by Abby Ayles
“I shall see him, but I will come back in time for your surgery,” she insisted, embracing Helena tightly. “I promise you.”
Chapter 33
Kitty had never before seen a beast like this before. But she had been reassured that it was the fastest way to travel from Brighton to London. A locomotive.
She had heard people talk about it, of course. How could she not have? It was one of the greatest innovations of their time, responsible for improving the mining industry, the postal service, and even the army.
She had heard tales from the first design of the engine, stories about how some enterprising men were trying to mount it on its own steel tracks, to cut through the mountains, if only they received permission to do so legally.
But she always thought of it in abstract terms, the same way one thought of the Palace, or Russia. It was never imagined, never pictured as though she would one day witness it for herself.
And yet there she was, standing in front of the gaping maws of a great metal carriage with a shaking, roaring stove on the front of it, wheels far taller than she had ever seen before, without a horse in sight. A second carriage had been attached behind it, and it looked as though it had room for a few more, in a convoy of sorts. It was fascinating and terrifying at the same time. She could not bear to look at it, nor to look away. But she would have to overcome her squeamishness, as this was how she planned on getting to London swiftly.
It was not intended for passenger use. It was actually designed to transport salt and seafood from Brighton to London, ensuring freshness. The spare carriage was dedicated to the postal service. But, for a fee, people could travel on the first carriage as the driver and his staff did. Apparently some enterprising young people would hop into the fish carriages and stow away until arriving in London, but Kitty had all the money she needed to travel on the passenger carriage, and no intention of smelling of fish when she arrived.
Not that smelling of the locomotive would be much better. As well as the fish, she could smell a smoky fire and the rich tang of oil, hanging in the air and clinging to the puffing beast before her. It mostly just huffed and puffed, but every few minutes it also grumbled and growled and creaked on its rivets, as though trying to let Kitty know that it was still a young, untamed machine.
The smell was terrifying. The sound was also. But Kitty knew that she needed to get to London as soon as possible. And this was, according to Helena's father, the best way to get to London in two days or less. It was too late to turn back, anyway. Her luggage was already on board and she could hear someone shaking a cowbell, which she had been told meant that the locomotive was preparing to move. She braced herself and was helped into the carriage by a strong young man who reached down and offered her his hand from inside.
Although the vast metal carriage was bare, and had clearly been intended for storage rather than people, someone had made an effort to make it look a little more like a usual carriage on the inside. It had been set up with seats down one end and a corner for the luggage at the other. Kitty perched uncomfortably on the edge of a spare seat, keeping an eye on her bags in the pile, wondering if they were secure enough. She would find out soon enough.
Her heart almost stopped as she heard the man outside shaking his bell frantically, the carriage groan and creak loudly, the locomotive roar and huff and puff as though it were preparing to fight. Behind a metal panel, the fire roared loudly, as though raging out of control. Had something gone wrong? Did she need to leap free from the carriage before this whole machine fell apart?
Looking at the other passengers, she locked eyes with a few who seemed just as terrified as she was. But most of the two dozen people sitting on the little seats seemed entirely unperturbed by this sudden clamour, and continued smoking pipes, reading papers, talking, or, in the case of one particularly oblivious young woman, knitting.
Relieved to see that this must be normal, Kitty relaxed on her perch just as she realized that they were already moving. Looking out of the open carriage door, she watched as Brighton slipped away and was left behind them, giving way to fields and farms. The carriage groaned and shook again.
Surprisingly, the movement did not bother her. Unlike a horse-drawn carriage, which would jump and jolt, this mechanical beast simply shook from time to time. It smelled awful, and made some horrific sounds, but if every journey would be as smooth, as relaxing, and, most importantly, as pain-free as this one, Kitty could tolerate it.
Although she had been afraid at first, as time passed and she looked around the insides of the carriage, its metallic stitches, its rivets and bolts, the way it tried so innocently to look as if it were made of wood, like an ordinary horse-drawn carriage... It was beginning to grow on her. She liked it.
In part thanks to favourable weather and a fairly light load, in under a day they were entering London. Kitty could scarcely believe it. What a marvel of human ingenuity!
She had not expected, when she first laid eye upon this vast, crudely constructed, loud, smelly beast to love it so much. But she did. In no time at all they had managed to pass so much land, charging towards their destination in a straight line, not stopping once, never having to worry about a tired or injured horse. This was the future. And, as she was helped down onto firm ground, feeling no pain or stiffness in her legs at all, Kitty embraced it. The future was going to be a fantastic place.
The coach trip to the hospital was, on the other hand, far less pleasant. The carriage, as usual, shook and bumped on every pebble. The horses had to stop for every minor inconvenience. And, Kitty decided, these horses smelled far worse than the locomotive had. But she had other things on her mind now. Namely, the visit she was intending, and the possibility of seeing Earl Sinclair in such terrible form as Cassandra had described. She was not ready.
Arriving at the hospital, Kitty was not sure where to go, or who to ask for. The women at the reception desk were busy, nurses bustled about. Kitty was a bit dazed. She was not used to this. She was not used to anywhere being so busy, to people being so loud and demanding, to not knowing where to go or who to talk to.
Back home someone would walk up to her and immediately show her where she needed to be. If she walked into a resort, or a doctor's office, she would be told where she was, asked who she was seeing, and be given a door, as well as a time to walk through it. None of this happened in the Royal Hospital of London. This place had all the bustle of a busy marketplace, and none of the pleasure. In fact, it was all the opposite of pleasant.
Everywhere she looked there was illness and injury. Wailing children, bleeding wounds. A world apart from the resorts she attended for her health. It was pure chaos, and she felt anxious and afraid just standing there, as though at any moment she might be attacked for no apparent reason.
Once again she attempted to capture the attention of the people at the reception desk, only to be completely ignored. It was beyond frustrating. It was scaring her again. So much for being an adventurer. She didn't like any of this. She didn't even know where the driver had left her luggage after dropping her off at the hospital. She just wanted to go somewhere familiar and reassuring and curl up with a cup of tea.
“Kitty!” a voice exclaimed from the stairs. “How wonderful! Don't just stand there! Come to me!”
Kitty followed Cassandra's voice like a beacon, through the crowd and out to a hallway, where Cassandra stood, in the doorway, arms held out to Kitty.
Dazed, confused, and exhausted, Kitty embraced Cassandra, burying her face in her friend's shoulder with a relieved sigh. The day had been far, far too much.
“How are you?” Cassandra asked, patting Kitty's back softly. “Was the journey acceptable?”
“I do not even know where my luggage is,” Kitty replied, not lifting her head from Cassandra's shoulder.
“I understand. Let us get some tea,” Cassandra replied.
“And my luggage?” Kitty said.
Cassandra chuckled. “It will be in the cloakrooms. Do not worry. You ne
ed rest, and refreshment.”
“I need to see Lord Stamford,” Kitty replied, looking up suddenly.
Cassandra's smile fell. “Not yet. He is resting.”
Kitty took Cassandra's hand and followed her through to an area marked out as a waiting room. There were a few armchairs, a roaring fire, and some uniformed men and women offering beverages to the seated visitors. This was more like what Kitty was used to. She sighed as she sank into the chair, feeling relieved to be off her feet.
Cassandra asked for someone to bring them tea before sitting back in her chair also. Kitty noticed that Cassandra looked very, very tired indeed.
“How is Lord Stamford?” Kitty asked tentatively.
“He has not awoken since I sent the letters,” Cassandra replied. “I am not sure when he will awaken, but they say it could happen any day now.”
Kitty hesitated. “What if he never wakes?”
Cassandra shook her head. “They said it is possible, but I do not believe them. He is much stronger than that. He will wake up.”
Kitty stared at her feet. Now all she could think of was the possibility of the earl dying before she could even see him. It made her chest hurt, an agonizing, gripping pain like she had never felt before.
“He will wake soon, I am sure of it,” Cassandra said, not sounding at all sure. “They are not certain why he will not wake up, but if they cannot find anything, then there cannot be much wrong, can there?”
Kitty knew that this was not true. Doctors not finding something did not mean it was not there. It only meant they had not seen it, or had not recognized it. If anything, it was even more worrying than a diagnosis. At least with a diagnosis one knew what one was facing.
Kitty could remember Helena's relief when she had been diagnosed with kidney failure. A diagnosis of kidney failure in a healthy person was a horrible thing. But in someone who had struggled with pain in her stomach her entire life, fainting fits, and an inability to properly digest salt, it was a blessing. Helena had known from that point onwards to control her food and drink, which made her ailment easier.
The earl was unable to wake up, and for no discernible reason. A diagnosis of any kind would be a blessing.
But Kitty had a feeling that Cassandra knew this. It seemed she was simply trying to hold onto her usual optimism, against all the odds. So she just smiled and nodded.
Chapter 34
Kitty and Cassandra sipped their tea in silence. Kitty could still hear the noises coming from the front of the hospital, as well as sounds from upstairs. It was a strange, unsettling, constant murmur, where each sound was certainly due to some dreadful illness or procedure, and Kitty wanted nothing but to get away from it all.
It was a dreadful place. She could not imagine being there any more than a few hours. But Cassandra, she found out, had been staying there for days. In fact, she had been there from when the earl had been admitted.
“I cannot imagine how terrible that must have been,” Kitty remarked. “Have you not attempted to move him to a better hospital?”
Cassandra stared at Kitty a moment, then laughed. “There is no better hospital, Kitty.”
“But there are so many ill people in reception, and everyone seems to be in some sort of pain and-”
“Yes, because it is a hospital. Possibly the best hospital in Britain when it comes to rare conditions and injuries. I specifically requested for him to be here,” Cassandra replied. “The crowds are people seeking entrance when the beds are almost all full. And the people are in pain because this is the last hope for many of them, when all other treatments have failed. This is a hospital where miracles happen, and it is the only place I would entrust with the care of my brother in law.”
“I guess they know what is happening with Lord Stamford, at least,” Kitty said.
Cassandra shook her head. “No. Sadly not even they are quite sure what is happening. There is no reason why he should be unconscious, and they cannot treat what they cannot diagnose.”
“What do they know, though?” Kitty asked with a frustrated sigh. “They must know something.”
Cassandra shook her head again. “They know a little, of course, but I am not certain when it comes to recalling and repeating it. So much has happened, and I am not an expert in medicine, not by training like the doctors, nor in experience such as yourself.”
“But I must know, you must try and tell me,” Kitty repeated. “Just for my own peace of mind.”
“Promise you will not take it to heart, or too seriously, because I do not wholly understand what I am talking about,” Cassandra said in a serious tone.
“I promise,” Kitty replied.
“A blood vessel in his leg has been hurt. Cut, or broken, they said. His knee just collapsed and somehow managed to hurt the blood vessel, which caused him to faint. But now he will not awaken, and they cannot see why,” Cassandra explained. “I may be wrong, or I may be missing some vital information, but that is what I have understood so far.”
Kitty felt a chill. She knew a little about blood vessels in the legs. A large artery ran up and down the thighs, and if it was struck, cut, or pressed by swelling, it could stop the blood from returning to the body, which could cause fainting fits. When severed it could easily kill a man. Which meant that the earl was somewhere in between the two. It was not harmed enough to kill him, but this was not some light swelling either.
“What caused it? Does anyone know? Why is he here?” she pressed, sitting down opposite Cassandra. “None of this makes any sense to me.”
“Nor to me,” Cassandra replied. “Like I said, I am no expert. I am simply here to look after him. And he is here because this was the best place for him to-”
“No,” Kitty interrupted. “Not here in this hospital. I want to know why he is in London. I would also like to know how he is in London, because he had nowhere near enough time to get here, but I would settle for why.”
“It is my fault,” Cassandra said flatly. “I could not have done anything to prevent it, but it happened because of me, most definitely.”
Kitty felt confused. “Whatever do you mean?”
Cassandra sighed heavily. “The situation is hard for us to piece together. Especially without his part. But all I know is I was about to sign off on a trade deal, and he arrived that very morning, telling me not to do it.”
“Did he know about it?” Kitty asked.
Cassandra nodded. “Yes, I had written to inform him that I had located a most excellent deal with a man who claimed to be his friend. He came riding down on the very day of the deal. I am not quite sure how he made it here myself. He was not breathing properly, and he was very pale, but he told me in no uncertain terms and in words even I shall not repeat, that the man was a fraudster and a scoundrel and that a deal with him was a terrible idea.”
“How fortunate that he arrived on time,” Kitty said. “But then, he was not ill when he arrived?”
“He collapsed then and there, as soon as he told me,” Cassandra replied. “I know no more. I am still waiting for Delilah to arrive, and Dr. Allen, to finish piecing together this puzzle. Everything is a mystery to me. Who that man was, how Augustus made it here so swiftly, what exactly is causing his ailment. It is all just pure confusion.”
“Thank you for telling me what you know,” Kitty replied, reaching out over the table and resting her hand on Cassandra’s. “I am so fearful for him, and I was somewhat fearful for you too, if I am honest. I am glad to see you are not doing too badly. I only hope that he is also in much better condition than I am expecting.”
“Shall we visit him? He will not be awake, but at least it might put your mind at ease,” Cassandra said.
“Or it might horrify me,” Kitty replied.
Cassandra smiled knowingly. “Nevertheless, you would rather know, would you not? It is much better to know for sure.” She slipped her hand away from Kitty and stood up.
Kitty stood up also just as their tea arrived. “That it is. Please show m
e to his room.”
All Kitty wanted was to see him. But she was not sure if she could stomach it. She was so afraid of what she might see, of the possibility of him being worse than she was imagining, or seeing him on the verge of dying, or, even worse, being turned away at the door to his room as he had already passed away. A thousand different possibilities played out in her mind as they walked through the increasingly empty hallways, all the way over to the cleanest, quietest ward.
Kitty knew from the retreats that silence in a ward could only mean something very good or something very bad. Either it was the place where people recovered and rested when everything was going well, or it was the place where their lives came to an end. She could not bear to think of such horrible things, but her mind kept making her mull over them again and again.
The rooms around them stood out for only having a single name on the door. Many of the other rooms in previous wards had many names, presumably because the patients were sharing quarters. Kitty tried to tell herself that it was simply that the earl could afford a private room, but she dared not ask. What if it was not? What if they were keeping these people apart because they were so close to the end of their lives?
Finally, Cassandra stopped at a door and opened it. Kitty was a little surprised to see the holding a door open for her in public, but she smiled and walked in.
The room was a clean, shining white, the curtains were half drawn, casting lazy shadows across the floor. The bed was at first so still, and so well covered in blankets, that Kitty assumed it was empty, and they had the wrong room or he had once again walked away as soon as he was able.
But stepping closer, she saw him laying in the bed, eyes closed, as peaceful as if he were simply having a brief afternoon nap, rather than on the brink of death. The sight reassured her deeply, quenching her anxiety as though it were a fresh glass of water after a long Summer walk. She walked over to him.