Clearly peace and quiet was Dyson household code for ‘find the mistress and tell her someone has been shot.’
As the footman headed inside, the butler addressed Gus. “Are you in need of a physician?”
Gus sighed. “No, I was attended to on the boat. I just need a bath and then a bed. Sleep would be wonderful”
“Very good, sir.”
As they stepped toward the door, Stephen glanced back over his shoulder and caught the man’s eye. He whispered, “Bandages and laudanum.”
They were met by Bridget in the hallway. She was clad in a dressing gown, with slippers on her feet, her rumpled hair evidence of her having already been in bed.
His wife gave Stephen the merest of chin tips in greeting, focusing her interest on Gus instead. He couldn’t blame her. Few people would take kindly to having a wounded smuggler arrive on their doorstep in the middle of the night.
She took one look at Gus and frowned. “Let’s get you upstairs. We don’t want the rest of the servants seeing you in this state.”
It took the combined efforts of Stephen and the footman to help Gus climb the stairs to his room. Gus winced, complained, and groaned the whole way. Once inside the first of the spare bedrooms, he rallied. “Just put me in the chair by the fire.”
Stephen shook his head. His friend needed rest and pressure to be taken off his wound. “The bed is the best place for you. We can’t have you bleeding again. You have already lost enough blood.”
The butler appeared bearing a tray with several large rolled up bandages and a bottle of laudanum large enough to put an elephant out of its misery. Bridget quickly dismissed the two servants. “Thank you. Now both of you head downstairs. And not a word.”
As soon as they were gone, she closed and locked the bedroom door. When she reached the bedside, Stephen caught his first real look at her. She looked tired and pale. He had a horrible suspicion that being pregnant wasn’t the only cause for her less than sparkling countenance.
“What happened?” she asked.
“Nothing. I slipped on the weather deck of the yacht,” said Gus.
Stephen sighed. There was no point in lying to his wife. The moment she saw the wound she would know it had been caused by a bullet. “He was ambushed on the road leading up to the château where we get our illicit brandy supplies. There is a new rival group operating out of a nearby town. Our friend, Armand, warned us about them, but I think even he underestimated their veracity. It took quite an effort to get theNight Windsafely out to sea.”
“I wondered why you were back so soon. You weren’t meant to return until late the day after tomorrow,” she said. “Not that I am complaining in seeing you again.”
He took her words to heart. Bridget had not only made special note of when he was due home, but she appeared at least a little happy to see him.
“Clearly this new gang is dangerous. Something which you are all going to have to take into account in future,” she said.
“Yes. We will have to address the question of future trips to France among the rest of the RR Coaching Company directors. As for myself, that was my last voyage. I have a wife and family to consider,” he replied.
“Do you?” Her voice broke on the words.
“Yes. Have no doubt as to where my priorities now lay. They are with you, Toby, and our baby.”
Gus let out a pained gasp. From the extent of his injuries, it was clear it was going to take quite some time for him to recover. Time in which he hopefully would be convinced that his days of running contraband were well and truly over.
With Gus stretched out on the bed, Stephen motioned for Bridget to walk farther away. Once they were closer to the door, he bent and whispered, “We had the bullet removed and Gus stitched up onboard the boat, but he refuses to see a doctor. I know you mentioned having experience with the hunting wounds of Rupert and his friends, so I was hoping . . .”
“Of course, that’s why we have such a large bottle of laudanum and an extensive selection of bandages. Let me have a look at him and see what I can do. If the wound has been kept clean and stitched properly, he will basically just need lots of bed rest. But if it is not in a good condition, we may need a physician.”
“No doctors,” cried Gus.
Stephen rolled his eyes. “Let Bridget have a look at you, then we can decide. I’m not having you die under my wife’s roof just because you are a stubborn ass.”
“Our roof,” she corrected him.
He caught a hold of her wrist. “I am serious about my priorities, of what is now the most important thing in my life. Please, Bridget, can we talk? I mean, have an honest conversation about us; one which results in there being an agreement about our future.”
Bridget nodded. “After I have changed Gus’s bandages and doped him up with opiates.”
A relieved Stephen released his hand. His wife appeared far too comfortable with the notion of having a badly injured man under her care.
