Chapter 37 Woefully Unexpected
It was a little past sunset when Miss Prescott rode through the fort gates with Private Masters and Barnes in tow. She had no idea how long she'd been riding but had felt horribly since falling from the horse hours ago in Pembroke. All she wanted to do now was to get to her bedchambers and rest.
Dismounting, she was shaky and lightheaded the moment her feet hit solid ground. Melanie took a few steps to the veranda, where she stood for a moment, hanging on to a pillar hoping her dizziness would pass. When it didn't, the young woman took a deep breath, steadied herself as much as she could, and willed herself to walk the few steps into the house. She would think about the flights of stairs to her room on the third floor when she would get to the foot of those steps.
The girl took the steps into the house slowly, relieved to make it through the door. As she traipsed through the entryway and into the common room, her vision began to blur. The young woman leaned against the wall to steady herself, shaking her head as if to straighten up her eyesight and taking another deep breath. Melanie took a step away from the wall then doubled over in obvious discomfort, feeling a jab of pain in her abdomen and back.
After a moment, Miss Prescott made herself stand up straight again as she held her abdomen. She told herself that she felt sickly because she was famished and running on virtually no sleep. The girl again willed herself to walk forward, reasoning that when she made it to her room she would request some food to eat while she rested.
The young woman continued on, determined to make it to her room. But after a few more steps, the dizziness pounced on her again, followed by more blurred vision. Now unable to see clearly, Melanie felt sure she could find her way to the stairwell. The girl moved forward again, nearly stumbling into the drawing room. The girl stopped again, this time panting and out of breath after just a few steps.
Soon Miss Prescott resumed walking, or rather meandering in a lopsided manner through the room. Somehow she found her way into the large dining room, where General O'Hara sat alone of the table. He looked up from his paper work and last bit of food.
"Good Evening, Miss Prescott," he greeted. "I'll have the cooks bring food for you and the officers."
The girl didn't answer back; she hadn't heard him for the din of the blood pounding in her ears now. She continued trudging through the room in a sloppy zigzag.
The general watched her curiously for an instant, then stood in alarm. "Miss, are you alright? You don't look well at all." Indeed the girl's color was washed out and her eyes unfocused.
"Miss Prescott?" O'Hara asked again as he stepped from his place at the table. As the general rounded the long table, the girl suddenly collapsed. The man raced to where she lay on the floor.
"Good Lord!" he exclaimed as he knelt quickly next to the girl. She was unconscious for only a few seconds, then revived, letting out a moan of pain.
"I'm going to take you to your room," declared General O'Hara urgently as he looked down at the poor girl. As he picked her up, she groaned audibly.
"I'm sorry," he apologized, not sure what was wrong with the woman. "I'll get you to your bed as fast as I can!"
The strong general carried the girl up the first flight of steps. The bumping of her body while being carried up stairs, hurt with each step taken, causing her to wince.
As he rounded the second floor landing, General O'Hara caught sight of the servant, Bridget.
"Jesus, Mary, Joseph! What's wrong?!" she exclaimed, surprised to see the man carrying her friend.
"She collapsed in the dining room," he announced. The man continued talking to the servant as she now accompanied him up the next flight of stairs.
"She was stumbling about and didn't answer my questions," informed the general.
"Where are the dragoons?" Bridget asked.
"I don't know. She was alone," he answered. "It's strange."
Miss Kilpatrick stayed silent for a moment as the two mounted the third floor landing. The servant was worried for her friend; she was one of the few who knew the delicate state Miss Prescott was in.
The Irish servant slid past the general, getting in front of him to open the door to Melanie's bedchamber. Once in, he laid the girl on her neatly made bed, noticing her eyes were glassed over.
"I'll summon a doctor," he said as he made his way back toward the door.
"Please have some tea sent up as well," bade Miss Kilpatrick.
As the man closed the door behind him, Bridget began loosening the girl's clothing. She asked questions of her friend as she did.
"Are you by yourself? What happened? Where are the men?" The servant continued stripping the girl down, wanting her to be comfortable in bed in loose clothing.
Melanie could only groan, weakly fighting Bridget as she wrestled the girl's outer clothing off. "The horse," she whimpered, "The horse. I fell off the horse…..I fell…"
Once her dress was off and Miss Prescott stripped to her shift, the servant's eyes rounded at the sight of a noticeable blood stain on the shift where it fell between her legs. Bridget quickly moved to the bureau and found an oilcloth in one of the drawers. She ran to the bed and slid it beneath Melanie's aching body.
About that time, there was another knock on the door. "I've got tea for Miss Prescott," General O'Hara called through the door. "A surgeon is on his way—he had to be awakened."
Miss Kilpatrick left the ailing girl on the bed and went to the door. Opening the door a small space, she took the cup of tea from the man. "Please, General," she requested, "Please find a midwife, as well. She's nearly four months pregnant."
General O'Hara said nothing and left immediately in search of a midwife.
Melanie curled into a fetal position on top of the bed, still holding her middle. "Oh….Bridget!...Please!....It hurts!", Melanie moaned from the bed. Miss Kilpatrick joined the girl at the bed, grabbing her hand, attempting to comfort her ailing friend.
After what seemed an eternity, help arrived with first the military surgeon, then a colonial midwife from amongst the prisoner population. They found Miss Prescott writhing on the bed with hot, searing abdominal pain, groaning all the while as she clutched alternately her belly then the sheets. They went to work immediately upon the horrid sight of the growing blood stain on her shift and now the sheets.
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The dragoons arrived back at Fort Carolina nearly ninety minutes past sunset. Major Bordon dismounted and gathered Miss Prescott's baggage which he'd retrieved from her dead horse at Pembroke. He headed straight to her room carrying the saddlebags, still quite upset with her recent display of impertinence. The officer wasn't sure what to do, but knew he'd have to deal with her public show of defiance and the embarrassment it caused him in front of his commander.
Once at Melanie's door he heard muffled noise. "Melanie?" he asked in a loud voice as he knocked.
Alexander waited a moment for her to answer. As he did, he heard moans coming from within her room. Alarmed, he knocked again and called through the door. "Melanie?! I'm coming in!"
The officer was startled to see a man he recognized as one of the surgeons and a rebel woman with Miss Prescott. His eyes became saucers when he saw Melanie groaning and writhing on the bed.
"What's wrong?!", he cried as he lunged toward the bed. "What's happening?!"
Miss Kilpatrick left the doctor and midwife, whom she had been assisting, to meet the concerned man. She nearly crashed into him as she spoke in a frantic voice. "You can't stay in here, Major! The doctor needs to work—"
"Let me see her!" Bordon pushed toward the bed with the Irish servant attempting to keep him back.
"Major, you can't!" Bridgett was losing the battle of keeping the insistent officer at bay.
"Get him out of here!," the surgeon ordered.
"I'm not leaving!", Alex insisted. "What is wrong with her?"
"Miss, please summon one of my medical staff," instructed the doctor. "Tell them to bring Laudanum or something else for the pain!"
Poor Miss Kilpatrick's head nearly spun off her shoulders between the confusion of her friend in pain, the surgeon shouting instructions, and trying to usher a rather strong officer out of the room. She was relieved when she saw General O'Hara come through the door an instant later.
The commander had come to check on the situation and stumbled upon the servant trying to push the dragoon leader back. He recognized immediately that she needed help and gave assistance.
"Major Bordon," the general addressed in a stern voice, "Desist, please, and that's an order."
Alex sighed and stopped struggling at his superior's command. "Come with me," said O'Hara, rushing from the room with Bordon in tow.
As they walked, the general imparted what he had experienced with the young woman in the dining room. O'Hara then suggested the dragoon aide-de-camp sit tight until things quieted down, assuring him that the surgeon would speak with when the situation was in control.
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A couple of tense hours later, near Midnight, the major was summoned to the hallway outside of Miss Prescott's room. The surgeon was waiting for him, his apron bearing several fresh blood stains upon it.
"Are you responsible for the girl," the surgeon queried, in a near accusatory tone.
Bordon stared in shock at the crimson splotches on the doctor's clothing. Still in a haze, he answered, "What?"
"Are you the father of her child," asked the doctor.
"Yes," Alex answered shakily.
"Well I'm sorry, sir," he apologized. "She's had a miscarriage."
The major was dumbstruck. He sighed and closed his eyes as he tried to digest the news.
"I'm told she had an accident," the doctor continued, "Fell from a horse, was it?"
"Yes," Alexander answered, shaking his head numbly.
"Unfortunately this has taken quite a toll on the young lady's health," the surgeon began. "She did expel the fetus—a child, intact, but the thing was so mangled. And, in palpating her abdomen I could feel her womanly organs twisted and most likely scarred."
The doctor took a breath, then went on. "This is the worst miscarriage I've ever seen from the few that I've been privy to assist with. She bled profusely, which we were finally able to stop."
Alex leaned against the wall to hold himself up as he took in all that the doctor told him. The officer couldn't believe his ears. After all, it was just days ago that Melanie had told him of the pregnancy.
"I'm sorry, Major. This incident has left the girl's organs so messed up that the chance she will conceive again is small," the surgeon informed. He sighed and shook his head. "No. She won't be able to have any more children."
Bordon felt sick inside. He could scarcely believe how quickly everything had transpired. One day, Melanie was telling him she was with child. Another day, he caressed her slightly swollen abdomen with his hand. And now, he was being told that she'd lost the baby.
"We did all we could for her and the child," the doctor remarked. "She's very sick now with a high fever and pain. The girl is very weak. I have some hope that she will recover, but we will have to see what the next few hours and days bring."
Alex said nothing, numb and still astonished at the events. The dragoon second in command looked up at the surgeon and forced himself to speak. "When can I see her," he asked in a hoarse, nearly breaking voice.
"Soon," the medical officer answered. "She is stable. We'll call for you once we've cleaned up and she is settled."
With that, the doctor turned and walked back into the room, leaving Bordon outside in the hallway, alone in mind spinning confusion.