David shivered when he placed the lamp on the counter. “Is Mama going to be all right?”
Ethan wiped his hands. “I stopped the bleeding and stitched the wound. I’m not going to lie. It’s a big wound, and she’s a petite woman. She lost a lot of blood.”
David’s bottom lip quivered. “What are you saying?”
He couldn’t lie. “Her life is still at risk. We have to wait and see how she recovers. She’ll need to drink a lot of water, tea, andbroth to regain her fluids. Rest is vital. She can’t move until the wound heals, or the bleeding will start again.”
David wiped his face with his shirtsleeve. “She might live then.”
“Yes. It all depends on how quickly she’ll recover.” The thought of Cora dying in his arms, of all places, was a dark blade twisting in his gut.
He’d seen young soldiers die in a matter of hours after a gunshot like that, but the conditions in those hospital tents had been abhorrent. Not enough disinfectant to clean the wounds, not enough chloroform or ether to anaesthetise the patients, and no clean gauze. Here at least he’d scrubbed everything and had enough morphia to keep Cora comfortable.
David started to clean up the mess of bottles, gauze, and blood-stained bandages while Ethan wiped the blood from his tools.
“Can we stay here until Mama is better?” David said in a voice so low Ethan barely heard him.
“Of course. I took that for granted. You can stay here for as long as you and your mother need to.” How could David think Ethan would kick Cora and him out of his house after surgery?
“Thank you, sir.” David ran a trembling hand over his face and staggered on his feet. The cloth he used to wipe a chair slid out of his hand.
Ethan steadied him, taking him by the shoulders. “Why don’t you lie down?”
“No, I want to help.”
“You did a great job. I’ll clean up and make your mother comfortable. You should wipe the blood from your face as well. Go to Mrs. Parker. You’ll find her at the end of the hallway. She’ll draw a warm bath for you and give you something clean to wear.”
David nodded, avoiding meeting Ethan’s gaze. He shuffled out of the room but paused to glance at his mother. Worry creased his young forehead. “Sir… I shouldn’t leave her.”
“I’ll take care of her. Don’t worry. When you finish, you’ll sleep upstairs in your mother’s bedroom.”
David chewed his bottom lip but nodded again and left the room. Well, Ethan had no idea what the boy meant to say or what troubled him.
He quickly swept the floor and gathered the dirty rags in a basket. Cora lay with her face tilted to the side, so pale that even her lips were bloodless.
He brushed an auburn curl from her face. “What the hell happened to you?”
He gently gathered her in his arms, careful not to disturb the wound. His bad shoulder throbbed at the sudden exertion, but he ignored the sting. Beneath the coppery smell of blood, her fresh scent of lemons wafted. He went up the stairs one step at a time. Her cheek rested on his chest, and her soft breathing fanned on his skin. What were the odds of a patient recovering from such a gunshot? He couldn’t remember. Didn’t want to. Blood loss was the enemy, and blood poisoning was always a menace.
“Don’t die, Cora,” he whispered, holding her closer.
He laid her in his bed and stoked the fire in the stove. Surely, she wouldn’t have any legal problems getting rid of Roxbury after the incident. Her husband had attempted to kill her. The law was on her side. It had to be. Now, should he ask Mrs. Parker to undress Cora, or should he do it himself? He’d removed her shirt, corset, and chemise. There was little he hadn’t seen of her. Her skirt was stained with blood as well.
He untied her boots and removed her skirt and petticoats, leaving her stockings and drawers on. She wouldn’t be happy,but it had to be done. He covered her with heavy blankets and added a hot water bottle to the bed.
Exhaustion caught him by surprise once he finished tucking Cora into the bed and prepared the sofa for David. Her pulse pounded with a steady rhythm, which was comforting, but her pallor didn’t bode well. Her skin was barely warm. He held her hand and rubbed it, forcing the blood to circulate. Her toes were cold through the fabric of her stockings. Dark circles rounded her eyes, and her gums and conjunctiva were pale.
He should attempt a blood transfusion. He’d done it several times while in the army. For some reason, his blood had never caused adverse reactions to the recipients’ bodies. It seemed to have a universal appeal for other people’s blood. Chances were Cora would react well.
Chances. He didn’t like the meaning of that word.
He started the whole sterilising process again and set up the needles, armbands, and tubes. It had to work. He sat on the chair next to her and pricked his and her arm with the needles. Then he watched as the tube connecting them turned the colour of rubies with his blood.
“Sir?” David waited at the door. He wore a large shirt likely belonging to one of the footmen. The caked blood had been cleaned from his neck and face. He stared in horror at his mother. “What are you doing?”
“Come in.” Ethan waved him inside with his free hand. “I’m giving my blood to your mother.”
David’s chest rose and fell quickly. “What does it mean? What’s this?” His breath became laboured. “She’ll die.”
