‘Well I don’t like it, my love. You can’t blame a fellow for being a bit jealous when he comes back from a long sea voyage and finds his fiancée being courted by another man.’
Lucetta leapt to her feet. ‘This is madness. You’re talking as though nothing has changed. We aren’t engaged, Sam. We never were because my father refused to consider you as a prospective son-in-law. You thought I was dead until a few days ago and you had quite forgotten me.’
‘No!’ He grasped her hands and clasped them to his chest. ‘I’d never forgotten you, my darling. You were always here in my heart. I knew that one day we would be reunited.’
She snatched her hands free. ‘Stop talking like that. Too much has happened for us to simply pick up where we left off.’
He tossed his cap onto the table and pulled her into his arms, crushing her against the brass buttons on his pea jacket. His mouth sought hers in a kiss that robbed her of breath and sent her senses spiralling, but a moan from Guthrie brought her back to reality and she pushed Sam away. ‘This is madness.’
‘You do still love me,’ Sam said with a triumphant grin. ‘Don’t deny it, Lucetta. We were meant for each other and I’m not going to lose you again. We’ll go out and celebrate.’
‘No, Sam. I’ve told you that I can’t leave Lennie.’
‘Then I will bring supper here to you.’ Sam snatched up his cap and rammed it on his head. ‘We’ll dine here and you can keep an eye on the old boy while we share our first meal together.’
He was gone before she could raise any further objections, and when he returned he was carrying a bundle wrapped in newspaper. ‘Where are the plates?
I’ve bought hot pie, pease pudding and baked potatoes. What is more …’ From his pocket he produced a bottle of rum and a large yellow lemon. ‘For hot toddy,’ he said proudly. ‘Put the kettle on, Lucetta. We’ll dine like royalty and drink a toast to our future.’
Sam sat opposite her at the small table and he ate with relish, drinking copious amounts of hot toddy and becoming more and more expansive beneath its influence. He told her stories of his adventures at sea and Lucetta began to relax a little. She had forgotten what an amusing companion he could be and the tension between them eased. She kept an eye on Guthrie but he was heavily sedated and his moans were muffled and less frequent. Lucetta could only hope that the healing process had begun, and that the poisons were leaching from his body.
‘He’s fine,’ Sam said, refilling her glass. ‘Stop worrying about him and drink up. This is a night for celebration.’ He thrust his hand into his breast pocket, producing a folded document with a flourish. ‘And this is the key to our future happiness.’
Despite her misgivings, Lucetta could not help being curious. ‘What is that?’
‘A special licence, my darling. We can be married when and where you choose.’
Lucetta felt panic rise in her breast. ‘I–I can’t think about it while Lennie is so ill, Sam. You must give me more time.’
Sam reached across the table to clasp her hand and his eyes shone with an unnatural brilliance. ‘Don’t take
too long, Lucetta. I will have to leave London as soon as my ship is seaworthy. I want to make you mine before I set sail again.’
She could see that he had drunk too much and she was suddenly nervous. ‘I think you should leave now, Sam. It’s getting late and we’re both tired.’
He stood up, swaying slightly as he pulled her to her feet. ‘I’m not leaving you alone tonight.’
‘You’re drunk.’ She had not meant to shout but something in the timbre of her voice must have reached Guthrie’s drugged brain and he stirred in his sleep.
Sam drew her slowly to him, holding her captive and gazing into her eyes with a triumphant smile. ‘I may be drunk but I’m not stupid. You belong to me and tonight I’m going to stake my claim.’
There was no doubting his meaning and Lucetta attempted to break free from his grasp but her struggles only seemed to amuse him and he swept her off her feet, lifting her in his arms as he strode towards the staircase.
‘No, Sam, please put me down. I have to stay with Lennie. He might die …’
Sam carried her up the stairs to the bedroom and tossed her onto the bed. ‘He’s had enough laudanum to stun an elephant. My needs are greater than his.’ He began unbuttoning his shirt, but a look of uncertainty crossed his features and he sat down heavily on the edge of the bed. ‘Hell and damnation.’ He collapsed against the pillows, closing his eyes. ‘I need to lie down for a moment or two. That bloody rum must have …’ He drifted off into a drunken stupor.
Lucetta clambered off the bed and ran from the room, closing the door softly in case the sound should awaken him. Her heart was pounding as she crept downstairs and she was trembling with fear and mounting anger. How dare he treat her like a common street girl? That wasn’t the Sam she had known and loved. He had been a gentleman. She went to the table and on examining the bottle she realised that he had drunk the best part of its contents. He would have a sore head in the morning but she could not bring herself to pity him. She picked up the empty kettle and went outside into the frozen night, taking a candle with her and holding it to the metal pump until it thawed just enough to allow a trickle of water. Above her the sky was a dome of blackness pierced by tiny pinpricks of twinkling light. A full moon turned the snow-covered yard into a fairyland of sparkling prisms and she took deep breaths of the crisp air. Sam’s drunken actions had sullied her home, making her feel uncomfortable and unclean, but out here seemed to have been purified by the freezing temperature and the drifts of virgin snow. It was too cold to linger for long but it was with great reluctance that she went indoors. She hoped and prayed that Sam would sleep until morning when she intended to ask him to leave.
She slept fitfully in a chair by the fire, waking every time Guthrie stirred. She gave him sips of water and when the pain grew too intense she dosed him with more laudanum. She was stiff and sore and it seemed that the night was going on forever, but she must have drifted off to sleep eventually as she awoke with a
start to find pale slithers of daylight slanting through the windowpanes. Half awake, she realised that someone was rapping urgently on the doorknocker. She dragged herself to her feet and hurried to open the door to find Giles and Mary standing on the pavement and the Harcourts’ carriage and horses waiting at the kerbside.
Mary rushed past Giles to fling her arms around Lucetta’s neck. ‘Oh, Daisy, I’m so glad to see you.’
Lucetta found herself being hugged until she was breathless, but Mary’s enthusiastic greeting was infectious and she returned the embrace. ‘Come inside out of the cold.’
‘Mary insisted on coming,’ Giles said, stamping the snow off his boots before following them indoors.
‘Yes, of course I did,’ Mary said, smiling happily. ‘Giles has told me everything, Daisy, and I’ve come to help you care for the patient.’
Lucetta stared at her dazedly. ‘But I thought you were still in Dorset. Or are you back at the hospital now?’
‘I’ll tell you everything after Giles has examined Mr Guthrie and given me my instructions. You are not alone now, Daisy dear. I intend to stay as long as you need me.’ She took off her bonnet and fur-lined mantle and hung them on the row of pegs. She rolled up her sleeves. ‘We will look after him together.’
Lucetta waited hardly daring to breathe as Mary undid the bandages and Giles examined Guthrie’s livid wound. The stench of corrupting flesh filled the room and Lucetta clapped her hands over her mouth to stifle
a cry of despair. She knew even before Giles confirmed her suspicions that the poison had spread.
Giles rose to his feet and his expression was grave. ‘He has to go to hospital, Lucetta. The limb is gangrenous and must be amputated. Even then his chances of survival are slim, but without an operation he has only hours to live.’
Mary put her arms around Lucetta, giving her a sympathetic hug. ‘Listen to Giles, my dear. He really does know best.’
‘So you’re here again are you, quack?’
Lucetta had almost forgotten that Sam was sleeping off the effects of the rum toddy, and he had come downstairs in his stockinged feet. His shirt was unbuttoned to the waist and he leaned against the wall, folding his arms across his chest with a challenge in his eyes as he glared at Giles.
Lucetta could see by the expression on their faces that Giles and Mary had leapt to the wrong conclusion. After all, what would anyone think when they saw a man half-dressed coming from a lady’s bedchamber? She raised her hands in a gesture of desperation. ‘This isn’t what you think, Giles.’
His expression was dark and unreadable as their eyes met. ‘It’s none of my business, Lucetta. My main concern at this moment is Guthrie. I must get him to hospital right away.’
‘That’s right, cully,’ Sam said, grinning. ‘Take the worthless fellow and put him where he belongs. Lucetta and I have a wedding to arrange.’
Lucetta sat on a hard bench in the hospital atrium with Mary at her side. They were surrounded by people of all ages, some of them barely conscious and others groaning with pain from multiple injuries. The stench of blood, pus and urine was barely concealed by the strong smell of carbolic acid, and the sound of coughing, sneezing and retching reverberated off the high ceiling, rumbling over their heads like distant thunder.
Every time a nurse walked past, Lucetta was tempted to stop her and beg for news, but somehow she managed to contain her anxiety and maintain an outward appearance of calm. Guthrie had been admitted to a ward immediately on their arrival at Bart’s. There had been no waiting in line and Lucetta knew that she had Giles to thank for that. He had sought out Dr Richards, who had examined Guthrie and had had no hesitation in agreeing with Giles’ diagnosis and prognosis. The two doctors had accompanied Guthrie to the ward and Giles had returned some time later with the news that the operation was to be carried out with the utmost urgency, and he had been granted permission to be present in theatre. Lucetta had murmured her thanks but she could not look him in the eye. Even now, several hours later, her
cheeks reddened as she recalled the embarrassing scene earlier that morning when Sam had appeared at the foot of the stairs, half dressed and tousled from sleep. Despite her attempts to explain that she had spent the night tending to Guthrie, Sam had given her a conspiratorial wink and a smile, as if to confirm the intimate nature of their relationship. To make matters worse, he had produced the special licence, declaring their intention to be married as soon as the necessary arrangements were made. The implication that they had spent the night together was left floating in the air like a putrid waft of marsh gas. If Guthrie had not been quite literally at death’s door Lucetta would have refuted this slur on her character, but it had not been the time or the place for heated arguments. She had wished that the dirt floor would open up and swallow her, but Sam had been unrepentant. He had maintained a cheerful flow of conversation while he buttoned his shirt and tied his tie, but Giles had turned his back on him and Mary was too busy attending to Guthrie to pay much attention to Sam’s suggestive remarks. Eventually, to Lucetta’s intense relief, Sam left the house, promising to return after he had arranged for work to begin on repairing the damage to the
Sea Eagle
.
She would meet that challenge when it happened, but now she sat with her head bowed and her hands clasped tightly in her lap as she waited for news from the operating theatre.
‘They’ll do everything they can for him,’ Mary whispered. ‘Try not to worry, Daisy.’
Lucetta nodded and flashed a weak attempt at a
smile in Mary’s direction, but she couldn’t speak. In the beginning she had hated both Stranks and Guthrie, but Lennie had proved himself to be a true friend. He had stood by her when she most needed help and he had asked nothing in return. In the beginning she had been dependent upon him, but now their roles were reversed and now her feelings for him were verging on the maternal. She could not bear to think of him dying alone amongst strangers.
Mary squeezed her hand. ‘I understand. I really do.’
‘I know, and thank you for coming with me. I’m sorry I left Dorset without telling you.’
‘Don’t be. Papa told me everything and he was very ashamed of himself. He said he was an old fool for deluding himself into thinking that a girl like you would want to marry a man old enough to be her father.’
‘Sir Hector is a fine man. I was honoured …’
‘There’s no need to explain. I love my papa but you two wouldn’t suit.’
‘I would make a poor wife for a politician.’
‘I didn’t mean that, and anyway, you were always in love with Sam. Or has that changed now?’
Lucetta met Mary’s steady gaze and she shook her head. ‘I don’t know, Mary. I honestly don’t know. I’m totally confused and all I can think of at the moment is Lennie.’
‘I know, dear,’ Mary said softly. ‘I’m praying for the poor man.’
Lucetta stiffened as she heard approaching footsteps. She knew instinctively that it was Giles and she rose
to greet him with outstretched hands. ‘Is he …?’ the words stuck in her throat.
‘The operation was a success. He’s back on the ward and you can see him now, but don’t overtire him. He’s very weak and still has a long way to go.’
‘I’ll wait here,’ Mary said. ‘We’ll take you home when you’re ready, Daisy.’
Lucetta hesitated. ‘I don’t want him to wake up amongst strangers. Could you get a message to Sam and tell him that I’m here?’
‘Of course. You mustn’t worry about a thing, must she, Giles?’ Mary looked up at him with a trusting smile that was not lost on Lucetta.
Giles nodded his head. ‘We will take care of everything, Lucetta. You have no need to worry.’
Lucetta allowed him to escort her to the ward. Their offers of help had lifted a weight from her shoulders, but even though her main concern was for Guthrie, Sam’s presence loomed large at the back of her mind. The man she had loved and thought she had lost was now desperate to make her his wife, and yet she was uneasy. Her friends had forgiven her for her ill-considered behaviour and it was obvious that Giles and Mary were as one in their thoughts and actions; she should have been happy for them, but she was not. Lucetta entered the long ward with feelings of deep misgiving and it was not just for Guthrie that she was concerned.