William Monk 08 - The Silent Cry

silent. What should she say? Usually she would have asked a patient about himself, led him to talk to her. But anything with Rhys would be utterly one-sided. She could only guess from his expression whether her words interested or bored, encouraged or caused further pain.
    In the end she said nothing.
    She took the empty cup from him. “Are you ready to sleep?” she asked.
    He shook his head slowly but decisively. He wanted her to stay.
    “You have some very interesting books.” She glanced towards the shelf. “Do you like to be read to?”
    He thought for a moment, then nodded. She should choose something far removed from his present life, and it must be something without violence. Nothing must remind him of his own experience. And yet it must not be tedious either.
    She went over to the shelf and tried to make out the titles in the firelight, which was now considerable. “How about a history of Byzantium?” she suggested.
    He nodded again, and she returned with the book in her hand. “I’ll have to light the gas,” she said.
    He agreed, and for three quarters of an hour she read quietly to him about the colorful and devious history of that great center of empire, its customs and its people, its intrigues and struggles for power. He fell asleep reluctantly, and she closed the book, marking the page with a taper from the box by the fire, put out the light again, and tiptoed back to her room with a feeling of something close to elation.
    There was not a great deal Hester could do for her patient beyond making sure he was as comfortable as possible, that his bedroom was clean and that the bandages on his more minor wounds were changed as often as was consistent with healing. Eating was difficult for him and seemed to cause him immediate distress. Obviously his internal injuries affected his ability to accept and digest food. It was distressing, and yet she knew that if he did not take nourishment he would waste away, his organs would cease to function and he would damage them irreparably. Fluid was vital.
    She brought him milk and arrowroot again, beef tea, and a little dry, very thin toast, then half an hour later, more egg custard. It was not without pain that he ate, but he did retain what she gave him.
    Dr. Wade came in the late morning. He looked anxious, his face pinched, his eyes shadowed. He himself was limping and in some pain from a fall from his horse over the previous weekend. He came upstairs almost immediately, meeting Hester on the landing.
    “How is he, Miss Latterly? I fear it is a wretched job I’ve given you. I’m truly sorry.”
    “Please don’t apologize, Dr. Wade,” she responded sincerely. “I don’t wish to have only the easy cases.…”
    His face softened. “I’m very grateful for that. I had heard well of you, it seems with good reason. Nevertheless, it must be disturbing when there is so little you can do, anyone can do, to help.” He frowned and his voice dropped. He stared at thefloor. “I’ve known the family for years, Miss Latterly, ever since I came out of the navy—”
    “The navy?” She was caught by surprise. It was something she had not even imagined. “I’m sorry … I have no right to …”
    He smiled suddenly, illuminating his features and changing his appearance entirely. “I was a naval surgeon twenty years ago. Some of the men I tended had served with Nelson.” His eyes met hers, bright with memory, seeing in his mind another age, another world. “One old sailor, whose leg I amputated after a cannon had broken loose and pinned him to the bulkhead, had served in the victory at Trafalgar.” His voice was thick with concentration. “I don’t suppose there is another woman I know to whom I could say that and she would have some idea of what it means. But you have seen battle, you have watched the courage amid horror, the heart and the strength, the endurance through pain and in the face of death. I think we share something that the people around us can never know. I am extremely grateful that you are nursing poor Rhys and will be here to support Sylvestra through what can only be a dreadful ordeal for her.”
    He did not say so in words, but she saw in his eyes that he was preparing her for the fact that Rhys might not recover. She steeled herself.
    “I shall do everything I can,” she promised, meeting his gaze steadily.
    “I’m sure you will.” He nodded. “I have no doubt of it whatever. Now … I will see him. Alone. I am sure you