The older woman brought the bar to her nose and gave it a sniff before dipping it into the water and lathering it over the wound. The soap smelled of rosemary and an astringent odour that he did not recognise. He hoped the little cake could fight any infection that was beginning to set in. His wife was nowhere near out of danger yet.
Once the area was clean, Mrs Janssens asked, ‘Shall I sew you up, milady? I reckon I will do a better job of stitches than the doctor.’
‘Y-yes,’ Frederica said in a pained whisper.
The Englishwoman glanced at Samuel for his approval too.
‘Please. I will pay any price.’
Mrs Janssens left the room with the soiled rags and returned with more hot water to sterilise the needle. He had to turn his head away as the point of the needle entered Frederica’s skin. He expected her to scream, but instead she fainted in his arms. Another thing he could add to his list of surprises. Frederica could faint.Unfathomable.He did not try to rouse her immediately, assuming that her consciousness needed a respite from the pain.
When Mrs Janssens finished stitching, she bid Samuel lift Frederica, while she wrapped the bandage around her. Once she secured the bandage, Mrs Janssens directed Samuel to cradle Frederica’s head so that she could put the nightgown on her. Mrs Janssens gently placed Frederica’s feet underneath the sheets and covered her with the blanket.
There was another discreet knock at the door.
Mrs Janssens rushed over and opened it to take the basin of cold water from her husband. She set it on the table next to the bed. ‘Now, milord, let her rest and I will make some broth for when she stirs. Take one of those cloths, dip it in the cold water, and dab at her face. We must prevent her body from becoming feverish, if we can.’
‘Yes, of course,’ Samuel said, swallowing down the sour taste in his mouth. ‘Thank you, ma’am. I cannot tell you how much I appreciate all that you have done for my wife. You are most skilled.’
Mrs Janssens gave him a sad smile. ‘You cannot have lived in Europe during the last twenty years, without taking care of a fair share of bullet wounds. Mind you, do not let the doctor bleed her again when he comes. Them doctors is as bad as the leeches they use for sucking blood. And your wife looks as if she has already lost too much.’
With that, she left the room.
Samuel pulled the chair next to the bed and sat down. Dipping a fresh cloth into the cool water, he wiped at Frederica’s pale face. She lay so still. He placed his hand on her throat and could feel a light pulse. He took her hand, rocking in his seat. Unable to hold still. Fear gripped his heart and his mind. Not even in the midst of battles in Spain, had he ever felt so powerless and scared. His eyes grew wet and his vision blurred.
Squeezing her hand tighter, he said, ‘Do not leave me, Frederica. Please do not leave me. You promised me a lifetime of bickering and I really must insist upon it.’
Frederica’s eyes did not open, but her lips moved. Samuel moved his ear closer to her face to hear her say one word: ‘Bossy.’
A wet chuckle escaped him and he wiped at his watery eyes, the weight in his chest lightening now that she had regained consciousness. It was a small step, but it gave him hope.
‘You also promised me a palace full of children,’ he reminded her, watching her lips twitch slightly upward. ‘Wild, badly behaved little Stringhams that will probably be covered in mud at least half of the time, and the rest, jumping into rivers fully dressed. Or pushing each other in. I hope our children will be just like you. Just as brave, headstrong, argumentative, and imaginative. And I cannot deny that I am particularly looking forward to the creation of the children.’
She gave a soft, breathy laugh and opened her eyes. ‘As am I.’
Leaning forward, he brushed a gentle kiss against her brow. Her temperature was closer to normal now. He hoped that was a good sign.
Mrs Janssens gave two knocks before re-entering the room with a harried man with a small black bag who Samuel assumed was the doctor. ‘Monsieur Dubois, the surgeon, milord.’
Samuel stood and held out his hand to the doctor, who reluctantly gave a limp one for him to shake.
‘My wife was shot by French soldiers,’ Samuel explained, trying to keep his voice even. ‘The bullet grazed her side and Mrs Janssens cleaned the wound and sewed it.’
Dubois looked over his long, thin nose at Frederica’s still form. He opened his black bag and took out a metal horn-shaped instrument and placed the rounded part against her chest and his ear against the top. He listened to her breathe for a few moments. Then he picked up her wrist and held the pulse, timing it with a golden pocket watch. ‘Well, monsieur, if the bullet has already been taken out and bandaged, I think it is best to leave it to heal. I will just take a pint of blood and check on my patient tomorrow.’
Frederica’s eyes flew open again. ‘No.’
Samuel looked from her to Mrs Janssens, who shook her head slightly.
He swallowed heavily. ‘No, doctor. My wife has lost enough blood.’
Dubois gave an exasperated sigh and threw his hands up in the air. ‘Sacré bleu!I was dragged by a British cavalry soldier out of my home, and if you refuse to allow me to bleed her, I will no longer attend the young woman.’
‘Do you have any laudanum?’
He shook his head. ‘No, monsieur. It is hard to come by these days.’
Without medicine, the doctor would not be of much help.