Dr. Pritchart rubbed his palm over his forehead. "I think so. The bullet went through her, high on her shoulder, which is a good thing, less chance of infection, which would most certainly kill her. Now, I must set in stitches, both in her shoulder and in her back."
Meggie moaned and opened her eyes.
Thomas cursed. Meggie frowned. "What's wrong? Oh, Blessed Hell, something hurts, Thomas, hurts really bad."
"I know, sweetheart. Just hold on."
"Give her some brandy, that will help. Then hold her down, my lord."
When Dr. Pritchart had finished setting the black stitches, Thomas stared down at her white flesh, the blood and black thread all mixed together, and he couldn't bear it.
Her eyes were closed. She'd said not a word while Dr. Pritchart was stitching her flesh together. Not made a sound, but she'd clutched his hands so tightly they hurt. He'd wished she'd pass out, but she hadn't. She said now, "I'm going to be all right, Thomas. Stop worrying. I heard you saying over and over that you were going to kill William. Why? Did he get another girl pregnant?"
"Not that I know of. No, Meggie, he was supposed to stay with you. Since he was worried you would try to stomp him into the ground if he stayed too close, he said he would keep his distance. Didn't you wonder?"
"Well, I saw Jem the stable boy walking just behind me, and I thought he was the one who was to make sure no one came close."
"Yes, Jem was to stay fairly close as well. However, he got sick to his stomach and had to come back to the stable. I had also told William to stick close to you."
"He wasn't there?"
Thomas shook his head, brought her hand to his mouth, kissed her fingers.
"Maybe he was the one who shot me."
"He could have, but why would he do it? He knows you dislike him, but why would he want you dead? That makes no sense, Meggie. Now, here's some more laudanum for you. Dr. Pritchart says just a few more drops of this will send you off into a very nice place where there isn't any more pain."
"That would be good," she said and drank down the barley water laced with laudanum.
"Will the girl live?"
"Yes," Thomas said to his mother, and walked to the sideboard to pour himself some brandy. "Her name is Meggie, not'the girl,' and she is your daughter-in-law. Speak of her properly, Mother."
"You should hear what Libby calls her."
"And what would that be?"
"A little ingrate."
Thomas's eyebrow shot up. "Why would Aunt Libby call her that?"
"She believes it is Meggie who is forcing you to have William marry that worthless girl. All because she's a vicar's daughter and is very rigid in her morality, too rigid obviously. Libby also says she likely highly disapproves of her liaison with Lord Kipper, and she has no right."
"I will tell Aunt Libby otherwise," Thomas said. "Surely you corrected her, assured her that I am even more staid than my wife."
"No I did not. I don't wish you to be staid. A bit of wickedness from you wouldn't be amiss, Thomas."
"William has performed enough wickedness for the both of us."
"His is just a boy's wickedness."
"William is a man," he said, then just shrugged. His mother many times baffled him. He said, "Barnacle told me that Lord Kipper was here asking about Meggie."
"He doesn't think William should marry until your sweet wife is able to attend. He is afraid she will die and then poor William would be attending both a funeral and his own wedding, which will be, you must admit, like a second funeral."
Thomas sighed. There was so much to be done here at Pendragon, but none of it was important. The only thing that was important was Meggie. He had to find out who had shot her. He had a very bad feeling about a third attempt. He left his mother, went to the small estate room, and wrote a letter to Meggie's father. It was his right to know there was trouble. It was the hardest letter he'd had to write in his life.
"Open your mouth, Meggie."
Meggie obeyed, but she didn't open her eyes. It was potato soup and it was delicious. She kept eating until Thomas said, "You ate the entire bowl. I'm proud of you. Now, how does your shoulder feel?"
"Not as bad as yesterday."
"Good. There's no infection, no fever. You've got grit and guts, that's what Dr. Pritchart said. You're so strong, he doesn't believe he'll have to coddle you even when you birth our children."
The last was said with a good deal of satisfaction, and Meggie smiled, now opening her eyes to look up at him. She frowned. "You've lost weight, Thomas. You should have eaten some of that soup."
"Now that I know you're not going to heaven before your time, I will get food down my gullet again." He lightly traced his fingertips over her cheeks, her brows, smoothed her hair behind her ears, leaned down, and kissed her.
"You scared me out of a good year of life."
"I was afraid of that. I knew I couldn't die, knew it would flatten you. You feel things so very deeply."
A black brow shot up a good inch. He felt things deeply? "What do you mean?" he asked slowly.
"I mean that if something final happened to me, you wouldn't recover. You would feel guilty and it would gnaw at you."
"It would be warranted. It's more than that, Meggie. Perhaps you finally realize how important you are to me."
"Oh yes. Possibly as important as you are to me."
She yawned even as those words of hers floated through the still air to his ears. He went still. He wanted to ask her what she meant, but he didn't. He watched as her eyes closed. He listened as her breathing evened into a light sleep. Her thanked God she'd survived.
"It must be luncheon potato soup."
He didn't have any idea what she was talking about. For a moment, he feared she was losing her wits. "What about Mrs. Mullins's soup?"
"It was delicious. Since she still can't manage a tasty dinner, this must be for luncheon. I'm very grateful. Please thank her for me, Thomas."
"I did hear her singing."
"That's it, then. She's come up with an ode to the potato."
Chapter 32
DAYS LATER Meggie was sitting up in her bed, smiling. A beautiful smile, Thomas thought, balancing a tray on his arms. On that tray were Cook's famous nutty buns, smelling like cinnamon and butter.
Meggie's mouth watered. She even began singing Cook's Nutty Bun song. She clutched the tray to her chest, had one of those nutty buns to her mouth within a second. While she ate, Thomas said, "The wedding will go forward. I have decided that no more time will be wasted. I will carry you downstairs. What do you think?"
"I agree. Get that miserable William on the straight and narrow. I'd do it now, today."
He laughed. "Dearest, if I could get the preacher here, I would, but upon inquiry, he was seeing to a very ill uncle in Cork. On Sunday it will happen, as planned. Now, this afternoon I have invited Jenny MacGraff to come for tea. You will wish to get to know her as she will be your sister-in-law. I think you will like her, Meggie. She's honest and straightforward, a pretty girl with a nice smile and a good heart. The only thing in question is her taste and her good sense, since she succumbed to William. Damn his eyes, if he would only realize it, he's a lucky man."
Meggie yawned, took another bite of the nutty bun. "I look forward to it. Will you tell your mother and Aunt Libby to be kind to her?"
"I will make suitable threats to keep them reasonably civil."
"William came to see me," Meggie said as she swallowed the last of a nutty bun and reached for another. "He was all sorts of apologetic, told me he'd had to see about a wedding present for Jenny and had trusted Jem to stay with me and that was why he hadn't been watching over me that day."