***
Carrying an unconscious Wentworth was more difficult then Myles anticipated. It was as if the duke weighed twice what he actually did. Once they had him in his bed, Giles removed Thomas’s boots, neckcloth, jacket, and waistcoat and unbuttoned several buttons at the top of his linen shirt. Not once did Wentworth open his eyes.
When they moved him he made sounds as if he were in terrible pain. Which Myles had no doubt he was, because even unconscious, his friend’s face twisted in agony.
“Damn,” he swore. “First Amesbury and now Wentworth.”
Giles tried to clear the room, but there was no way in bloody hell Myles was leaving until the doctor arrived to take over. He’d never seen his friend look like this, as if he were at death’s door.
It seemed an eternity for the three-quarters of an hour to tick by until the doctor arrived. The doctor was elderly, in his late fifties, with a full head of white hair and compassionately composed features.
“I would like to examine, Your Grace…privately,” the doctor said as he walked them to the door.
“If you don’t mind, doctor,” Amesbury replied, “my friend and I would prefer to stay––in case you need help moving him.” The doctor looked to the elder duchess who nodded her approval and left with her daughters.
“As you wish,” the doctor shrugged and concentrated on examining the duke. After several minutes he paused. “Can either of you tell me what happened?”
Myles cleared his throat. “He collapsed. But I must say that for the past several weeks he has been having pain in his stomach and side. Some days he would be fine, while other days he’d be sick and vomiting. He refused to have it looked at. Thought it was nerves and would go away.” Myles frowned at the serious expression on the doctor’s face. “Obviously he was wrong.”
“His appendix needs to come out, now. I fear it may have burst already and is poisoning his body as we speak. He cannot be moved. I will perform the procedure here.”
Myles stepped out into the hall, his legs heavy as if weighed down with bricks. He gathered his thoughts carefully as he faced the Seabrook women and Giles. Desperate, they all eyed him for news.
“It’s his appendix. The doctor needs to remove it immediately.” As the family and staff reacted with shock and concern, Myles handed the dowager duchess a list. “Can you gather these things together? He needs two people to help him inside.”
Amesbury came up behind Myles looking pale and shaky, definitely not able to assist the doctor.
“I’ll help,” Myles murmured. He looked at Emma. “Will you?”
***
Emma swallowed, but still the bile rose up inside her mouth. “Yes, just give me a moment to change.”
“I’m coming in as well,” Thomas’s mother insisted. “After all, he is my son.”
Ten minutes later, Emma placed a chloroform-soaked cloth over her husband’s mouth and nose. Even though Thomas was unconscious, the doctor did not want him waking up during the surgery. Tears streamed down Emma’s face, making it impossible the see things clearly, which was a good thing when she glimpsed the blood-soaked towels hitting the floor a few minutes later.
Her husband’s blood, blood he needed to survive.
Bowing her head, Emma prayed to God. Please don’t let him die. Please don’t let him die. She prayed over and over, until it was the only thing she could think about. Time was suspended; she had no idea how long the doctor worked on her beloved.
And yes, she did think of Thomas as her beloved. Emma knew she loved him with all her heart, her soul, and every fiber of her being. She prayed she’d have the chance to tell him. . .
“My dear.” Her mother-in-law’s voice penetrated her foggy mind, and the feel of the dowager’s cool hand on her shoulder snapped her back to reality. “The surgery is over. His Grace is resting. Let us leave the room so the doctor can clean up.”
Emma walked arm in arm with her to the door. When they re-entered the hall they were unrelentingly pummeled with one question after another. She thanked God Myles and Thomas’s mother answered all the questions. She had no words beyond her prayers.
Thomas’s mother explained that the doctor had removed the diseased appendix, which was leaking poison into Wentworth’s body. All there was to do now was wait…and pray infection did not set in. They were to clean and change his dressing and dose him with laudanum every four hours for pain. They were also to keep Wentworth in bed and make him as comfortable as possible.
As the directions penetrated Emma’s mind she nodded her head. She could do all those things.