Tags:
Fiction,
Historical fiction,
General,
detective,
Historical,
Mystery & Detective,
Private Investigators,
Mystery Fiction,
Political,
Traditional British,
London (England),
Monk; William (Fictitious character),
Private investigators - England - London
there.” She pointed with her other hand. “In fact, fetch three.”
Very slowly, Livia stood up. She looked pale enough to faint.
“If you would do it quickly, please,” Hester instructed, holding out her hand.
Livia obliged, still moving as if in a dream, fumbling with the bandage, rolling in the ends, then going to the cupboard. She returned after a moment with three splints and passed one across.
Hester took it from her. “Now, would you hold the girl’s shoulders, please? Lean on them. I need them to remain still.”
“What?”
“Just do it! Lean your weight on her shoulders. Be firm, but gentle.” She looked up. “Go on! I’m going to set these bones so they heal as straight as possible. I need someone to hold her still. It’s far kinder to do it while she is insensible anyway. Can you imagine how it will hurt if we leave it until she regains herself?”
Livia stood frozen to the spot.
“You don’t catch diseases that way. Just do it!” Hester snapped. “I can’t set it by myself. You came here to find out who killed your father. If you can’t even bring yourself to look at this world, how are you going to learn anything about it? You want these people to help you? You’d better give a little help yourself.”
Slowly, still looking as if she were going to pass out, Livia put her hands on the young woman’s shoulders and leaned forward, resting her own body’s weight on them.
“Thank you,” Hester acknowledged. Then she carefully took the lower arm and, feeling the sickening grating of bone, pulled the limb straight. The youth handed her the splint and the bandages, his hands gentle as he laid them by the limb, and she bound them together as firmly as she dared. Fortunately there was no broken skin, so there was no possibility of infection from dirt, but she knew very well that there might be considerable internal bleeding which she could not reach or stop.
With Livia’s shocked and reluctant help she set the other bones as well. The large man stoked the fire and fetched more water. Hester made poultices for the broken ribs and collarbone, and placed them gently on the injuries.
“Now all we can do is wait,” she said at last.
“She gonna be all right?” the big man asked.
“I don’t know,” she said honestly. “We’ll do all we can.”
“I…” He swallowed. “I’m sorry if I were a bit short wif yer first off. I’m s’posed ter keep an eye after ’er, but she don’ belong ’round ’ere. Dunno wot ’it ’er, ’alf the time.” He passed a huge hand over his face, as if he could wipe away his emotions. “Strewth! Why’d the stupid little cow go moufin’ off ter someone? Times I’ve told ’er ter keep ’er mouf shut! But they in’t got the wits they was born wif, some o’ them! Fink ’cos a man pays ’em money ’e’s gonna treat ’em nice? Some o’ them swine fink ’alf a crown buys yer soul. Bastards!” He made a low growl in his throat as if he were going to hawk and spit, then changed his mind.
“You can’t do anything more for her now,” Hester said gently. “You might as well go home.” She turned to Livia Baltimore. “And you should go home, too. I suppose your carriage is still somewhere close by?”
“Yes,” Livia agreed very quietly. Hester wondered what reception she would get from the maid. Probably icy with disapproval she dared not voice, but she might very well be handing in her notice in the morning-and shattering the invalid Mrs. Baltimore with outraged accounts of the whole episode. Livia would need all her courage and her patience to deal with that.
“Thank you for your help,” Hester said with a very slight smile. “If I learn anything that might be of use to you, I shall tell the police.”
Livia took a card out of her reticule and handed it across.
“Please do. Either write or call.”
“I will,” Hester promised, knowing Livia hesitated.
“I’ll walk yer to yer carriage,” the big man offered.
Livia
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