To Charm a Bluestocking

by Renée Dahlia

  Marie walked into the room just as they were finished.

  ‘How bad is he?’ she asked. The two friends gave her the run down as Josephine carefully checked his skull for any contusions.

  ‘It must just be pain from the burn and his ankle. I can’t find anything that might otherwise account for his state,’ she said.

  ‘The ankle can probably wait. There isn’t much we can do with that amount of swelling, but we will need to treat the burn,’ said Claire.

  ‘I read the other day about a new poultice for burns that is being trialled,’ said Marie. ‘It has a dash of cocaine in it as a painkiller. We should try that. I’m not sure the exact quantities, but I can remember all the ingredients. If we need to go out to get anything, I can drop by Father’s office and look up the paper I saw it in.’

  ‘I don’t recall anything in our notes using cocaine,’ queried Josephine.

  ‘You wouldn’t. It was in a preliminary paper that Father was reviewing for publication. It used linseed oil, lime-water and carbolic acid as the main ingredients,’ said Marie.

  ‘I wouldn’t want to put carbolic acid on anyone’s skin,’ said Claire.

  ‘No. The portion in the poultice would have to be small. I’m going to have to look it up,’ said Marie.

  ‘Did they get good results in the paper?’ asked Josephine. She liked the idea of a new formula. She just wasn’t sure about experimenting on Nicholas.

  ‘Yes. Excellent. The rate of infection was tiny compared to normal burns patients. Unless you can recall anything else from our course notes, I’d say it’s our only option,’ said Marie.

  ‘Agreed. Infection is our greatest difficulty. How about Claire and I clean the wound and try to wake him up, while you get the paper and ingredients?’ said Josephine.

  ‘Good plan. You should take it in shifts so you can both have a bath. Your bathing room, by the way, is genius in its setup,’ said Marie. She marched out of the room and Claire called out behind her, ‘Take the horse, if it’s still there.’

  Dusk was long gone and night had descended when Marie arrived back at the house. The drawing room had been transformed into a makeshift hospital. Nicholas lay prone on the chaise lounge, covered in blankets. He had been propped up so that the burnt side of his face pointed up, away from the pressure of the pillows. It was covered in white cotton bandaging.

  ‘What on earth are all these people doing here?’ Marie said. Josephine looked up from her position seated next to Nicholas. Her eyes widened as she realised that quite a crowd had gathered.

  ‘Claire sent word to her house and her butler sent a few maids to assist us,’ said Josephine. ‘I just didn’t realise it would be quite so many. Betsy, could you please take everyone to the dining room? We will call when we need someone.’

  Betsy rose to bustle them all out of the room.

  ‘Excuse me, Miss Tobinbury,’ said Cook. ‘My brother here helped get your patient inside. It is quite late and he has to go.’ She cleared her throat to indicate that some sort of small payment might be due to her brother for his assistance.

  ‘Of course, Cook. Claire?’ Josephine raised her eyebrows slightly to her friend, who gave Cook’s brother a few coins to thank him for his service. He nodded in response and left the room along with Cook.

  ‘Thank you, Claire. I’m sure St. George doesn’t need an audience while we subject him to experimental treatment,’ said Marie. Claire smiled in response.

  ‘They had only just arrived and were awaiting orders. Now that Betsy has them under control in the dining room, we can proceed.’

  ‘Betsy doesn’t really have much experience with servants,’ said Josephine. ‘You might need to handle that once we are done here.’

  ‘I provide servants and coin for them and then you want me to take charge of them as well?’ Claire winked. Josephine tried not to sigh. She probably shouldn’t hand over all tasks to Claire’s superior organisational skills.

  ‘Shall we proceed here, rather than bicker?’ said Marie. ‘Has he regained consciousness while I’ve been away?’

  Josephine’s chest filled with a quiet warmth as her friends continued to talk to each other in their usual frank manner. It brought some normalcy to this situation. In the time that Marie had been away, she had tried to gain some perspective. To refocus her energies where they could be most helpful.

  ‘He has stirred several times, but generally has stayed under. He seems to be breathing fairly regularly, although still quite shallow. I wonder if he has some smoke inhalation. That’s why we’ve propped him up so he’s partly sitting.’

  ‘Do you have the paper with the new recipe?’ asked Claire.

  ‘Yes. I brought Father’s carriage so I’ve read the whole paper. The results they have been getting are really encouraging with regards to infection, or lack thereof. The recipe is equal parts linseed oil and lime-water with five per cent carbolic acid and a small amount of cocaine as pain relief. I made some up in the kitchen at home and have soaked it in absorbent cotton. If we remove your bandage and lay it over the wound, the paper suggests that we cover it with impermeable rubber. I couldn’t find any at home, but perhaps you have something,’ said Marie, digging in her bag to get out the poultice.

  ‘You two do it, and I’ll see what I can rustle up with Cook. I might even sort out these servants while I’m up, since Josephine and Betsy seem to have no clue,’ said Claire warmly.

  Marie and Josephine quickly applied the poultice. Their years of practice made them quick and efficient. They collapsed into chairs, legs splayed out before them and waited for the pain relief to start working. If he didn’t wake soon, then they’d missed something more serious. They didn’t have to wait long before he stirred. After a few minutes, Nicolas opened his eyes and blinked several times.

  ‘Oh, excellent.’ Josephine’s words rushed out. She stared at him. His jaw was clenched tight, the tendons in his neck sticking out. He made a rough noise as if he was trying to talk and Josephine shook her head to tell him to stop.

  ‘Drink some water first,’ she said. She held the glass for him. It was awkward and some spilled down his chin but he managed to slurp a few drops.

  ‘What happened?’ he asked, his voice very croaky.

  ‘Don’t talk. You probably have some lung damage from smoke inhalation. We have given you a full medical check over and the facial burn appears to be the worst of your injuries. We have put a poultice on the burn that includes a pain killer. It seems to have done the job for the moment. Has it taken the edge off the pain?’ Josephine asked.

  ‘Hurts. Devil,’ Nicholas croaked.

  ‘That is a good sign. A deep burn doesn’t hurt at all. The poultice should prevent infection,’ said Josephine. She held his hands as Marie outlined the new research and how the results in the paper were very promising. Claire walked back.

  ‘I’m sure St. George wants to hear about how we are using experimental medicine on his face,’ Claire quipped.

  ‘We are just glad to see you awake,’ said Josephine. Burns were tricky injuries. They had all seen dreadful examples in the university hospital. Although Nicholas’s burn wasn’t as visually or emotionally overwhelming as many they had seen, they all knew enough to remain cautious about his chances of recovery. They had to keep any infection at bay while the wound healed.

  ‘Aside from the burn, the other injury of concern is your lungs. From the state of your voice, it seems obvious that you have suffered some smoke inhalation. Your breathing is quite shallow and combined with the state of your voice are strong indications. So far, you haven’t had any coughing fits which is a good sign that you don’t have any major internal injuries,’ said Josephine.

  ‘Isn’t coffee good for respiratory complaints?’ said Claire.

  ‘Oh, yes, I remember that lecture. We should get Cook to make up a steam bowl with coffee in that he can breathe in,’ said Josephine. She stood to go and talk to Cook about it. Nicholas grabbed her hand to prevent her from leaving. Heat ros
e in her face.

  ‘Perhaps I’ll go,’ said Marie. ‘I’m looking forward to brewing another concoction to give our patient.’

  They all sat there awkwardly in silence as they waited for Marie to come back with the next treatment. Claire and Josephine had many questions for Nicholas, however, their curiosity would have to wait given his inability to talk without pain. Josephine let her hands rest inside Nicholas’ larger palms. He slowly stroked his thumb in a gentle motion. Gone was the heady sense of lust. This was a comforting connection and her aching tense muscles slowly relaxed.

  ‘Paper,’ he croaked out. Josephine reluctantly let him go. She leapt up, so she could come back to him quickly, and grabbed a notepad from her desk. She pulled herself up short as she almost collided with Cook. Cook’s hands were wrapped in towelling and she carried a hot copper bowl that steamed as she walked towards them.

  ‘Excellent,’ said Claire, ‘another experiment.’

  ‘Actually,’ said Josephine, ‘steamed coffee has been a treatment for respiratory conditions for about a hundred years.’ She paused as she looked at her friend who grinned cheekily. ‘Oh, you jest.’ Josephine laughed, grateful that Claire’s sense of humour removed some of the awkwardness from the room. Cook held the bowl across Nicholas so he could inhale the infused steam.

  ‘That looks rather precarious. I don’t think we want to spill steaming liquid on our burns patient,’ said Josephine. ‘Cook, can you move backwards and we will get Nicholas to sit up straighter first?’

  Cook moved out of the way and the three friends helped Nicholas sit up and piled more cushions behind him to keep him in place. He gritted his teeth against the pain that the movement caused and used his arms to help them rearrange him. Once they were all happy with his new position, Josephine placed more cushions on his lap to support the steaming bowl.

  ‘There. That will be less perilous for St. George and easier for Cook with the cushions to help hold up the bowl,’ she said, standing back to allow Cook to place the bowl correctly. Marie covered Nicholas with a blanket to ensure that the steam was directed towards his mouth.

  ***

  Nicholas breathed in the steam as deeply as he could. He disliked being injured and wanted to growl or yell in frustration. His lack of lung function meant that he couldn’t do anything without being out of breath. It was an effort just to sit up. Breathe in. Breathe out. Just keep breathing. And why the hell did his leg hurt so much? His eager trio of doctors hadn’t mentioned any injury to his leg. Slowly the coffee steam allowed him to drag enough air into his lungs. The hit of air gave him the energy to wiggle his toes. Holy hell, that hurt. Yes, something was definitely wrong with his leg. Perhaps even broken. By God, it was frustrating to sit here injured, barely able to breathe. Outside a riot raged. He couldn’t do anything. Soon the heat subsided and the steam finished. He tugged off the blanket to let his diligent doctors know. At least he had use of his arms. The blanket was whipped away and Cook stood up. Nicholas managed a small nod in thanks.

  Josephine made a note on the pad she held. She leant over and placed her stethoscope on his chest, listening carefully.

  ‘His function sounds marginally improved. Perhaps we should repeat this treatment again in an hour?’ she asked her friends. Before they could answer, Nicholas grabbed the notebook from Josephine’s hand and gestured for a pencil.

  ‘Oh, of course,’ said Josephine and she handed it to him. He wrote, simply,

  Hungry. Leg?

  Josephine frowned.

  ‘Your ankle is very swollen. It may be broken. We can’t tell yet. We’ll have to wait for the swelling to go down.’

  He tapped the word “hungry” with his pencil.

  ‘Perhaps you could have some broth? I’m not sure if you will be able to eat anything else just yet.’

  Cook, who had been standing to the side of the room with her bowl, awaiting her next instructions, cleared her throat.

  ‘There is some on the stove. I will be right back,’ said Cook.

  ‘Should we add some laudanum?’ said Claire.

  No

  ‘It will help you sleep,’ said Marie.

  No opiates

  ‘A doctor must give the patient the treatment he needs, not the one he desires,’ said Josephine. The three doctors exchanged a look that took all the power away from Nicholas. He leant his head back against the pillows and shut his eyes. They would sneak it in no matter how much he protested.

  Chapter 16

  Marie bounded into the drawing room the next morning carrying the newssheets. Josephine sat up from the temporary bed they had made up, rubbing her eyes to banish the exhaustion she felt. It had been a long night. Nicholas had been restless throughout the night. Josephine had been up every couple of hours to repeat the steam treatment and to reapply more cocaine to the poultice on his face.

  ‘You look dreadful, my dear. Go and have a bath and a proper sleep. Claire and I will take over from here,’ said Marie. Josephine nodded at her friend. Normally such a social butterfly, the difficulty of this situation seemed to bring out a more serious, organised side to her personality. Josephine knew that it was the most rational approach. There would be no change in the next few hours. A sleep would give her much needed strength. Strength that would be required to nurse Nicholas over the next month or two as his body repaired itself. She dragged herself up to a standing position. She opened her mouth to agree with Marie when Nicholas stirred. Josephine raced over to him. His eyes fluttered open and he tried to lift himself up. He looked slightly dazed and confused.

  ‘Stop,’ she said. ‘You can’t move just yet.’

  He tried to speak but only croaked in response. She placed a hand on his forehead and was thankful to feel that he was still cool.

  ‘There is no sign of infection, Nicholas. You must rest. Stay still,’ she admonished him.

  Marie cleared her throat to remind them that she was in the room. Josephine glanced at her.

  ‘How about I read St. George the paper while you take a break to rest?’ she suggested.

  ‘Yes. That is logical,’ said Josephine and she forced her body to begin leaving the room.

  ‘No,’ croaked out Nicholas. ‘Jo. Do it.’ He slumped back on his pillows. Marie leant over to her friend with a gentle hug.

  ‘Foolish man, can’t he see that you need your rest too?’ she whispered.

  ‘I don’t mind,’ Josephine whispered back.

  ‘You should mind,’ Marie said. ‘He is supposed to be here to help you, not the other way around.’

  ‘Now you sound like Claire. He is injured and in my house,’ whispered Josephine fiercely.

  ‘Fine. You read him the paper and when he sleeps, you can sleep too. I will watch him then,’ said Marie. Josephine barely noticed Marie stalk out of the room as she turned to Nicholas to tend him. He lifted his head and stared at her, his eyes full of questions. As he moved, the sheet slipped down. Josephine could see his bare chest, muscles twitching as he attempted to sit up. She’d read plenty of anatomy books, and even performed practice surgeries on corpses. She’d even seen his chest naked before. Once. He reminded her of a Greek statue come to life. The strength of his muscles combined with the light covering of hair and smooth healthy skin created a great contrast to his horrific burn injuries. Although half his face was covered in poultices and bandages, Josephine couldn’t help but see the conflict between the injury and the healthy areas of his body.

  She blinked to try and refocus her thoughts back to the task at hand. He coughed and she immediately sprang into action. She stroked his chest to help ease the coughing fit. Her fingers tangled in his chest hair. A crinkle against her soft skin. As the coughs eased, she spread her hands wide over his heart. Connected to the beat inside his ribs. He placed his hand over hers, and she stood still, soaking in their connection until her legs ached.

  ‘I really need some rest,’ she said to him. ‘Marie, Claire or Betsy can read you the paper and give you the next steam draft. I wi
ll be back in a few hours.’

  He nodded slightly and roughly whispered, ‘Paper?’

  She moved over to the table and grabbed the paper and pencil that lay there. She handed it to him and he wrote,

  Thank you. I have questions.

  ‘Can they wait until you are better? I don’t want to stress your recovery. I suspect the newssheets are your best source of information on yesterday.’

  Not that. You?

  ‘I am fine. Just tired. Marie thinks I should take some time to rest. It is probably a good idea as nursing you will take time.’

  Nicholas stared at her as if he was examining her state of health. His gaze roamed all over her. It didn’t burn the way it used to when he looked at her with desire. It was more a concerning caress. As if he wanted to reassure himself that she was going to be alright. He looked down at his paper again and immediately she felt the lack.

  Sleep. Look after yourself.

  She grinned at him as he was obviously struggling to make his thoughts concise enough to write in short, sharp messages for her. His writing was atrocious. He waved his arm at the doorway, using the motion to communicate his wish that she should leave now. She sighed and walked out of the room. It seemed everyone wanted her to sleep rather than help. She couldn’t help feel slightly rejected by the idea, even though she knew that it was only logical to look after herself too. She wouldn’t be much help to anyone if she ended up exhausted. If only she could rid herself of the tiny bit of doubt that told her that she wasn’t wanted. Surely it was just tiredness that gave that small doubt wings.