Complications by Clare Jayne Page A

or
stomach,” Mr Brightford answered, brow furrowed. “It could be serious.”
    “He could die?”
    “Perhaps.”
    “Then Benjamin would be branded a
murderer?” Mama said, clasping her husband’s arm.
    “I am afraid so, but we must hope it does
not come to that. When the doctor arrives I will send my footman out to bring
back news of Saverney’s condition.”
    “I can send someone.” Her father left to
arrange this.
    Lottie numbly helped clean Benjamin’s arm, wiping
away blood until the basin of water was red. She felt sick – Benjy had fought
the duel because of her. She should have forbidden it. Now he might have to
flee the country, even in his wounded state. They might never see him again.
    It was all her fault.
    * * *
    Amelia was confident that nothing could be
amiss as she knocked on the door of Mr Harrington’s home. She could not imagine
any outcome to the duel except complete success for Benjamin. Indeed, the
previous evening it had occurred to her that very likely Mr Saverney would be
too much of a coward to even show up to fight and would have to skulk out of
Edinburgh a laughingstock.
    It was, therefore, with surprise that she
found herself led into the drawing room while the maid checked if Lottie could
see her. Almost at once Lottie came into the room, face so pale and haggard
that Amelia’s stomach lurched and foreboding filled her.
    “Benjamin..?” He could not be dead?
    “He is injured - his arm. The doctor says
he will shortly be recovered…”
    “Oh, thank goodness!” Amelia sank into a
chair.
    “… But Mr Saverney’s injury is far worse. If
he should die Benjy would have to leave all of us and flee the country.”
    “It will not come to that,” Amelia said,
needing to reassure herself as much as Lottie.
    “If it does I will have ruined our family.”
    The words were spoken so softly that Amelia
almost thought she had misheard. “How could any of this possibly be your
fault?”
    “He fought the duel for my sake. I could
have found a way to stop him…”
    “But I convinced you it would be fine,”
Amelia exclaimed, getting up and crossing the room to her friend. “If it is
anyone’s fault, it is mine.”
    “Not at all. You were simply comforting
me.”
    “No, I was not. I honestly believed
Benjamin was so clearly in the right that it would all work out. It was stupid
and wrong of me.”
    “It is not your fault,” Lottie insisted.
    “Then neither is it yours.”
    “Perhaps. I simply cannot believe that it
has come to this.”
    “Nor I. What is Benjamin’s injury?”
    “It is towards the top of his arm. The
physician took out the bullet and said Benjy was lucky as it had not caused any
loss of movement in his hand and fingers.”
    Amelia was prevented from answering by the
sounds of voices in the hall.
    “Oh, that might be news about Mr Saverney’s
condition. I must go and check.”
    Lottie darted from the room and Amelia
paced back and forth, wondering how she could have been so naïve as to assume
no harm would come from the duel. After what seemed an interminable time she
heard footsteps approaching and Lottie came in, a smile lighting up her face.
    “Everything is well. Mr Saverney is not as
badly injured as we feared. The injury is in his side not his stomach, which
apparently means he will soon be better.”
    Amelia embraced her. “I never dreamt of a
day when news of Mr Saverney’s good health could give me pleasure.”

Chapter Eight
    THE DUEL HAD not gone according to plan, Mr Brightford mused,
as his carriage slowed to a halt, but at least the outcome had been about as
good as one could ask for and Harrington would soon be back to full health. Still,
he had left his home at a time when most people were getting back after a good
evening’s entertainment so he would be glad to relax for an hour or two. He descended
from his carriage to the welcome sight of his city house and headed inside,
barely making it into the hall, before he was metaphorically