Through the Fire

by Elizabeth Johns

“I doona think so. I believe the damage in her throat will have healed enough in a few days for me to remove the tube. As for the burns, only time will tell.”

  “I was hoping her mother would not have to see it.”

  “Is Lady Ashbury returning as well?”

  “Yes. I rode on horseback as fast as I could. Your man found us just south of the border. We had not made it very far with the rains. Lady Ashbury is following in the carriage.”

  “I am certain Margaux will be happy you are here.”

  “I cannot believe this has happened. I saw your note and sent for the Runners to go after the Mulligans.”

  “I hadna thought to do that. I sent men after them, but the vicarage was empty and the Mulligans were nowhere to be seen.”

  “I was surprised to hear it was the vicar. I could have sworn Iain mentioned he had dismissed him. In fact, he was going to look for a new one when next he came to town—except, of course, he died on the way.”

  Margaux tried to assimilate what she was hearing. Had the fire been deliberate? Had the Mulligans tried to kill her? How could someone hate her, who did not know her? Tears began to well up behind her eyes as the full realization of what had happened struck her. A strange sound gurgled in her throat and she reached for it, only to feel an object and hole where air was coming out.

  “My dearest daughter?” her father asked. “You are awake!”

  She nodded slightly, terrified of the pain and sensation of the object in her throat. Tears rolled down her face. She wanted to be brave, but she also wanted to panic and scream. She couldn’t even do that. Her father bent over her and kissed her on the forehead.

  “Hush, lass. Everything will be fine. The best thing you can do is stay calm.” Her new husband’s voice was very soothing as he took her hand and rubbed small circles on it.

  She pointed to her throat.

  “It is a tube to help you breathe.”

  She nodded. She remembered Gavin had told her that last night, but she had been too weary to ask more. He hadn’t understood she could not talk. She tried to mouth the words. Then she made motions with her hands.

  “You wish to write?” her father asked.

  She nodded.

  “I will find some paper and ink. You probably wish for some time alone.” Gavin exited the room, and her father sat beside her on the bed.

  After Gavin left, Margaux had to fight more tears. She was so thankful her father had come. She wanted to erase the past few weeks and go back to normal. She would even try to be happy in London. But none of that was possible, now that she had married.

  “Are you in pain?” her father asked worriedly.

  She nodded and held up her hand to indicate a little. Her father took her other hand, the one that bore her wedding ring, and fingered it gently.

  “I see you decided to tie the knot behind our backs,” he teased. “I only wish you had stayed at your husband’s house on your wedding night.”

  She gave him a gentle push and narrowed her eyes in reprimand.

  “Why did you do it? I have no complaints about your choice, of course, but when we left you, you were adamant about becoming a spinster or even a nun. I would have returned to walk you down the aisle, you know, though I am certain Aunt Ida did splendidly.”

  She had not realized it would mean so much to him.

  “I am not used to one-sided conversations with four females in the house. You must think me a dead bore,” he continued to jest.

  She smiled.

  “I will leave you to rest while I wash off the dirt of the road. But, dearest, answer me one thing. Assure me you did not marry only for our sakes?”

  She had to look away. She was not prepared to answer that, even to her father. She had not expected to be questioned so soon.

  “Margaux?” he asked gently.

  She closed her eyes. Maybe her father would leave that question unanswered for now. She did not know the answer herself.

  Chapter 10

  Gavin kept his distance as Lord Ashbury had taken it upon himself to sit with Margaux during the day. He visited her bedchamber to check on her progress and continue her medicines and salves, staying nearby during the night. He could not seem to overcome the feelings of guilt that encompassed him for what he had done to his wife. Did she blame him? He had overheard Lord Ashbury questioning her about their marriage and she had not answered him. Perhaps, when she was stronger, he would ask her if she wished for an annulment. Lady Ida had spoken the truth: Scottish ceremonies were not considered binding unless the marriage had been consummated.

  In light of the fire, he had decided he should call off this year’s solstice ball. He had enough to worry about, with his wife’s injuries and overseeing the estate. The orphans were also being housed at Castle Craig until Lord Ashbury made a decision as to where he would place them. Gavin was now even more furious regarding the Mulligans’ objections, having seen to the young women and their injuries. Many who were with child were little more than girls, most having been set upon by abusive masters in service. He was not about to send them back out into the world on their own. It was a difficult time, however, to have a dozen enceinte females and babies in the house, on top of all the other upheaval.

  Wallace had managed to find some temporary help, until the veterans Gavin had sent for arrived from the Easton’s estate. They had hired a governess, who was to start before long, so he should soon be feeling some relief. He had seen Seamus off earlier that morning, so the lad would not fall behind in his studies. As he sipped a cup of coffee, the remains of a mostly untouched breakfast before him, he decided he would spend the morning making a tour of the tenants. It would keep him from fretting over Margaux, now she seemed to be improving.

  Margaux was feeling stronger and wanted to get out of bed today. She had never played the invalid well. She pushed herself up further in her bed and tentatively felt her hair. No wonder her husband barely stayed in the room. He must be shocked at her appearance. She would have to call for her maid to attend to her toilette. A bath would not go amiss either, she decided, as she was able to smell the acrid odour of smoke on her person. Was that a good sign? She had not noticed the smell before, though it must have been present.

  She wiggled her toes to test her strength before becoming more adventurous and bending her knees. She would dearly like to walk to the necessary, but felt it would not be prudent. She searched for the bell-pull and tugged.

  Her terrified maid entered the room, but would not look up at her. Was it as bad as that? She had left her abigail behind in London, since the woman had not wished to remove to Scotland permanently. This young village girl, whom they had hired upon arrival, had always been timid about pleasing Margaux, but what was she afraid of now? Perhaps she was not comfortable in the sick room. That was understandable.

  How could she communicate with this girl? She doubted she could read. She attempted using hand motions to point, but when the girl refused to look at her, she started trying to get out of bed without assistance. Her legs felt unsteady and she began to wobble. The girl snapped out of her fear long enough to steady her mistress. Margaux took tiny steps until she reached the bathing room. She pointed to the necessary. The maid nodded and helped her.

  She was exhausted from the minor exertion, but she needed to see how horrid she looked. It had been dreadful enough to frighten the maid. It was with a great degree of thankfulness that she sank on to a stool at the dressing table.

  “I will fill a bath for ye, m’lady,” the maid said as she bobbed a curtsy and rushed from the room.

  Margaux had never been missish. In fact, she loathed the dramatic gestures many females employed to get attention, but when she looked at herself for the first time since the fire, she did not recognize the stranger staring back at her. She gingerly fingered the tube protruding from her neck and felt sick. She felt beads of perspiration break out all over her, and the room began to spin. She was suddenly afraid to remove the dressings, but she needed to know. She w
ould have to come to terms with her appearance. She unravelled the bandages that covered her face, arms and neck, and what she saw stunned her; she could not think. She was going to retch. She heard a knock at the door, which diverted her back to the present.

  “Margaux?” It was her mother’s voice.

  Margaux turned to her mother, who had entered the room. When her mother looked at her and saw her wounds she let out a scream. Margaux turned toward the mirror with determination and pulled the offending tube from her neck.

  Gavin had returned to the house as fast as he could when a servant found him and told him something was wrong with the ladies. A thousand scenarios played through his mind, as they were wont to do with a doctor, but he pushed them aside as he ploughed upstairs. He took the steps up to Margaux’s room three at a time, where he found Lord Ashbury bending over Lady Ashbury with a bottle of smelling salts, and Catriona pressing bandages upon Margaux’s neck, while Maili was holding a cool compress to her head.

  “Good God. What happened?”

  He rushed to his wife’s side. The tube was no longer in place but she was breathing on her own. The relief he felt was short-lived. Her bandages littered the floor and to his considerable dismay, her burns were oozing and open.

  “I’m not certain,” Catriona replied. “We came when we heard the screams, and found them both on the floor. Lady Margaux was holding onto her neck.”

  “There was blood everywhere,” Maili said in a loud whisper.

  He heard the rustle of skirts behind him and turned his head. Lady Ashbury had regained her senses and was sitting upright. She looked pale and worried, while her husband still hovered nearby, passing the sal volatile nervously from hand to hand.

  “She pulled that thing from her neck because I screamed. I shall never forgive myself. I was shocked at her appearance,” she said, clearly feeling ashamed.

  “Girls, would you please show Lady Ashbury to her room, and allow me a few moments with Lady Craig?”

  He took the bandage from Catriona’s hand as Lord Ashbury helped his wife to her feet.

  “You did well, girls.” Summoning a smile from somewhere, Gavin praised his daughters.

  They smiled sheepishly and followed Lord and Lady Ashbury from the room. Gavin put Margaux’s hand over the bandage.

  “Hold this, lass.”

  He scooped her up in his arms and placing her gently on the bed, sat next to her. Lifting her hand from the bandage, he eased it away from her neck to survey the damage. The bleeding had stopped and the hole was beginning to close up already. He dared to glance up at her face and saw she was watching him for his reaction.

  “Are you all right, lass?”

  Tears filled her brilliant, blue-green eyes and she looked away.

  “If you were finding the tube uncomfortable, you only had to tell me. I would have helped,” he teased. “If you ever tire of me, please warn me before you do something drastic.”

  She attempted to say, I’m sorry. It was more of a raspy, whispered sound.

  “Thank goodness you were able to breathe on your own. You gave me quite a scare, there.”

  She looked down, as if embarrassed. He cleaned her neck gently with a cloth and placed a small bandage over the closing hole. It was a procedure he had performed hundreds, if not thousands, of times with wounds, yet it was a much more intimate process with the lady who was now his wife.

  “May I examine you, now that the tube is gone?”

  Margaux nodded hesitantly. Even though she knew he was a doctor, she was not just a patient to him. She likely did not want him to see her like this. She tried to take a deep breath, fighting her tears.

  “What is it, lass?” he asked with concern.

  She shook her head.

  “Is something hurting?”

  She shook her head again.

  “I canna help you if I doona ken what is wrong.”

  She pointed to her bandaged hand and neck.

  “Are you worried about the burns?”

  She nodded slightly but did not look up.

  “I think they will not be bad when they heal. There may be some scarring, but it should look better than it does now.”

  She looked up at him with those eyes he wanted to lose himself in, and she seemed to sigh with relief. He needed to keep his feelings in check. He could not risk the hurt again. He had the rest of his life with her.

  “Can you open your mouth for me and try to say something?”

  Her eyes widened. She put her fingers over her nose to indicate she stank. He burst out laughing.

  “Verra well. I will wait until you have had a chance to wash. At least let me listen to your lungs.”

  She wrinkled her nose, which he found enchanting.

  “Doona worry. You smell no worse than you did the first day after the fire.”

  She slanted her eyes at him, but he put his ear to her back before she threw him out in favour of a bath. She still had wheezes in her lungs, but she was breathing on her own. It would do for now.

  “Shall I call for your maid, now?” he asked with an arched brow.

  “Please,” she whispered, though he could tell it was painful for her to do so.

  He hoped her voice would return in time. He would miss its melodic sound, but she was alive. He hoped she saw it that way, too. It would not lessen his guilt, nevertheless.

  The maid knocked on the door to tell them that Margaux’s bath was ready. He noticed she did not look at Margaux—in fact, she avoided her. In an instant, Gavin had scooped Margaux up and was carrying her along the passage to the bathing room. When she realized what he was doing she held his arm and shook her head.

  “Doona worry, lass. I willna look,” he whispered soothingly in her ear. He was her husband, though, he thought, and had every right to. “But if you think I am going to leave you after seeing you on the floor, then you have lost your mind, wife.”

  He set her down on a chair near the bathtub, and directed the maid to remove her nightdress. He looked away. He would do his best to maintain her modesty. As a doctor, he had seen more unclothed body parts than he would care to recall, but he knew how he dealt with this would shadow the rest of their relationship—if they still had one when this was over.

  “Now wrap a cloth around her, and I will place her in the tub.”

  The maid nodded and did as she was told. Gavin lifted Margaux and placed her gingerly into the water.

  “You may wash her hair, but keep a cloth over her neck and hand. I will wait in the next room. Call me when you are ready.”

  As he turned to leave the room, he felt Margaux’s hand reach out to stop him. He looked at her face, careful not to permit his eyes to drift lower.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “You are more than welcome, mo stor,” he said tenderly.

  Margaux felt very sorry for herself, and that made her angry. She told herself that she wasn’t vain, that she wanted to be valued for her inward beauty, not her outward appearance. However, she had never before known what it was like to be flawed—to have people be unable to bear the sight of you. It was humiliating. She had grown accustomed to society’s whispers about her outspokenness and thinking her overly particular, yet nothing approaching this repulsion. The only one who had not reacted to her appearance was her husband. He was used to seeing people with injuries. Perhaps he only pitied her, but he had been kind. It did not mean he would still want her for a wife.

  She wanted to wallow in self-pity, and run home to her parents and sisters. But she had pride, and that made her dress and attempt to go down to dinner. They would have to accept her as she was now—still Margaux, only scarred. Could she accept herself?

  She whispered for her maid to fetch Lord Craig. As much as she hated asking for help, she knew she could not walk down the stairs alone. She felt tired merely from the exertion of dressing. Breathing and attempting to talk were still excruciatingly painful, but she needed to prove something to herself.

  She had tak
en extra care tonight. The girls had helped. She had found herself without clothing of her own, but her maid had been able to find some of the former Lady Craig’s garments to suit. Catriona had suggested she place a ribbon around her neck, to cover where the gown did not, so Lady Ashbury would not become upset again. Margaux pondered with mixed emotions over her mother’s reaction; the tube was now gone, after all. But she decided it would be best for her to appear as normal as possible. She needed to heal and carry on with her new life, and she did not know if she could with her mother unable to look at her.

  There was a knock on the door, and Margaux’s handsome husband stepped inside. She thought she saw a hint of appreciation in his eyes. Was it as false hope she harboured? Would he regard her so without the bandages to hide her deformities? Whether he admired her appearance or her fortitude, she dared not ask. He walked over to where she sat.

  “You are beautiful, wife. Do you intend to join us for dinner?”

  She looked away at the compliment. She wanted to believe him. Never before had it mattered so much. She gave a slight nod.

  “May I offer you assistance?” He offered her a hand.

  She wobbled and he caught her before she fell. With his arms wrapped around her, he gazed down into her eyes. Her heart was beating rapidly while she tried to catch her breath.

  “Are you certain you wish to go to dinner? You have been through a great deal the past few days. I can have some dishes sent up for you, though I do not recommend anything solid yet.”

  She shook her head and looked to him, pleading with her eyes. “Please,” she struggled to whisper. She could not stay shut away in her room.

  He hesitated. “Verra well. After you take your medicine.”

  “Bribery!” she attempted to whisper, but when he handed her a small tumbler of elixir, she painfully swallowed the contents.

  He winked, then bent down and effortlessly scooped her into his arms.

  She was too shocked to try to argue.

  She took the opportunity to study this new husband of hers at close quarters. He must have had ample chance to study her at her worst. If Catriona was correct, Gavin had scarcely left her side until her father arrived. He was a dutiful husband or doctor—perhaps he would have done that for any of his patients. Of course he would have.