Traitors Gate - Anne Perry [70]
Pitt waited in an agony of suspense.
She looked up at him after a moment, her face quite calm.
“His pulse is very strong,” she said with a smile. “I expect he will have a most unpleasant headache, and I daresay several bruises which will no doubt be painful, but he is very much alive, I assure you.”
Pitt was overwhelmed with relief. It was almost as if he could feel the blood surge back into his own body and life into his mind and his heart.
“You should have a stiff brandy yourself,” the woman said gently. “And I would recommend a hot bath, and rub your bruises with ointment of arnica. It will help, I promise you.”
“Thank you. Thank you very much.” He felt momentarily as if she had saved their lives.
“I suppose you have no idea who the driver was?” she went on, still kneeling at the roadside by Matthew. “He should be prosecuted. That sort of thing is criminal. It was only by the grace of God your friend avoided the curbstone, or he would have cracked his head open and might very well have been killed.”
“I know.” Pitt swallowed hard, realizing with force how true that was. Now that he knew Matthew was alive, he could see it more sharply, and begin to understand all that it meant.
She looked at him curiously, her brow puckered, sensing there was much more to it than the accident she had seen.
Other people were beginning to gather around. A stout man with splendid side-whiskers came forward, elbowing his way.
“Now then, what’s happened here?” he demanded. “Need a doctor? Should we call the police? Has anyone called the police?”
“I am the police.” Pitt looked up at him. “And yes, we need a doctor. I’d be obliged if anybody would send for one.”
The man looked doubtful. “Are you indeed?”
Pitt went to fish in his pocket and produce his card, and to his disgust found that his hands were shaking. He pulled out the card with difficulty and passed it to the man without bothering to see his reaction.
Matthew stirred, made a little choking sound which turned into a groan, then opened his eyes.
“Matthew!” Pitt said stiffly, leaning forward, peering at him.
“Bloody fool!” Matthew said furiously. He shut his eyes in pain.
“You should lie still, young man,” the elderly lady advised him firmly. “We are sending for a doctor, and you should receive his counsel before you make any attempt to rise.”
“Thomas?”
“Yes … I’m here.”
Matthew opened his eyes again and focused them on Pitt’s face. He made as if to speak, then changed his mind.
“Yes, exactly what you are thinking,” Pitt said quietly.
Matthew took a very deep breath and let it out in a shudder. “I shouldn’t have taken offense when you told me to be careful. I was childish, and as it turns out, quite mistaken.”
Pitt did not reply.
The elderly lady looked around at the man with the whiskers. “May we take it that someone has been dispatched for a doctor, sir?” she enquired in much the manner a good governess might have used towards an indifferent butler.
“You may, madam,” he replied stiffly, and moved away, Pitt was certain, in order to perform that task.
“I am sure that with a little help I could stand up,” Matthew said. “I am causing something of an obstruction here, and making a spectacle of myself.” He began to struggle to climb to his feet and Pitt was not able to prevent him, only to give him his arm and then catch him as he swayed and lost his balance. He clung on for several seconds before his head cleared and he was able, with concentration, to regain himself and stand, not unaided, but at least upright.
“I think we had better call you a hansom to take you home, and then send for our own physician as soon as possible,” Pitt said decisively.
“Oh, I don’t think that is necessary,” Matthew argued, but was still swaying a trifle.
“You would be exceedingly unwise to ignore that advice,” the elderly lady said severely. Now that Pitt and Matthew were both standing, she was considerably beneath their height, and obliged to look up at them, but her assurance was such that it made not the slightest difference. Pitt