doctor was an old man. He looked to be just as old as William’s father but far more sprightly. He had grey hair all around his head and wore thick rimmed spectacles. William knew him. He was the first to be asked to treat his father. He had checked him and decided he needed a specialist. William saw the man remove his needle from his bag and unroll a ball of thread.
Stiches, blimey.
William stilled himself as the doctor was about piercing him with the needle when his door flung open. William had never felt happier to see Lord James.
Lord James saw him sitting up and smiled. He didn’t look like he expected his friend to be on his feet already.
“Good day physician, is he behaving himself?” Lord James asked the doctor.
The old man laughed and answered without turning to see the person asking him.
“Up till now, although I felt his body still as I was about using my needle,” the man replied.
“Still? What do you mean by still?” William said between gritted teeth as the man touched the edge of the gash again.
“You mean our skilled fighting prince is scared of a little needle?” Lord James said, sarcasm obvious in his tone.
“More than a little scared,” the doctor replied.
“That is not true,” replied William.
“You speak of me like I am not right in front of you,” William said.
He turned to his friend who observed him with playful eyes.
“Have you come to make mock of me this morning? Because if you have …… Arrgghhn”
Lord James looked at his friend with jest.
“You the conqueror of blades, is screaming like a woman in labour just because of a small needle. Life is full of irony,” Lord James said.
William wanted to reply his friend but the pain had taken away his will for banter. He pursed up his lips and said nothing as the doctor sewed up the slashed arm.
It took a whole of ten minutes. When the man was done, he removed a small jar from his bag containing a foul smelling unguent. He dipped his index finger into it, scooping out a large mound then applied it to the sewed up injury. The unguent felt cool and quickly eased a lot of the tightness and pain William was feeling on the site of the injury.
The man then covered the small jar and offered it to William. William collected the black jar.
“Apply that the way I did morning and evening. Thank God your injury wasn’t more than this. You should have full use of the arm in less than a month. You’ll be scarred for life though,” the man said.
William nodded his head and dropped the jar on the cupboard in front of his bed.
“Thank you sir, I’ll act just as you have instructed.”
The old man opened the door and looked into the passage.
“Are you looking for the Duchess sir?” William asked him.
“Yes. I am to see her before I leave,” he replied.
“Edward, Edward,” William shouted.
Lord James gestured to him not to worry; he turned and left the room quietly. After a few seconds he came back with a steward who was looking quite flushed.
