Hello Stranger (The Ravenels #4)(74)

Ethan was carried into a small but tidy room. A screen had been fitted into the open window space to filter out insects and dust and allow cooling breezes to flow into the room.

“Did they know in advance of our arrival?” Garrett asked, noticing that the gleaming wood floor had been divested of rugs and the bed covered in white linen, as appropriate for a sickroom.

“Telegram,” West said succinctly, helping the footmen set the stretcher on the floor near the foot of the bed. On his count, they lifted Ethan with great care, keeping him supported at a horizontal angle. Once he was settled, West turned to Garrett, rubbing the pinched muscles at the back of his neck. “You haven’t slept at all. Let Mrs. Church watch over him for a few hours while you take a nap.”

“I’ll consider it,” Garrett said, although she planned to do no such thing. The room was clean by ordinary standards, but it was far from a sterile environment. “Thank you, Mr. Ravenel. I’ll take charge now.” She ushered him from the room and closed the door.

Mrs. Church helped Garrett to draw away the sheets and blanket that had covered Ethan during the journey, and replace them with fresh ones. He was dressed in a thin cotton nightshirt donated by Lord Trenear. Later Garrett would change him into one of the garments obtained from the clinic, a patient nightshirt made to open in either the front or the back.

Ethan awakened just long enough to give her a bleary glance, his eyes vivid blue black in his fevered complexion. He was shivering from head to toe.

Garrett weighted him with another blanket and gently touched his bristled cheek. She’d never seen him a day past a shave. More by force of habit than necessity, her fingers slid to his bare wrist to find his pulse. His hand moved, twisting until his long fingers curled around hers. He blinked once, twice, and sank into slumber.

“Poor, handsome lad,” the housekeeper exclaimed softly. “How was he injured, Doctor?”

“Gunshot wound,” Garrett said, slowly disentangling her fingers from his.

Mrs. Church shook her head. “The Ravenel temper,” she said darkly. “It’s been the end of more than one promising young man in his prime.”

Startled, Garrett shot her a questioning glance.

“I know a Ravenel when I see one,” the housekeeper said. “Those high cheekbones and the long nose, and the way the hairline grows in that slight peak.” Staring down at Ethan thoughtfully, she continued, “The old master Edmund’s indiscretions were hardly a secret. I’d guess this is a natural child of his. Probably not the only one.”

“It’s not for me to confirm,” Garrett murmured, tucking the covers more closely around Ethan’s still form. She felt protective of him, defensive on his behalf. Not only had he been made physically helpless, but also one of his deepest secrets was now being discussed over his sickbed. “However, his injury is not the result of an unruly temperament. He was attacked after risking his own life to protect a great number of innocent people.”

Mrs. Church regarded Ethan for a long, wondering moment. “A good, brave man, then. The world needs more like him.”

“It certainly does,” Garrett agreed, although she knew Ethan would have mocked such pronouncements about his heroic nature.

“What is his prognosis?”

Garrett gestured for the housekeeper to come away from the bedside and stand with her at the window. “The wound is contaminated,” she said, “and it’s poisoning his blood. His fever will rise until he reaches a crisis. We’ll have to keep him very clean, to help his system rid itself of infection, and keep the wound from suppurating. Otherwise—” She stopped, her heart twisting. Turning to the window, she stared out at neatly tended garden walks curving beside stone walls covered with flowering vines. In the distance, a row of glasshouses glittered in the morning light. This was a world away from London, so ordered and serene that it seemed nothing bad could happen here.

The housekeeper was waiting patiently for her to resume.

Garrett gave a short nod toward a nearby table, decorated with a small vase of fresh flowers, a miniature framed painting, and an assortment of books and periodicals. “I’ll need that table cleared. Also, please send up a stack of clean bleached toweling, and a can of hot water that’s been kept at a hard boil for at least thirty minutes. And have the footmen carry up all the supplies and equipment from the ambulance cart as quickly as possible. After that, no one except you is to come into this room unless it’s by my leave. No one is to touch him without first scrubbing his or her hands with carbolic soap. The walls must be washed with a bichloride solution, and the floor sprinkled with disinfecting powder.”

“Will McDougall’s powder suffice? We use it in the stables.”

“Yes, that’s perfect.”

Mrs. Church gathered up the flower vase and the reading materials from the table. “I’ll see that it’s all done in a jiff.”

Garrett liked the housekeeper immensely, perceiving that she would be an invaluable help in the days to come. Perhaps it was the mixing of liking and weariness that loosened her tongue, but she found herself saying, “You immediately noticed his likeness to the Ravenels, whereas Lady Helen and Pandora have never remarked on it. Nor did I put two and two together.”

Mrs. Church paused at the threshold and smiled. “I’ve been in service since I was a girl of fifteen, Doctor. It’s a servant’s job to notice details. We learn the family’s habits and preferences. We read their faces to anticipate what they’ll need before they think to ask. I daresay I pay more attention to the Ravenels than they pay to each other.”