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A Regency Tale - 3
Hello! I hope you are all well, or, as I am, still breathing, at any rate! ;D
I know a lot of you are still at The Con - but we are not all there. So here it is! There is no glossary this time, but if anyone wants enlightenment on any point, please don't hesitate to ask!
Grateful thanks to LSR as always, for her beta.
Part Three - Alarms and Diversions
The man soon returned, followed by Jack carrying a bowl of hot water and some torn linens thrown over his arm. The landlord handed Elijah a sharp looking knife, the blade honed to thinness and with a wicked point at the end.
"It's my boning knife, sir. I think it will serve. What shall we do now?"
For the very first time in his life Elijah was grateful that he had been present when Barney had been injured four years before, at a pheasant shoot. He knew at least what the doctor had done on that occasion to extricate the ball, even if he didn't know exactly how this was accomplished.
"You can hold his arm in case he wakes. You..." he nodded at Bill, " stand at his feet and be prepared to grab his legs." He glanced at Jack, hovering nervously in the background. "And you... Jack isn't it? You can pour the brandy into the wound when I say. Can you do that?"
Jack nodded nervously. "Aye, sir. Happen I shall be all right. I only keeled over once, when I first saw Jed Talbot slaughter a pig - but I ain't done it since."
And at any other time this artless comment would have amused Elijah greatly, but he had more pressing things on his mind. He had no idea what he was doing - all he knew was that they were miles away from help, and that he must do something.
There was no possible way he could reveal to the men present who he and Dom were. Once he had got his bearings, he realised that he had walked into a nest of smugglers. There were barrels of liquor in every corner, and the whole place reeked of Napoleon brandy.
He determined not to tell them their real names, so as he was cutting off Dom's clothing he decided that Dom would have to be called Tom - as Dom was too rare a name not to cause the men to make a connection with the Lord of the Manor - and he would be Eli, far enough from Elijah to be safe.
This was all he had had time to plan; the knife was in his hand, and Lord Monaghan's breathing was getting shallower. It was time to act.
He laid bare the wound. It was still bleeding sluggishly, the pressure having worked at stopping him from bleeding to death. But had it pushed the ball further in?
He rather tentatively put the tip of the knife into the wound, and was gratified to hear it graze along metal - but it was in deeper than he had hoped. He could not get it out by merely using the knife.
He thought of the instruments the surgeon had used on Barney. "I need two long handled spoons with small bowls - have you such a thing?"
The landlord thought, carefully. "I think I have something that might do - Jack, go and look in the sideboard drawer in the old dining room, and bring any long handled silver spoons you sees there. Bustle about now, lad!"
The landlord cast a discerning eye at Elijah. "It looks to me as if you could do with a glass of that brandy yourself, sir," he said in a gruff voice. "You look nearly as pale as he does," he said cocking his head in Dom's direction.
Elijah pressed his lips together firmly. "I will be glad of one later, but I need a clear head to do what I have to do now, I thank you."
Jack had returned with a handful of spoons, and Elijah was pleased to see that there were two that would admirably suit his purpose.
The three men crowded around the bed. "Hold his arm steady, now. This will hurt him, if he wakes." Elijah slid the first spoon down the opposite side of the knife still in Dom's body. To Elijah's dismay Dom groaned, and opened his eyes, blearily trying to focus on who stood beside him.
He tried to sit up, and Jack and the landlord pushed him firmly down on the bed. "Lie still, now, sir - there ain't any one here trying to hurt you."
"Bloody liar!" Lord Monaghan moaned. "I can see... that it is the devil ...himself... standing... over me. Are you trying to ...kill me, is that it? You..."
Elijah could waste no time in arguing. He forced the other spoon down the opposite side of the blade, and withdrew the knife.
Very fortunately at this point Dom uttered a loud groan and fell back into unconsciousness.
Elijah hoped fervently that the ball was now couched between the two spoons, for Lord Monaghan... Dom... looked even paler than before. He grabbed one spoon in each hand, pressed the bowls together as tightly as he dared, and withdrew them. He had the ball.
"Quickly, now, Jack - pour the brandy in before the flesh comes together again. We can't have him infected as well as wounded."
The landlord breathed a heavy sigh. "That was one of the prettiest things I've ever seen, sir. A fine job you made of that. Do you go and sit down, now, by the fire - you look all in. Jack, pour the gentleman a glass."
The landlord seemed to know how to apply a bandage, and soon Lord Monaghan lay quietly, still deeply unconscious, and breathing rapidly.
The man then washed his hands in the remaining water, and came over to Elijah, but he was looking at Bill as he spoke.
"Did you do this, Bill, you stupid bastard? What were you thinking? You know we are near Lord Monaghan's house here, and it is said he has been seen in the vicinity. If these two gentlemen were visiting him - and I can think of no other reason why they would be travelling through these back lanes - they will be sending out people looking for them soon."
He turned to Elijah, a desperate look in his eye. "I can see that you're not a slow man, sir, and will have worked out that we are free traders here. But Bill, the soft bugger as he is, was anxious to get going from this place, and set up in a little business of his own, and didn't want to wait for the Gentlemen to come up the river to pay us and remove the kegs. So needs must he try to get the money for his enterprise by robbing people on the King's highway. If he were not my sister's son, I'd wash my hands of him, truly I would."
But the look the smuggler cast at Bill was affectionate as well as impatient. Elijah felt he needed to say something to lessen tension over their unwanted presence.
"Well, you may have no fear that I, or Mr Marlow - poor Tom, over there - will inform the authorities of your actions. If it were not for you he would be dead by now, I am very sensible of it, and I'm sure as soon as he wakes in his right mind, he will be, also."
The landlord's face relaxed into a smile. "That's very kind of you, er Mr...er..."
"Retford, Eli Retford, at your service. And you are?..."
The smuggler extended a beefy hand towards Elijah. "Ned's my name. I'm sure you'll understand, sir, if I don't care to tell you my other name. It ain't safe to know it around here. Ned will do."
Elijah shook the proffered hand warmly. "We are grateful to you, Ned. I hope we do not trespass many days on your generosity."
He grinned, and was about to reach into his coat, hanging as it was on the back of his chair, when he realised the stupidity of revealing the five hundred pounds resting in his inside pocket.
He shrugged. "Unfortunately, Bill... er... relieved me of the few guineas I had in my pocket, but if you give me your direction, I will send you some money..."
Ned shook his head. "Now you can see why that would not do, sir. You do not know where you are at present, and that suits me just fine. Don't fear, we have enough and to spare to feed two striplings like you. And while I think of it, Jack, go and put one of those fowls on to boil - the ones we had prepared for tomorrow. And stick a few vegetables in it. This gentleman will need a good tasty broth when he wakes, and you..." he said to Elijah," ...will be glad of some dinner, I'm sure. Fair worn out you must be. Billy, see to the gentlemen while I get on.
Billy and Elijah were left in the room together. Billy bowed his head. "I am sorry, I am sir, really. But I wished to leave - as you can see I'm not a very good smug... um, free trader I mean. The Gentlemen much dislike being called smugglers. I'm not a good highwayman either, because I hate violence. I've never shot at anybody before, on purpose or by accident, and I'll never do it again, I promise you. Are you going to hand me over?"
Elijah stared at the young man, whom, he noticed, spoke with much more refined accents than he had used in the lane, and who was clearly distressed.
"It isn't up to me, Bill - you shot him, not me. It's up to Tom, when he wakes, to make that decision. But when I tell him that you saved his life by bringing him here, when you could so easily have left us helpless by the roadside, I'm sure he'll think as I do, that you have learned your lesson."
Elijah suddenly realised he was very uncomfortable. His shirt, and indeed his riding breeches were soaked through.
"Do you think you could contrive to bring me something to wear, Billy? These clothes are still very wet. If I leave them over this other chair overnight I'm sure they'll dry, but I need something in their place. Have you anything?"
Billy's face lit up. "I have one or two valises in my room that I... borrowed... from some gentlemen travellers last week. If you would condescend to wear them, there's clothes in 'em."
Elijah stood up and pulled his wet shirt off, wiping his upper body free from the dampness that still rested upon it. "I'd wear the clothing of the devil himself, if it got me out of this wet stuff," he said, smiling.
Billy moved towards the door. "I think you will be very comfortable in them, sir - after all, your friend did say you was him, didn't he? The devil, I mean. Even if he was half out of his mind in pain when he said it."
Elijah, remembering his obligations, went to see how Dom did. He was still lying in the same position as he had been left, his right arm and shoulder bandaged, the other resting lightly on his chest. He was still naked under the sheet, and Elijah felt his belly to see if he was cold. He did not appear to be, but Elijah pulled up one of the blankets as far has his chest, as he did not wish the man to get a chill during the night.
Very soon Billy came back with the two valises. He put them on a table near the wall, and Elijah went to examine their contents. He found that the clothing in them was of very good quality, and would only be slightly too big for him. He took out some underwear and a pair of biscuit coloured pantaloons, and, pulling off sodden breeches and underdrawers, was soon feeling much more comfortable. A white shirt, some slippers and a dressing gown of a fearful and wonderful purple hue completed the ensemble.
There were, providentially, two night shirts there also, which Elijah was sure Lord Monaghan would be grateful for when he was feeling more the thing. There was little point in disturbing the man.
At that moment Jack came up to announce that dinner was ready downstairs, but Elijah was not inclined to leave the sick man. He asked if he could have his in the room, and Billy said he would eat there also.
Thus it was, that The Most Noble Elijah John Jeremiah Frederick Arthur Upton Wood, His Grace, the Sixth Duke of Stanford, Marquis of Longbridge, Earl of Cosham, Earl of Hayward, Baron Wood of Retford, Baron Wood of Dronfell, and Baron Wood of Lysney, sat down to his dinner, eaten from a tin tray resting on his knees, wearing stolen clothing and in the company of a highwayman.
He grinned. If only Barney could see him!
*****
Elijah had resolved that he would not go to bed that night, but stay and watch his friend. He was certainly not going to reveal to the smuggler that the sick man in the bed was the person he despised most on earth. Ned had commented, very sensibly, that there was no point in him making himself ill from over-watching at night, when he had to look after his friend during the day.
Besides, Ned had said - as if Elijah had not noticed this - it was a very large bed, with plenty room for him to lie in it beside his friend, without any danger of touching him at all, and aggravating his wound.
Elijah had to agree with this assessment, but thought to himself what an uproar there would be if the Insufferable Lord Monaghan woke during the middle of the night to find his worst enemy lying beside him in bed. Still, it would occasion remark if he asked for a truckle bed to be brought in when there was a perfectly decent one awaiting his pleasure. Friends often shared beds, there was nothing unusual in that - except that these two men were not friends, not friends at all.
There was nothing to be done. At midnight Elijah got the sick man to take a little water. He was successful in getting Dom to swallow a glassful, which meant he was no longer deeply unconscious, and it was with a satisfied expression on his face, that Elijah, wearing one of the stolen nightshirts, climbed into bed, and fell fast asleep.
He was rudely awoken some time later, by someone shouting. He woke up quickly, and turned to the source of the noise, which was, of course, the Insufferable Lord Monaghan.
"Chard! Chard, I say - where the devil are you? I need to piss. Urgently! Come on, turn out, man!"
Elijah leapt out of bed. He was at a loss, for although there was a chamber pot under the bed, as always, there was nothing that could be used by a man lying in bed.
He went around to Dom's side of the bed, and Dom stared at him with fever clouded eyes. "You here? You mackerel-backed little upstart! Where is Chard? Damn him - I need to piss! “
It was obvious to Elijah the man was feverish, and didn't know where he was. He could see that the case was desperate and he had no desire to sleep for the rest of the night in a bed in which Dom Monaghan had pissed.
He looked quickly around the room, and saw the half empty brandy bottle on the small table beside his chair, and poured the contents into the empty water jug on the night stand.
Bringing the bottle over to the bed, he thrust it into Dom's left hand, but it was obvious the man was not in his right mind, and incapable of helping himself.
Elijah did what was necessary, and, removing the bottle with distaste, stood it on the marble topped stand. He turned back to the bed, but Dom was already asleep.
No one had come to Dom's calls; they had either not heard, or had refused to get up. Obviously it was thought that Elijah would see to his friend’s needs, whatever they were. And he had done so, even though the man was very far from being his friend.
Elijah got back into bed sincerely hoping the Dom would not need the bottle again before morning. Being indebted to the Insufferable Lord Monaghan was one thing, but being his body servant was quite another. It did not bear thinking about.
The next thing he knew Jack was coming into the room with hot water for him to wash, and a bright comment that the weather, which had been fairly warm for January, had turned overnight, and there was snow falling.
"The three of us went out early this morning, your honour, to take the horse off the lane - begging your pardon, for it was blocking the path, and besides, as Ned said, people would remark upon it if they saw it there. So he sent for the knacker, a handy..."
He stopped suddenly, seeing that Elijah was distressed at his news. "I put your saddle and all the traps in the stable, Sir. Shall I bring your breakfast up here?"
Elijah managed a thank you. He had been fond of the horse, and was horrified at the fact that the knacker had had his knife in it. He caught a glimpse of Lord Monaghan out of the corner of his eye, and realised he had more pressing concerns on his hands than a dead horse.
He stood by the bed, his hand covering his mouth. This morning the man looked considerably worse than he had last night. He was in a high fever, Elijah could see that - his face was flushed and sweating.
Elijah hurried to the door and called for Jack, who came hurrying up the stairs, a tray in his hands.
"Forget about breakfast, Jack - is Billy up? Ask him to come here as soon as may be, if you please. And take that brandy - in the bowl, there - and that bottle of piss out of the room. The smells are giving me the headache."
Jack stared at him for a moment, and then rushed off to do his bidding. Billy came in a minute later, and looked apprehensively at the man in the bed.
"He don't look too good this morning, guv'nor, and that's a fact."
"I know," Elijah answered, uncertainty apparent in his voice. "What can be done for him?"
He had stripped off the borrowed nightgown and was climbing into his dry riding breeches.
"There was a sponge in those bags," Billy nodded. "We could sponge him down. He's as hot as hell, he is."
He was soon back with the sponge which proved to be a large one. He immediately cut it in half, and gave half to Elijah.
"Jack - ah! You brought the water! Good lad. Put it on that table and then bring it here, will you?" Billy called as Jack appeared.
"Is there any tea in the house, do you know?" Elijah asked, as he was feeling in urgent need of refreshment and was missing his morning drink.
Jack, putting the table when it was needed, furrowed his brow in concentration. " I think there's some tea left in the cupboard. If I can find it, I'll brew your honour a pot directly."
Billy handed one of the large towels to Elijah, and directed him to lay it as near to Dom's side as may be.
As they set about their task of sponging the fevered Dom down, Elijah, wishing to take his mind from the task in hand, and from Dom's naked body, remarked, "I presume it was the Missus who drank the tea. How long has she been dead?"
Billy, watching Elijah to see that he was following him exactly, answered, "three years come Christmas. That tea must be undrinkable by now. There is plenty of beer in the kitchen if you would like that."
The Duke thought of beer before breakfast, and shook his head. "I thank you, no. Later it would be very acceptable - but first, we have to think what we can do for him. Tom...Tom, old chap, can you hear me?" Elijah said loudly, hoping to rouse Dom from his stupor. But there was no reply. His breathing had grown shallower, and quicker, and he had coughed several times.
Elijah's heart sank. There was a wet and painful sound to the cough. He didn't know anything at all about nursing the sick, but he misliked the rattle coming from Dom's chest.
They had finished the sponging, and Dom seemed cooler to Elijah's hand. He drew the sheet up from the bottom of the bed, and pulled the blanket over him as well.
"If it did not mean moving him, you could help me change the sheets. There is blood on them. But I expect it is more important that he lie quiet."
Billy nodded, an anxious look on his usually placid countenance. "He's in a bad way, and if he should die I'll have to leave the country, sir. Go back to Scotland where I was born. I couldn't stay in a place where I'd killed a man, even if it was an accident. But no one would believe that it was one, not in a million years."
Elijah smiled across the bed at him. "Do not worry so, man - there is hope, yet."
Billy managed a watery smile. "Can I fetch you anything, guv'nor?"
Elijah shook his head. "No, I thank you. I will eat my breakfast first, then we can think of what to do. Will you join me? There is plenty here for two.”
"No thanks, guv'nor..."
"And I wish you will stop calling me that. My name is Eli. I make you free of it."
Billy sat down and watched his companion tuck into his bacon and eggs. "Short for Elijah is it?"
"I was named after someone in the Bible. My father had a deep interest in religion."
And this last was true, Elijah thought, if you regarded a reverence bordering on worship for every racehorse in the country - and its sire and dam - as religion. He doubted that his father had ever set eyes inside any book - not even the Bible - except, of course, the Turf Remembrancer, which continually rested on his desk.
His father was much addicted to horses, and everything concerning them, so it seemed a sort of ironic justice that he should break his neck being tossed off one.
Elijah's mind was brought back to the present for Jack had come in, triumphant, bearing a tray with a pot of tea on it as if it was a victor's crown.
"It tastes very well, but, there, I dunno anything about tea. Your honour will have to try it for yourself."
Elijah finished the last piece of bacon and poured himself out a cup of the steaming liquid. It tasted very well to him, too, and he drank two cups one after the other.
That made him wonder if the Insufferable Lord Monaghan might not care for some, if he held it to his lips, and, cooling it with a judicious serving of milk, took a cupful to the bed.
Dom seemed to have slid off the pillows, so Billy came to help him, and together they lifted Dom, Jack stuffing another pillow under the sick man's head at Billy's direction.
Elijah put his arm around Dom and lifted his head, offered the cup to his lips. To his surprise Dom eagerly drank the tea down, and asked for more in a thread of a voice that sent Jack scurrying to the pot to pour out the last cup.
"Shall I make some more?" he asked Elijah as he handed it to him.
"Not yet," he replied, holding Dom back as he seemed in danger of choking from his eagerness to consume the liquid. "Wait until later. He may have need of it then.” He looked over to Billy.
"I am useless at this sort of thing, Billy. Can you think of anything that will make Tom's life easier? He seems in a lot of pain still."
Billy grinned, nodded and left the room whilst Elijah examined the wound. It was clean, at least, and Elijah could see no signs of infection that would cause concern, but Dom's breathing was still erratic, and he didn't seem to know where he was, even though he had taken the tea without any problem.
Elijah did not touch the wound, but just sprinkled it with a little of the basilicum-powder which Billy had placed on the side table. He used the fresh strips of cloth Ned had left over the back of the bedside chair, and bound Dom up neatly again.
He was just about to think of putting a nightshirt on their patient, when Dom opened his eyes and reached out for him. "Arthur, is that you, my dear?"
Elijah did not know what to say. Was he to answer or not? Who was this Arthur, whom Dom had called his dear?
Billy brought an empty stone cider bottle to the side of the bed. "This should do him, sir...Eli... I mean. Should I try him with it now?"
But before Elijah could answer, Dom twisted in the bed, staring blindly at Elijah as if he saw someone else standing there.
"Arthur? Have you gone from me again? I thought you were ...dead at Badajos. Tell me you are not dead, my... dearest man. That you have... come to me. Lie here...beside me...as you used...used to do..."
Elijah could see Dom was struggling to breathe. Dom was attempting to lift his arms towards him. He thought he was Arthur, a man whom Dom obviously cared for, and who was dead.
Billy's urgent voice drew him from his reverie.
"He looks in queer stirrups, Eli. You'd best do as he says, before he busts a blood vessel. It won't hurt you to lie by him until he calms down, will it? You being his friend and all."
There were tears in Dom's eyes. In a hoarse whisper he begged, "Arthur, my lovely... man - help me! I am sick. I need you - come to me!"
Dom was panting for breath, and raising his arms in petition towards him. Elijah saw to his dismay that there was a spot of fresh blood seeping through the clean bandages.
Cursing inwardly at such a distasteful turn of events, Elijah kicked off the slippers and climbed into the bed, pressing his body as close as he dared against the heated, naked form lying next to him.
Dom put his good arm around Elijah, and with his head resting wearily into his dearest ‘Arthur’s’ neck, sighed in content, and fell asleep.
I know a lot of you are still at The Con - but we are not all there. So here it is! There is no glossary this time, but if anyone wants enlightenment on any point, please don't hesitate to ask!
Grateful thanks to LSR as always, for her beta.
Part Three - Alarms and Diversions
The man soon returned, followed by Jack carrying a bowl of hot water and some torn linens thrown over his arm. The landlord handed Elijah a sharp looking knife, the blade honed to thinness and with a wicked point at the end.
"It's my boning knife, sir. I think it will serve. What shall we do now?"
For the very first time in his life Elijah was grateful that he had been present when Barney had been injured four years before, at a pheasant shoot. He knew at least what the doctor had done on that occasion to extricate the ball, even if he didn't know exactly how this was accomplished.
"You can hold his arm in case he wakes. You..." he nodded at Bill, " stand at his feet and be prepared to grab his legs." He glanced at Jack, hovering nervously in the background. "And you... Jack isn't it? You can pour the brandy into the wound when I say. Can you do that?"
Jack nodded nervously. "Aye, sir. Happen I shall be all right. I only keeled over once, when I first saw Jed Talbot slaughter a pig - but I ain't done it since."
And at any other time this artless comment would have amused Elijah greatly, but he had more pressing things on his mind. He had no idea what he was doing - all he knew was that they were miles away from help, and that he must do something.
There was no possible way he could reveal to the men present who he and Dom were. Once he had got his bearings, he realised that he had walked into a nest of smugglers. There were barrels of liquor in every corner, and the whole place reeked of Napoleon brandy.
He determined not to tell them their real names, so as he was cutting off Dom's clothing he decided that Dom would have to be called Tom - as Dom was too rare a name not to cause the men to make a connection with the Lord of the Manor - and he would be Eli, far enough from Elijah to be safe.
This was all he had had time to plan; the knife was in his hand, and Lord Monaghan's breathing was getting shallower. It was time to act.
He laid bare the wound. It was still bleeding sluggishly, the pressure having worked at stopping him from bleeding to death. But had it pushed the ball further in?
He rather tentatively put the tip of the knife into the wound, and was gratified to hear it graze along metal - but it was in deeper than he had hoped. He could not get it out by merely using the knife.
He thought of the instruments the surgeon had used on Barney. "I need two long handled spoons with small bowls - have you such a thing?"
The landlord thought, carefully. "I think I have something that might do - Jack, go and look in the sideboard drawer in the old dining room, and bring any long handled silver spoons you sees there. Bustle about now, lad!"
The landlord cast a discerning eye at Elijah. "It looks to me as if you could do with a glass of that brandy yourself, sir," he said in a gruff voice. "You look nearly as pale as he does," he said cocking his head in Dom's direction.
Elijah pressed his lips together firmly. "I will be glad of one later, but I need a clear head to do what I have to do now, I thank you."
Jack had returned with a handful of spoons, and Elijah was pleased to see that there were two that would admirably suit his purpose.
The three men crowded around the bed. "Hold his arm steady, now. This will hurt him, if he wakes." Elijah slid the first spoon down the opposite side of the knife still in Dom's body. To Elijah's dismay Dom groaned, and opened his eyes, blearily trying to focus on who stood beside him.
He tried to sit up, and Jack and the landlord pushed him firmly down on the bed. "Lie still, now, sir - there ain't any one here trying to hurt you."
"Bloody liar!" Lord Monaghan moaned. "I can see... that it is the devil ...himself... standing... over me. Are you trying to ...kill me, is that it? You..."
Elijah could waste no time in arguing. He forced the other spoon down the opposite side of the blade, and withdrew the knife.
Very fortunately at this point Dom uttered a loud groan and fell back into unconsciousness.
Elijah hoped fervently that the ball was now couched between the two spoons, for Lord Monaghan... Dom... looked even paler than before. He grabbed one spoon in each hand, pressed the bowls together as tightly as he dared, and withdrew them. He had the ball.
"Quickly, now, Jack - pour the brandy in before the flesh comes together again. We can't have him infected as well as wounded."
The landlord breathed a heavy sigh. "That was one of the prettiest things I've ever seen, sir. A fine job you made of that. Do you go and sit down, now, by the fire - you look all in. Jack, pour the gentleman a glass."
The landlord seemed to know how to apply a bandage, and soon Lord Monaghan lay quietly, still deeply unconscious, and breathing rapidly.
The man then washed his hands in the remaining water, and came over to Elijah, but he was looking at Bill as he spoke.
"Did you do this, Bill, you stupid bastard? What were you thinking? You know we are near Lord Monaghan's house here, and it is said he has been seen in the vicinity. If these two gentlemen were visiting him - and I can think of no other reason why they would be travelling through these back lanes - they will be sending out people looking for them soon."
He turned to Elijah, a desperate look in his eye. "I can see that you're not a slow man, sir, and will have worked out that we are free traders here. But Bill, the soft bugger as he is, was anxious to get going from this place, and set up in a little business of his own, and didn't want to wait for the Gentlemen to come up the river to pay us and remove the kegs. So needs must he try to get the money for his enterprise by robbing people on the King's highway. If he were not my sister's son, I'd wash my hands of him, truly I would."
But the look the smuggler cast at Bill was affectionate as well as impatient. Elijah felt he needed to say something to lessen tension over their unwanted presence.
"Well, you may have no fear that I, or Mr Marlow - poor Tom, over there - will inform the authorities of your actions. If it were not for you he would be dead by now, I am very sensible of it, and I'm sure as soon as he wakes in his right mind, he will be, also."
The landlord's face relaxed into a smile. "That's very kind of you, er Mr...er..."
"Retford, Eli Retford, at your service. And you are?..."
The smuggler extended a beefy hand towards Elijah. "Ned's my name. I'm sure you'll understand, sir, if I don't care to tell you my other name. It ain't safe to know it around here. Ned will do."
Elijah shook the proffered hand warmly. "We are grateful to you, Ned. I hope we do not trespass many days on your generosity."
He grinned, and was about to reach into his coat, hanging as it was on the back of his chair, when he realised the stupidity of revealing the five hundred pounds resting in his inside pocket.
He shrugged. "Unfortunately, Bill... er... relieved me of the few guineas I had in my pocket, but if you give me your direction, I will send you some money..."
Ned shook his head. "Now you can see why that would not do, sir. You do not know where you are at present, and that suits me just fine. Don't fear, we have enough and to spare to feed two striplings like you. And while I think of it, Jack, go and put one of those fowls on to boil - the ones we had prepared for tomorrow. And stick a few vegetables in it. This gentleman will need a good tasty broth when he wakes, and you..." he said to Elijah," ...will be glad of some dinner, I'm sure. Fair worn out you must be. Billy, see to the gentlemen while I get on.
Billy and Elijah were left in the room together. Billy bowed his head. "I am sorry, I am sir, really. But I wished to leave - as you can see I'm not a very good smug... um, free trader I mean. The Gentlemen much dislike being called smugglers. I'm not a good highwayman either, because I hate violence. I've never shot at anybody before, on purpose or by accident, and I'll never do it again, I promise you. Are you going to hand me over?"
Elijah stared at the young man, whom, he noticed, spoke with much more refined accents than he had used in the lane, and who was clearly distressed.
"It isn't up to me, Bill - you shot him, not me. It's up to Tom, when he wakes, to make that decision. But when I tell him that you saved his life by bringing him here, when you could so easily have left us helpless by the roadside, I'm sure he'll think as I do, that you have learned your lesson."
Elijah suddenly realised he was very uncomfortable. His shirt, and indeed his riding breeches were soaked through.
"Do you think you could contrive to bring me something to wear, Billy? These clothes are still very wet. If I leave them over this other chair overnight I'm sure they'll dry, but I need something in their place. Have you anything?"
Billy's face lit up. "I have one or two valises in my room that I... borrowed... from some gentlemen travellers last week. If you would condescend to wear them, there's clothes in 'em."
Elijah stood up and pulled his wet shirt off, wiping his upper body free from the dampness that still rested upon it. "I'd wear the clothing of the devil himself, if it got me out of this wet stuff," he said, smiling.
Billy moved towards the door. "I think you will be very comfortable in them, sir - after all, your friend did say you was him, didn't he? The devil, I mean. Even if he was half out of his mind in pain when he said it."
Elijah, remembering his obligations, went to see how Dom did. He was still lying in the same position as he had been left, his right arm and shoulder bandaged, the other resting lightly on his chest. He was still naked under the sheet, and Elijah felt his belly to see if he was cold. He did not appear to be, but Elijah pulled up one of the blankets as far has his chest, as he did not wish the man to get a chill during the night.
Very soon Billy came back with the two valises. He put them on a table near the wall, and Elijah went to examine their contents. He found that the clothing in them was of very good quality, and would only be slightly too big for him. He took out some underwear and a pair of biscuit coloured pantaloons, and, pulling off sodden breeches and underdrawers, was soon feeling much more comfortable. A white shirt, some slippers and a dressing gown of a fearful and wonderful purple hue completed the ensemble.
There were, providentially, two night shirts there also, which Elijah was sure Lord Monaghan would be grateful for when he was feeling more the thing. There was little point in disturbing the man.
At that moment Jack came up to announce that dinner was ready downstairs, but Elijah was not inclined to leave the sick man. He asked if he could have his in the room, and Billy said he would eat there also.
Thus it was, that The Most Noble Elijah John Jeremiah Frederick Arthur Upton Wood, His Grace, the Sixth Duke of Stanford, Marquis of Longbridge, Earl of Cosham, Earl of Hayward, Baron Wood of Retford, Baron Wood of Dronfell, and Baron Wood of Lysney, sat down to his dinner, eaten from a tin tray resting on his knees, wearing stolen clothing and in the company of a highwayman.
He grinned. If only Barney could see him!
*****
Elijah had resolved that he would not go to bed that night, but stay and watch his friend. He was certainly not going to reveal to the smuggler that the sick man in the bed was the person he despised most on earth. Ned had commented, very sensibly, that there was no point in him making himself ill from over-watching at night, when he had to look after his friend during the day.
Besides, Ned had said - as if Elijah had not noticed this - it was a very large bed, with plenty room for him to lie in it beside his friend, without any danger of touching him at all, and aggravating his wound.
Elijah had to agree with this assessment, but thought to himself what an uproar there would be if the Insufferable Lord Monaghan woke during the middle of the night to find his worst enemy lying beside him in bed. Still, it would occasion remark if he asked for a truckle bed to be brought in when there was a perfectly decent one awaiting his pleasure. Friends often shared beds, there was nothing unusual in that - except that these two men were not friends, not friends at all.
There was nothing to be done. At midnight Elijah got the sick man to take a little water. He was successful in getting Dom to swallow a glassful, which meant he was no longer deeply unconscious, and it was with a satisfied expression on his face, that Elijah, wearing one of the stolen nightshirts, climbed into bed, and fell fast asleep.
He was rudely awoken some time later, by someone shouting. He woke up quickly, and turned to the source of the noise, which was, of course, the Insufferable Lord Monaghan.
"Chard! Chard, I say - where the devil are you? I need to piss. Urgently! Come on, turn out, man!"
Elijah leapt out of bed. He was at a loss, for although there was a chamber pot under the bed, as always, there was nothing that could be used by a man lying in bed.
He went around to Dom's side of the bed, and Dom stared at him with fever clouded eyes. "You here? You mackerel-backed little upstart! Where is Chard? Damn him - I need to piss! “
It was obvious to Elijah the man was feverish, and didn't know where he was. He could see that the case was desperate and he had no desire to sleep for the rest of the night in a bed in which Dom Monaghan had pissed.
He looked quickly around the room, and saw the half empty brandy bottle on the small table beside his chair, and poured the contents into the empty water jug on the night stand.
Bringing the bottle over to the bed, he thrust it into Dom's left hand, but it was obvious the man was not in his right mind, and incapable of helping himself.
Elijah did what was necessary, and, removing the bottle with distaste, stood it on the marble topped stand. He turned back to the bed, but Dom was already asleep.
No one had come to Dom's calls; they had either not heard, or had refused to get up. Obviously it was thought that Elijah would see to his friend’s needs, whatever they were. And he had done so, even though the man was very far from being his friend.
Elijah got back into bed sincerely hoping the Dom would not need the bottle again before morning. Being indebted to the Insufferable Lord Monaghan was one thing, but being his body servant was quite another. It did not bear thinking about.
The next thing he knew Jack was coming into the room with hot water for him to wash, and a bright comment that the weather, which had been fairly warm for January, had turned overnight, and there was snow falling.
"The three of us went out early this morning, your honour, to take the horse off the lane - begging your pardon, for it was blocking the path, and besides, as Ned said, people would remark upon it if they saw it there. So he sent for the knacker, a handy..."
He stopped suddenly, seeing that Elijah was distressed at his news. "I put your saddle and all the traps in the stable, Sir. Shall I bring your breakfast up here?"
Elijah managed a thank you. He had been fond of the horse, and was horrified at the fact that the knacker had had his knife in it. He caught a glimpse of Lord Monaghan out of the corner of his eye, and realised he had more pressing concerns on his hands than a dead horse.
He stood by the bed, his hand covering his mouth. This morning the man looked considerably worse than he had last night. He was in a high fever, Elijah could see that - his face was flushed and sweating.
Elijah hurried to the door and called for Jack, who came hurrying up the stairs, a tray in his hands.
"Forget about breakfast, Jack - is Billy up? Ask him to come here as soon as may be, if you please. And take that brandy - in the bowl, there - and that bottle of piss out of the room. The smells are giving me the headache."
Jack stared at him for a moment, and then rushed off to do his bidding. Billy came in a minute later, and looked apprehensively at the man in the bed.
"He don't look too good this morning, guv'nor, and that's a fact."
"I know," Elijah answered, uncertainty apparent in his voice. "What can be done for him?"
He had stripped off the borrowed nightgown and was climbing into his dry riding breeches.
"There was a sponge in those bags," Billy nodded. "We could sponge him down. He's as hot as hell, he is."
He was soon back with the sponge which proved to be a large one. He immediately cut it in half, and gave half to Elijah.
"Jack - ah! You brought the water! Good lad. Put it on that table and then bring it here, will you?" Billy called as Jack appeared.
"Is there any tea in the house, do you know?" Elijah asked, as he was feeling in urgent need of refreshment and was missing his morning drink.
Jack, putting the table when it was needed, furrowed his brow in concentration. " I think there's some tea left in the cupboard. If I can find it, I'll brew your honour a pot directly."
Billy handed one of the large towels to Elijah, and directed him to lay it as near to Dom's side as may be.
As they set about their task of sponging the fevered Dom down, Elijah, wishing to take his mind from the task in hand, and from Dom's naked body, remarked, "I presume it was the Missus who drank the tea. How long has she been dead?"
Billy, watching Elijah to see that he was following him exactly, answered, "three years come Christmas. That tea must be undrinkable by now. There is plenty of beer in the kitchen if you would like that."
The Duke thought of beer before breakfast, and shook his head. "I thank you, no. Later it would be very acceptable - but first, we have to think what we can do for him. Tom...Tom, old chap, can you hear me?" Elijah said loudly, hoping to rouse Dom from his stupor. But there was no reply. His breathing had grown shallower, and quicker, and he had coughed several times.
Elijah's heart sank. There was a wet and painful sound to the cough. He didn't know anything at all about nursing the sick, but he misliked the rattle coming from Dom's chest.
They had finished the sponging, and Dom seemed cooler to Elijah's hand. He drew the sheet up from the bottom of the bed, and pulled the blanket over him as well.
"If it did not mean moving him, you could help me change the sheets. There is blood on them. But I expect it is more important that he lie quiet."
Billy nodded, an anxious look on his usually placid countenance. "He's in a bad way, and if he should die I'll have to leave the country, sir. Go back to Scotland where I was born. I couldn't stay in a place where I'd killed a man, even if it was an accident. But no one would believe that it was one, not in a million years."
Elijah smiled across the bed at him. "Do not worry so, man - there is hope, yet."
Billy managed a watery smile. "Can I fetch you anything, guv'nor?"
Elijah shook his head. "No, I thank you. I will eat my breakfast first, then we can think of what to do. Will you join me? There is plenty here for two.”
"No thanks, guv'nor..."
"And I wish you will stop calling me that. My name is Eli. I make you free of it."
Billy sat down and watched his companion tuck into his bacon and eggs. "Short for Elijah is it?"
"I was named after someone in the Bible. My father had a deep interest in religion."
And this last was true, Elijah thought, if you regarded a reverence bordering on worship for every racehorse in the country - and its sire and dam - as religion. He doubted that his father had ever set eyes inside any book - not even the Bible - except, of course, the Turf Remembrancer, which continually rested on his desk.
His father was much addicted to horses, and everything concerning them, so it seemed a sort of ironic justice that he should break his neck being tossed off one.
Elijah's mind was brought back to the present for Jack had come in, triumphant, bearing a tray with a pot of tea on it as if it was a victor's crown.
"It tastes very well, but, there, I dunno anything about tea. Your honour will have to try it for yourself."
Elijah finished the last piece of bacon and poured himself out a cup of the steaming liquid. It tasted very well to him, too, and he drank two cups one after the other.
That made him wonder if the Insufferable Lord Monaghan might not care for some, if he held it to his lips, and, cooling it with a judicious serving of milk, took a cupful to the bed.
Dom seemed to have slid off the pillows, so Billy came to help him, and together they lifted Dom, Jack stuffing another pillow under the sick man's head at Billy's direction.
Elijah put his arm around Dom and lifted his head, offered the cup to his lips. To his surprise Dom eagerly drank the tea down, and asked for more in a thread of a voice that sent Jack scurrying to the pot to pour out the last cup.
"Shall I make some more?" he asked Elijah as he handed it to him.
"Not yet," he replied, holding Dom back as he seemed in danger of choking from his eagerness to consume the liquid. "Wait until later. He may have need of it then.” He looked over to Billy.
"I am useless at this sort of thing, Billy. Can you think of anything that will make Tom's life easier? He seems in a lot of pain still."
Billy grinned, nodded and left the room whilst Elijah examined the wound. It was clean, at least, and Elijah could see no signs of infection that would cause concern, but Dom's breathing was still erratic, and he didn't seem to know where he was, even though he had taken the tea without any problem.
Elijah did not touch the wound, but just sprinkled it with a little of the basilicum-powder which Billy had placed on the side table. He used the fresh strips of cloth Ned had left over the back of the bedside chair, and bound Dom up neatly again.
He was just about to think of putting a nightshirt on their patient, when Dom opened his eyes and reached out for him. "Arthur, is that you, my dear?"
Elijah did not know what to say. Was he to answer or not? Who was this Arthur, whom Dom had called his dear?
Billy brought an empty stone cider bottle to the side of the bed. "This should do him, sir...Eli... I mean. Should I try him with it now?"
But before Elijah could answer, Dom twisted in the bed, staring blindly at Elijah as if he saw someone else standing there.
"Arthur? Have you gone from me again? I thought you were ...dead at Badajos. Tell me you are not dead, my... dearest man. That you have... come to me. Lie here...beside me...as you used...used to do..."
Elijah could see Dom was struggling to breathe. Dom was attempting to lift his arms towards him. He thought he was Arthur, a man whom Dom obviously cared for, and who was dead.
Billy's urgent voice drew him from his reverie.
"He looks in queer stirrups, Eli. You'd best do as he says, before he busts a blood vessel. It won't hurt you to lie by him until he calms down, will it? You being his friend and all."
There were tears in Dom's eyes. In a hoarse whisper he begged, "Arthur, my lovely... man - help me! I am sick. I need you - come to me!"
Dom was panting for breath, and raising his arms in petition towards him. Elijah saw to his dismay that there was a spot of fresh blood seeping through the clean bandages.
Cursing inwardly at such a distasteful turn of events, Elijah kicked off the slippers and climbed into the bed, pressing his body as close as he dared against the heated, naked form lying next to him.
Dom put his good arm around Elijah, and with his head resting wearily into his dearest ‘Arthur’s’ neck, sighed in content, and fell asleep.