The Silent Cry - Anne Perry [30]
“Keep on breathing slowly,” she told him. “Gently. In, out. In, out.” She smiled at him.
Warily, shakily, he smiled back.
“Now I am going to get you a little hot milk and a herbal draught to make you feel better. You need to rest.”
Fear darkened his eyes again.
“No one will come in.”
It was no comfort.
Then she thought perhaps she understood. He was afraid of dreams. The horror lay within him.
“You don’t need to sleep. Just lie there quietly. It won’t make you sleep.”
He relaxed, his eyes searching hers, trying to make her understand.
But he did sleep, for several hours, and she sat beside him, watching, ready to waken him if he showed signs of distress.
Corriden Wade came in the late afternoon. He looked anxious when Hester told him of Rhys’s distress and of the nightmare which had produced such prolonged pain and hysteria. His face creased with sharp concern, his own physical discomfort from the fall from his horse forgotten.
“It is most worrying, Miss Latterly. I shall go up and examine him. This is not a good turn of events.”
She made to follow him.
“No,” he said abruptly, holding his hand up as if physically to prevent her. “I will see him alone. He has obviously been profoundly disturbed by what has happened. In his best interest, to keep him from further hysteria, I shall examine him without the possible embarrassment of a stranger, and a woman, present.” He smiled very briefly, merely a flicker, more of communication than any lift of mood. He was obviously deeply distressed by what had happened. “I have known Rhys since he was a child,” he explained to her. “I knew his father well, God rest his soul, and my sister is a long-standing and dear friend of Sylvestra. No doubt she will call in the near future and offer whatever help or comfort she may …”
“That would be good—” 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.