* * * *
Lord Essex managed to survive the horseback ride to Theydon Hall, but upon their arrival, their circumstances remain no less grim than before. Will deposited the unconscious earl in his bed, and Reilly immediately set to work, pulling Lord Essex’s cravat loose, opening his overlapping layers of coats.
“We need linens,” he said, opening the earl’s shirt and clapping his hand against his wound again. “Lewis, hurry now and collect them, as many as you can find. I need a sharp knife, or folding razor if you have it at hand. Will, have you a sewing kit?”
“Yes,” Will said, hurrying to one of his traveling trunks. The top was covered with books and papers; he shoved these to the floor and threw back the lid, rummaging inside.
“Charlotte, go with Lewis,” Reilly said. “Get me some water. Buckets, bowls, teacups—whatever you can pour it into, get it up here as fast as you can manage.”
“What are you going to do?” Charlotte whispered, staring down as Reilly held his hands firmly over Lord Essex’s bare midriff.
“I am going to get that pellet out of him,” Reilly said, meeting her gaze. “If I can get it out, we can stitch him up. We might have a hope he will survive.”
“Reilly assisted the ship surgeon aboard the Endurance,” Will said, rushing to the bedside, presenting Reilly with a sewing kit and a folding razor.
“Yes, we only lost four men out of the five he tended to,” Lewis offered. “And the fourth died of scurvy—hardly his fault.”