The Wyndham Legacy (Legacy 1)

“She’s been shot. Fetch Doctor Raven from Darlington, quickly, quickly.”

Badger was at his side then even as North sprinted toward Stanley, caught his reins and was on his back and galloping away within seconds.

“Bring her upstairs now, my lord. Mr. Sampson! Oh there you are. Quickly fetch hot water and a lot of clean soft cloths. Lord Chilton has gone to fetch Doctor Raven.”

Marcus wasn’t aware that he was clutching her so tightly against him until Badger said gently, “Put her down, my lord. That’s right, here on her bed. Good. Now, let’s get her out of this gown.”

Marcus was staring down at his hand. “I’m covered with her blood, Badger.”

“Yes, my lord, but it’s also yours. You’ve been shot too. My God, you were hit twice—your scalp and your poor hand. Jesus, this is unbelievable. There’s too much pain here, too much misery. I don’t want her to be hurt like this yet another time.”

“God, I know, I know.”

“What the devil happened?” It was Maggie, nearly shrieking, Spears right behind her.

“She was shot,” Badger said calmly. “Let’s get her out of these wet clothes so we can get the bleeding stopped.”

“Not again,” said Maggie. “Good Lord, not again.”

Within minutes, the Duchess was lying on her side, the covers pulled to her belly, Marcus pressing down against the wound just above her left hip.

“Ah, at last. Here’s Mr. Sampson with the water and cloths,” Spears said.

Marcus took a hot wet cloth from him, raised his bloody hands and looked down at t

he riddled flesh, still oozing blood. The bullet, thank God, had gone through the fleshy part of her flank. “Jesus,” he said, and began cleaning the wound. The bullet’s entry was just a small hole, insignificant looking really, so minor, but the white flesh around the small hole was purple with the impact of the bullet and with her blood. He eased her toward him to look at where the bullet had torn through her outwardly. The flesh was riddled, torn furiously, the bleeding thick and slow.

He swallowed. He’d seen too many men’s wounds during his years in the army, but this, no, this was too much. This was the Duchess, his wife, and she was slight and surely not strong enough to bear such pain. His hand clenched into a fist. He shook his head.

“That’s right, my lord,” Spears said quietly. “She needs help now, not rage. That can come later. We’ll figure out what to do, don’t worry. The bullet went through her, so she’ll be spared that pain. I don’t think it hit any organ nor did it go near her belly and the babe.”

Jesus, the babe. He hadn’t given a single thought to the babe, nestled there in her still flat belly.

He raised his head, gazing around the bed. Badger, Spears, Maggie, and Sampson were all there. He drew a deep breath, carefully folded a new wet cloth that Spears handed him, and pressed down again on both wounds. He felt Spears wipe the blood away from his face and dab it against the raw streak against his scalp. He didn’t feel a thing.

Suddenly, Maggie stepped forward. “She’s still got on her riding hat,” she said, and began taking pins out to remove it. Marcus almost laughed. There she was, lying there on her side, quite naked, a pert blue riding hat on her head, the feather broken and bedraggled, but the hat was still there atop her tousled hair. He watched Maggie smooth out her hair. He pressed down harder against the wound where the bullet had exited.

“Now, my lord,” Spears said in the firmest voice Marcus had ever heard, “it’s time for you to get out of your wet clothing and let me bandage your head and hand. No, my lord, Mr. Badger will continue the pressure on the wound. Come along now. That’s right.”

It seemed a day but indeed, it was only two hours before North returned with Doctor Raven.

Doctor Raven said even before he reached the bed, “Has she regained consciousness yet?”

“Yes, but not really,” Marcus said. “She’s drifted in and out. I don’t think she’s been conscious enough yet to feel the pain.”

“Good,” Doctor Raven said, rolled up his sleeves, and gently shoved Marcus out of the way. “Excellent, my lord,” he said after he’d lifted the pad and examined the wound. “The bullet went through her, thank God. You got the bleeding stopped. Yes, quite good. Now, while she’s unconscious, let’s clean this exit wound with brandy and then I’ve got to stitch her up.”

“Will it leave an ugly scar?” Maggie said.

“Yes, but hopefully she’ll be alive. What’s a scar compared to being alive?”

“She won’t die,” Marcus said blankly. “My God, she won’t die, will she? I saw so much poisoning, so much fever, so much delirium and then death, too much death. No, not the Duchess, there’s so much I have to tell her. There’s so much we have to do together. No, not her, she’s my wife, you see.”

Doctor Raven straightened, turned, and looked up at the earl. “Yes, she could die, my lord. However, I’m very good at my profession. Let’s hurry. I want her unconscious, it will spare her pain.”

If Doctor Raven thought that five men and one woman peering closely at everything he did was in any way unusual, he didn’t say anything. Their fear was palpable, as were their worry and their caring. He hadn’t the heart to order them out. The earl was holding her steady, one of his large brown hands over her ribs, the other on her upper leg.

“All right,” Doctor Raven said. He sent the needle into her flesh and pulled through the thread. Marcus watched the blood seep through his fingers, soak the black thread, and he wanted to cry. “Just another moment,” Doctor Raven said. “There’s no need to stitch where the bullet entered,” he added.