Author's note: Did my homework, there were animal blood transfusions in the 17th and early 18th century that were outlawed in the late 17th century, so the equipment did exist in crude form at the time. Reviews are appreciated and make me type faster.

Chapter 10

When Jack had walked into the foyer, Samantha had been torn between relief and horror, as her joy at seeing him was dampened by the disheartening site of his bloodied clothing. He had collapsed on the floor before her with the rose she'd hidden in his coat, clutched tightly in his unconscious hand. Quickly Samantha rushed to Jack's side and began to shout loudly to attract the servants. Worriedly, she noticed that his face was as white as the marble floor tiles. Impatiently, Sam waited for help as she took his hand in hers and felt his pulse. The gentle throb in Jack's wrist was soft but insistent.

"Mademoiselle!" a voice cried from the staircase. It was Jack's valet who came rushing down the steps to aid his Master.

"We need to get him upstairs uh-"

"Phillippe, valet to his lordship," he informed her and barked orders at several footman who had come into the hall. "Carry the Viscomte to his suite and do so carefully."

As the liveried men moved forward and lifted Jack, Sam reluctantly released Jack's hand. They lifted him off the floor and began to carry his limp figure up the stairs. Phillippe looked shocked when Samantha started to follow them. "Mademoiselle, perhaps you would like to go to your room and let your maid take care of you. You should lie down after such a great shock."

"You've got to be kidding me," Sam rolled her eyes in frustration. She began walking up the steps rapidly and Phillippe dogged along side her.

When they were at the door to Jack's room, the outraged valet made one last attempt to dissuade her, "This is highly inappropriate and your gown will be quite ruined unless your maid tends it immediately."

"Who cares about a stupid dress!" Samantha exclaimed. With watery blue eyes, she informed Phillippe, "The man I- My Jack needs me and nothing is going to keep me from him!"

Resignedly, the valet sighed, "Very well, but this won't be pretty Mademoiselle."

Sam accompanied him into the room and watched as Phillippe peeled the blood soaked tatters of Jack's shirt. Unable to stop herself, she gasped at network of lacerations that covered his chest and arms. Phillippe turned his head sharply and crooked his head toward the door, offering her the chance to leave. Shaking her head Samantha moved closer to Jack's pale form.

"Mademoiselle, if I may be so bold, might I suggest we consider not sending for a doctor."

"No doctor?" she asked in disbelief. Jack's unconscious body looked like he was in need of a trauma team.

"The doctor will treat him by bleeding him-"

"Oh God in heaven no!" Samantha cried interrupting him. The pale form on the bed looked like there was hardly any blood left in it. Jack looked frail from the alabaster color of his skin to the waxy appearance his lips had taken on.

"Then we shall manage the best we can. I must send the footman for supplies," Phillippe informed her and left her alone with Jack as he walked out of the room.

Jack lay motionless on the bed as Samantha took his hand. Squeezing his hand she was disheartened by the lack of response. Looking at him, she vainly tried to will his eyes open, but the remained closed, his dark lashes fanned against his ashen cheeks. Samantha was terrified by Jack's nearly cadaverous appearance. Moving closer to him, she clasped his hand to her heart and prayed, for the man who had haunted her existence and now haunted her heart.

Phillippe returned with and armful of white material and had several footman behind him carrying a variety of supplies. Dismissing the footmen, he started ripping fine linen sheets into strips for bandages. Seeing Samantha's worried expression, he held out a soft towel and gestured to the basin of steaming water one of the footman had placed by the bed. Relieved to be able to help, she began to dip the cloth in the water and slowly clean the blood from Jack's forehead. As Samantha slowly wiped the blood from his face and chest, the water turned from clear to crimson as she rinsed out the cloth.

Once the bandages were torn, Phillippe inquired as he prepared to cut off Jack's pants, "Are you certain you wish to stay?"

Nodding Samantha helped him pull the fabric from Jack's skin where the blood had dried and adhered it to his flesh. She suggested, "If you start bandaging him, I'll finish cleaning up the blood."

The valet was surprised by the suggestion but began wrapping his Master's torso. Samantha carefully cleaned the wound on Jack's thigh, it would definitely need stitching she realized as clearing away the blood revealed the deep laceration went nearly to the bone. Even if Jack pulled through, there would be a high risk of gangrene. Forcing her fears away, Samantha focused on the task at hand. Among the supplies that had been brought were needle and thread. She held the needle in a candle flame to sterilize it and rinsed it in brandy before attempting to sew the torn flesh closed.

Phillippe watched with admiration as he prepared to sew Jack's shoulder wound. When the English girl had insisted on staying he'd been shocked and imagined she would faint. But she had, to his amazement, managed to be of actual help. The Master had told him she was remarkable and now he could see why the Viscomte was obsessed with the Mademoiselle. As he stitched, Phillippe hoped the Master would recover so he could marry his beloved, Samantha.

Once Jack was cleaned, stitched and bandaged, they eased him under the covers. The valet busied himself with removing the bloodied supplies as Samantha studied Jack's face worriedly. There was little more that could be done except to wait and pray. Phillippe had a tray of tea brought for Samantha that she fussed with slightly as she watched intently for any sign of movement from Jack.

Towards evening, Jack had fallen into a restless sleep as he developed a fever and was wracked with chills. Samantha checked his bandages and had her worst fears confirmed as she saw the reddening around the wounds on his shoulder and thigh. Weakened from blood loss, Jack's body had been unable to fight the infection that seized it. Sitting with his head in her lap, she tried to get him to swallow some of the willow bark tea Phillippe had brought to ease the fever.

"He's so weak from bloodloss," Samantha looked up at Phillippe.

"Mademoiselle? I had not suggested it before because it would likely kill him, but we could send to Paris for a doctor to give him a transfusion."

Confused, Samantha stared at him, she thought they weren't around until the 20th century. "What sort of a transfusion?"

"Blood, Mademoiselle, few patients survive, but mayhap some sheep's blood would help."

Carefully lowering Jack's head to the pillow, an idea dawned on Samantha. Grabbing Phillippe's arm she ordered, "Send for the equipment and the best doctor in Paris, but no sheep's blood do you hear me!"

"But sheep's blood has saved more than dog or cow's blood," the valet protested.

"The only blood that's going in him is mine. Now hurry and send someone up with some ice from the icehouse right away!"

As the valet ran to comply, Samantha clasped Jack's shaking form to her heart...