you in a moment,” she said gently. “Would you like a drink?”
His one uncovered eye was closed. He did not answer her. But he clawed weakly at her hand. She turned and lifted the cup she had set on the floor beside her and slid her free arm beneath his head to raise it slightly so that he might drink. And as he did so and some of the water dribbled from the sides of his mouth and down his neck, she realized that he was Lieutenant Penworth. That vigorous, eager boy.
“Here,” she said as the servant picked her way over to her side, her arms laden, “I shall put a pillow beneath your head. And an extra blanket over you. You are shivering. It is Madeline Raine, Lieutenant. You are safe now. And will be more comfortable than you have been, I think.”
She touched the backs of her fingers lightly to his cheek and turned to look at the men about her and to decide which were most in need of the single pillow, two frilled cushions, and two blankets still piled in the servant’s arms.
Dominic was forgotten about. Or at least pushed to the back of her mind. There were more pressing concerns to occupy her for the moment.
THE DOOR THAT SEPARATED Ellen’s rooms from the rest of the house remained open as she and the other occupants shared the care of the wounded. But she did not go out into the streets again. She felt no more need to do so, and the house was as full as it could be. No one else that she knew came to the house until Lady Madeline Raine came that evening. But then, she was expecting no one she knew. No one at all.
Lord Eden was delirious with a high fever by afternoon and had not been quite rational even when they had carried him in. But he was right about that one thing. No one else came at all. And she felt that he was right. She had not doubted it from the moment he had told her. There was no lingering hope, no part of her that listened for footsteps even against reason.
She was not expecting anyone else. And it did not matter. She would not think of it. She had plenty to do. More than enough. The boy, though not nearly as highly fevered as he, was fretful. She had to make frequent calls on him to soothe him, to give him drinks and set his blankets straight, to smooth back his hair and kiss his brow.
And late in the morning she sat with the other man, the one who always watched her with his eyes though he showed no other sign of consciousness or of life. She held his hand and smiled at him and said a prayer over him and told him that he was safe with her, together with a dozen other murmured consolations, until he died. And she closed his eyes, covered him with the sheet, and sent a manservant to find someone whose job it was to take away the dead.
But it was he who drew her constantly. Lord Eden. Dominic. She was frightened, but she would not admit to her fear. He was going to die. The fever raged in him. He did not sleep, but he knew nothing. He did not know her. She changed his bandage when the boy had sunk into an uneasy sleep and the other man had been taken away. And she winced at sight of the wound and the purple-and-green bruising around the broken ribs. And her hands trembled slightly when he began to groan with every labored breath.
“I will have a clean bandage on you in a moment, my dear,” she said. “Bear with me for one minute more. Soon you shall rest again.”
She sat with him whenever she could and bathed his face with a cool cloth.
No surgeon came all day long, though they had sent for one the day before, and again that morning.
Lady Madeline came in the evening, a shawl thrown over her hair, her dress crumpled and none too clean.
“Where is he?” she asked as soon as she set eyes on Ellen. “I could not get away before now. Is he…?”
“He is in my room.” Ellen took her visitor’s arm and guided her in the right direction. “He is still alive.”
“Still?” Madeline’s voice sharpened. “You did not expect him to be? Oh, but how foolish. I know how it is. Was ever anything more dreadful? Is it always like this, or is this worse? Oh, Dom!”
She was into the room and across it and bending over the bed without even thinking to wait for an answer.
Ellen stood in the doorway and watched the other woman take up his hand and hold it to her cheek and talk to him. But although his eyes were open and bright, he did not know his twin. His breathing was labored.
“He needs a surgeon,” Ellen said quietly, “but I am afraid they are all far too busy to come. I have changed his bandage and tried to get him to drink. There is precious little else I can do.”
“I know.” Madeline straightened up, though she continued to gaze down at her brother. “I know. One is so helpless. Dom, you must not die. Do you hear me? You fought out there. Now you must fight in here too. You must. You mustn’t die. I don’t want to be the elder twin, Dom.”
She set his hand down gently at his side eventually and turned to Ellen. “It was kind of you to send,” she said. “And I can see that you have been giving him the best of care. He is clean. I cannot stay. It would be selfish of me to move here merely because my brother is here. There are so many thousands…and so many in Lady Andrea’s house, and so few to tend to them all. Lieutenant Penworth is there. He has lost a leg. And an eye. I must go back.”
She was surprised to hear the sob in her throat. She had thought herself past feeling.
“Yes, you must,” Ellen agreed. “I have help here in the rest of the house. And I will care for him, you know. He has been like part of my own family for the past three years.”
“Yes,” Madeline said. And then, as she took one agonized look back at her brother and pulled her shawl over her head again: “Your husband? Have you heard? Apparently they are all gathering at Nivelles and pushing on to Paris.”
“Is the battle over, then?” Ellen asked. “Yes, I have heard. Lord Eden brought word. He is gone.”
“To Par-?” But Madeline had looked into Ellen’s face. “Oh, no. I…”
“Don’t!” Ellen spoke sharply. “You must go now. Lady Andrea will be looking for your help. And I have a boy in the other room who will have kicked his blankets into knots by now. He is just a child. A frightened, hurt child. I am going to fight the surgeon when he comes, for his arm is swollen, you know, and they are bound to want to take it off. But it is clean, and I am sure the swelling will go down. I am going to fight for his arm.” She laughed. “Do you think I should have a sword to wield?”
Madeline had turned very pale. But she drew back her shoulders and smiled in return. “A pair of scissors perhaps?” she said. “And a very ferocious frown.”
“I will try it,” Ellen said, standing in the doorway to watch her guest run lightly down the stairs. “I shall send word if there is any change, you may be assured.”
The boy was sleeping, she saw. She did not disturb him even though the blankets were twisted awkwardly about him.
She stood beside Lord Eden’s bed and smiled into his fevered eyes that were turned on her.
“I am here, my dear,” she said softly. “I will bathe your face and turn your pillow for you. Perhaps you will be more comfortable then.”
He closed his eyes when she had finished and sat down beside his bed. He seemed a little quieter. Ellen fell into a doze.
A SURGEON ARRIVED during the afternoon of the following day. He was an army man, a hearty, loud-voiced soldier who appeared to believe that by talking loudly he would penetrate the fever and pain of his patients.
And yet he was not ungentle. He removed the bandage carefully from the boy’s arm, talking and laughing in an apparent attempt to distract the youth’s attention. But the boy was terrified. He clung unashamedly to Ellen’s hand and gazed at the doctor with eyes like saucers.
“Hm,” the surgeon said, prodding and poking at the swollen arm until the boy squirmed and Ellen began to change her mind about his gentleness. “Nasty enough. Well, lad, it’s not putrid, but it well might be soon. We’ll have the arm off, shall we, and be done with it? I’ll have someone come for you.”
“No,” Ellen said quietly. “If amputation is not yet necessary, we will wait. I shall keep the wound clean and covered and hope for the best. His fever has already subsided considerably.”
The surgeon frowned. “Are you family, ma’am?” he asked.
“No,” she said. “But he is in my home, and for the time being I stand in place of his mother.”
The man threw back his head and roared with mirth. “Oh, mothers!” he said. “Enough said. I am wiser than to fight against a mother. Why do you think I am with the army, ma’am? The lad is going to wait, is he? He might be sorry.”
