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Standard disclaimer.
During the process of settling Arthur onto the stretcher, the hem of his wet shirt rode up, making Gwen and Mrs. Winterbourne gasp simultaneously, as they noted a hideous purple-black bruise, the size of a dinner plate, spreading across the left side of his rib cage and chest.
Gwen blanched, as she thought of the blunt force it must have taken, to cause such an injury.
'Surely, he must have broken ribs,' she thought.
And worriedly, she wondered, if one of his lungs might have collapsed.
Tossing that thought away momentarily, she carefully bent to arrange one of his sprawled arms against his side.
It was so shocking, to see a man of his vitality, lying there so limp and still.
Mrs. Winterbourne settled a blanket over him and told the footmen,
"Take him up to the master bedroom..carefully...no jostling. Treat him as if he were a newborn babe."
After counting in unison, the footmen lifted the stretcher.
"A babe that weighs sixteen stone," one of them grunted.
Mrs. Winterbourne tried to look stern, but the corners of her eyes crinkled briefly.
"Mind your tongue, David."
Gwen followed behind the footmen, swiping impatiently at the film of tears over her eyes.
Walking beside her, the housekeeper murmured consolingly,
"There, there. Don't distress yourself, my lady. We'll soon have him patched up and as good as new."
Although Gwen longed to believe her, she whispered tightly,
"He's so bruised and feeble...he might have internal injuries."
"He didn't seem so feeble as all that, a moment ago," the housekeeper observed dryly.
Gwen flushed.
"He was overwrought. He didn't know what he was doing."
"If you say so, my lady." Mrs. Winterbourne's slight smile faded, as she continued. "But I think we should save our worry for Mr. Harcourt. Just before Mr. Pendragon was carried inside, he said that Mr. Harcourt's leg is broken and he's also been blinded."
"Oh, no! We must find out if he wants us to send for someone."
"I would be surprised if he did," the housekeeper said pragmatically, as they entered the house.
"Why do you say that?" Gwen asked.
"If he had anyone, he wouldn't have come here alone for Christmas in the first place."
While Dr. Gauis attended to Arthur's injuries, Gwen went to visit Will.
Before she reached the open door of his room, she heard noise and laughter drifting into the hallway.
She stood at the threshold, watching with a touch of fond resignation, Will sitting up in bed, regaling a group, that included a half-dozen servants, Bia, Athena, both dogs, Hamlet and Cassandra, who stood beside a lamp, reading the temperature of a glass thermometer.
Gwen sighed.
Thankfully, he no longer appeared to be shivering, and his color had improved.
"...then, I glimpsed a man wading back out into the river..." he was saying, "...towards a half-submerged railway carriage, with people trapped inside. And I said to myself, that man is a hero. But he's also an idiot. Because, he'd already been in the water for far too long, and he won't be able to save them.
As I watched him, I thought he was about to sacrifice his life for nothing. But, I proceeded to climb down the embankment and found Simmons. When I enquired about the Earl," Will paused for dramatic effect, relishing the rapt attention of his audience. "Where do you think Simmons pointed? Out to the river, where that reckless fool, had just saved a trio of children, and was wading after them with a baby in one arm and a woman on the other."
"The man was Lord Pendragon?" one of the housemaids gasped.
"None other," Will replied.
The entire group exclaimed with pleasure and possessive pride.
"Nothing to it, for a bloke as big as his lordship," one of the footmen said with a grin.
"I should think, he'll be put in the papers for this," another exclaimed.
"I hope so," Will said, "If only, because, I know how he would loathe it." He paused, when he saw Gwen in the doorway.
"All of you..." she said, sotto voce to the servants, "...had better clear out, before Simon or Mrs. Winterbourne catches you in here."
"I was just reaching the best part," Will protested. "I'm about to describe my thrilling, yet poignant rescue of the Earl."
"You can describe it later," Gwen said, still standing in the doorway, as the servants hastily filed out. "For now, you should be resting."
Gwen glanced at Cassandra.
"How is his temperature?"
"He needs to go up one more degree."
"The devil I do," Will said. "With that fire stoked so high, the room is an oven. Soon, I'll be as brown as a Christmas goose. Speaking of that...I'm famished."
"The doctor said we can't feed you, until you've reached the right temperature," Bia said.
"Will you take another cup of tea?" Athena asked.
"I'll have a brandy," Will retorted, "Along with a wedge of currant pie, a plate of cheese, a bowl of potato and turnip mash, and a beefsteak."
Athena smiled.
"I'll ask the doctor, if you may have some broth."
"Broth?" he repeated indignantly.
"Come along, Hamlet," Bia said, "Before Will decides he wants bacon as well."
"Wait!" Gwen said, frowning. "Isn't Hamlet supposed to be in the cellars?"
"Cook wouldn't allow it," Athena said. "She said he would find a way to knock over the bins and eat all the root vegetables." She cast a proud glance at the cheerful-looking creature. "Because, he is a very creative and enterprising pig."
"Cook didn't say that last part," Bia said.
"No," Athena admitted, "But it was implied."
The twins cleared the dogs and pig from the room and left. Then, Cassandra extended the thermometer to Will.
"Under your tongue, please," she said gravely.
He complied with a long-suffering expression.
"Dear," Gwen said. "Will you speak to Mrs. Winterbourne about dinner? With three invalids in the house, I think it's best if we dine informally tonight."
"Two invalids," Will mumbled indignantly, around the thermometer. "I'm perfectly well."
"Yes, of course," Cassandra replied to Gwen. "And I'll make up a tray for Dr. Gauis. He may be occupied for a while with the Earl and Mr. Harcourt. And he's certainly earned his supper."
"Good idea," Gwen said. "Don't forget to include a dish of lemon syllabub. As I recall, Dr. Gauis has a sweet tooth."
"By all means," Will said, around the thermometer, "Let's talk about food in front of a starving man."
Before leaving, Cassandra paused, to nudge his chin upward, closing his mouth.
"No talking."
After Cassandra had gone, Gwen brought some tea to Will and took the thermometer from his mouth.
She examined the line of mercury intently.
"A half degree more, and you may eat," she said.
Will relaxed against the pillows, his animated expression easing into strained lines.
"How is my brother?"
"Dr. Gauis is treating him. Mrs. Winterbourne and I, saw an appalling bruise on his chest and side...we think he may have broken ribs. But he was conscious when he left the carriage, and he opened his eyes when he was brought to his room."
"Thank God." Will sighed heavily. "It's a miracle, if it's nothing more than broken ribs. That accident...my God..railway cars were strewn about like children's toys. And the people who didn't survive..."
He broke off and swallowed hard.
"I wish I could forget what I saw."
Sitting on the bedside chair, Gwen reached out and squeezed his hand gently.
"You're exhausted," she murmured.
Will let out a brief, mirthless laugh.
"I'm so dog-tired, that exhaustion would be an improvement."
"I should leave you to rest."
His hand turned and curled around hers.
"Not yet," he muttered. "I don't want to be alone."
She nodded, remaining in the chair.
Letting go of her hand, Will reached for his tea.
"Is it true?" Gwen asked. "The story you were telling about Arthur?"
After draining the tea in two gulps, Will gave her a haunted glance.
"All true. The son of a bitch, almost succeeded in killing himself."
Gwen took the cup from his lax fingers.
"I don't know how he did it," Will continued. "I was in the water for no more than two minutes, and my legs went numb to the bone. It was agony. By all accounts, Arthur was in that river, for at least twenty minutes, the reckless lackwit."
"Saving children," Gwen said, feigning scorn. "How dare he?"
"Yes," Will said, with no trace of humor. He stared at the leaping fire, brooding. "Now, I understand what you once said to me, about all the people who depend on him...and I've become one of them. Damn him to hell! My brother can't take ass-headed chances with his life again, or I swear I'll kill him."
"I understand," she said, aware of the fear lurking beneath his caustic words.
"No, you don't. You weren't there. My God! I almost didn't reach him in time. Had I arrived just a few seconds later..."
Will took a shuddering breath and averted his face.
"He wouldn't have done this before, you know. He used to have more sense, than to risk his neck for someone else. Especially strangers. The numbskull."
Gwen smiled.
Swallowing back the tightness in her throat, she reached out and smoothed his hair back.
"My dear friend," she whispered, "I'm sorry to have to say this...but you would have done the same thing."
Sometime after midnight, Gwen slipped out of bed to check on the patients.
She buttoned a robe over her nightgown, picked up a bedside candlestick, and set off down the hall.
First, she ducked her head into Mr. Harcourt's room.
"May I come in?" she asked Dr. Gauis, who was sitting in a chair by the bed.
"Of course, my lady."
"Do stay seated, please," she said, before he could rise to his feet. "I only wanted to ask after the patient."
She knew it had been a difficult night's work for the doctor, who had needed the assistance of the butler and two footmen, to help realign Harcourt's broken leg.
As Simon had described it to her and Mrs. Winterbourne afterwards, the large muscles of the injured leg had contracted, and it had required great effort to stretch them sufficiently, to restore the bone to its original position.
Once the leg had been stabilized, Simon himself, had helped the doctor to wrap the limb with strips of damp linen, soaked with gypsum plaster, which had hardened into a cast.
"Mr. Harcourt is doing as well as can be expected," Dr. Gauis murmured. "He was fortunate, in that, the fibula break was clean. Furthermore, after his exposure to the extreme cold, his blood pressure was so low, it reduced blood loss. But, I expect...barring complications...that the leg will heal well."
"What about his vision?" Gwen went to Mr. Harcourt's bedside, looking down at him in concern. He was in a sedated sleep, the upper half of his face, obscured by the bandages around his eyes.
"He has corneal scratches," the doctor replied, "From flying glass. I removed a few splinters and applied salve. None of the abrasions appear to be particularly deep, which gives me good reason to hope, he will recover his sight. To give him the best chance of recovery, he must be kept still and sedated for the next few days."
"Poor man," Gwen said quietly. "We'll take good care of him." Her gaze returned to the doctor. "Will the Earl have to be sedated as well?"
"Only if he has difficulty sleeping at night. I believe his ribs are cracked, but not broken. One can usually feel a broken rib move, when palpated. It'll be painful, to be certain, but in a few weeks he'll be as good as new."
The candle wavered a little in her hand, a drop of hot wax splashing onto her wrist.
"You have no idea how happy I am to hear that."
"I think, perhaps I do," Dr. Gauis said. "Your affection for Lord Pendragon, is impossible to miss."
Gwen's smile faltered.
"Oh, it's not affection, it's only...well, my concern for the family, and the estate. And...I couldn't become...fond...of a man...when I'm still in mourning. That would be very wrong indeed."
"My lady..." Dr. Gauis started, but trailed off and contemplated her for a long moment, his eyes weary and kind. "I know many scientific facts about the human heart...not the least of which, is that, it's far easier to make a heart stop beating entirely, than to keep it from loving the wrong person."
Gwen went to Arthur's room afterwards.
When there was no response to her soft tap, she let herself in.
He was sleeping on his side, his long form motionless beneath the covers. But the sound of his breathing, was reassuringly deep and steady.
Coming to stand beside the bed, she looked down at him with tender protectiveness.
His mouth was relaxed into gentle lines, amid the bristle of his jaw. His lashes were long, fanning the tops of his cheeks.
Two small white plasters, had been affixed over cuts on his cheek and forehead. And the hair on the right side of his forehead, had sprung up in a way he would never have allowed during the day.
She tried as hard as she could, to keep from smoothing it. Losing the battle, she stroked the tempting lock gently.
Arthur's breathing altered, and as he came to the surface, his eyes flickered open, drowsy with exhaustion and opiate tonic.
"Guinevere..." His voice was low and raw.
"I just wanted to check on you. Is there anything you need? A glass of water?"
"You." He caught at her free hand and pulled it closer. Then, she felt his lips press against her fingers. "I need to talk to you."
Her breath stopped. And a pulse began to throb in every vulnerable place of her body.
"You...you've been dosed with enough laudanum to sedate an elephant," she said, trying to sound light. "So it would be wiser, not to tell me anything at the moment. Go to sleep, and in the morning..."
"Lie with me."
Her stomach tightened in yearning.
"You know I can't," she whispered.
Undeterred, he gripped her wrist and began to tug her towards him, with pained determination.
"Wait...you'll hurt yourself..."
Gwen fumbled to set the candle on the nearby table, while he continued to exert pressure on her arm.
"Don't...your ribs...oh, why must you be so stubborn?"
Alarmed and anxious, she climbed onto the bed, rather than risk injuring him by struggling.
"Only for a minute," she warned. "One minute!"
Arthur subsided, his fingers remaining around her wrist, in a loose manacle.
Lowering to her side to face him, Gwen immediately regretted her decision. It was disastrously intimate, lying with her body so close to his.
As she stared into his drowsy blue eyes, a bolt of painful longing went through her.
"I was afraid for you," she said faintly.
Arthur touched her face with a single fingertip, tracing the edge of her cheek.
"What was it like?" she whispered.
His fingertip followed the slope of her nose, down to the sensitive verge of her upper lip.
"One moment everything was ordinary," he said slowly, "And the next...the world exploded. Noise...glass flying...things tumbling over and over...pain..."
He paused, as Gwen took his hand and pressed it against her cheek.
"The worst part..." he continued, "...was the cold. I couldn't feel anything. I felt too tired to go on. And after a while, it started to seem...not so terrible...to let go."
His voice began to fade, as exhaustion overtook him.
"My life...didn't pass before my eyes. All I saw...was you."
His lashes fell and his hand slipped from her face. But, he managed one more whisper, before he fell asleep.
"The last moment, I thought...I would die wanting you."
Stay safe!