Katherine could not bring herself to look at Nick, to see more closely the purple swollen flesh of his throat where they had cut the noose away or the frightening bloodshot eyes. She just wanted them all out of this place. At the gateway she turned and held out her hands to Mr Highson.
‘How can I thank you, sir? I feel so guilty for your injuries.’
‘Nonsense, my dear.’ The magistrate shifted his left arm, which was resting in a sling, and grimaced. ‘A sore head and a dislocated shoulder are a small price to pay. Think how I would feel with an innocent man’s life on my conscience. I’ll be off now, you will want to get home. Goodbye, my dear Mrs Lydgate. Write and let me know how your husband goes on.’
Impetuously she put her arms around him and kissed his empurpled cheek. He smelt of snuff and Spanish leather and reminded her suddenly of her father.
‘Now you just sit here a minute, sir.’ John was propping Nick into a corner embrasure. ‘I’ll be back directly if that brat I left the horses with hasn’t sold them.’
Katherine went to Nick’s side and regarded him anxiously. He was leaning back against the wall, eyes shut. Should she take his arm? Or would he dislike that? She was still hesitating when a rumble of wheels announced John and the old carriage.
‘Arthur, will you come back with us?’
Mr Brigham finished helping Nick into the coach and turned to offer his hand to Katherine. ‘If I may. I hope I will be of some assistance, and I confess I cannot conceal my curiosity about how you pulled off this miracle.’
Katherine settled opposite Nick and watched him for a moment before answering. His eyes were closed, but he was responding to the shifting movements of the carriage, so he was conscious. She had a strong suspicion that he would react somewhat strongly to her story and she wanted him rested before he heard it.
‘Yes, of course, I will tell you later, Arthur. But where is Philip? Was he not with you?’
There was an awkward silence. Katherine’s heart sank—oh, no, not drunk again.
‘Yes, where is my esteemed brother-in-law?’ Nick enquired in a voice like a rusty saw. He had opened his eyes and was regarding Arthur’s embarrassed face with sardonic interest.
‘France.’
‘France?’
‘Well, he won’t be there yet, I expect, but that’s where he said he was going. He left the day before yesterday. I tried to stop him,’ Arthur protested as she stared at him, appalled. ‘I did try, Katherine, but he said he had had enough and couldn’t stand it any longer.’
‘He had had enough?’ Katherine bit her lip to stop the angry words and tried to breathe deeply and calmly. ‘How could he afford to travel?’
‘He pawned some things,’ Arthur said reluctantly. ‘I said I would lend him the money, but he said he didn’t want to be indebted to a friend.’
‘Which things?’ Katherine asked, suddenly all too afraid she knew what they were. ‘The only things left of the slightest value are Grandmother Harrison’s ormolu mantel clock and Mama’s pearl ear-bobs.’
‘There was a clock,’ Arthur confirmed. ‘And a small jewellery box.’
Katherine wrestled with hurt and anger. They are only things, she reasoned miserably. You do not need them to remember the people who left them to you.
‘It appears Mr Cunningham has scruples about borrowing from his friends, but not stealing from his sister,’ Nick rasped and Katherine wondered at how good that flash of anger on her behalf felt. ‘Do you know which pawnbroker he used?’ Arthur nodded. ‘Do you have the tickets?’
‘He left them in the study, I think.’
‘Then will you redeem them for Katherine? You will be repaid.’
‘Yes, of course,’ Arthur said eagerly.
The exchange appeared to have exhausted Nick, for he fell back against the squabs, eyes closed again. Katherine sat watching him anxiously until at last they drew up in front of the house in Clifford Street.
Between them John and Arthur got the tall, unsteady figure out of the coach and up the steps to where Jenny was waiting. ‘Jenny, run and set water to heat. When John has helped Mr Lydgate up to Mr Philip’s room, he can carry the bath tub for you.’
The two women hovered anxiously outside the bedroom until first Arthur came out grinning, followed by John with a bundle of clothes held at arm’s length. ‘These need burning, Miss Katherine. Mr Lydgate says, begging your pardon, ma’am, that he isn’t a bl—er, perishing child and can wash himself without the pair of us helping him. And do we have a back-brush?’
Katherine smiled, relieved. At least if Nick was capable of throwing out his would-be helpers he could not be feeling too dreadful. ‘Fetch my back-brush, please, Jenny. John, what are we going to do about a nightshirt? Philip’s will never fit, he is far too broad in the shoulder.’
‘I’ll get one of mine.’ John turned to go downstairs, then looked back. ‘Mind, I don’t think he has any intention of going to bed.’
‘As we’ve removed all his clothes, he had better,’ Katherine said firmly. ‘Especially as I intend to go in and bandage his neck and wrists.’ She took the nightshirt when John returned with it and thrust both it and the back-brush into Arthur’s hands. ‘In you go, and make it quite clear he is to get into bed.’
Arthur grimaced, knocked and went into the bedchamber. No sound reached the listeners on the landing until eventually Arthur appeared, looking more than a little damp.
‘What on earth have you been doing?’ Katherine demanded.
‘He threw the sponge at my head when I refused to bring him any clothes. I suppose it could have been the back-brush.’
‘Has he gone to bed?’
‘Yes, but only when I told him that if he did not, you would come in with your salves and bandages anyway.’
With some apprehension she tapped on the door and entered. The tub stood surrounded by sodden towels and Nick was sitting up in bed, looking pale and decidedly mutinous.
‘Will you please ask John to lend me some clothes?’ he croaked.
‘Not until tomorrow,’ Katherine responded calmly, setting her tray down beside the bed. ‘You need sleep and quiet and rest. Tomorrow I will see. If you are not better, I will call Dr Wilkes; if you are better, then you may get up.’
‘You are a very managing woman.’ He broke off to cough and Katherine tried to keep the anxiety off her face.
‘I have had to learn to be, certainly. Now, if you will just sit forward and let me fold your collar down—’ She broke off at the sight of the empurpled flesh and swallowed. ‘Is your neck very sore?’
Nick nodded and winced. ‘Inside and out.’
‘Then try not to talk. This may sting a little.’ She smoothed the salve over the torn skin with as gentle a touch as possible,
