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“I had no choice. I couldn’t very well leave him out there,” Ariadne said. “Now help me carry him inside.” To her great relief, Leda did as she asked. As her sister caught his other hand, balancing his weight between them, Ariadne felt her load lighten.
“Let’s carry him to Papa’s room,” Leda suggested.
Emma came out in her nightgown to check on the commotion. She looked positively alarmed when she saw them. “What in the world is happening here?”
“Close the door behind me. I’ll explain everything, I promise,” Ariadne said. The two sisters carried the mystery man to their father’s room. It was a small one and all it had was a bed and a desk. It was mostly empty as George Davy wasn’t a man who believed in material possessions.
They laid him carefully down on the bed. The man groaned at the action.
“Lords above, he’s bleeding,” Leda gasped.
“I wanted to stop it but couldn’t find a way. I couldn’t leave him out there to bleed out and die. So I brought him here.”
“What if he dies here?” Emma said. “Look at his clothes. He’s obviously a peer! They will come for us if something happens to him.”
“Maybe,” Ariadne said.
“Do something. Lord, he’s bleeding. I can’t stand the sight.” Leda turned away as if repulsed by the wound. Ariadne sat down beside him and examined the blood under the candle. It did look bad.
“Bring me a washcloth and my needle and thread. We need to cauterize and sew the wound.”
“What does that mean?” Leda asked.
Ariadne’s stomach turned at the thought. It was going to be an unpleasant experience for him but it was necessary. “I’m going to apply high heat to the wound so that it can heal and doesn’t infect itself. And then I’m going to sew it shut.”
Leda grimaced. “That sounds painful.”
It was painful. Worse, Ariadne had never actually worked without the supervision of her father. She could end up making things worse—
The man had now begun to toss from side to side.
Emma touched his head. “A fever has started to set in. Ariadne, help me take off his clothes.”
Ariadne squirmed. Despite the situation, he was still a man and it would be highly inappropriate to take his clothes off. That, too, when he remained unconscious and was in no state to give his consent.
“It’s not the time to blush,” Emma said. That statement jolted Ariadne to action. She would treat him not as a man, but as her patient. Besides she was no prissy maiden.
Ariadne nodded. Putting her apprehensions aside, she set to the task. She first took off his shoes and socks, both of which were soaked. And then she sat down next to him on the bed and started to take his cravat off. The action was so intimate that despite herself, her body began to burn and she turned scarlet almost immediately.
The man’s face was scrunched up in a moan. But there was no denying that he was beautiful. Ariadne memorized his sharp features, the straight line of his aquiline jaw, and his thick brows. He was mesmerizing.
“Ariadne, the shirt now. Quick,” Emma said, snapping her back to reality. She nodded as her fingers dropped to his shirt now. Her breath hitched as his bare skin came into view. Ariadne had never seen a man naked before. She didn’t know what to expect but it was definitely not the smooth planes of his chest. He was bare except for a small tuft of hair on his chest.
He wasn’t as well built as one of those men that she had seen work at the factories. The stranger was tall and lithe and his skin unmarred and untouched by poverty and hard work. But the sinewy lines that wove through his shoulder and down his abdomen made it clear that this man was strong too. Only it was the quiet kind.
The thought made her angry. What must it be like to have your whole life handed to you?
She turned back to Emma. “Please leave me be. I need to work alone.” Emma nodded and left with Leda, closing the door behind her.
Ariadne turned back to the stranger and began to work. With the help of a heated blade, she cauterized the wound so that pus wouldn’t grow around the wound, making things worse. Then she cleaned the wound with soft strokes. The man hissed as she continued to work but didn’t wake up.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” she said even though she knew he couldn’t hear her. “It will pain you just for a moment.”
Thankfully her father was always prepared for emergencies and had kept water and gauges tucked under a box beside his desk. Ariadne rummaged through it and brought out everything she needed. And then with careful precision, she stitched the wound together and pressed the gauge on it.
When she looked up, he was staring at her. That startled her and she stood up. But no—he wasn’t actually looking at her. His eyes were cloudy and unfocused. And then he fell back unconscious again.
She left the room after making sure he was indeed asleep. The hinge almost came off in her hand. Everything about this flat was slowly falling apart. It was probably irony for the state of their life itself.
