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I moved closer to the bed and got my first look at the colonel. The room stank of sickness, and I could tell without looking that his wound had festered.
“What is your name?”
“Daisy, ma’am.”
“Daisy, we must get fresh air in here. Can you help me open these windows?”
It was cold out, but I could not breathe in such stifling air. We made quick work of the windows and pulled back the curtains so I would have the best possible light. I sent Daisy off to fetch more bandages and told her not to hurry and have a cup of tea if she would like. She seemed pleased at the suggestion so I thought I might reasonably have about half an hour to work. I would have liked more time for such a severe wound, but it was better than nothing.
I moved to the colonel’s side and placed my hand on his head first, feeling how high his fever was. His skin was burning to the touch and his face was pale and covered in sweat.
“I apologize for the lack of dignity, but this really is the best way,” I whispered.
I pulled back the counterpane and took off my gloves, stuffing them into my pocket. The colonel’s skin was an angry red above his bandages, streaks of infection reaching up nearly to his hip. I suspected it was too late to save him with amputation, but if they were to attempt it, they would have to cut very high. He would never be the same again. Never ride a horse, or even walk across the room. A peg could not be attached in that location. Bath chairs were clumsy and unreliable. He would be utterly dependent. He would need assistance in every area of his life.
A man like that, a man accustomed to leading a battalion in a war, would not take easily to those restrictions. He would fight and chafe against them until he was unrecognizable. A man like that would almost prefer to be dead than be confined to a bed for the rest of his life.
I could not let that happen.
I placed one hand above the wound where the infection was spreading and another directly on it over the bandages. I closed my eyes, focusing as hard as I could while listening for anyone who might come into the room. The skin felt hot under my fingers and I could feel the infection; it sent a nauseated feeling to my stomach and made me want to shake and spit to rid myself of it. Instead, I sang. Not so loudly anyone outside the room would hear me, but loud enough to soothe the patient and fill the room with healing energy.
After five minutes, he stopped sweating and the streaks began to recede. After ten, his fever was gone entirely and the skin above his wound was a pale pink instead of the deep red it had been. It was an improvement, but it was not enough. I redoubled my efforts, sending every ounce of healing power I could into him. I began to sway on my feet, my body protesting against the drain of energy, but I could not stop. I did not know when I would have another chance and this was life or death. The infection was already spreading. Only a few more hours and he would have septicemia.
The skin below his bandage had been bruised purple, small scratches marring the skin. Now it was a smooth peach, as if nothing had happened at all. I knew I was almost out of time, so I gingerly peeled back the bandage and placed my hand over what was left of the gaping wound. The bone had snapped there and pierced the skin, but now I could see the white of it lying in place, cleanly knit back together. I focused on healing the muscle, weaving fresh skin back over the injury, and encouraged the tissues to grow.
My hands shook and my body tingled from the force of the energy I was shoving into the colonel. I did not know if there could be a negative outcome from healing too quickly, but if there was, it could not be as bad as dying of septicemia.
The flesh beneath my hand began to feel differently and I dared to take a look. There was a small patch of skin that had not yet healed but everything else was done. The bone was in place, the muscle reattached, and the skin regrown. I sagged in relief and dropped my head back, stopping my song to sigh. One last burst of power and he would be finished.
I smiled and looked towards the head of the bed, and straight into the wide blue eyes of Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam.
15
Darcy
HowcouldIdoit? How could I allow the surgeon to cut off Richard’s leg? He was such an active man, always riding or fencing or running about with Alistair’s children. He would not do well with restrictions.
And the doctor was not even certain it would work! The infection was spreading so the leg must come off, but they would cut it so high he was in danger of dying of blood loss from the procedure itself. The doctor did not have much hope it would work at all, and he had already told us it was a final attempt to save Richard’s life.
I could not believe it. Richard could not die. Not Richard. He was too full of life, of joy, to die from a simple accident on a ship. He had been through four campaign seasons and survived. He had been on starvation rations and survived. He had been shot by the French, dammit! And he survived!
He could not die from some hunk of wood landing on his leg. It was utterly ridiculous!
I was intelligent enough to know I was in denial about the circumstances and that in order to help Richard through this, to help him live, I would need to come to an understanding of the facts.
I took a deep breath, forcing myself to calm, before I thought about the facts as I knew them. I did not think Richard would want to live with such a dramatic amputation, but it was his choice to make. If he were not delirious, I would ask him. He should be the one to choose.
I stood straighter and took a deep breath. I would try. He might not understand a word I said, but I had to try.
I took the stairs two at a time and made my way down the corridor.
When I walked into the room, I could not believe my eyes. Richard was sitting up in bed, a wide smile on his face as he looked at me with clear eyes.
“Darcy! There you are!”
“Richard! What? How?” I stumbled to him, half wondering if I was having a hallucination.
I came to the side of the bed and reached out to touch his arm. “It’s real. You’re really you.”
