Page 33 of The Nabob's Designing Daughter
“T’ chair broke,” Rolly whispered.
He’d best pull those out before they festered. “Light that lamp, Forbes and move it closer. I think you are a very brave lad, and I will ask you to be a bit braver. Will you do that for me?”
He covered the wound with a cloth and probed again, ever so gently. Rolly jerked, but Ann was there, quietly steadying the boy.
“Very good, Rolly. I believe you have a clean break here.” He looked up into Ann’s eyes.
“I’ll go check on that hot water,” she said.
“No, I’ll go,” Forbes said.
“And Forbes, find us a couple of boards for a splint.”
Ann produced a handkerchief and began wiping the boy’s damp cheeks. “Perhaps a wee drop of the laudanum, doctor?” She looked around. “And some whisky to clean the wound?”
“Forbes keeps a bottle in the cabinet across the hall. There’s laudanum in my bag.” He cursed quietly. “It’s on my horse.”
Ann stepped away a moment and returned carrying his bag. “Forbes had his man bring it in. Ah, here’s Edme with hot water.”
She sent her cousin out again to fetch a cup of cool water and then hurried out and returned with Forbes’s whisky.
“Water,” Edme said handing over a cup. “I’ll fetch the basin for you, Dr. Robillard.”
“We’ll start with the tiniest drop.” Errol handed Ann a vial and watched as she carefully doled out the dose and raised the boy’s head.
“Rolly,” she said, “This medicine will make the pain easier.”
The boy turned his head away, and she made soothing sounds. “Here, lad, don’t ye remember when ye had the fever last year? The tisane I gave ye made ye better, didn’t it? This will help ease the pain so the doctor can make your leg better.”
Errol went to the side table and washed, glancing back. Ann was cradling Rolly’s head as he took tiny sips.
He uncorked the bottle of whisky and took a whiff of the heady brew. He poured it onto his hands and rubbed them together. Then he retrieved a fresh cloth, dampened it with the whisky, and began cleaning around the open wound, his tweezers at the ready as he waited for the laudanum to relax the boy.
The blood was drying, and the fresh oozing had slowed by the time he began drawing out slivers of wood.
“And how are those wee lambs born last spring,” Ann asked.
Rolly mumbled, and she chattered on, asking him about the sheep and the dog he’d befriended to help him tend them.
Ann wasn’t normally a chatterer, was she? Perhaps he hadn’t noticed before.
Her cheerfulness seemed to sooth the boy, and it was easing the rattling inside him. Setting a bone could be tricky and, in one as young as this, a bad job might mean a lifetime of pain or a permanent limp.
Maggie arrived with more hot water, and Forbes came carrying a handful of boards of different sizes.
The boy’s eyes had grown heavy, but when he spotted his mother he stirred and began sobbing.
“Miss Beecham,” Forbes said, “Can ye take the gig and run to the inn for a basket of food? Maggie, ye go with her and help her carry.”
“Mr. Forbes and I will look after Rolly while the doctor fixes his leg,” Ann said.
“My place is with—”
Rolly squirmed.
“Go,” Errol said. “Help her out, Forbes, and then come back.”
“Come along, Maggie,” Edme said.
