Page 34 of Marriage Most Scandalous
The old tree closest to where Douglas had fallen did have some lower branches behind it and one on the side. None of them were close enough to the road to obstruct passage, but a couple bent low enough to the ground that if Douglas’s horse had veered off the road for some reason, Douglas could have been knocked out of the saddle by the branch near the ditch and then rolled down into it.
He examined the area closely, the slope from the road to the ditch and the puddle. There were many footprints, but those probably belonged to the men who’d found Douglas. If there had been any hoofprints going in that direction, the evidence had been trampled away by the rescue party. The cause of Douglas’s head injury was evident, a jagged rock just barely sticking out of the water, big enough to do damage if Douglas’s head had hit it directly.
Having examined the scene, Sebastian was satisfied that his father’s injury had been an accident. Which didn’t mean someone hadn’t been there to cause the accident. Only Douglas would be able to rule out that possibility, so no firm conclusion could be drawn until his father regained consciousness long enough to talk.
Chapter 18
DOUGLAS DID INDEED HAVE A NASTY GASHon the back of his head. Four stitches had been required, an extra one due to the swelling. Thankfully, he hadn’t woken up for the plying of that needle.
Dr. Culden was less concerned about the wound than the fever that caused Douglas to keep passing out. Culden, who was gentry by birth, had become a doctor by choice. He knew them all personally and had been Margaret’s doctor since she was a child.
By all accounts, it appeared that Douglas had lain unconscious in that cold puddle of water for close to an hour. Dr. Culden couldn’t determine whether the fever was from an infection or a chill he’d caught from the water. The current fear was that he would slip into a state from which he wouldn’t awaken.
“I’ve seen it before,” Dr. Culden told Margaret before he left. “Not often, surely, but I had one patient who didn’t wake up for three weeks, and another who never woke up.”
“Never?”
“Died, that poor woman.”
“From lack of nourishment?” Margaret asked.
“No, we forced hearty liquids down her throat with a funnel, but it wasn’t enough. Just wasted away eventually, about a year later. Head wound caused it.”
Margaret shouldn’t have asked. Good God, how ghastly, and just what she didn’t need to hear at that point. That wasn’t going to happen to Douglas. She wouldn’t allow it.
“Now, I don’t mean to alarm you, Margaret. Douglas is a strong, healthy man. I’m sure he’ll come to,” he continued. “He’s been weakened by the blood loss. That alone could account for his passing out. We’ll likely know more about his condition by this evening. I’ll return tonight.”
“Thank you.”
“He’ll need constant attention for the time being, though. Station one of the maids at his bedside. If he wakes up and tries to get out of bed, he could fall and injure himself further. And when he does wake, if I know Douglas and I do, he won’t want to stay in bed. But he must. You’re probably the only one he’ll listen to, Margaret. I hope you’re staying here for the duration?”
“Well, I—certainly, if you think it’s necessary.”
“I do.”
He gave her further instructions on how to deal with the fever, commonsense things she already knew. With Douglas settled for the moment, she went in search of Abigail. She had to be apprised of the situation, if Denton hadn’t already told her. He probably hadn’t. He didn’t like delivering bad news. Neither did she, but someone had to.
Abbie was no longer in the parlor, though the evidence was there that she’d had tea. She was probably quite put out that Margaret and Sebastian hadn’t returned to visit with her. Then again, she might have forgotten all about it by now.
Margaret was told Abigail had gone up to her room to prepare for dinner. To take a nap was more likely. So Margaret knocked softly on the door in case she was sleeping.
“Come in!” she heard from the other side.
She did. Abigail was at her desk, using a looking glass to try and make out the words in a letter she’d received.
“I thought you might be sleeping,” Margaret began.
“I don’t take afternoon naps anymore. Sleeping my life away is not a good idea at my age.”
Margaret would have grinned if she weren’t so worried. Abigail might think she had given up napping, but in fact she nodded off quite often while sitting in a chair, then refused to admit she’d fallen asleep when she was woken. Just resting her eyes was her usual excuse. Everyone was kind enough not to mention the snoring.
“We need to talk, Abbie,” Margaret said and pulled up a chair near the desk.
“Splendid. You know I love chatting with you, m’dear, and we’ve time for a nice long one before dinner.”
“I’m afraid I have some bad news. Douglas had an accident.”
“Thank goodness Sebastian is home now! He’ll take care of it.”
