Part 4 (1/2)

His breath hissed softly between his teeth as Theo turned the mutilated arm this way and that. After a minute or two, he went on.

'When I came to myself again, I was on board s.h.i.+p, with my arm in splints. They said I'd got to see some quack or other in London about my arm, because it wasn't right. The bone was broken. They set it, but ...'

Theo bent the limp thumb and first finger. Any feeling or movement?'

'Not yet. Give me a chance. When the splints come off ...' His voice tailed away, as if it had only just dawned on him that the splints were already off. 'When you've taken the bullet out, it will be all right.' He seemed to dare Theo to disagree.

Theo's face gave nothing away. He began to touch his patient's elbow with the tips of his fingers. The bullet was still in the arm, they knew, but they did not know precisely where. His uncle had probed for it unsuccessfully, as had the doctor from Lewes, but this was the first time that Theo had been allowed access to the wound. There was as yet no sign of infection.

His lords.h.i.+p's teeth grated together. Theo stopped probing. He rebandaged the forearm, and then beckoned Frances to follow him from the room.

'No, you don't,' said his lords.h.i.+p, preventing Frances from leaving by the simple expedient of laying hold of her dress. 'You stay here. It's my arm, and I want to hear what you plan to do with it.'

'There's no cause for alarm,' said Theo, too hurriedly for conviction.

'I'll tell you what he's going to say,' said Lord Broome. 'Open wounds ask for trouble, and if he - or somebody else - doesn't dig that bullet out and sew up the wound, gangrene will set in, and I'll die. On the other hand, if the bullet is lodged high in the forearm, it's going to be the very devil to dig it out without doing a lot of damage, which in turn might necessitate amputation. He doesn't think I'm strong enough to stand either a long operation or an amputation, and there he's probably right.'

'I was going to suggest sending for my late chief from London. He's a fine surgeon.'

There was silence while his lords.h.i.+p appeared to look at and then through Theo. 'No,' he said at last. 'Let's get it over and done with. You do it, and do it now. Get the bullet out, sew it up, and I'll be on my feet again tomorrow. Leave it, and I'll be dead in a week. Give me something to bite on, and I'll not complain.'

'Impossible. I have no anaesthetic with me for a start, and ...'

'No ether or chloroform for me. What? Do you think I can't stand a little pain? Besides, if you know I'm watching you, you'll be quick. Once the bullet is out, the rest will be easy, and maybe my thumb ...' To emphasise his point, he tried to sit up, unwarily moved his bad arm and gasped with pain.

'He is not fit,' said Theo to Frances. 'I could not take the risk. I will get Mr Manning to telegraph to London for Sir Stanley Ellis, and in the meantime my patient must be kept quiet. No visitors, no excitement, no alcohol, and a plain diet. He's game enough, but he's been much weakened by what he's been through.' It seemed Theo was right, for his lords.h.i.+p made no further plea for an immediate operation.

Theo held the door open for Frances, but his lords.h.i.+p called her back.

'Where's my shawl?'

'It's on the bed. But it's not yours. It's mine. Benson can find you something else.'

'Nothing else suits me as well.'

'My wardrobe is limited; I only have two shawls, that grey one, and a black one for evening. My black one is not warm enough for this weather.'

'Benson: send to Lewes for a selection of shawls for the Colonel. Any colour except grey, which doesn't suit her.'

Now Frances invariably wore grey in the day-time. 'I protest,' she said, overriding Theo's request to know who ”the Colonel” might be. 'I could not possibly accept such a gift from you.'

'Aren't I old enough to be your father?'

Before she had given herself time to think where this line of talk might lead, Frances had blurted out that she would be four-and-twenty in June.

'There, now!' said his lords.h.i.+p. 'And I was convinced you must be at least twenty-five.'

Out-manoeuvred, Frances left the room, and it cannot be said that her exit was noiseless. Theo gazed at the door which she had slammed in his face, and the green demon of jealousy took possession of him.

'Miss Chard is a most estimable young woman,' he said. 'You ought not to trifle with her.'

'What! You, too? Oh, Theo ... what a tangle!'

The news that Lord Broome had recovered consciousness was received by his family and the staff at the Court with consternation, quickly soothed by the rider that he required an immediate and difficult operation on his arm. After the news had been discussed in all its aspects before, during and after dinner, it was agreed that the situation had not altered materially in any way. Theo had taken his uncle home after tea, but his subdued account of the pros and cons of the operation, reinforced by his air of depression, had convinced Mr Manning and Hugo that Gavin's death was still only a matter of time.

Frances made arrangements for Polly and another of the housemaids to help the agency nurse and Benson in the sick-room, and retired to her own quarters. She was mentally worn out, and ill-prepared to meet the crisis which arose that evening. She was not required to dine with the family that night, and so was having supper on a tray in the schoolroom when Polly burst in with the demand that she ”Come, quick!” 'The Reverend's in the sick-room, praying over Lord Broome something awful! He said the wrath of G.o.d would light on me if I interfered with him in the path of his duty, and that he's settling down for a long struggle for Lord Broome's soul; and Lord Broome's not asleep, though he's pretending he is ...'

Long before the two women reached the Gallery, they could hear the divine's sonorous voice, raised in prayer.

'Fit to wake the dead,' said Polly, with a nervous giggle. 'I thought of going for Mr Benson, but he's in Mr Arling's cottage for the evening, and you were nearer. Did I do right?'

'Absolutely. Lord Broome must be kept quiet.' Polly had left the sick-room door half-open in her flight. Frances went in, and shut it behind her. The man of G.o.d was on his knees, his eyes closed, and his knuckles white as he exhorted Lord Broome to repent.

'... in the day that you stand before the tribunal of G.o.d ...'

Frances looked at the man on the bed, and agreed with Polly that he was awake; there was an awareness in the room when he was awake which was easy to identify. She waited till the vicar paused to draw breath, and touched him on the shoulder.

'Too kind ... too good of you ... How I wish we hadn't given him so much laudanum tonight! What a pity that he cannot hear you and receive the benefit of your efforts!'

'Begone, woman! I must wrestle with this man's soul tonight, before it is too late, and he is gone from us for ever, into d.a.m.nation everlasting!'

'Should I try to wake him for you? I fear I would not succeed, but ... your prayers for his recovery are so valuable ...'

'If he should die before ...'

'Quite so. But as he is unconscious and unable to hear you, would it not be of more value to gather around you one or two members of his family and household, so that you could all pray together?'

The vicar paused. There was something very appealing in the idea of holding an impromptu service at the Court. The Great Hall, moreover, had acoustics infinitely superior to those of the sick-room. He rose to his feet.

'Too cruel to bring you out on a night such as this,' said Frances, exerting all her charm while leading him to the door.

'I cannot think of my own bodily weakness at such a time. I will come again in the morning. Perhaps the doctor can be informed that I wish to speak to him before the operation. He must be brought to repent, before ...'

'I entirely agree with you. Polly, see our guest to the hall, will you?'

She returned to the sick-room, shut the door and leaned against it. Her sigh of relief was echoed from the bed.

'A brilliant piece of strategy, Colonel; boldly conceived and well carried out. I shall see that you are mentioned in my next despatch to the Home Office.'

She busied herself about the room, making him comfortable for the night.

'Richard?' he asked. 'They have telegraphed to him? Maud is with him in London, I a.s.sume. She always wanted him to hire a house in Town for her. Is she breeding yet? Is that why he hasn't come back to see me?'

'We have telegraphed to London,' said Frances, purposely misleading him. And we hope the surgeon will arrive by the first train in the morning.'