Chapter 13: Convalescence

The coach ride in the hot August sun would have been exhausting under any circumstances, but the sweat in her eyes and under her black dress was nothing against the deep-sitting fears Harriet felt. Lucy, at her side, did her best to comfort Harriet with her indomitable optimism. Even the stiff Dr. Wilkes had valiantly tried to dissuade her worries, telling her that loss of blood was something from which most men recovered under good care. Yet it was to no avail. Harriet was beyond reason; the shock of this morning’s news was sitting too deep.

“Portsmouth, Madam!” the driver shouted over the creaking of the springs and the clatter of the horses’ hooves.

“The Navy Yard!” Harriet commanded.

The noises changed once they entered the town as the ironclad wheels rattled over cobblestones. Harriet could smell the water already, even before the coach lurched to a halt at the gates of the Navy Yard.

Unceremoniously, Harriet climbed from the coach and approached the guards.

“I am Harriet Palmer, daughter of Vice Admiral Sir Richard Lambert. I need to speak with Sir Charles.”

“Over there, Madam, in the Port Admiral’s Quarters,” the guard pointed.

Harriet rushed to the big stone building and asked the guard at the entrance to announce her. Sir Charles himself came out to welcome her.

“My dear Harriet! It is a pleasure to see you. What brings you here?” Sir Charles was an old friend of the Lamberts, and he had known Harriet from childhood.

“I came to visit Captain Carter, Sir Charles. Where can I find him? Is he in the infirmary?”

“As far as I know, he was transported to his house yesterday. Mr. Fortescue, his first lieutenant, assured me that he is well taken care of. Mr. Fortescue retained the services of the best surgeon in Portsmouth.”

“Do you know Captain Carter’s address? Please, I need to see him.”

“Better than that, I shall show you in person. Captain Carter’s house is close to my own, just off High Street. Let me order my coach.”

“No need for that, Sir Charles. My coach is waiting outside.”

“Then let us go,” ‘Dreadnought’ Foster said amiably. “Flags, tell my coachman to pick me up at home in two hours.”

The last words were directed at the flag lieutenant. The admiral offered his arm to Harriet, and together they walked through the afternoon heat to Harriet’s coach. Introductions were performed quickly, and then the coach, under the able direction of an experienced navigator, rattled over the streets towards High Street.

At the small cul-de-sac that led towards the house of Captain Carter, the coach stopped at Sir Charles’ order, and he showed them the three story building before he walked the short distance to his own house. Followed by her entourage, Harriet walked the short way and up the two steps of the entrance. She did not know what to expect, and the anxiety made her heart miss a few beats. At last, she composed herself as best she could and knocked with the heavy brass ring. A minute later, a petite woman opened the door. Harriet nearly fainted. The woman wore black!

“Yes, madame?”

“My name is Harriet Palmer. I am a friend of Captain Carter, and I learned this morning that he was gravely wounded. Is it possible to see him?”

“Madame, ‘e ‘ad surgery zis morning and ‘e is sleeping. Ze doctor said ‘e would sleep all day.”

“He is alive then? May I see him, please? You see, Mrs..., I am most sorry, I don’t know your name.”

“I am Captain Carter’s ‘ousekeeper, Nadine Blacket, madame.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Blacket. Could I see him? I brought Mr. Wilkes, a surgeon from London to help.”

“I zink I can let you see ‘im, but ze doctor, ‘e must wait for Mr. Caldecott. ‘E will visit later zis afternoon.”

Wilkes had followed Harriet and bowed.

“That is understood, Madam. In fact, I know my esteemed colleague, Mr. Caldecott. He is a fellow member of the Royal College of Surgeons and a student of the great John Hunter. Captain Carter could have hardly found a better surgeon.”

Mrs. Blacket nodded.

“Zen, would you please come in? I am sure ze Captain will not mind. Zis way to ze tearoom, if you please. Do you wish for refreshments?”

Harriet almost stomped her feet with impatience.

“Madame, please follow me.”

With Mrs. Blacket in the lead, they climbed the stairs to the second floor. Mrs. Blacket peeped into Tony’s bedroom first, and then she allowed Harriet in. The sight of the unconscious Anthony Carter, deathly pale under his mahogany skin, made Harriet’s eyes brim with tears.

“Oh my God,” she sobbed, “will he live?”

Nadine Blacket heard the anguish in Harriet’s voice, and she guessed that Harriet felt more than friendship for her wounded employer. The visitor’s widow’s garb added to the sympathy she felt for the strange woman.

“Mr. Caldecott said ze Captain will be fine. ‘E lost much blood, but ‘e is sleeping from ze tinctures he received against ze pain, madame. Ze doctor said not to worry.”

Harriet nodded.

“May I sit with him?”

“Of course. You may want to take off zat veil, Madam. You do not want to scare ‘im when ‘e wakes up.”

Harriet smiled ruefully. “You are right, of course. Thank you.”

“I shall bring you some refreshments.”

Nadine Blacket left, and Harriet moved to sit on the side of Tony’s bed. She was at a loss what to do now. Gathering her courage, she reached out and took a hold of his left hand. It seemed cold to her, in spite of the summer heat, and she pressed it against her bosom, fervently hoping to lend her strength to him. With her free hand, she caressed his stubbly face, speaking to him in a soothing tone.

She did not know how long she had been sitting like this, when she heard a knock on the door. An elderly gentleman entered, followed by Mr. Wilkes.

“I am Mr. Caldecott, and you must be Mrs. Palmer?”

“Indeed I am, Mr. Caldecott. Please forgive my breach of etiquette. I did not know whether competent help would be available, and my father thought it best for me to bring Mr. Wilkes along.”

“Do not worry about etiquette for one minute, Madam. Mr. Wilkes and I have already discussed the case, and we are in full agreement. He has agreed to help me out in the present state of need. You see, I must help with care for more than 200 wounded sailors, British and French, for whom there was no adequate care. I can only thank you and your father for sending my esteemed colleague to Portsmouth.”

“From what Mr. Caldecott told me,” Dr. Wilkes chimed in, “the surgery went very well. He was able to extract the bullet and shreds of clothing which may otherwise have caused mortification of the wound.”

“The young lady who accompanied you, Miss Gutteridge has advised me that powdered Geranium root may serve to stop the bleeding, and we have agreed to try it to prevent further loss of blood. We surgeons are only too ready to ignore the benefits of the herbal medicine as practised in the countryside. I, for one, find it a helpful addition to the surgeon’s arsenal,” Mr. Caldecott added pontifically.

“Where is Lucy then?” Harriet asked.

“Off to a herbalist,” Mr. Caldecott answered. “She is trying to get yarrow leaves, comfrey roots and barberry bark. I allowed her to apply them. It appears that she had substantial training from her apothecary father.”

“Now let us have a look at the leg,” Mr. Wilkes suggested. “Perhaps, Madam, it were better if you left the room for a minute.”

Harriet considered this. “If you don’t mind, I would like to stay and help. I assure you that I shall not faint.”

“As you wish, Madam. I would have else asked Mrs. Blacket to help. I want you to be ready with that washcloth and basin to clean around the wound.”

Harriet nodded and steeled herself when Dr. Caldecott took off the bandage from the wounded leg. The first impression was horrible, and Harriet had to close her eyes for a second to regain her composure. The whole thigh was terribly bruised, looking almost black. The wound, freshly reopened, oozed blood and pus in small quantities. At a sign from Caldecott, Harriet wiped off the wound excretions. Then, the two surgeons took turns to sniff the wound.

“Excellent,” Wilkes opined.

“Perfect,” was Caldecott’s opinion. “No smell of the gangrene at all. We shall have to watch this for a few days, but I am quite confident in the Captain’s full recovery.”

“You must show me tomorrow how you probed for the musket ball, Mr. Caldecott,” Wilkes added, “I see barely any damage from your probing.”

“Certainly, certainly, we shall have more than one patient tomorrow where I can demonstrate my technique.”

Harriet interrupted the exchange. “So there is hope for his recovery?”

“I am quite positive, Madam, that he will make a full recovery. That leg will no doubt bother him for quite a while, and then some more during cold weather, but apart from that he will be as good as new.”

“I must thank you both for your help. This lifts a load from my soul.”

“I take it, Madam, that you have a personal interest in the patient?”

Harriet could only nod.

“He is twice lucky then, Madam,” Caldecott said cheerfully. “Mr. Wilkes will be back tonight to have another look, but I guess we can take our leave now.”

The two surgeons left, and Harriet resumed her position at the side of the bed. A few times, Tony moved slightly, and once or twice, his face showed a grimace of pain. Harriet would caress his forehead soothingly when that happened.

Mrs. Blacket came in later and apologised profusely for not having brought the promised refreshments. She set a tablet with freshly toasted bread and jam on a table, and Harriet realised just how hungry she was. Lucy and Moira came into the room, too, and whilst Harriet was eating, Lucy made a poultice of crushed yarrow leaves and applied it to Tony’s leg wound. She was a bit shaken when she washed her hands.

“This looks really bad,” she said and then realised what she had said. “I’m sorry, Harriet, don’t worry, I just wanted to say that it is horrible to look at.”

Harriet nodded. “Don’t worry, Lucy, both doctors have assured me that he will recover.”

“Harriet,” Moira started, “shouldn’t somebody send a note to Miss Heyworth? She must have seen the papers, too.”

“Oh dear God!” Harriet gasped. “How could I ever be so thoughtless!”

“Be reasonable, Harriet, you were scared out of your mind this morning,” Lucy said.

“I shall write a note and ask Sir Charles to have it sent to London. He will do me the favour.”

Harriet went downstairs to ask for paper and an inkwell. When Mrs. Blacket had shown her a desk, she sat down and wrote a short letter.

She sealed the envelope, wrote Anita’s address on in and put it in a second envelope with her father’s name on it. She wrote a short billet to Sir Charles, asking him to include the envelope into the London mail bag, care of Sir Richard Lambert. She gave the letter to her driver to deliver it to the port admiral’s office.

That done, she thanked Mrs. Blacket, and went upstairs to resume her vigil at Tony’s bedside. She was determined to be at his side when he woke up. Her patience was thoroughly tested.

Later in the evening, Mrs. Blacket persuaded her to sit in an upholstered chair beside the bed, and she produced a candle holder so that Harriet was able to read. The house became quiet. Lucy was asleep in a chaise longue across the room, but Harriet maintained her watch. She must have dozed off for a second, still, when she heard a weak exclamation that made her wide awake.

“Harriet!”

She sat on the side of his bed and took his hands into hers.

“Yes it’s me, Tony. How do you feel, Dearest?”

“Water?”

“Yes, certainly!”

In her haste, she nearly knocked over the water jug, but she poured a glass and supported his head whilst he drank.

“Thank you,” he croaked.

“Darling, the musket ball was removed from your leg. You will be all right.”

“Where am I?”

“Still in your house, in Portsmouth.”

“You came here?”

“Of course,” she said simply. “As soon as I heard of your injury. If you let me, I’ll stay with you as long as you’ll need me.”

The wild look in his eyes was almost gone when he looked into her eyes.

“How about forever?”

She pressed his hands whilst tears were streaming from her eyes.

“Forever, if that’s what you want.”

“I do,” he said, closing his eyes. Then he opened them again and smiled weakly. “Good! You are still here. For a second, I feared I was dreaming again. I dreamt a lot about you and — forgive me — Anita. Even a little about Maria, but mostly of you. Hold my hands, my darling woman.”

As she held his hands, his breathing became regular again. He was asleep.

“Is everything all right?”

Harriet almost jumped out of her skin. She had not noticed Lucy who was standing beside her.

“God, Lucy, you scared me! Yes, everything will be fine. I shall stay here with Tony.”

“You need to sleep, Harriet. You cannot sit in this chair all night.”

“No Lucy, I am saying that I shall stay here, with Tony. I shall never leave him again.”

“Now, don’t be silly. You still have a half year of mourning. You just cannot live in an unmarried man’s household.”

“I know, Lucy. I shall rent lodgings in Portsmouth until we can marry. I won’t let anything go wrong this time.”

“All right, Harriet, you will stay here, and I’ll stay with you. One of these days, Andrew must come to port, too.”

“Poor Andrew! Cornwallis lets not one of his ships sail to port. When did you receive his last letter?”

“Three weeks ago already. I shall kill Admiral Cornwallis.”

“How can you kill him when he never sets his foot on shore, silly? Father says that Cornwallis’ way to blockade the French completely will do them as much damage as any beating in battle. There are reports that more than two thirds of the French crews have never been to sea. Even some officers have never sailed in open waters.”

“And what good does it do to us? Or rather to me? I haven’t seen Andrew in more than a year! What if he forgets me?”

Harriet stood up carefully and hugged her friend.

“Lucy, nobody who met you will ever forget you!”

“You are right, I am not worried about Andrew, but I miss him. Now, Harriet, I want you to lie down on that chaise longue. It is really comfortable, and you will get some sleep. In the meantime, I shall watch over your future husband. I promise to rouse you if he wakes up.”

“Thank you, Lucy, dear. I guess I am tired.”

And indeed, she had hardly reclined on the chaise longue when the day’s worries and exertions took their toll, and she fell asleep, too.

Tony woke up to the first rays of the rising sun creeping through the gaps between the curtains. Slumped on a chair beside his bed he saw a blonde woman who was snoring lightly. As soon as he opened his eyes, though, a splitting ache shot through his head, and he felt sick. Groaning, he blinked his eyes in the hope that the pain would go away. With a jerk, the woman awoke and lifted her head. Tony recognised Lucy Gutteridge.

“Good morning,” she whispered, “how do you feel?”

“My head is killing me. But what are you doing here? Where am I?”

“In your bed. Moira and I came with Harriet to help her. Harriet is sleeping now. Listen, I have prepared willow bark tea. It’s cold, but it should still help against your head ache. How does your leg feel?”

“It hurts a little, but not as much as my head.”

Lucy produced a cup with a cold yellowish liquid.

“Drink this now, it will help you. I put in some sugar; it should not taste too bad.”

Tony tried. Whilst he drank, he noticed how thirsty he was. He emptied the cup in one draught and asked for water. Lucy poured water in the cup and he drank it up again. He felt a little better already, but there was another problem. His bladder was fit to burst.

“I need to relieve myself. Is Grimm there? He has helped me before.”

“No need for him. Can you turn on your side? Fine. Now take this bottle here, Dr. Caldecott left it for that purpose. Can you manage? Fine, I’ll leave you alone.”

Turned halfway onto his good right side, Tony managed to direct his stream into the wide-mouthed bottle. It took an eternity from him to empty his bladder. When he was finished, Lucy took the bottle without ado and brought it outside. When she returned, she washed her hands in a basin on the wash stand. Coming back to his side she poured him another cup of tea.

“Your water is very dark. You need to drink a lot.”

Obediently, he drank yet another cup. Whether it was the willow bark tea or the fact that he had slaked his thirst, he felt his head ache receding.

Just then, Mrs. Blacket, in a robe over her shift, her black hair cascading over her shoulders, showed in the door.

“I zought I ‘eard somezink. Is ‘e awake?”

Lucy nodded.

“Mrs. Blacket, would it be asked too much for you to prepare a fresh mint tea for all of us? He needs to drink more, and we could use something hot as well.”

“Certainly, Miss Lucy!” the housekeeper smiled, “and would you call me ‘Nadine’?”

“With pleasure, Nadine,” Lucy beamed back. “But you must call me ‘Lucy’ in turn!”

With amazement, Tony noticed how Lucy’s presence caused a better mood in everyone. Smiling down at Tony, she shifted her attention to him.

“Now, let us have a look at your leg.”

“What about Dr ... uh ... Mr. Caldecott?” Tony asked. He was not aware of the free rein the surgeon had given to Lucy.

“He knows and approves of my herbs, don’t worry!” Lucy answered cheerfully, whilst she already removed the old poultice.

Craning his head as best he could, Tony had the first look at his wound, and he did not like what he saw.

“This is bad, isn’t it?” he asked through clenched teeth.

“Much better, in fact, than yesterday,” Lucy smiled. “The yarrow has stopped the festering. I shall add some powdered geranium roots today, to help with the healing. Just leave the leg open for a minute whilst I prepare the new poultice, and don’t touch it. Your hands are grimy.”

She left and was gone for a quarter of an hour before she returned with a fresh preparation of leaves and ground roots which she applied to the wound before she renewed the bandage.

“Where have you learned this, Lucy?” Tony asked.

“You know that my father was an apothecary? Well, he was mostly a herbalist, and I used to help him with the preparations. When he treated farm animals, he would often allow me to administer the treatment. This is how I learned.”

They had both spoken in low tones, and it was not until this point that Harriet awoke.

“Lucy, you promised to wake me,” she yawned.

“You needed your sleep, Harriet, and our patient is much better already.”

Harriet smiled affectionately at her friend and sat down on the side of Tony bed.

“Good morning, love,” she said simply and bent over Tony to kiss him. Her smile widened to a grin. “I’ve been wanting to do that for nine years.”

Tony looked at her quizzically.

“I had the strangest dream last night. A young lady promised to stay at my side forever.”

Harriet nodded. “That was me and it wasn’t a dream.”

Tony smiled at her. “I was only making certain.”

They were interrupted by Nadine Blacket who entered with a large tray.

“I brought ze tea, and I zought ze captain might want some toast?”

“Thank you, Nadine,” Lucy said and carried a small table over to Tony’s bed where the housekeeper placed the tablet.

Harriet gave her a grateful smile and poured Tony a cup of steaming mint tea with a liberal helping of sugar. He gratefully accepted. He was even strong enough to hold the cup whilst Harriet busied herself spreading wonderful golden butter and fresh jam on the toast.

“Perhaps we should prop him up a bit,” Lucy suggested, and the three women propped him up with additional pillows.

“This is a whole new perspective,” Tony commented, “I have been lying flat on my back for over a week.”

With more appetite that he had imagined, he made short work of the toasted bread.

“This was good, thank you,” he said. “I must profess, though, that I am still hungry.”

“What would you like zen, Sir Anthony?” Nadine Blacket asked.

“I dream of ham and eggs, but I would settle for porridge.”

The women laughed at that, delighted at the return of his spirits.

“Porridge should be fine, Nadine,” Lucy answered, “let us wait with the ham and eggs until tomorrow.”

“I ‘ave set ze table for ze ladies downstairs,” Mrs. Blacket announced before she left for the kitchens.

“I should wake Moira then,” Lucy said and left the room.