Jade Star - Catherine Coulter [109]
Because it was Jane, because he’d forced himself to provide optimism to all his friends during the day, because he was scared and angry and trusted her, he said bluntly, “I don’t know, Jane. My poor wife just might find herself saddled with a damned cripple. God, I could become some sort of institution. People could say, ‘Yes, there’s poor old Saint, blind as a bat, you know, but tells great stories. Give him a few pennies and he’ll talk as long as you want.’ Shit!”
Jane understood, but she refused to pity him, at least not now. She said, her voice laced with humor, “Don’t forget that those people could also demand medical advice. I can just hear old Limpin’ Willie saying, ‘Saint, bless him! Told me to lance the boil on my leg, and I did, and my leg rotted off!’ ”
“Damn you, Jane!”
Jane felt tears sting her eyes, and leaned over without thought and hugged him close. “You’ll be all right, my dear, you’ll see. I mean that literally.”
Jules stood in the doorway, a surge of evil jealousy washing through her. Slowly she backed up, and returned downstairs to the kitchen.
Saint hugged Jane, a reluctant laugh emerging from his throat. “As I said, damn you, Jane. You don’t let a fellow bitch at all, do you?”
“You complain all you like, but you know very well that pity is the last thing you need.”
“Jane, be kind to Jules. I think she’s very afraid, but of course she’s a chattering, optimistic little bird around me.”
Jane was silent for a long moment. In truth, though, it was a brief war. She said, “I suggest you give her a bit more credit, Saint. She is your wife. Now I must go. I will come back, tomorrow perhaps.”
“Jane?”
“Yes?”
“Thanks.”
Jane was relieved that he couldn’t see the tears in her eyes. She met Jules in the downstairs entranceway. “Thank you, my dear,” she said. “I’ll leave you now. You must be exhausted.”
“Yes,” Jules said in a rush, unable to hate this woman, “it has been mad all day, and Michael needs to rest. I don’t know what to do!”
“You give the orders, that’s what you do,” said Jane. “Let him complain and snap, but you do know what’s best for him. Good luck.”
And she was gone, leaving Jules to stare thoughtfully at the closed front door. She’s right, Jules thought, perfectly right!
“Lydia!” she called, her shoulders back, her chin up.
Saint heard her light footfall on the stairs. “Jules,” he said. “Wasn’t that the front door? Who’s here?”
“Who was here. It was Horace and Agatha Newton. They’ll return tomorrow.”
“Why?”
“I told them you needed rest. They understood and send their love.”
“I’m the doctor,” he said, stiffening. “I think I’m well able to decide when I need rest and when I don’t!”
“I brought you some tea and fresh sponge cake Lydia just baked,” Jules said, her voice calm, soothing.
He wanted to strike out. “Dammit, Jules! Don’t you dare treat me like a mewling child!”
“Here, love. Drink this.”
He did, with ill grace. Jules sat on the side of the bed, studying his face. “I’ll shave you, if you like,” she said, gently stroking her fingers over the stubble on his cheeks.
He grunted.
She leaned down and kissed him. “I love you, Michael. After you’ve rested, I’ll give you a bath. That you should like,” she added, her voice as wicked as she could manage.
“You want to beautify me so you can have your way with me,” he grumbled.
“Yes,” she said. “And I can do whatever I wish to you, and you’ll not gainsay me.”
“Dear God, a blind man dying from overexertion. Wife takes revenge on blind husband. I think I’ll give Tony Dawson some headlines for the Alta for when I expire.”
Jules smiled down at him, noticing the slurring of his words as the laudanum took effect. He would sleep a good four hours, Sam had assured her. And he needed the rest. The best thing for him, she knew. His eyes would heal. She would make them heal.
* * *
Jules held his hand as Sam unwound the bandages. “Keep your eyes closed, Saint, until I tell you otherwise.”
“Doctors,” Saint said in disgust.
“Now, very