Chapter Twenty-Five
"Put me down!"
Nicholas waited to put her down until the door slammed shut behind them and locked with an audible click! He had never seen her so furious before. As soon her feet touched the ground, she pushed away from him with all her strength, and Nicholas was surprised to find that it actually made him take a step back.
"Now Margaret," he began.
"Do not dare," she said lowly, her voice shaking. "Say it is not my place. I have every right to be in that room, with my husband, who lay dying in our bed!"
"That's not what I was saying." He replied loudly, hoping to calm her before she did something rash. He knew, more than he wished he did, exactly how she was feeling. To stand by useless while your spouse faded away in another room…it was a feeling he was well acquainted with. "You're injured yourself, and there's more to be done than standing in that room!" She looked at him with an expression that clearly stated exactly what she thought of doing anything else at the moment. Unfortunately a yell of agonized pain from behind the closed door instantly seized Margaret's attention and she ran back to it, frantically calling for her husband.
Nicholas knew what they were about to do, and knew that Margaret did not need to be anywhere near this room when it happened.
"Margaret!" He called sharply, but she did not acknowledge him, continuing to pound on the door. He had to get her away, immediately. He didn't even want to hear this. He reached for her arm.
"Do not touch me!" She all but snarled, ripping her arm away from him and continuing her assault on the doorknob. He was running out of time.
"For God's sake, Margaret! Your husband is not the only one on their deathbed!" She paused, and turned to look at him with an almost unreadable expression on her face. But he could see it in her eyes: the unmistakable tinge of guilt. "Please Margaret." He implored. "Come away from the door. If you will not tend to your own injuries, at least help the others. There are people that need you."
"John needs me." She stated defiantly. But Nicholas could already see that his words had taken root within her, and that her resolve was wavering.
"His fate will be the same no matter where you are." He replied. It might be blunt, but it was the truth of the matter that she needed to hear. "Trust me when I say that if he does die, you do not want your last moment with him to be this one. It is better to remember what you had."
"This is not about what I desire, Nicholas. I could not-" her voice hitched. "I could not live with myself if I were not there for his last moments. If I could not help him find peace."
"Margaret." He said, his tone softening slightly with compassion. "He would not want you to remember him this way. Suffering, in pain…" He paused to suppress the wave of emotion that accompanied the memory of the of his wife. "There are others that need you more. Margaret, you're Master now. Those people need instruction; and it is your duty to give it while your husband cannot." She looked away from him and folded her arms across her chest. But he did not have time to be any gentler with her. Any second now, they doctor was going to rip that piece of wood from Johns shoulder. And he didn't want Margaret anywhere near when it happened.
"Will you tell me if anything changes?" She asked, eyes still on the floor. He knew what she asking without words; and he would rather it be him to deliver the terrible blow than someone she did not know.
"Aye." He replied brusquely. Margaret nodded once, eyes still away from him, before walking briskly away, down the stairs, and eventually into the Mill yard. Nicholas waited until he was certain that she was out of the house before knocking once on the door. It opened immediately, and the doctor met his gaze grimly.
"Mrs. Thornton?" He asked.
"Outside with the injured."
"Good." He waived him over to his side. "We'll need all the hands we can get. I need you to keep his upper body steady while I remove this shard." Nicholas nodded, and placed a hand on both John's collarbone to the right of the offending shard, and on his uninjured shoulder.
"Ready." He said, his tone belying the anxiety gnawing at the pit of his stomach. Doctor Donaldson then turned to address the other men, the same ones who had aided Nicholas in retrieving their Master from the inferno.
"You will need to steady his lower body, make sure he doesn't thrash too much or else it could damage the wound further." The nodded, and the youngest of the group visibly paled, his hands trembling from nerves. "Mind his leg," the doctor added, casting a quick glance to the young man. Nicholas looked down and noticed that his right leg bore a long wooden splint. 'Broken.' He thought. And judging by the blood soaked bandage, the bone must have cut through the skin.
That explained the cry of agony he heard from the hallway.
Doctor Donaldson had the decency to count them off before ripping the wood out of John's shoulder.
"One." 'Deep breath.' He told himself.
"Two." 'Deep…Breath…'
"Three!" No amount of mental preparation could have readied Nicholas for that moment. Nothing could have aided him in blocking out that horrible, guttural, piercing, tormented scream of agony that their actions caused. Nothing might have advised him on how very difficult it would be to hold down a man thrashing against him, against the pain that they were inflicting upon him. No one could have told him of the nearly overpowering nausea that suddenly gripped him, almost causing him to turn and empty the contents of his stomach right there on Margaret's bedroom floor. Yet greater still, was the lack of preparation he had for seeing the man's eyes desperately searching for an answer to his unspoken question. Why?
His eyes closed, and he appeared to be fighting. Whether John was fighting against his pain, or fighting to retain some form of impassivity, Nicholas could not tell. But he did as he was instructed, and kept John's upper body as still as he could while Doctor Donaldson fervently attending to open hole in his shoulder that was bleeding entirely too much. A gurgling, gasping noise drew his attention back to John's face.
"Nnn-nnn" He stuttered, his voice masked by the gurgling, spluttering noise coming from the back of his throat.
"Sit him up," The doctor barked. "Quickly, he's choking!" Nicholas quickly did as asked, and moved to the right to help stabilize John's body in an upright position. Doctor Donaldson worked in a fast, but charged silence, and Nicholas was left with no other occupation than begging God to let his friend make it through this ordeal with his life.
When Margaret first left Nicholas, she wasn't quite sure what he thought she needed to do. She knew however, that she needed to something, anything to keep her mind occupied and keep her from running back up those stairs. When she stepped back out into the Mill yard, John was pushed to the back of her mind, and the majority was occupied by the horror of the scene that met her eyes.
More than a hundred bodies lay strewn across the ground at various angles, some very obviously dead, others gravely wounded and being tended to as best as they could be. She understood then, what Nicholas wanted her to do. The Mill itself was still on fire, blazing away, oblivious to the damage it had done. She ran back into the house.
"Martha!" She called as she hurried through rooms. "Martha come quickly!"
"What's happened, Mistress?" Martha called with alarmed breathlessness as she appeared from the hallway.
"Get Carter, and anyone else you can find. We need to move the furniture."
"Ma'am?" She asked, now looking at Margaret with a troubled expression.
"We have to make room anywhere we can find. Push the furniture against the walls if you have to, but we have to clear some space!"
"Space for whom, Mistress?" Margaret, already halfway to the front door, called back over her shoulder:
"For the injured, Martha! Now hurry!" She did not bother to wait for a reply, but ran back outside. Night had long since fallen upon them, but with the light of the blaze she was able to see with perfect clarity. She quickly spotted another doctor tending to a badly burned woman, and told him of her plans. Within minutes she had organized a group to take the injured into her house, and a group to fetch any and all available supplies from anywhere they could be gathered. She charged all who remained and were willing to help with putting out the fire. A group of men were already drilling down through the ground, presumably to tap the water main, consequently creating a makeshift well from which water would be easily accessed by buckets. After assuring that no one needed her in the Mill yard, she made her way back in to the house to help Martha.
Hours passed by slowly, dragging on and on as Margaret did her very best to stay busy, and to keep her mind off John. He was still alive, at least. Nicholas would have come for her already if he was not. But this thought essentially did nothing to help reassure her, and anxiety plagued her so heavily she found she could no longer speak. Not that she had any desire to. It was far simpler to avoid conversation questioning…especially when someone inquired after John, unaware of the danger he was in. So with quiet determination she cut sheets into bandages, kept a constant pot of water over the fire, and helped to clean the wounds of those who were not so very injured.
At first light a man informed her that the fire had been stopped, and that there were no other injured waiting to find shelter within her home. Shortly afterward a police inspector came to see her, claiming that they suspected foul-play, and would come back at a later time to question her further. No more than thirty minutes passed after he left before Fanny rushed in through the door, having only just heard the news. Margaret left Carter to inform her of the state of her mother and brother, after which Fanny disappeared into her mother's room and was not seen again. Mrs. Thornton had been given a very heavy sleeping draught, and was not expected to wake up for several hours. Several workers had taken the responsibility of moving the dead out of the yard and onto the sloping green grass of the hill behind her home.
And so it was that Margaret found herself sitting on the front steps watching the sun progressively travel higher into the sky, and feeling completely and utterly useless. There was no one that needed her at the moment. So many people had come to help, that Margaret found herself without occupation. And her thoughts turned to her husband once more. It was never one specific topic. No, it was thousands of thoughts that had no purpose or goal other than to remind her that John lay in a bed upstairs fighting for his life. That this new and beautiful day that was dawning, might very well be his last. That the vow she made on her wedding day could end at any moment, and that she would never know how truly wonderful a life they might have had together. A life with joy, smiles, kisses, affection...A life with children, love, and trials…A life she would forever dream of.
"Margaret." She shot up and turned so quickly that her vision blurred. This was the moment: here stood Nicholas, with an unfathomable expression upon his face, here to tell her that her husband was dead. That his injuries had been too great to overcome. That he had died in pain; in pain, in fear, and alone. That he died a hero's death, sacrificing his life for those of his workers. His grim expression told her everything she knew she could not bear to hear, and her arm shot out to grip the brick wall and prevent her from falling over. But she needed to hear the words from his mouth. She needed it to be spoken into truth. She needed that closure. She needed Nicholas to tell her.
"Nicholas?" She asked, speaking for the first time in hours. Her voice trembled, and the sound of it putting tune to the anguish she felt inside broke the dam she managed to build around her emotions, and her eyes burned hotly with unshed tears.
Every minute, every hour, every single second that passed Nicholas prayed. Never in his entire life had time ever passed so slowly. To his credit, Doctor Donaldson worked efficiently and, from what he could tell, precisely. John's injuries were beyond extensive. The shoulder wound had been more than enough for one person to contend with, but there were others-so many other injuries, nearly all of them severe, that had to be taken care of. His shoulder took more time than Nicholas was able to keep track of.
It was a long, arduous process of clearing the hole of debris, followed by cauterizing one very small area, rinsing the wound, and beginning the process again. It took hours to close the entire wound; after all, it had nearly gone through his shoulder entirely. Once the doctor had stopped most of the bleeding, he stitched the wound closed and bound it tightly in cloth, before moving on to the next wound. The night faded away into the bright light of a new day in this very same manner. The burns he had obtained on his hands, feet, and his right leg could only be coated in an odd-smelling ointment and wrapped in a thin cloth. His broken leg had been set and stitched up properly, as had the rather large gash on his head and side of his face. It would not look pretty to look at, but he was alive.
Doctor Donaldson had, with their help managed to attach a leg rest for John's broken leg to be placed on. It wasn't anything unique: Merely a large stretch of heavy cloth with four thin cords at each corner, which they then knotted into the framing of the bed-canopy. When they were no longer of use to the doctor, he dismissed them, and with a heavy nod, Nicholas left to find Margaret.
He was rather surprised to find the entire household completely transformed, and people milling about in every direction. He spotted his daughter, cheeks flushed from exertion, with a bowl of steaming water and a pile of clean bandages.
"What's all this then?" He called to her. She looked surprised by his question. As though he was asking about something that had long since been considered standard.
"Miss Margaret brought all the injured inside." She stated simply. "Didn't you know?"
"No," He replied, looking around at the transformation with respect. Margaret had turned Marlborough into a hospital. "No I've been upstairs tending to Master."
"And how is he?"
Nicholas frowned as the honest answer came to his mind. "I don't rightly know." He said, and left her so he might find Margaret. Many people stopped him along the way for a multitude of reasons. Some asked after the Master, others praised the sight of him, exclaiming they had worried he was among the dead. But not one of them had seen the Mistress.
When he did manage to find her, it bothered him to see that she appeared even more disheveled than when they last spoke. Her hair had come loose, and was partially hanging down her back. Her clothes and skin were almost completely black from the smoke. He wondered if Margaret was even aware that a very large portion of her skirt had completely burned away to revel the under-skirt beneath it. He called to her, and she jumped, spinning around to meet his gaze. In the full morning light he was able to see the injuries that he could not the night before. Her nose had been bloodied, some of it smeared across her face as if she wiped it away with the sleeve of her dress. There was crusted blood beneath her ears on either side, and several scrapes along her face.
He could see the fear in her eyes. The anticipation and anxiety from the news he was about to bring her reflected perfectly, and when she returned his greeting he could not wait another moment to ease her immediate worry.
"Master's alive. Doctor Donaldson is finishing up some bandages, but he says you can come and see him now." She let out a sigh of palpable relief, and left him without so much as a farewell. A smile began to pull at his lips, and he realized that he truly did not care at all.
A/N: I can't put any more in this chapter without making it too….heavy so to speak. So, sorry it's not very long, but it does bear some good news! =D enjoy my lovelies. We're not out of the woods just yet.
Ps: Go to you tube and look up "Life and Death" by Paul Crandall. This music was the very heart of my inspiration for this entire part of the story. It's also pretty awesome to listen to while reading ;)
Review! =D