A Monstrous Regiment of Women - Laurie R. King [60]
I thought it best to determine the extent of her injuries before deciding what to do, and when I began to ease the coat from her shoulders, she made no more objection than a sleeping child. The coat was undamaged and clean but for some blood at the collar, but beneath it, her dress, in addition to the bloodstains from her face, was torn slightly at the neck and the right sleeve, and a line of lace along the front had been ripped free of its stitching. I unbuttoned the front of her dress—still no response—and found beneath it great red welts surrounded by areas of lesser bruising. From the shallowness of her breathing and the way she held her torso, I judged that her ribs were at least cracked.
She had been beaten, Holmes, by a man (or a powerfully built woman accustomed to using her fists) several inches taller than she, right-handed, wearing a heavy ring on his right hand. And no stranger, either, unless she had been walking down the street in January wearing only a thin woollen dress.
“Who did this to you, Margery?” I asked, but she was far away. I refastened the buttons, then took off my own coat and carried it over to drape across the second keyhole. I walked back to Margery and dropped to my knees directly in front of her.
“Margery,” I said loudly, and repeated it several times. “Margery, you must answer me. You must see a doctor. I think you can walk, but if you don’t respond, I’ll have to carry you to your bed.” The eyes in the ravaged face began slowly to return, and when they had focused on mine, I was relieved to see that the pupils were of an equal and normal size.
“No,” she whispered.
“Margery, you’ve been injured. If you don’t have your ribs strapped, every breath will continue to hurt you, and without stitches, that cut on your face will leave a scar. I’m going to open the door and let Marie help you to bed, and Veronica will have someone put out a notice cancelling tonight’s service.”
“No,” she said again, more clearly but from a great distance, and it suddenly occurred to me that she sounded like someone speaking though the blanket of a hypnotic trance. I continued to look into her eyes, thinking. Unless her head injuries concealed deeper damage, the hurts she suffered were debilitating, but not life-threatening. (You will admit that I know something of injuries, personally and through my work at the hospital during the War.) No blows had landed lower than her rib cage, and the lack of cuts or swelling on her skull agreed with the evidence of her clear eyes. The hypnotic state, or whatever you wish to call it, was blocking the pain, and she wished strongly to be left alone. I nodded.
“I’ll just have Veronica arrange to cancel the service, then. The doctor can wait until you feel ready.”
“No doctor. No Veronica.”
“You don’t want the talk cancelled? Oh, come now, Margery. You’re certainly in no condition to—”
“Go away, Mary,” she said clearly. “Take them with you.”
There seemed nothing to say to that. She was rational, an adult woman, and in no immediate danger. More than that, there was an urgency and command in her eyes that I did not care to go against.
While I was with her, the voices of Marie and Veronica had moved from the door where I had left them and followed my route through Margery’s bedroom and dressing room, and Marie’s key had rattled briefly but ineffectually in the lock. With a final glance at the woman’s injuries, I left her, let myself out the hallway door—not a real lock, just a slim bolt on the inside—and called to the others. When I told them that Margery was not seriously hurt and that she wished to be alone, Marie immediately made to get past me to open the door. I stopped her, repeated her mistress’s words, and shepherded them both down to the adjoining sitting