A Lady in the Smoke Read Free Page B

reassuring. “Truly, I’m a surgeon, not some madman. If you’d prefer, you can wait ’til you arrive at the hotel. But I’m afraid there won’t be a doctor to help you.” He glanced over the field, taking a measure of the suffering around him. “I expect to be here for a while.”
    I nodded and lay back.
    He placed the cone gently over my nose. “Now breath in and count backward from ten for me,” he said, taking my hand at the wrist.
    The first breath was bitter and sweet at once, and then the smell faded. I closed my eyes obediently. “Ten, nine, eight…”
    And when I woke, his hand was on my wrist, his face close, but blurred. “Can you hear me?”
    “Yes,” I whispered and tried to sit up, but my limbs wouldn’t move.
    “Lie still. Your head will clear in a few minutes. Take some deep breaths.”
    The air was cold and stank of oily smoke, but I could also smell the wet earth underneath me, loamy and rich. He was right. With each breath, the fog in my head lifted, my limbs regained feeling, and the world came back into focus. I watched him pack up his bag, stowing his needle in a little case and winding the unused suturing material into a tidy loop. When he finished he turned back to me and smiled. “How are you feeling now?”
    I pushed myself to sitting. “All right, I think.” Gingerly, I reached up and felt a strip of bandage and some plaster.
    He jerked his head over his shoulder. “The wagon’s right there. I don’t want you to miss it. There may not be another for a while.”
    The wagon and the horse were indeed only a few yards away. My head still ached, but I told him that I was fine, truly, that I could walk.
    He looked skeptical. “I’ll take your mother first and come back for you.”
    “No. I’m all right.” I rubbed my hands against my cloak, bracing myself to stand.
    He helped me up and waited until I assured him that I was steady. Then he bent down, scooped Mama into his arms, and carried her toward the back of the wagon, where victims were being settled against bales of hay. I began making my way behind him, but I’d only taken a few steps when white stars sparked in front of my eyes, the earth seemed to tilt sideways, an odd ringing began in my ears, and I crumpled to the ground.

Chapter 3
    The pillowcase under my cheek was coarse and smelled of lye soap instead of the lavender I was used to. Confused, I tried to sit up and immediately felt a dull throbbing near my left temple and an ache in my shoulder. A lamp burned low on a table beside me, and gradually I made out a small, plain room with two beds, mine and another, pushed against opposite walls. By the flickering light, I saw my mother’s hand, the broad gold ring on her third finger. But this certainly wasn’t a room at my cousin’s house in London. Where were we?
    Through the door came murmurs and cries, heavy footsteps up and down an uncarpeted hallway, the clank of crockery on trays, doors opening and shutting.
    A hotel?
    A hotel.
Someone had spoken those words recently. Then I remembered. The doctor had said we’d be taken to a hotel at Travers.
    The accident. The fire. The field. The afternoon’s horror came flooding back. My own pain vanished, and I scrambled out of the covers and leaned over her bed. “Mama?”
    She lay still.
    I put my ear to her chest and heard her heartbeat, faint but steady. Her face was calm, remarkably peaceful in sleep. The lines of worry that usually etched her mouth were softened. I felt her forehead to check for a fever, but it was cool, as was her hand. She seemed absolutely fine. Thank god. My own hand trembling, I tucked hers under the counterpane, and then, my back against the door, I slid to the floor, to give my heartbeat a chance to return to normal.
    Cautiously, I felt again for the patch of plaster and the cloth bandage. My head ached less now than it had in the field, and though my shoulder was sore, we were safe and dry, and we’d be fine, thanks to the doctor.
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