“He must be thirsty,” Edith said. “He keeps licking his lips.”
A gentle hand lifted his head, and a cool glass was pressed to his lips. He swallowed the deliciously fresh water. His throat burned, but his sight improved a little. After that, he was too tired to blink. Edith’s sweet voice saying his name was the last thing he heard before drifting to sleep.
Finally, Perry’s headache was a dull throb. When he woke up—he had no idea if another two months had passed—his ears didn’t buzz anymore, and he could see properly. Although the walls were far too bright for his liking, and whoever had washed the bedsheets had used starch enthusiastically since they were slabs of marble that chafed his sensitive skin.
The only window let the pale sunlight in. The weather and the frost on the glass made him think he hadn’t been unconscious through the winter.
He meant to call Albert, but what came out of his mouth was a chilling sound like that of a growling beast, ready to pounce. Footsteps approached. A nurse he’d never seen peered at him.
“Your Lordship is awake.” She hurried out of the room.
Voices. Footsteps.
“Perry?” Edith’s face swept into view.
Except it wasn’t the face he remembered. Not exactly. Her face was gaunt. Her eyes were clouded, and her hair was a dull colour, not the glossy strawberry-blonde he liked so much.
“Can you see me?” she asked.
He opened his mouth to talk, but only an odd whimper came out. That wasn’t possible. He’d clearly meant to say ‘yes,’ but somehow, his tongue refused to obey. He tried again and winced at the shrieking sound of his own voice. He’d heard dogs with better, more dulcet tones.
She put a hand on his forehead. “Don’t force yourself to speak. You received a serious blow to the head. The physicians, even my father, said that a brain injury was likely.”
Brain injury. He stared down at his body and did a quick check. His toes moved at his command, and his fingers seemed all right. His arms and legs were still attached to his body, and he controlled them. Yet he couldn’t speak.
He touched his throat, meaning to ask her if the incident had hurt his vocal cords.
She brushed a curl of her hair with a bony hand. “Your throat is fine. We think the problem is only your brain. The blow impeded your speech ability. But don’t despair.” She squeezed his hand. “You woke up, and you’re conscious and understand me. That’s an excellent start. Give yourself time. Father said thatspeech impairment was a possibility after a head trauma. But your ability to speak will return.”
He tried again to speak. Bad idea. What came out wasn’t simply gibberish but awful noises. He gave himself goosebumps. The glass would shatter if he kept trying.
He lay down on the pillow, exhausted.
She sat on the chair next to him. “Are you thirsty?”
He nodded.
As she helped him drink an entire pitcher, her neckline lowered a few inches. He didn’t like how her collarbone protruded from her shirt. His chest tightened for her. He probably looked the same or worse, but she’d suffered, too.
“Hungry?” she asked.
He shook his head and pointed at her.
“Do you want to know what happened to me?”
He nodded.
“The sinking ofPrincess Alicewas such a tragedy. It’s a miracle we are alive. More than seven hundred people are dead.”
Seven hundred. He ran his tongue over his dry lips again. The steamship shouldn’t have been so crowded; she shouldn’t have changed course.
“Your tutor, Mr. Montague, is fine, by the way. He didn’t board the ship because he was searching for you.” Edith lowered her long eyelashes. “In my case, the problem was the water. It was so rotten and polluted that I caught an infection. I lay in a bed in this hospital, with a high fever for days on end, between life and death. I was delirious and in pain, casting up my accounts. I felt my body burn from the inside out. My mother and sister were sick, too. Well, all the passengers, who didn’t die onPrincess Aliceand swam in the water, fell sick. Many of them died. The doctors said that some people got cholera. Others had typhoid fever. Others got obscure, haemorrhagic diseases or dysentery.”
Haemorrhagic diseases. He frowned and gave a light shrug, mouthing he wanted to know what type of disease causes a haemorrhage.
“People bled from their internal organs because the infection damaged them.”
Sometimes ignorance was bliss.
