“Hold his hand, but turn away, madam,” the doctor advised. “It’s best if you don’t watch.”
I felt a wave of nausea as Doctor LeGrand held the iron to Hugo’s chest. Hugo let out a roar of pain as he crushed my hand in his. The stench of burning meat filled the kitchen, making me gag as bile rose in my throat, threatening to choke me. Hugo’s hand was the only thing that kept me from fainting. I held on to it for dear life, giving him my support, and receiving his in return. He was no longer screaming, but his eyes were closed again, and his breath was ragged.
“We need to move him to a bed after I bandage the wound,” the doctor said as he packed away his instruments. “I will give him a tincture of laudanum for the pain. If the wound doesn’t fester, he should begin feeling better in a few days. Call me immediately if there’s any sign of fever, putrefaction, or excessive bleeding. Someone should stay with him at all times. He’s not out of danger.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” I mumbled as I let out my breath.
“You need to calm down, especially before you nurse your baby,” he said. “Your milk might sour.”
“How did you…?” I asked.
I would have blushed crimson had I not been terrified for Hugo when the doctor’s eyes traveled to my bodice, which was soaked with milk. Big, wet patches covered my breasts, but I didn’t care; I was still shaking from the shock of what I had just witnessed. The whole thing had been barbaric, from start to finish, but if it saved Hugo’s life, I had to be grateful. This was the best medicine that was on offer in seventeenth-century Paris, and had we been poor, even this wouldn’t have been available to us.
“Here,” the doctor said as he added two drops of laudanum to a cup of water. “Drink this. It won’t put you to sleep, but it will help you calm down. Go feed your baby, and then see to your man. I will come back tomorrow morning. If anything changes, send Archie.”
I obediently drank the mixture and called Frances. She was just outside the door, hovering in case she was needed. “Frances, please stay with Hugo until I come back. I need to feed the baby. We’ll need something flat on which to carry Hugo upstairs to our room. Maybe Archie can find an old door or a wide plank of some sort that we can lay him on.”
My tongue seemed to refuse to obey me any further as the opium became absorbed into my bloodstream. Perhaps this wasn’t the best time to feed Valentine, but she was hollering at the top of her lungs, her face red with fury as Elodie tried to calm her down by walking up and down the corridor with her. Valentine was picking up volume, her toothless gums quivering as she cried. I sank onto the settee and pulled down my bodice, completely indifferent to the stares from Archie and Jem. My breast was heavy with milk and the baby latched on hungrily, finally quieting down. I leaned back and closed my eyes as Valentine nursed. The reality of the past hour began to sink in, and I was grateful for the anesthetizing numbing of the laudanum because I think I would have just gone completely to pieces.
I watched through half-closed lids as Archie and a groom from next door carried Hugo up the stairs on an old door with Frances following close on their heels. She would make sure he was comfortable until I was done feeding the baby. Valentine’s eyes rolled into the back of her head as my laudanum-infused milk entered her system. She was now sated and sleeping peacefully, for which I was actually grateful since I simply couldn’t begin to rouse myself to dealing with a fussy baby. I felt done in, but I covered myself up and made my way up the stairs with Marthe carrying the baby.
Valentine was deposited into her cradle while I went to sit with Hugo. He was pale and in pain, but the bleeding seemed to have slowed down, and he was conscious.
“You look awful,” he said.
“So do you.”
“I hope you’re not with me for my looks,” Hugo replied, making an attempt at humor, which nearly made me cry again.
“Hugo, what happened?” I asked, needing to know if this was an accident.
“I don’t know. One minute I was walking with Jem, the next someone was shooting at me.”
“Did you see the man?”
“Yes, but I didn’t recognize him. I have no idea why he’d want to kill me.” Hugo reached for my hand and held it tight. “He missed, my sweet.”
“No, he didn’t, and he would have killed you had Jem not knocked him out of the way. He saved your life.” My voice sounded tearful, but I tried not to cry.
“I know. He’s a good little lad. I owe him my life.”
“I heard Jem telling Archie that the man cursed at him in English. What does this mean, Hugo?”
“It means I made an enemy.”
“What else is new? You are not the most popular guy.” I was going for humor, but I finally broke down in sobs. I couldn’t hold in the strain anymore. Hugo drew me to him, and I rested my head on his good shoulder. “I’m not letting you out of my sight,” I sobbed as he tried to calm me.
“I will be all right; you’ll see. Please don’t cry; you’ll wake the baby.”
“No, I won’t. She’s out like a light.”
“Good, so get some rest. You need to sleep for a while, and so do I. I feel very drowsy.”
“It’s the opium,” I said as his eyes began to close again.
“I like opium,” Hugo muttered as he fell asleep.
Chapter 48
Hugo slept through the rest of the day. He looked gray in the dim confines of the bed, and his forehead was covered with cold sweat, but his breathing was even and his pulse steady. I’d fallen asleep next to him, but woke up an hour later, refreshed and ready to keep vigil. While Valentine slept peacefully, I tried to recall anything I could about infections and fevers. I needed to be prepared in case Hugo’s temperature spiked during the night. Doctor LeGrand had actually impressed me with his knowledge and bedside manner, but I needed to feel that I was doing my best to help Hugo. I kept checking him for a temperature, and woke him up every few hours to have a drink. I didn’t want him getting dehydrated.
The rest of the household was quiet, people drifting in and out to check on us at regular intervals. Jem came in looking lost and frightened, so I allowed him to lie down next to Hugo for a while, as long as he promised not to disturb him. Jem curled up and went to sleep; his hand wrapped around Hugo’s wrist as if he were afraid that Hugo would disappear. The poor child was exhausted emotionally and physically, the only thing keeping him from falling to pieces being the knowledge that he’d saved Hugo from certain death. I was overcome with gratitude, but could do nothing more than keep telling Jem how brave he’d been. Eventually, Jem woke up and got out of bed, but not before he kissed Hugo tenderly on the forehead. Jem came over to me and silently put his arms around me. In the perceptive way of children, he sensed that I needed comforting, and his sweet gesture nearly undid me. I swallowed back the tears that threatened to flow again and gave him a wan smile.
“Go get some food in you; you must be starving.”
“I don’t think I can eat. My stomach is all in knots,” Jem replied. “We had crepes just before…” He swallowed hard, forcing himself not to cry. “I’ll go work on my sums. Lord Everly will check my work once he’s better.”
“That sounds like a good idea,” I said. “He was telling me just last night what great progress you’re making.”
“Really?” Jem perked up a bit at this piece of news.
“Yes, he said you’re a natural with numbers,” I replied. What Hugo actually said was something quite different, involving words like “stubborn” and “mule,” but I decided to spare Jem the details. Jem let himself out of the room just as Frances came in. She offered to sit with Hugo, but I sent her away; I wanted to be alone with him. Instead, I asked her to go to the apothecary and buy some willow bark. Doctor LeGrand said that willow bark tea was used for bringing down fevers, and I was sure there was none in the house. Frances agreed immediately, happy to be of help.
Valentine slept for a record-breaking six hours and was starving when she finally awoke. I changed and
fed her, and asked Elodie to take her out into the garden for a little fresh air. Hugo was still asleep, so I asked for some hot water and had a quick wash. I smelled of sour milk, sweat, and fear. I felt a little better after I freshened up and changed into a clean dress. I suddenly realized that I hadn’t eaten anything all day. I wasn’t really hungry, but I needed nutrients to produce milk for the baby, so I made my way downstairs. Cook was in the kitchen, stirring something fragrant in a pot.
“I’m hungry,” I said as I sat down at the table.
“Here, have a bowl of soup.” I gratefully accepted the bowl and tucked in. The soup was hot and fresh, with vegetables and pieces of beef. Cook gave me a thick piece of bread to go with it. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was until Cook took away the bowl and refilled it, pushing it toward me wordlessly.
“Should I make up something for milord?” she asked carefully, watching my face.
“I don’t think he can eat just yet. He’s sleeping anyway.”
“Well, sleep is the best medicine, I always say,” Cook said as she took the soup off the metal hook and replaced it with another pot. “And prayer. Nothing soothes the soul like talking to the Lord. I’ve prayed for him, and I know he will get better now.”
“I wish I had your conviction,” I replied, mystified by people’s ability to believe so completely. I prayed all the time, but in truth, didn’t expect much help from that quarter, especially not after what happened today.
“Have faith, milady.”
“My husband was shot this morning,” I rebuked the cook, irritated by her calm manner in the face of today’s tragedy. My tone was acerbic, but I couldn’t help myself. Ignorance didn’t sit well with me, and neither did being lectured.
“And God made sure that Jemmy was there to save him,” Cook replied, unperturbed.
“Perhaps God could have prevented Hugo from getting shot in the first place,” I suggested, still annoyed.
“If God chose to prevent every bad thing that happens, the world would be a very different place,” Cook said, “but every situation has two sides to it. You can say that God let you down, or you can say that he saved your man. I know you don’t believe as I do, milady, but you will; it comes with age. You learn that in the end, there’s no one there for you but the good Lord.”
“Thank you for the soup,” I said, pushing my empty bowl away. I wasn’t about to embark on a theological discussion with the cook. I had to get back to Hugo, but first, I had to make a stop.
Archie was lying on his bed, an open book on his stomach. He wasn’t reading, just staring at the ceiling as if all the answers could be found in the patterns of the cracking paint. Archie jumped up when I entered, embarrassed to have been found lounging about and worried that I had come for a reason.
“Is he…?”
“He’s sleeping,” I replied before Archie could finish the sentence. “May I talk to you for a minute?”
Archie sat up on the bed and leaned against the wall; his attention focused on me. I moved some clothes from the chair and sat down across from him. I knew what I wanted to ask him, but I wasn’t sure I really wanted to hear the answer, so it took me a moment to begin. Archie just sat there, watching me silently. He guessed why I was there, and I could see sympathy in his eyes. Archie and I didn’t spend much time alone together, but there was an unshakable bond between us born out of all the experiences we’d shared over the past two years. I knew that if I ever needed him, Archie would be there for me in a heartbeat, and possibly even lay down his life to protect me.
“Archie, why would someone want to kill Hugo?” I finally asked. Putting the question into words brought the reality home, forcing me to acknowledge that Hugo might not be out of danger. Whoever shot him was still out there, perhaps waiting for another chance to finish what they started. This wasn’t a simple robbery gone wrong; this was personal.
Archie met my gaze. He knew exactly what I was thinking, and appeared torn between telling me the truth and something that would pacify me and let me sleep at night. He seemed to have decided on the truth because he averted his eyes from mine, not wishing to see my distress.
“My lady,” Archie began, “there are people in this world who only care about having food in their belly and a roof over their heads. And it’s not only the poor people; it’s also people who have something to lose. They go through life avoiding risk and danger, betting on what they believe to be the winning horse. Those types of people tend to prosper in any situation since they never declare for anyone unless they are forced to do so, and even then, they find a way to play both sides.”
“Are you saying that because Hugo is not one of those people he’s made enemies?”
“Yes, that’s exactly what I am saying. Hugo has chosen a dangerous path, a path he knew would lead him into danger, even death. He’s managed to escape execution and deportation, but there are those who want to see him pay for his actions.” Archie grew quiet, but I could see that he wasn’t finished. There was something else, something he didn’t want to tell me.
“Tell me, Archie; I need to know.”
“I heard some talk at Versailles,” Archie confessed, now looking me straight in the face. “There’s much speculation about why a Catholic king would allow a man who conspired against a fellow Catholic into his presence.”
“What are you suggesting?” I asked, suddenly growing cold. Hugo told me that Louis had invited us to Court out of courtesy, but Archie was implying that there was more to the invitation.
“I’m suggesting that no one, especially not the king of France, who believes himself to be God’s representative on Earth, would ever do something without getting something in return.”
“Such as?”
“You’ll have to ask your husband. I don’t know, and I won’t speculate, but I can only assume that whatever Hugo dangled in front of the king whet his appetite.”
“I doubt he’ll tell me,” I said, suddenly feeling as if I didn’t know Hugo at all. Or maybe I did. We met because of his political wheeling and dealing, and now we were in this predicament for exactly the same reason. A leopard didn’t change his spots, and neither did a man who was as passionate about his beliefs as Hugo. He wasn’t the type of man who could just sit idly by and enjoy life’s bounty. Hugo was a man of action, who didn’t feel whole unless he was doing what he believed to be right. I had no idea what “right” was in this instance, but I now knew that he was up to something.
“So what do we do in the meantime? Just sit and wait for him to be shot again?” I asked. I was angry and confused, and very tired.
“I will talk to Jem once he’s had a chance to recover, and find out what he can remember. Leave it with me,” Archie said. “I will find whoever did this.”
“Let me know when you do,” I said as I got up to leave.
“My lady, what about Frances?” Archie asked. I could see the telltale flush on his cheeks. He thought Hugo was angry with him, but needed to find out where he stood, which was understandable.
“You really love her, don’t you, Archie?” I asked, suddenly feeling sorry for the young man. He must have been suffering in silence for quite some time. I was sure that Frances’s baby wasn’t Archie’s. He’d never touched her, and had never spoken to her of his feelings.
“I do, and I don’t even know why,” he added, bemused.
The façade of gruffness fell away, and beneath it I saw a vulnerable boy who only wanted to be loved, but was mystified by the intensity of his own feelings. He might not understand, but I did. I knew exactly why Archie loved Frances. His feelings weren’t fueled by Frances’s beauty or sweetness. Archie was a caretaker by nature; he needed to protect, to love. Being with willing older women gave him a physical outlet, but it wasn’t until he met Frances that someone touched his heart. Frances was fragile and damaged, and Archie wanted nothing more than to take care of her and fix her. He wanted to make her whole, and keep her that way for the rest of her life. Despite his many dalliances, I knew tha
t if Archie ever married Frances, he would be devoted to her till death did them part, and I wholeheartedly hoped that they would find a way to be together.
“Will his lordship forbid us to marry, do you think?” Archie asked, his voice cracking with despair.
“And if he did? Would you just accept that?” I asked, challenging him. Archie tilted his head to the side as he considered my question. I could see thoughts racing behind the eyes as several expressions passed over Archie’s features.
“No, I wouldn’t. I would try to change his mind, but I wouldn’t ask Frances to elope, if that’s what you are asking. I respect his lordship’s authority, and I would never want to put Frances in a situation where she would have to choose.”
“There is hope for you yet, Archie,” I replied with a smile. “Don’t worry; I’ll put in a good word for you.”
With that, I left Archie to his thoughts and went back to our bedroom to watch over Hugo and feed Valentine. I could hear her fussing as Elodie carried her upstairs from the garden. The girl was singing softly to Valentine, but the baby wasn’t impressed. Nothing short of a breast would do.
Chapter 49
The hours went by slowly. I was terribly listless, unable to settle to anything as I kept my vigil. Hugo was still asleep, but his face was drawn in hard lines since subconsciously he still felt the pain in his chest. I tried reading but couldn’t concentrate, and abandoned my sewing after pricking myself repeatedly and drawing blood. Archie came by with Jem, who wanted to wish Hugo a good night. In his innocence, he believed that Hugo would be cured by now, but seeing him so still and white made Jem cry.
“Why isn’t he better?” Jem kept asking. He was so overcome with emotion that his voice was unusually shrill.
“It takes time. Go to bed, Jemmy. Things always look brighter in the morning,” I said, hoping he’d take my advice.
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