William Monk 08 - The Silent Cry

Hester began.
    “Yes, of course,” he cut her off. “I must see my patient, Miss Latterly. It seems his condition might have taken a turn for the worse. It may be necessary to keep him sedated for a while, so he does not further injure himself in his turmoil of mind …”
    She reached out to touch his arm. “But he is afraid of sleep, Doctor! That is when he dreams—”
    “Miss Latterly, I know very well that you have his interests at heart.” His voice was quite quiet, almost gentle, but there was no mistaking the iron in his will. “But his injuries are severe, more severe than you are aware of. I cannot risk his becoming agitated again and perhaps tearing them open. The results could be fatal.” He stared at her earnestly. “This is not the kind of violence either you or I are accustomed to dealing with. We know war and its heroes, which, God knows, are horrible enough. This is the trial of a different kind of strength. We must protect him from himself, at least for a while. In a few weeks he may be better; we can only hope.”
    There was nothing she could do but acquiesce.
    “Thank you.” His face softened. “I am sure we shall work together excellently. We have much in common, tests of endurance and judgment we have both passed.” He smiled briefly, a look of pain and uncertainty, then turned and continued up the stairs.
    Hester and Sylvestra waited in the withdrawing room. They sat on either side of the fire, stiff-backed, upright, speaking only occasionally in stifled, jerky sentences.
    “I have known Corriden Wade for years,” Sylvestra said suddenly. “He was an excellent friend of my husband’s. Leighton trusted him absolutely. He will do everything for Rhys that is possible.”
    “Of course. I have heard of him. His reputation is excellent. Very high.”
    “Is it? Yes. Yes, of course it is.”
    Minutes ticked by. The coals settled in the fire. Neither of them moved to ring the bell for the maid to add more.
    “His sister … Eglantyne, is a dear friend of mine.”
    “Yes. He told me. He said she may call upon you soon.”
    “I hope so. Did he say that?”
    “Yes.”
    “Should you be … with him?”
    “No. He said it would be better if he went alone. Less disturbing.”
    “Will it?”
    “I don’t know.”
    More minutes ticked by. Hester decided to rebuild the fire herself.
    Corriden Wade returned, his face grim.
    “How is he?” Sylvestra demanded, her voice tight and high with fear. She rose to her feet without being aware of it.
    “He is very ill, my dear,” he replied quietly. “But I have every hope that he will recover. He must have as much rest as possible. Do not permit him to be disturbed again. He can tell the police nothing. He must not be harassed as he was today. Any reminder of the terrible events which he undoubtedly both saw and suffered will make him considerably worse. They may even cause a complete relapse. That is hardly to be wondered at.”
    He looked at Hester. “We must protect him, Miss Latterly. I trust you to do that. I shall leave you some powders to give him in warm milk—or beef tea, should he prefer it—which will help him to sleep deeply and without dreams.” He frowned. “And I must insist absolutely that you do not speak of his ordeal or bring it to his mind in any way. He is not able to recall anything of it without the most terrible distress. That is naturalto a young man of any decency or sensitivity whatever. I imagine you or I would feel exactly the same.”
    Hester had no doubt that what he said was true. She had seen it only too vividly herself.
    “Of course,” she agreed. “Thank you. I shall be glad to see him find some ease and some rest that is without trouble.”
    He smiled at her. His face was charming, full of warmth.
    “I am sure you shall, Miss Latterly. He is fortunate to have you with him. I shall continue to call every day, but do not hesitate to send for me more often if you should need me.” He turned to Sylvestra. “I believe Eglantyne will come tomorrow—if she may? May I tell her you will receive her?”
    At last Sylvestra too relaxed a little, a faint smile touching her lips.
    “Please do. Thank you, Corriden. I cannot imagine how we would have survived this without your kindness and your skill.”
    He looked vaguely uncomfortable. “I wish … I wish it were not necessary. This is all … tragic … quite tragic.” He straightened up. “I shall call again tomorrow, my dear. Until then,