Chapter 6
Lilliana Rose heaved another of her cumbersome fishing nets, her arms straining under the weight as she persisted in her relentless quest for a fresh catch or two. Her muscles ached with each lift, and the coarse texture of the rope bit into her palms. The idea of a savoury fish pie, with its flaky crust and rich aroma, beckoned as a delightful change for tomorrow's meal, a comforting promise that spurred her efforts. Yet, the sky had long darkened into a deep indigo, the stars twinkling like distant lanterns, and the nets had offered up little bounty, only the occasional glint of silver scales before slipping away. Weariness crept into her limbs, a heavy, undeniable fatigue that settled deep into her bones, and she resolved to inform her friend Walter of her desire to return to the warmth and flickering hearth of her tavern, where the promise of rest awaited.
She released a soft exhale, delicately pushing back the stray strands of her ash-brown hair that had fallen across her eyes, securing them in a haphazard bun at the base of her neck. Her eyes lifted, following the river's path upstream, seeking out her companion. Yet, bathed in the ethereal silver light of the moon, her attention was drawn to a substantial and mysterious lump resting silently on the edge of the river.
...What on earth?
Lilliana's steps were deliberate as she approached the odd shape, her chest tight with apprehension when she discerned, with a sinking feeling, the silhouette of a person. A gasp escaped her lips as she muttered softly, "Oh my God," dropping to a crouch and casting light from her modest lantern across the scene. "Walter!" Her call pierced the silence, reverberating through the air like a haunting melody, "Come quickly!"
Emerging from the shadows, the man of seasoned years hastened towards Lilly. "Lilly, what's happened? Are you hurt?" His lantern's gentle light merged with the surrounding brightness, illuminating the scene before them. Filled with concern, his voice quivered as he gasped, "A dead man! How dreadful!"
"He's alive," Lilly whispered, her hand resting lightly on the stranger's chest, detecting the subtle rhythm of his breath.
Walter's eyes widened in astonishment. "What the devil happened to the poor sod?"
Lilly's gaze swept over the man's dishevelled appearance, taking in every detail with a mixture of concern and urgency. His clothes, once likely neat and tidy, were now stained with dirt and grime. A significant amount of blood stained the right side of his shoulder, a crimson testament to a wound. A shallow cut marred his neck, the dried blood a stark contrast against his skin, hinting at a past injury that had since ceased bleeding. With tender care, Lilly began to wipe the mud from the stranger's face using her sleeve, her movements gentle yet purposeful. Recognition dawned on her gradually, like the slow unveiling of a forgotten painting, each layer of grime revealing a piece of the past. Her breath hitched, caught in a moment of realization that froze her in place. "It's you…" she whispered, her voice barely audible, laced with a blend of astonishment and incredulity.
Walter's gaze softened as he observed Lilly, her distant look hinting at a storm of memories swirling within her. The sudden commotion from a bridge upriver jolted her back to the present. Shouts and urgency filled the air, slicing through the tranquillity around them.
Turning his attention in the direction Lilly was staring, Walter picked up on the echoes of raised voices carried by the wind. "What could be causing such a stir?" he muttered, a tinge of apprehension colouring his words. "I have a bad feeling about this, Lilly. Let's depart from here swiftly; it's best not to linger."
"We can't just leave him here," Lilly asserted, her voice unwavering and resolute. Walter's frustration surged, "And why the devil not?" Lilly stood her ground, emphasizing, "Because he's the one who saved my nephew's life!" Her words carried a blend of gratitude and urgency.
In a moment of contemplation, Walter locked eyes with Lilly before turning his gaze back to the unconscious man lying nearby. Without warning, Lilly reached out and clasped Walter's hand firmly, a mix of desperation and determination in her touch. "Please, Walter... I know I can't manage this alone... but I refuse to leave him here!"
Caught in Lilly's imploring stare, Walter relented after an unspoken understanding passed between them. "Fine," he conceded with a hint of reluctant determination. "Let's move him to my cart swiftly. Before that trouble over there rains down upon us!"
Arriving at the charming tavern tucked away in the quiet corners of Woolwich, Lilly and Walter swiftly maneuvered the motionless man through the hidden rear doorway. Ascending the narrow, groaning staircase that led to Lilly's personal chambers, they laid him down on her cosy bed with meticulous care. As they eased him onto the plush bedding, a subtle twitch ran through his frame, accompanied by soft, unbidden whispers of discomfort slipping from his lips.
Lilly's gaze flicked towards the entrance before she spoke, "I'll be stepping out briefly, Walter. I have to speak with Ella and gather a few items downstairs." With that, she exited the room, descending to the main floor. There, she discovered her barmaid engaged in lively conversation with the usual patrons. "Ella, could you join me for a moment?" Lilly's voice carried across the room, prompting the young sixteen-year-old to pivot and approach her. Stepping away from the group, Lilly leaned in and softly requested, "Ella, would you mind staying on a bit longer tonight and closing up the bar a tad earlier than usual?"
Ella's eyes widened as she took in Lilly's appearance, surprised to see her usually immaculate attire in disarray. Stray strands of hair had escaped their usual elegant arrangement, creating a tousled halo around her face. "Are you alright, ma'am? You have mud and blood on your dress," Ella observed with concern. Lilly glanced down at the dirtied fabric of her skirts and hurriedly attempted to brush off the grime. "Walter was dealing with a pig earlier; things got a bit messy. I really must freshen up... and gather my thoughts," Lilly explained wearily, letting out a tired sigh.
"Oh, I thought you had gone fishing?" Ella ventured tentatively, causing Lilly to cringe inwardly at the slip of memory. "The catch was poor," she clarified quickly, "so Walter kindly offered one of his livestock." Ella's face brightened with a warm smile, showing no sign of suspicion. "That's very kind of him. I'm happy to help, Miss, though I should mention that some gentlemen from Greenhill Grove Manor have arrived and have only just started drinking."
Lilly immediately recognized the troublesome group Ella referred to. The rowdy figures in their dark attire exuded an air of entitlement that grated on Lilly's nerves. Reacting swiftly, Lilly proposed, "We'll be closing early tonight. Inform the patrons, but extend a generous half-price offer on drinks as a gesture of goodwill. An hour should suffice to appease them." With a determined nod, Ella hastened to fulfil her assignment. Simultaneously, Lilly deftly retrieved a compact case of medical provisions from the nearby shelf.
Lilly quietly stepped back into her private quarters, where Walter stood with a furrowed brow, clearly unsettled by the stranger's fluctuating state of consciousness. She approached the unconscious man, assessing his condition with a focused gaze. "Let's get his coat off. I need to tend to that bullet wound," she declared softly. Walter acknowledged her instructions and gestured towards the motionless figure, adding, "But first, we must remove that peculiar glove." Lilly carefully examined the unique gauntlet before her. Crafted from sturdy leather and embellished with intricate buckles and metal accents, it boasted a sleek retractable blade on the underside.
"Alright, let's just cut off the coat. It'll be quicker and less painful," she gently proposed, realizing that safely detaching the leather gauntlet with the menacing blade might prove to be a time-consuming puzzle. Jacob winced, his eyes squeezed shut, and a strained groan escaped him. "NO, take the arm!" he quipped through the discomfort. Lilly glanced at him in astonishment, struck by the unexpected humour in his tone.
"He must be delirious from the pain and blood loss," she quietly mentioned to Walter. Struggling against his own body's torment, Jacob directed, "No... loosen the gauntlet's buckles... it will slide off... just... hold my wrist steady..." he spoke through the agony. "I quite like... this coat," he murmured before drifting back into unconsciousness.
Lilly's gaze scrutinized the intricate gauntlet once more, her lips moving in a quiet murmur questioning the wisdom of valuing a coat over one's own life. Delicately, she observed the buckles and skilfully undid them, being cautious around the sharp, dagger-like blade as she carefully slid it off and set it down on a nearby table. Working together, they managed to slide off the cumbersome coat, eliciting a pained expression from Jacob as they gingerly maneuvered it past his injured shoulder. With a deft touch, she removed his necktie and waistcoat before deciding that the blood-soaked shirt was beyond salvaging and opted to carefully cut it away. Turning to Walter, Lilly requested him to hang up the salvageable garments by the crackling fireplace.
The injury appeared grave; the bullet had punctured his right shoulder, creating a small void just below the collarbone. Lilly carefully inspected for an exit wound and identified it passing through his shoulder blade. Thankfully, there was no need to extract a bullet, a small relief in the midst of chaos... Grabbing a vial of brandy, Lilly poured it over the open wound, causing Jacob to startle awake with a sharp cry. Calmly, she eased him back onto the bed, advising him to focus on breathing through the agony, her actions timed to coincide with the lively chatter and clinking glasses drifting up from the bustling tavern downstairs, hopefully drowning out his pained outbursts.
Walter's deep voice rumbled, breaking the quiet of the quarters. "How can you manage this so skilfully?" Lilly's gaze flickered towards him for a moment, her eyes carrying a weight of memories. "You know about my late husband, the constable who patrolled Devil's Acre. I had to mend him too many times... until that one night..." Walter's eyes softened as he watched Lilly tend to her tasks. "Forgive me, I didn't mean to bring that up..."
"It's alright, Walter," Lilly reassured him, her voice carrying a mix of resilience and compassion. "Those harrowing experiences have been my greatest teachers, guiding me to delve into the art of healing that now enables me to aid others," she reflected thoughtfully. "Alcohol, surprisingly enough, works wonders for cleansing wounds. The industrial zones and bustling docks further upstream from Woolwich are undoubtedly contaminating the waters with an array of unknown substances, a grim reality that may unfortunately lead our visitor here to battle a severe infection after taking a dip."
As Lilly carefully threaded the needle through Jacob's torn shoulder, she gestured to Walter for support, ensuring Jacob remained steady for her ministrations. With meticulous care, she wrapped a clean bandage around his wound before turning her attention to the gash on his neck. Though it appeared superficial, Lilly insisted on cleansing it thoroughly. Moving down to his leg, she breathed a sigh of relief at the minor bullet graze and reapplied the soothing touch of brandy. In her mind, she reaffirmed that an abundance of caution was always a wise approach in their perilous world.
With gentle precision, Lilly expertly wound the bandage around the gash on Jacob's leg. As she secured the last knot, a sense of satisfaction washed over her, knowing she had provided meticulous care despite the challenging conditions. Pausing for a moment, she lifted the vial of brandy to her lips, savouring its warmth as she reclined in her chair and exhaled deeply, the weight of exhaustion settling in her bones. She glanced over at Walter, who stood steadfastly by, his sturdy frame a bulwark against the uncertainty that loomed outside. The tavern felt like a sanctuary, yet she knew that danger could seep through its walls like the chilling fog that enveloped London at night.