this.”
“I don’t know. Jarvis doesn’t listen to-”
Before she could finish the train of her thought the street door swung open wide and a young man shouted for help, panic harsh in his voice. His face was white, his hair streaked across his brow in the rain, and his thin clothes were sodden and sticking to his narrow chest.
Livia swung around, and Hester rose to her feet just as a far larger man came staggering in holding a woman in his arms. She was so pale her skin looked waxy in the gaslight, and her eyes were closed, her head lolling as if she were completely insensible.
“Put her there.” Hester pointed to the larger, empty table.
“ ’Aven’t yer got a bed?” The large man stifled a sob. His face was twisted with emotion; anger was so much less painful than the terror which obviously engulfed him.
Hester was accustomed to all kinds of feelings pouring out beyond control, and she made no judgment of them, no response to those that were unfair.
“I need to see what is wrong,” she explained. “I have to have a firm surface, and the light. Put her there.”
He obeyed, his eyes imploring her to help, to find some answer beyond his imagining.
Hester looked at the girl lying in front of her. The man had put her down as gently as he could, but it was still clear that her bones were broken. Her arms and legs lay awkwardly; the flesh was swelling and the bruises were darkening even as Hester watched. The veins in the girl’s neck and shoulders were blue, her skin gray-white. She was breathing but her eyelids did not flutter at all.
“Can yer ’elp ’er?” the man demanded, the youth now beside him.
“I’ll try,” Hester promised. “What happened? Do you know?”
“Someone beat the ’ell out of ’er!” he exploded. “Can’t yer see that? Yer blind or summink?”
“Yes, I can see that,” Hester said, looking at the woman, not at him. “I wanted to know how long ago, how you found her, if she’s been stabbed or cut. If you can tell me that without my moving her, so much better. I can see how her arms and legs are. What about her body? Did you see where she was punched or kicked?”
“Gawd, lady! D’yer think I’d’a let it ’appen if I’ad? I’d’a killed the b-bastard if I’d b-bin there!” he stuttered in a futile effort to find a word bad enough for the rage that ate him. “If yer can’t ’elp ’er, at least don’ ’urt ’er any more, yer ’ear me?”
Hester put her hands very gently on the woman’s arms, feeling for the grating edges of bone where the flesh was already misshapen and damaged. She found one break in the left arm, two in the right. The left knee was swollen and at least two small bones were broken in the right foot. The collarbone was broken on one side, but there was little she could do about that. Cutting the cloth of the girl’s bodice, she exposed a purple bruise at least six inches wide across the ribs and stretching down below the waist. This was what she feared-it meant internal bleeding she could do nothing to help. She had a fair knowledge of anatomy, mostly learned in the battlefield while looking at the actuality of torn-open bodies, not the neater, more leisurely education of medical school, or dissections of the dead. Still, she knew where the major arteries were and what could happen to them when damaged.
“Do something! Damn yer!” the man said desperately, shifting his immense weight from one foot to the other and back again in his fever of anxiety.
Without answering, Hester continued to learn as much as she could without moving the broken body of the woman. She wished Margaret were there to help. Bessie was kind, but she had not the inner calm, the steady hands that Margaret had. She identified too much with the women, having lived all her life among them. She saw the pain and the fear from the inside, and it robbed her of the dispassion needed for practical help in such critical injuries as these.
“Go and find Mr. Lockhart,” she ordered, and saw Bessie’s face flood with relief that she could do something useful and at the same time escape the pain. She was out of the door without even grasping for her hat.
Hester turned to Livia, ignoring the man.
“Miss Baltimore!” she said firmly. “Would you be good enough to pass me that roll of bandage on the table? And then fetch a splint from the cupboard over there.” She pointed with her other hand. “In fact, fetch three.”
Very slowly, Livia stood up. She looked pale enough to faint.
“If you would do it quickly, please,” Hester instructed, holding out her hand.
Livia obliged, still moving as if in a dream, fumbling with the bandage, rolling in the ends, then going to the cupboard. She returned after a moment with three splints and passed one across.
Hester took it from her. “Now, would you hold the girl’s shoulders, please? Lean on them. I need them to remain still.”
“What?”
“Just do it! Lean your weight on her shoulders. Be firm, but gentle.” She looked up. “Go on! I’m going to set these bones so they heal as straight as possible. I need someone to hold her still. It’s far kinder to do it while she is insensible anyway. Can you imagine how it will hurt if we leave it until she regains herself?”
Livia stood frozen to the spot.
“You don’t catch diseases that way. Just do it!” Hester snapped. “I can’t set it by myself. You came here to find out who killed your father. If you can’t even bring yourself to look at this world, how are you going to learn anything about it? You want these people to help you? You’d better give a little help yourself.”
Slowly, still looking as if she were going to pass out, Livia put her hands on the young woman’s shoulders and leaned forward, resting her own body’s weight on them.
“Thank you,” Hester acknowledged. Then she carefully took the lower arm and, feeling the sickening grating of bone, pulled the limb straight. The youth handed her the splint and the bandages, his hands gentle as he laid them by the limb, and she bound them together as firmly as she dared. Fortunately there was no broken skin, so there was no possibility of infection from dirt, but she knew very well that there might be considerable internal bleeding which she could not reach or stop.
With Livia’s shocked and reluctant help she set the other bones as well. The large man stoked the fire and fetched more water. Hester made poultices for the broken ribs and collarbone, and placed them gently on the injuries.
“Now all we can do is wait,” she said at last.
“She gonna be all right?” the big man asked.
“I don’t know,” she said honestly. “We’ll do all we can.”
“I…” He swallowed. “I’m sorry if I were a bit short wif yer first off. I’m s’posed ter keep an eye after ’er, but she don’ belong ’round ’ere. Dunno wot ’it ’er, ’alf the time.” He passed a huge hand over his face, as if he could wipe away his emotions. “Strewth! Why’d the stupid little cow go moufin’ off ter someone? Times I’ve told ’er ter keep ’er mouf shut! But they in’t got the wits they was born wif, some o’ them! Fink ’cos a man pays ’em money ’e’s gonna treat ’em nice? Some o’ them swine fink ’alf a crown buys yer soul. Bastards!” He made a low growl in his throat as if he were going to hawk and spit, then changed his mind.
“You can’t do anything more for her now,” Hester said gently. “You might as well go home.” She turned to Livia Baltimore. “And you should go home, too. I suppose your carriage is still somewhere close by?”
“Yes,” Livia agreed very quietly. Hester wondered what reception she would get from the maid. Probably icy with disapproval she dared not voice, but she might very well be handing in her notice in the morning-and shattering the invalid Mrs. Baltimore with outraged accounts of the whole episode. Livia would need all her courage and her patience to deal with that.
“Thank you for your help,” Hester said with a very slight smile. “If I learn anything that might be of use to you, I shall tell the police.”
Livia took a card out of her reticule and handed it across.
“Please do. Either write or call.”
“I will,” Hester promised, knowing Livia hesitated.
“I’ll walk yer to yer carriage,” the big man offered.
Livia looked startled, then relieved. A flash of light crossed her face which could even have been humor. “Thank you,” she said, then went out of the door into Coldbath Square, followed by the man.
It was ten minutes later that Bessie returned with Lockhart, tired and disheveled as always, but perfectly willing to help.
“You don’t eat proper!” Bessie chided him, as she had apparently been doing ever since she had found him.
