Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 94964 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94964 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
* * *
Nobody was in sight – yet – and he hurried to open the door, peering outside. He had no idea who was knocking on his gate with such force but he was hopeful that it was help rather than more trouble. He peered outside, catching sight of Lord Benjamin just as the battering ram they were using slammed open the gate.
* * *
I’ll have to repair that, he thought wildly even as he hurried down the stairs.
* * *
Suddenly he heard commotion behind him and began to turn around. A shot rang out and then his leg gave out beneath him. There was a piercing scream coming from one of the windows and someone called his name. Then he was surrounded by men on horses and he could hear both the bang of pistols and the clash of steel.
* * *
He looked down at his leg in confusion and saw that he was bleeding. Someone dropped down by his side and he looked up to see his valet, tearing off his shirt. “Where did you come from?”
* * *
“The guards left so we broke out of the dungeons,” he said breathlessly as he wrapped his torn sleeve around Arthur’s thigh. Arthur could hardly feel any pain – he knew that was not a good sign.
* * *
“We have to get the ball out and sew the wound quickly,” his valet said.
* * *
Arthur blinked a few times, feeling his vision go blurry and he began to slip backward, unable to keep his balance.
* * *
“No! No no, you keep your eyes open.”
* * *
“Arthur!” his eyes snapped open. He knew that voice.
* * *
“Jan..ice, wha…t are you doing? Get b..ack inside.”
* * *
“Not without you. Stay awake.” She shook him frantically, then turned to his valet, “Can you carry him?”
* * *
“I’m not sure jostling him would be best. I was his batman in the army. I know how to dress a wound. I need you to go to the house, fetch me some whisky, a needle, thread, and a knife. Go now.”
* * *
Around them, the clash of steel and shouts of men continued. Arthur wanted to shout that it wasn’t safe for Janice to be running around in the midst of battle, but he hardly had the breath to speak. He drifted in and out, his valet shaking him every time he tried to close his eyes.
* * *
“Stay with me. Hold on,” he said. Arthur wanted to say he wasn’t going anywhere but he did not have the breath to speak. His chest was hot with worry for Janice and for all the other people fighting on his behalf. The battle moved away from their immediate vicinity, though he could distinctly hear the sounds of battle close by.
* * *
He was transported back to his days in France, while in the English army. He never thought he’d hear those sounds again. Certainly not in his own compound. Janice returned just as the shouting died down. She fell down on her knees before him, holding out a package apparently filled with supplies.
* * *
“Very good, now you’re going to do exactly as I say, alright, otherwise we will lose him.”
* * *
She nodded and then Arthur had no choice but to be very wide awake as the pain ripped through him. His valet was digging through his leg, looking for the pistol ball with what felt like a hot poker.
* * *
“There it is! Got it!” he announced triumphantly before asking Janice to pour the whisky into his wound. He screamed as it burned his flesh, and even through it, he could hear Janice tearfully apologizing as she continued to pour the liquor into his wound until his valet told her to stop.
* * *
The pain was not over yet as his valet began to sew his wound.
* * *
“Give him some whisky but not too much,” his valet told his wife.
* * *
She poured a little whisky into the lid and held it delicately over his mouth, dribbling it gently so it could slip down his throat without issue.
* * *
He took as much as she would give him before laying back and closing his eyes.
* * *
“No! Don’t close your eyes! Look at me,” she said urgently.
* * *
Another shadow came by and took a knee by his head. “How is he?” Lord Benjamin’s deep familiar baritone asked.
* * *
“I don’t know father.” Janice’s voice was wet with tears, and he made an effort to meet her eyes, and try to tell her without using words that he was alright. Once the field surgery was done, several footmen were called and carried him to his chambers. His valet stripped him with Janice’s help and wiped his body down with scalding hot water.
* * *
They covered him up and tucked him in under blankets. He was grateful for it since he felt very cold. “Mrs. Butters is making you a thick warming stew of bone marrow. You will be fine,” the valet said, squeezing his hand. “Afterwards you may take a bit of laudanum so you can rest.”