The Decoder - Chapter 13

Georgiana came in, flushed and triumphant, leading the doctor with his large leather bag.

“Go see to Amy first,” I spat from between clenched teeth.

The physician halted doubtfully.

“Do it!”

Alone, I searched for the decoder.  My clothes!  It had been in my pocket.  Where were my shorts?  The maidservant had taken them away.  Damn.  I pulled the towels closer about my body and peered out of the door.  The corridor was deserted.  Launching into a muffled gallop, I hurtled down the passage and plummeted down the stairs.  Following the sound of muted voices, I found the servants’ quarters.

“Where are my clothes?” I demanded of the astounded assembly.

“You could’ve rung for me, ma’am,” said the maid, coming to the fore.  “I put them in the laundry room, same as the rest.”

“Get them for me.”

The girl scurried off.  I stalked out of the doorway with a scowl.  After a few impatient minutes spent listening to the frantic whispers of the servants, the maid returned with my clothes.

“Here you are, ma’am,” she murmured before fleeing to the quarters.

Sifting through the pockets, I found it.  The comforting warm block.  But what to do?  If I returned, I would surely die, and if I didn’t...  No, I had to go back.  I’d die either way, but if I did nothing, I’d die blaming myself.  I flipped open the decoder.  Once.  Twice.  Three times.  One more flick, and I was out.  But again, a sudden pain rent my arm.  I scrabbled at the bandages.  The blood had stopped, as if by magic.  I suspected more alcohol and bandages on the other side.  I raced back to my room, hid the decoder under the pillow and had just covered myself in blankets when Georgiana and the doctor entered.

“Is Lucy better?” I asked.

“She will heal, given time.  Quite a nasty cut that was,” said the physician.  “Quite shocking, the loss of blood.  I am amazed at her resilience, and yours too, madam.  You seem to require no treatment.”

“Let me see her.”

“Madam, it would be better if you kept to your room—”

“I won’t die!”

Darcy and Amy came in to join the argument.  Amy had more blood on her arms and this did nothing to allay my fears.

“Stay here, Es.  Wayne’s looking after Lucy.”

“This is most irregular!” said Georgiana—her first words for the night.

“Indeed so,” said her brother, “but we shall not keep you from your sleep.  Goodnight.”

They left, and I jumped up.

“You don’t ever listen, do you?” sighed Amy.

Wayne greeted me with a groan.

“I told Amy to keep you in your room.”

“How’s Lucy?”

“I’m okay,” came a murmur from the bed.  “I think I need a second bath, though.”

“Do you think Darcy will buy the whole bath-edge thing?”

“Check the baths.  Do they actually have edges?”

I looked.  I ran my finger over the edge.

“This is actually quite sharp,” I called back.  “We have a chance.”

“Good,” said Amy.  “Go to bed.  It’s late and you have an injury.  We’ll need you tomorrow, to help us convince the family that we’re civilized ladies—and a genteel gentleman.”