Page 6 of The Ones Left Behind
Kitty knew how that was. It was better to stay busy. “What may I do to help?”
The housekeeper shook her head. “Sit with the master, if you have a stomach for the sick bed. His man has come back with him and he seems to know what to do, but I am sure he would welcome the help. Dr. Beverly has been sent for.”
Kitty nodded and walked towards the stairs, her insides gripped with fear. She climbed slowly, as if answering the death knell, not knowing what would be on the other side waiting.Please, God, no. I cannot take another loss. I need him.A world without Matthias and Peter was not a world she wanted to inhabit.
By the time she reached the top of the stairs, she heard the doctor’s arrival. Not yet ready to be confronted with someone from the past when her emotions were so conflicted, she stepped into the room next door to the Earl’s to wait. Loud footsteps echoed through the entrance chamber of the house. Each loud, booted step seemed to have silenced the household as collectively its inhabitants waited for the proclamation.
“How long has he been like this?” The doctor’s voice boomed when he entered the bedchamber. Kitty could hear him opening his bag; something chinked, as though he was drawing instruments out.
“Nigh a month.” Hornsby, Matthias’s batman from the army answered. “The nurse who tended him was an angel on earth. He ’as been delirious fer at least the past two weeks.”
“It is a wonder he is still alive,” the doctor answered, with a little huff. “This is the only wound?”
“Yes, sir,” Hornsby replied. “The sawbones in the field dug the bullet out.”
“It appears to be clean enough. There is little I can do for him now. It is too late to let him. The wound has already suppurated and poisoned his blood. It is up to God, now.”
Hornby muttered something Kitty could not make out.
“Here are some morphine drops to keep him comfortable, and bathe him in ice when the fevers rage. Send for me if he awakens.”
That was all? Kitty did not care to do nothing. Perhaps there was something she could do to help. She listened and waited until she was certain Dr. Beverly had gone, then steeled herself to look upon Matthias.
Taking a deep breath, she left her sanctum, stepped forward to the Earl’s threshold and tapped lightly on the open door. Hornsby looked up and met her gaze. He did not recognize her. His head bald and his skin weathered made him look a bit daunting combined with his size. Had she not known his was a rough exterior with a soft middle, she might have been intimidated.
“I am here to help.” She did not wait for a response, though Hornsby grumbled about not needing help. She moved towards Matthias whether she had intended to or no; nothing short of an army could have stopped her.
His eye sockets were sunken, his lips dry and cracked, skin flushed with the heat caused by fever. He was clean and still in repose for the moment, looking like an angel sleeping despite his obvious state of infirmity. His once light blonde hair had now darkened a little with age, and his features, once boyish, were now chiselled into a finely sculptured face and jaw.
“He is exhausted from the journey. It wasn’t an easy one. But this calm won’t last. The general way of things is fits of delirium and gibberish, with thrashing and whole body tremors from the chills.”
Kitty nodded absently. She knew exactly of what he spoke, having seen it time and again in the field hospitals. She could not stop her hand from reaching up to smooth his brow. “You are not allowed to leave me, too, Matthias Landry,” she whispered, her chin trembling.
“He’s as tough as nails, ma’am. He won’t die now after the fight he’s put up,” Hornsby said gruffly. Doubtless he was as afraid as Kitty was.
“Peter did not have the chance to fight,” she said to herself.
“Mrs. Gordon, is that you?”
Kitty nodded and looked up at the batman. “I am here to assume Mrs. Harlow’s position when she retires.”
Hornsby frowned, but did not say anything.Praise be, she thought. A maid entered with some barley water and ice, and set the tray on the night table beside the bed. Hornsby inclined his head to Kitty and then moved over to try the broth also on the tray.
“Allow me. I have not yet had the chance to help.” It should have been she who had been at Matthias’ bedside instead of some nurse he did not know. But she was there now.
Hornsby held up Matthias’s head as Kitty pried open his mouth and dribbled some broth between his lips until he swallowed.
“Exhausting work, that it is, but we have been managing some,” Hornsby remarked. They continued in that fashion until the bowl was empty. At least Matthias was drinking. It was some small measure of comfort.
“What do you need? Do you require any herbs or medicines besides morphine?” Kitty asked, half out of desperation.
“We ran out of everything on the ship coming over. Miss Murphy was giving him willow bark for the fevers, that I do know.”
“We have plenty of that. I will go and prepare some at once. And the wound?”
Hornsby shrugged. “It appears to have healed. Anything wrong seems to be on the inside.”
Kitty hurried down to the still-room, grateful for a way to be useful. How much longer would this situation continue? How long could a person live with such a fever?
