A Season to Be Sinful (6 page)

Her eyes widened a fraction, but to her credit Mrs. Ponsonby kept her jaw firmly set. Here, mlord?

Here. He pointed to the space directly in front of him. Also, a hack. I assume my trunks are already on the carriage.

Yes, my lord. It was the driver, Mr. Pipkin, who answered. But I can

It will not be necessary to unload it. A hack will do. Of necessity my departure will be delayed. A few hours, I should think. No longer. Sherrys eyes swiveled to the cook as he addressed her. Some repast for my guests, Renwick.

You want me to feed them in my kitchen? She was patently horrified by the idea and took no pains to hide it.

No, Sherry said patiently. I want their food brought here.

Begging your pardon, my lord, but they are they are

Crumb-catchers?

Pinch took immediate and powerful exception to this. Now, see ere. Theres no cause for making light of us. Midge is an erriff, true enough, but then hes only ten, workin is way to becoming a fair to middlin bulker. Dash eres a bung-diverone of the very bestand me own rum daddies make me a regular boman prig. So on no account should yer lordship be callin us crumb-catchers.

Mrs. Ponsonby stepped forward. Should I be washing his mouth out with soap, then?

I have no idea, Sherry said truthfully. It was difficult to imagine that Pinchs mouth was dirtier than the rest of him. Out of the corner of his eye he saw that all three boys were edging away at the idea of a good drubbing. Lets let it go this time, Ponsonby, shall we?

She nodded, though somewhat reluctantly, and began backing out of the room. The servants behind her scattered, each moving to their next task, all of them wondering what queer notion had seized their master.

Why am I doing this, Lord Sheridan? Harris asked, clutching his black leather bag in his lap. The three pickpockets were riding on the roof of the hack, but the doctor was unconvinced they would not get it from him anyway. He leaned forward and tried to get a look at the roof from another angle. You will have to explain it again.

Patiently, Sherry raised his beaver hat a fraction so that he might see Harris more clearly. The interior of the cab was dim. Outside, dusk was not yet upon them, but the narrow streets and oppressively close construction of the warehouses and tenements allowed little sunlight to reach them. Because I am paying you an obscene amount of money for your services and your silence. Considerably more for the latter than the former.

There is that. Although not placated, he was glad of the reminder. You know I might not be able to do anything.

Judging by what you said about the location of the wound, it is likely infection has set in.

Very likely. Im certain her worsening condition is what brought the children to my doorstep.

You will allow its peculiar, my lord.

I will allow that its a great deal more than that.

I shouldnt be at all surprised if they dont return to your home.

I am hoping to be absent from it.

Youll be missing the wash off your line and the pewter pots from your railings.

I will be fortunate if that is all Im missing, Sherry said with imperturbable calm.

Harris rubbed the rounded point of his chin with the back of his knuckles. His eyes darted left, then right. They might accost us here, he said.

Probably not while were moving.

You are armed, I hope.

I am not a fool, Harris.

Which was not precisely an answer, the physician noted. He opened his mouth to say so, but Sherry cut the response by nudging his hat forward so that it shaded his eyes. At least, Harris thought, it was not that damnable eyebrow.

The establishment Pinch led them to was a more reputable place than Sherry had allowed himself to expect. The heavy wooden sign suspended on chains above the door identified the tavern as the Blue Ruination. The proprietor, Sherry decided, was possessed of a sense of humor, though such was not in evidence when Pinch led his parade inside. The great bull of a man wiping down the bar looked as if he meant to use Pinch to do the job on the next pass.

The childs sang-froid was quite remarkable, however. If he thought he was in danger, he didnt show it. Instead, he marched to the bar and climbed on a stool. As all seven of the taverns patrons had fallen silent, he was forced to whisper.

Every crag in the owners face deepened as he listened to Pinchs discourse, and Sherry was aware the mans eyes did not stray. Sherry realized he was being sized up as a threat, though what the proprietor thought he could do to challenge the peace and dignity of the Blue Ruination did not occur to him. At his side, Sherry felt the doctor take a step closer. The mans hands were shaking, a circumstance that did not inspire confidence.

Straightening as Pinch scrambled down from the stool, the proprietor wiped his hands on the towel and pitched it aside. Pubs closed, he announced. Out! The lot of ye! Go on. Dont like it? Take it up with the owner. He laughed heartily. Oh, that would be me. Dont like it? Still laughing he raised two meaty fists. Take it up with these.

Harris was already in full retreat toward the street when the man bellowed, Not you! Them!

Seven tankards thumped to the tabletops. Benches scraped hard against the roughly hewn floor as five men and two women got to their feet. There were varying degrees of inebriation present, noticeable as soon as they started for the door. There was some bobbing and weaving, a few staggered footfalls, lurching, and help for a friend who could not manage his exit alone. The women took their leave more gracefully, adding a provocative sway to their hips as they brushed past Sherry.

Shut the door, Midge, and bolt it.

Midge hurried off to do just that.

Names Rutland. Blue Rutland. Born that way. Blue, that is. Dont know why, just know it was so. He bobbed his head. As a sign of deference to quality it lacked genuine appreciation. Pinch says youre a surgeon.

Physician, Harris said weakly. He remained half a step behind Sherry.

No sawbones, then. Well, well see what you know, wont we. Rutlands discriminating glance went to Sherry. Youre Lord Sheridan?

I am.

The one that gutted her.

Sherry didnt deny it. Is she here? Show us to her. There is always time later to assign blame.

Blue Rutland considered this. It struck him as true. He nodded once. This way, he said. Have a care. The stairs are steep.

Sherry saw their hosts shoulders filled the narrow stairwell. The steps made a tight curve as they climbed. Unused to the exertion, Harriss breath was labored. Sherry tried to ignore the puffing but knew that apoplexy was not outside the question.

Abovestairs, Pinch and Dash squeezed ahead of Rutland, then raced to the last door on the right and threw it open.

Have a care, Rutland called after them. It wont bother me to put you out, and shes in no condition to object.

Pinch caught the door before it banged against the far wall. He and Dash posted themselves with stiff, military bearing on either side of the threshold.

Sherry smelled the infection before he had fully entered the room. He heard Harriss steps falter and the man curse softly under his breath. To his credit, he did not hesitate. He brushed right past Sherry and went straight to the bed where his patient lay and the smell of putrefaction was the strongest.

Rutland hung back now. Sherry questioned the wisdom of approaching himself, then the matter was taken out of his hands because Harris asked for assistance.

Remove these blankets, he ordered. Theyre as dirty and infested as she is. He shot an angry, impatient glance at Rutland. Was nothing at all done for her?

The big mans broad face turned ruddy. Got the knife out, he said. Sewed the wound myself. Stitches are good, you can see that. I served on one of His Majestys ships. I know a thing or two about stitchery.

Harris grunted as he lifted his patients shirt. Blood stained the garment where it was rent. This is the same thing she was wearing the night she was injured, he said.

She wouldnt want me to ruin another.

The physician muttered something unintelligible under his breath. The stitches had been neat enough when applied, but they were stretched fair to bursting by the swollen discolored flesh. My bag, Sheridan. I will require the scalpel. To Rutland, he said, Whisky or something like it. Unopened if you have it. Nothing cut with water. When the barkeep hesitated, Harris snapped, Now, man!

Sherry almost felt sorry for Rutland. What would you have me do? He had already pitched the blankets in a corner.

Take her wrists. He gave Sherry a short strap of leather. If she tries to bite, put this bit in her mouth. Otherwise, keep her as still as you can. It will be a mercy if she doesnt wake. His tone made it clear he was not confident.

Sherry knelt at the side of the narrow bed near the head. The angle was awkward but he managed to secure her wrists. They were thin, fragile really. He was afraid that if she struggled he would snap them. The leather strap that he might require for a bit was tucked in his trousers where he could quickly reach it. He did not think he could be more prepared than that.

Shuffling at the door caught his attention, and he looked up. Pinch and Dash were no longer outside the room but in it. Midge was craning his neck between them. Their faces were grave, frightened. Sherry had not properly appreciated how important this young woman was to them until now. It had been on the tip of his tongue to tell them to leave. He did not. They had much more right to be here than he did.

He loosed a wrist long enough to remove his hat. When he bent his head again, a lock of dark hair tumbled forward over his brow. He let it lie there.

Even now she did not look like a female, but more like a child of indeterminate sex. He imagined in the last few days that she had lost at least a stone and nearly all of her strength. As slight of build as she was, it was hard to believe she had been able to knock him down. It was like a butterfly felling an oak.

Her hair was unnaturally dark, cropped short, and thickly matted to her head. Bootblacking, he suspected, though he wondered why shed used it. Days ago, perhaps before she had taken to the streets, shed covered her hair with the stuff. Shed been cautious enough to make swipes across her eyebrows, too, but close to her scalp where the sweat of her fever had diluted the black paste, and along the curve of her lashes, he glimpsed a hint of the penny copper color she had meant to conceal.

He watched her face as Harris worked. She didnt stir when the physician split the stitches with his scalpel. The odor from the pus was so intense that Sherry pressed his face into the sleeve of his coat until the urge to vomit passed. Her perfectly pared nose did not twitch.

Her skin was pale to the point of translucency and pulled taut over the high arch of her cheekbones. A faint blue web of veins was visible at her temples. Her mouth was full, a sweeping curve that lacked resiliency, animation, and virtually all color now. There was a deep hollow at the base of her throat caused in part by the prominent collarbones. Her breath came shallowly, and beneath his fingers he felt her rapid pulse. It thrummed against him with the lightness of a hummingbirds wing.

He could not guess at her age. She might have been as young as twelve or as old as five-and-twenty. The bubbies that Dash and Midge had outlined to indicate womanhood were bound tightly beneath a strip of linen wound several times around her. Her erstwhile caretakers had respect for her modesty, if not for her comfort.

No sound emerged from her parted lips as Harris cleaned the wound. Rutland arrived with a small, unopened cask of French brandy. No one raised any questions. Napoleon had escaped Elba earlier in the yearWellington and Blucher were preparing to defend the Continent against the rise of a second empirebut Blue Rutlands smuggling was not the subject of recriminations.

Harris directed Rutland to unplug the cask. The physician plunged his hands into the golden liquid, rubbed them together, then poured a good handful into his patients wound.

The keening cry arrested them all for a moment, but it did not come from the girl on the bed. Blue Rutland looked as if he might weep like a babe for the waste of his fine brandy.

Thats enough, Harris snapped. Put it down. He went back to work, debriding the lacerated and devitalized tissue around the wound. His fingers were thick but deft, and he cut away her damaged flesh with ruthless efficiency. Its deep, he told Sherry. But not so deep as I feared from your description. She was struck at an angle, and the blade missed the vital organs.

How do you know?

Shes still alive, he said dryly. He dropped bits of putrid flesh into a basin. The first blood flowing from the wound was thick with the yellow-white fluids of the infection. Harris cut and pressed and cut and pressed until the only blood she gave up was bright red. A cloth, Sheridan. A clean one. Ive none left in my bag.

Sherry looked around. The room had little in the way of furnishings. There was no trunk or cupboard that might be a repository for linens. The sheet that had been removed as well as the one under her was stained. The blankets were filthy. May I release her?

The physician nodded. It is unlikely she will wake now.

Sherrys fingers uncurled around her wrists. He stood and removed his frock coat, then his waistcoat. At his beckoning, young Midge came forward to hold them. Sherry unknotted the cravat that his valet had creased and arranged so carefully and added it to the pile in Midges outstretched arms. He loosened the tails of his shirt, then pulled it over his head. Starting a tear with his teeth, he rent the linen until he had four neat strips.