The semifinal chapter is here!
Dr. Clarkson rushed through the doors of Downton Abbey. The family was huddled by the doorway, bent over a bleeding man struggling for breath on the rug.
"I need the space clear," Clarkson ordered as he knelt by the man's side. It was Thomas Barrow. He had seen Mr. Barrow on many occasions when he dined at the estate, but he had never seen the poor man in such a condition.
Immediately, Cora and Edith moved back from Thomas, allowing Dr. Clarkson to work over his patient.
"Lord Grantham," Dr. Clarkson spoke gently, eyeing the head of the estate.
"I am not leaving this man's side," Robert said firmly.
Judging by the tone of his voice, Dr. Clarkson knew Lord Grantham was resolute.
"Then you can assist me," he nodded, "we must move him. Is there a table we can lay him on?"
"There's one in the drawing room," Cora volunteered.
"Good, please clear it."
She scurried off.
"Edith," Dr. Clarkson looked at the young woman, "please fetch a bucket of warm water and as much cloth as you can find."
She raced away.
"Robert, grab his legs. Careful to remain steady, we cannot disturb the wound further."
Lord Grantham angled himself so his arms were under Barrow's knees. Barrow was listless, half conscious and aware of his surroundings. Dr. Clarkson grabbed the man's underarms.
"Ready...lift!"
Both men rose to their feet.
Thomas shouted in pain.
"Stay with us, Barrow!" Robert called, as they hurried into the drawing room.
Blood spilled from the wound to his side, yet the two were able to lay Thomas on the cleared table. As soon as they settled, Thomas was unconscious again.
Edith returned not a moment later, carrying Dr. Clarkson's desired items.
The surgeon readied for work. He rolled up his sleeves and unrolled his leather pouch containing his tools. He placed the tools in the warm water Edith provided and carefully began to unbutton Thomas' stained shirt.
"Carson!" Robert shouted.
The loyal man appeared at the door momentarily. His eyes widened in alarm at the sight of Thomas, "Yes, My Lord?"
"Please escort Edith and Cora out of this horrendous scene. Ensure they are safe with George. And if there is any word from Captain Redford, I must know immediately."
"Right away, My Lord."
Carson ushered a pale, woozy Cora and Edith out of the drawing room.
"Dear God…" Dr. Clarkson's eyes swiftly took in the severity of Thomas' wound.
"What is your verdict, Dr. Clarkson?"
"A deep stab wound to the abdomen. It seems there was some attempt to treat the wound, as I see remnants of stitches."
"That must have been Mary! She gained the knowledge of basic first aid after the war in caring for the wounded soldiers."
"Her handiwork may have just saved Mr. Barrow's life. If the wound had continued to go untreated, then he would have surely bled to death."
"However…?"
"In his escape, Thomas must have torn through his stitches. The overexertion of the wound, the combination of blood loss, and the exposure have left him in a grave condition."
"Can you save him?"
"I will do all that I can," he nodded, "as I clean and stitch the wound, you must keep Thomas still. He will thrash and fight."
Robert listened.
"I will need you to keep pressure on the wound as well. Use this gauze to stem the flow of blood until cauterization."
"Alright," Robert said darkly.
"Good. Let us begin."
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o
"Steady, men! Steady!" Captain Redford shouted above the wreckage. His officers swarmed the van, preparing to advance.
The wreckage was steaming, gasoline spewing into the dirt. No signs of life had emerged yet.
There was a faint coughing.
A wisp of red hair popped out of the passenger window, followed by a slender, hauntingly beautiful woman. Mrs. Fox.
"Hands in the air!" Redford shouted, weapon raised.
The woman appeared disoriented and there was a cut above her right eye. Above all, she looked furious.
Two officers ran to her and hoisted her out of the passenger window, cuffing her hands.
"You bastards!" she spat, "Get your hands off of me!"
"Put her in the back," Redford ordered to his officers strictly.
Her glare bore into him as she was escorted away from the van, shouting, "You will pay for this! The man is dead, he's dead! His blood is on your hands!"
Redford couldn't help but freeze at that last remark. Who was dead? Was she speaking of Mr. Branson…?
No other person emerged from the crash yet. Redford made the call, "Move in!"
Five officers trekked to the center of the ditch. An ambulance should be arriving momentarily.
"If you can hear me, make yourself known," Redford shouted as he neared the front engine.
There was still no sound.
"Lady Mary? Mr. Branson? Can you hear me?"
"Captain!"
Redford turned and saw a bloodied body in the dirt.
It was a middle aged man with a fresh stab wound to the chest. His eyes stared listlessly to the sky.
"That must have been Mr. Fox."
An officer peeked into the shattered window.
"I don't see anybody else, Captain! There are no other bodies-"
There was a shuffle, a crash, then a scream.
Mr. Stillman emerged from the crash, stumbling slightly, but finding his footing at the edge of the ditch. His black hair had fallen into his face, shielding his eyes. He looked like a raging bull ready to charge. In his arms was Lady Mary. He had one bicep wrapped around her throat, the other pointing the edge of a dagger to her windpipe.
In one slick movement, he could easily dig the edge into her neck, killing her instantly.
"Steady, men! Steady!" Captain Redford shouted, regarding the scene in horror.
"Back away!" Stillman shouted, "Or she is dead!"
Mary desperately clawed at Stillman's arm, but he was unphased.
"Let the woman go, sir! You have nowhere to run!"
The officers took a step closer, trying to surround Stillman and Mary.
"Stay back, I said!" Stillman pressed the knife tip deeper into Mary's skin.
Mary's eyes were filled with terror, but she still managed to keep her voice calm and yelled to the Captain, "Please tell my son that I love him! Tell my family I am sorry-"
Before she could finish, a force burst from the side and tackled Stillman to the floor.
The officers rushed the squabble.
A sergeant shielded Lady Mary and ran her to safety. She kept looking over her shoulder in pure shock, stunned by the events that just unfolded. A second ago, she was near her end.
Redford and his officers tried to untangle the mess before them. Mr. Stillman was tumbling in the dirt with a young man fighting like an uncaged tiger. It was Mr. Tom Branson.
"Get 'em apart!" Redford shouted above the flurry.
The officers managed to rip Tom off of the valet. Four officers pinned Stillman to the ground and kicked his knife away. He was clawing and thrashing against their hold, but Redford stood over him with his beretta raised.
"Mr. Stillman, you are under arrest…"
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o
"Hold him, Robert!"
"I am trying!" Lord Grantham had worked up a sweat trying to keep Thomas Barrow still on the mahogany table.
"I've almost got it!" Clarkson shouted, as he attempted to finish the stitching on Thomas' bleeding side.
Barrow was in clear pain beneath them, fighting against the two men holding him down. His groans and shouts of pain could be heard throughout the estate floors.
"Damn it, Clarkson, the man needs more morphine!"
The physician gently set his tools aside and injected Thomas with a fresh dose of the painkiller. The immediate relief in Thomas' features and eyes were not unnoticed by the two men. The blood running down his skin, the pallor of his face, and the deathly gaunt of his features were all extremely worrisome. However, he at least seemed more relaxed.
"That should hold him through to the end," Clarkson nodded.
"Then he will be alright?"
Clarkson looked grim, "I will finish treating and stitching the wound. It is up to Thomas what may come after."
"What are his chances?" Robert looked to the floor.
"The blood loss is extreme, the wound was left untreated for quite some time inviting infection, and the man is exhausted after his ordeal," Clarkson gave his diagnosis, "it would be a miracle if he were to survive the night."
Robert remained eerily quiet.
Clarkson did not waste anymore time and took up his surgical tools once more.
Lord Grantham took his position and held Thomas back down to the table, as Dr. Clarkson began stitching the wound closed.
Final chapter coming soon! Leave me a fav/follow/review!