“Yes. You can have something to eat first. I’ve made some soup—”
“I’ve already eaten,” John said.
“Me, too. Sausages and mashed potatoes! And pudding to follow!” added Henry with glee.
“Mrs. Matheson gave us all supper, Maddy,” Jane said apologetically. She, alone of the children, sensed how Maddy felt about receiving the charity of her kindly neighbors. They were none of them well-off.
But Maddy didn’t want to burden the children with her perceptions. “Sausages? How lovely,” she said warmly. It might be charity, but Maddy also knew that were she ever-so-wealthy, the vicar’s wife would still feed the children. She was a motherly soul with no children of her own.
Besides, Maddy didn’t feel ungrateful, just uncomfortable at having to receive when she had so little to give in return.
“If you’re all fed, I want you to run back to the vicar’s and ask him to send for the doctor. No, it’s too far for you to go to the doctor’s, John. By the time you get there, it’ll be dark. Just tell the vicar and he’ll send someone in the gig.”
“Jenkins,” Henry said. “He’ll send Jenkins.”
“Yes, so give the vicar this note to give to the doctor and then come straight home.”
John hesitated. “Can I take another apple for the horse? One of the really old wrinkly ones?”
Maddy rolled her eyes. “All right, but only one.” She used the old wrinkly apples for pies.
“I want to go, too,” Henry declared. He eyed her hopefully. “You always say two heads are better than one.”
She grinned and ruffled his hair. “Go on then,” she conceded. “But come straight home afterward.”
She put the children to bed early that night. They were fascinated by the stranger in the bed, and it was all she could do to keep them from checking on him every three minutes. They’d tiptoed round the cottage and spoken in hoarse, exaggerated whispers, but she wouldn’t put it past any of them not to secretly try to wake him up.
The doctor had been, examined the man’s head wound, and pronounced her treatment of it excellent. He applied basilicum powder but had no quibble with her use of honey as a healing salve.
“Been used for generations,” he said. “As for that ankle, all swollen up like that, I can’t tell if it’s a minor break or a sprain. Leave it bound. We’ll know more once he wakes up.”
“He will wake up, then?” She’d been worried he might simply fade away. It happened, she knew.
The doctor shrugged. “Hard to tell with head wounds. At any rate he can’t be moved until he does, and so I’ll tell the vicar.” He saw her look of surprise and explained. “The good reverend wasn’t happy with him staying here. He didn’t like the look of his luggage.”
“His luggage?”
The doctor explained. “He examined the contents of the portmanteau that was strapped to the horse—in search of the identity of the owner, you understand. It contained everything of the finest quality, which suggests the young man is a gentleman, and I concur. But there were no documents or any clue as to his identity. The reverend was, however, shocked by the lack of a certain item, which he claimed revealed the character of the man.”
“In what way?” Maddy asked, fascinated. “What item was lacking?”
“A nightshirt,” the doctor said drily. “According to Rev. Matheson, a young gentleman who travels without a nightshirt is a rake.” The doctor snorted. “But I can see his point. An unmarried girl, such as yourself, should not have an unknown man billeted in her home, unchaperoned. However, it’s my considered medical opinion that to move the fellow now would endanger his recovery. Best to wait until he’s conscious and able to sit up under his own power.”
“I’ll be all right,” Maddy assured him. “As for chaperones”—she gestured to the children—“I have five. Not that I worry about such things anymore.”
The doctor nodded. “Didn’t think you were the missish sort. You’ve done a fine job so far. If the fellow lives, he’ll have you to thank for his life.”
He closed his bag and moved toward the door. “If you wake in the night, could you check on him? I don’t think you need to sit up with him, but keep an eye out for any change. If anything worries you, anything at all, send for me. He’s not out of danger yet.”
“What should I do if he wakes?”
“It depends. If he’s calm, treat him as you would any individual. But if he’s restless, fevered, troublesome, or in pain, give him this.” He handed her a small vial of clear liquid. “A few drops in warm water. Keep it away from the children.”
Maddy nodded.
The doctor paused at the door. “We’ll make enquiries about him. With any luck someone will claim him and take him off your hands as soon as he’s fit to go. Let me know as soon as he wakes.”
Maddy had promised. She had no interest in keeping the stranger any longer than she had to. As it was, he was going to put her out of her bed. She’d have to sleep with the girls and it’d be a tight squeeze.
