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After spending the morning with Lady Chanceler, Althia thought she would enjoy a
quiet night's sleep. She couldn't have been more wrong.
Randolph's barking and voices downstairs roused Althia to consciousness. She quickly grabbed her robe and slipped on her shoes as she made her way downstairs to determine what was causing the commotion. John and Humphrey were carrying a young man, soaking wet and dripping saltwater all over the floor. Jane led the caravan with a candelabrum in her hand to one of the unoccupied guestrooms. She quickly set down the candles on one of the covered tables and pulled the covers back off of the bed. The men placed the stranger on the bed as Jane started a fire.
"Could someone please tell me what is going on here? Who is this man? Why have you brought him here soaking wet?" The smell of the ocean, dust, and smoke from the fire began to fill the room.
"A thousand apologies, miss, but we didn't know what else to do with him," John explained as he began to remove the man's coat. Althia recognized it as belonging to a naval officer of some sort. "I was coming back from the pub when I heard a man yell and then fall off the pier into the Channel. I stopped my horse and waded out to him and carried him here. He doesn't look good, miss. I didn't think he could make it to the doctor's." John removed the man's shirt to reveal a gaping wound the size of a man's fist in the stranger's abdomen. The crusty wound was pus-filled and putrid smelling. Althia thought she might revisit her soup from dinner and quickly put part of her robe to her nose.
"What is that thing? It looks horrible," Althia remarked.
"I should say, miss, it must be some sort of wound. It has not been well attended," Humphrey understated. "I shall have Jane fetch some ointment and cloths." Jane nodded her understanding and left while the men attended to the mystery guest. John began to remove the man's shoes and pants and modesty prevented Althia from staying in the room. Jane soon appeared with some bottles, strips of cloth, and some of John's clothes. She entered the room and quickly returned with the man's wet garments. The light from the newly made fire illuminated the room and allowed Althia to stand in the doorway and watch as Humphrey attended to the man's injury by applying salve to it. He then carefully placed cloths over the wound and John lifted the man partially up so that Humphrey could wrap cloths around his midsection. They gently placed the man back down and pulled up the blankets.
"We should send word to the doctor in the morning, miss," John remarked as he met Althia in the doorway.
"By all means, of course. That is, if he makes it that long."
"Indeed, miss. He does not look well and there is no telling how deep the infection goes," John remarked as he wrapped a towel around his neck that Jane brought with the extra change of clothes. "We can only hope and pray that he will make it. We will do our best to make sure that he is not an inconvenience to you, miss."
"Nonsense," Althia dismissed the notion. "We must do what we can. I am willing to help too."
"Oh no, miss, we wouldn't dream of imposing any more than we already have."
"Posh. Now, you go and get yourself dried off and warmed up. We can handle it from here." Althia looked John in the eye and gave him a half-smile.
"Thank you, miss." He said and then headed to his quarters near the barn. In the meantime, Jane had brought in a bowl of water and set it on the table near the bed along with a few rags. She then retrieved the mop and a bucket and began mopping the floor. Soon, she had retreated out of the room and back down the hallway. Meanwhile, Humphrey placed his hand on the man's forehead and shook his head.
"If he lives, it will be a miracle. I suspect that the infection and ointments will cause him to have a reaction and a fever will be quick to set in. I will keep watch over him this evening, miss. You should go back to bed now." Humphrey motioned her to leave.
"Yes, of course," Althia absentmindedly replied, her feet disobeying her mind's command to stay. Randolph could still be heard barking outside and she went out to quiet him down. She then made her way back to her room and lay awake with the smell of saltwater, infection, and ointment filling her nostrils and her thoughts.
She was unaware of falling asleep but awoke quickly with a start. She debated with herself as to whether the events that took place were real or imaginary. She put her robe and slippers back on and made her way quietly to the guestroom. Humphrey had left but the man was still there and Althia slowly made her way to his side.
Humphrey's prediction was correct and Althia could see in the firelight the multitude of sweat droplets on the man's brow. She reached for a damp cloth sitting on the table and pressed it to the man's forehead. The man moaned and startled
Althia. The man's head rocked back and forth and his eyes fluttered open slightly.
Nicholas could see that he was inside his sister's house. The house was not well lighted, but he could hear the crackle of the fire in the parlor fireplace and he began down the hallway opening each door. He was going to find that wife of his. He was going to see this child. He opened each door and called out to her. Where was she? He reached the dining room and he thought he could see a womanly shape in the corner, but the shape quickly darted into the kitchen. He tried calling out to it.
"Catherine?" The man hoarsely whispered. "Catherine, is that you?"
Althia was caught unexpectedly by the man's reaction and sat silently, trying to understand it.
"Where are you? Where is the child?" the man continued, slowly reverting back to his comatose state.
Nicholas now found himself in his childhood bedroom of his parent's home. Even though he was an adult, his mother stood over him as she had every night so long ago. She wore a pale purple dress with simple white lace trim on the neckline and sleeves, her brown hair pulled up and a few wisps hanging around her face. Nicholas had always thought his mother most beautiful in that dress and she even smelled as he remembered--a mixture of powder and something else; something indescribable but emanating from her being.
"Shhh, you need your rest now," Althia finally found enough courage to say. She patted the cloth against his forehead. "Go back to sleep."
His mother's brown eyes held him lovingly as she patted his forehead and gently encouraged him to sleep. He had not felt more peaceful and calm in his entire life. He smiled up to her as he closed his eyes.
"I'm finally home," the man whispered as he drifted back to sleep.
Althia could hear Humphrey coming back to the guestroom. She quickly put the cloth back on the table and slunk back upstairs undetected. She was even more curious now about the man in her guestroom and the family that was obviously waiting for him. She fell into a fitful night of dreams concerning her trying to rescue her drowning father in the sea. She soon awakened
unrested, but found the energy to drag herself over to the washbasin, splash her face with water in an attempt to revive herself, and dress for the new day.
Althia came down the stairs adjusting the sleeves on her pale green dress. Finally getting the sleeves to fit properly, she made her way to the dining room. The room was the largest in the house with a long oak table in the middle and eight chairs surrounding it. On one side of the room was a fireplace, in front of which, Randolph generally made his home when inside. A large chandelier hung from the ceiling and the other side of the room held the silver and china cabinets. Althia rarely kept them locked as she was able to trust her servants explicitly--a rarity in this day and age. But the best part of the room was a side room that Althia's father had built. It led to an intimate breakfast nook that was completely surrounded by windows. Three simple wooden chairs surrounded a small wooden table with a plain white tablecloth over it. Sheer linen curtains hung from oak bars at the tops of the windows and a bench was built into the wall. Althia loved to eat in the breakfast nook and look out at the nature surrounding her. The sunlight would gently warm and awaken her as she ate if the weather were good. If the weather were bad, the clouds and rain would soothe her spirit as a good friend.
Althia took her place at the table in the breakfast nook. Not long after, Jane entered looking as haggard as Althia felt. "Good morning, miss," Jane mumbled as she set down Althia's eggs and toast.
"Good morning, Jane. Any word on our guest?"
"Humphrey says that he is not out of the woods yet. John arose at daybreak to fetch the doctor. I only hope that the man survives long enough for the doctor to arrive."
"Yes, indeed," Althia replied as she began to butter her toast. Althia could not help but think about the man and the countless questions swirling in her mind. Was this man in some sort of trouble? Did the Navy know he was even missing? Then she considered the possibility of this man dying in her house. What would they do with the body? How would she notify his family if she didn't know who he was? Would the doctor somehow think she or her staff was the cause of his demise? She did not enjoy pondering on such morbid ideas, but Althia always tried to look at all possibilities and formulate responses to each so that she would always be prepared for anything. Needing to get a feel for the man's condition herself, she finished quickly and then made her way back to the guestroom.
Humphrey stood as she entered, yawned, then apologized. "Miss, I hope you will forgive me, but I have been attending to our guest all night and I am afraid that I am in much need of sleep."
"No, of course, I understand completely. No apologies are necessary. Go on to bed and I will take over your duties until John arrives with the doctor. Do not give it a second thought."
"You are most kind, miss. I have just changed his dressing so he should stay as he is until the doctor arrives. Place a piece of cloth in this bowl of water and then on his forehead if he begins to perspire."
"Yes, yes." Althia's eyes held in the unconscious man lying silently on the bed. " I will do just as you say. Now, off to bed with you." Althia smiled at the older man.
"Many thanks, miss," he replied as he smiled back at her and then sleepily shuffled off to his quarters. Althia looked around for a moment. She had not been in this room for many years. Dust covers still protected many of the pieces of furniture and pictures hanging on the wall. The fire was still burning, albeit slowly, and she saw that Humphrey had pulled open the curtains on one of the windows. Dust could be seen swirling about the room in the sunlight.
She remembered a small bookshelf at one end of the room. Althia pulled back the dust cloth and the action churned up more dust. She sneezed twice and then began to scan the shelves for something interesting to read. She noticed a book of poetry, pulled it from the shelf, then retreated to the chair Humphrey had pulled near the man and began reading.
An hour passed as announced by the clock in the parlor when the man started to toss and turn again. Althia quickly put the book down and began wiping the sweat from the man's forehead and neck.
Nicholas saw that he was onboard the Leviathan. The cannons were going off and men were shouting orders all around him. He worked to get his bearings. The blue from the sky and the water somehow joined together seamlessly in a beautiful bright tapestry. Above him, the sun beat down relentlessly and Nicholas thought he might melt in his officer's uniform at any minute. He could see puffs of smoke at the front of the ship, but could not make out any enemy ships or flags. He did not attempt to retrieve his spyglass. Instead, Nicholas moved quickly to his station as the men diligently went about their duties.
"Keep fighting, men! Don't stand down! Continue port-steady on!" the man attempted to shout. Althia tried to think of some way to control his thrashing. She pressed the cloth onto his forehead.
A young recruit, not older than Nicholas was when he joined the Navy, passed by carrying a keg of gunpowder. Nicholas grabbed his arm and prepared to question him in order to determine what he was doing, but the recruit merely looked up at him.
He reached up and clasped onto her arm and Althia could feel the heat from his body through her thin sleeves.
"We are, sir, we are." Althia retorted in hopes of calming him down again.
Nicholas looked into the recruit's face and couldn't shake the feeling that the recruit was someone he knew. He looked so familiar. Nicholas could almost swear that the boy standing in front of him bore a striking resemblance to himself. Nicholas looked incredulously into the face of the young boy for a moment longer and then someone farther down the ship called out for gunpowder. Nicholas released his grip on the lad.
He released his grasp and Althia could feel the sweat and warmth still on her arm. "Good show, old chap. Remember Commander Nelson's words: England expects that every man will do his duty." The man's outburst began to subside. "Commander Nelson is counting on us."
The ship had now become a pier. Nicholas and his older brother Thomas were standing there, preparing to embark. People and ships were moving but no accompanying sounds could be heard. Clouds hung in the sky and mirrored the somber mood of the family. Their mother stood to the side crying into her handkerchief and their father shook Thomas' hand and gave final orders concerning Nicholas and protection of him. Nicholas could tell that they were talking, but their words were unintelligible. An adult Nicholas in his naval uniform stood next to the teenaged Thomas. Thomas turned to him, smiled and winked. The two boys were about to embark in the Royal Navy--a dream they had both shared growing up. Nicholas' heart filled with such love, longing, and respect for his older brother. Thomas had been dead for so long that Nicholas wanted to hug him right then and there and never let go. Thomas turned back to their parents as they were walking back toward the shore. He waved and called out to them.
"We won't let you down, sir." Althia whispered as the man sunk back into oblivion. Lord Nelson had been killed in the Battle of Trafalgar last October and it seemed that this man had fought with Nelson, if not in the same battle.
Althia took a moment to study her patient. He looked a number of years younger than Althia but his face and hands were tan from his many days at sea, she guessed. His hair was as black as a raven. His hands were rough, but not cut and worn, which meant that he was an officer of some kind. She wondered how long he would be in this state of delusion, and when the doctor was to arrive.
At three, John came into the guestroom. "I tried to get word to the doctor but he is in Bath for his sister's wedding. He will not be back until the end of the month. I don't know what else to do."
"We shall just have to do our best to take care of him until he is well or until the doctor returns, that is all. You have done your best, John. You may have saved this man's life." Althia stood and stretched her back. "I did not realize that I had been sitting for so long."
"Please, allow me to stay a while so that you may enjoy some rest. You should not have to be here for such an extended period." John motioned for her to exit.
"It is no trouble. I do think, though, that we must change his dressings," she remarked as she looked at the cloths on his abdomen covered in pus and blood.
"I shall get Humphrey then." John started to walk towards the door.
"You will do no such thing. Humphrey deserves his rest as much as anyone and we will leave him undisturbed. You will simply lift the man and I will change his dressings."
"As you wish, miss." John bent down and lifted the man to a sitting position as Althia unwound the cloths from around his waist. She removed the large patch from his wound and the smell of the infection and salve nearly knocked her back and onto the floor. She regained her composure and took the bottle of salve in her left hand and poured some of it onto her fingers. She gently rubbed the salve into the wound while attempting to keep her face as far away from the injury as possible. She then placed a new patch on the wound and then wrapped the strips back around the man. John gently laid him back down onto the bed.
"I shall take it from here, miss." John stated as he sat down next to the man. Althia nodded and then made her way to her room and her washbasin. She took off her dress and forced herself to keep from throwing it into the fire. It felt as though the smell was somehow clinging to her. She vigorously washed her face, neck, arms, and hands, and then put another dress on for dinner.
After dinner, Althia retired to the library and began to read, but the events of the past day caused her to fall asleep in her chair. She was awoken by Randolph licking her fingers and sleepily made her way back to her bedroom. She made a stop at the guestroom before heading up the stairs and asked Humphrey if there had been any change.
"None yet, miss, but I am hopeful that his fever will break soon. I had Jane make up some broth and I have fed some to him to provide some nourishment."
"Very good. Well then, good night, Humphrey."
"Good night, miss. Pleasant dreams." Althia slipped out of her dress and into her nightclothes. Her dreams this evening consisted of her sailing with Lord Nelson in an attempt to reach some unknown destination but they seemed to always be going wrong way. Althia awoke at eight--her body rested but her mind more restless than ever.
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