Page 73 of Taken By the Broken Duke
Horatio opened the door, striding in with Malcolm on his heels. Malcolm immediately went to work, stripping back the bedclothes and listening to her chest with a peculiar metal instrument resembling a horn. Then he took out a pocket watch and held her wrist, counting.
“You came to me not a moment too soon,” he rattled, “she is losing her fight for life. I am going to recommend a blood transfusion.”
“What on earth is that?” Horatio gaped dumbly.
“A technique of my own invention. When it works, the results are miraculous. When it fails, the patient dies. It is kill or cure. I bleed the patient to remove the bad blood if you will, but I replace it with healthy blood from a donor. It seems that not all blood is the same, though I cannot yet prove it. But I believe this is why the technique fails at times.”
It sounded ludicrous to Horatio. He knew that bleeding was a common treatment, though he had never understood how since a person could quickly bleed to death when a vein was opened. But he had never heard of the blood being replaced. There was a kind of logic in the notion of replacing bad blood with good, he supposed.
“Fine, take mine,” Horatio offered quickly.
Malcolm looked at him skeptically.
“You look slightly pale yourself, Your Grace. This procedure requires a good deal of strength from the donor. Your wife will be losing blood but shall be immediately replenished. You will not. It can lead to unconsciousness.”
“I am fine, man! Take it,” he roared.
Malcolm hesitated for a moment, then nodded, slapping Horatio on the shoulder heartily. He set about setting up his apparatus. Horatio sat next to the bed, stripped to the waist with a tight cord around his upper left arm. A needle was inserted into his arm and a rubber tube connected the needle to a large, glass bottle. In turn, this was connected to another bottle with a set of leather bellows connected as well. Then a tube ran into Juliet's arm. She was already bleeding out of her other arm.
Horatio told himself that it was his imagination that she was becoming paler as he watched. He bit back his impatience at the time it took Malcolm to prepare taking his blood and giving it to Juliet. He prayed that it would be compatible, that Juliet wouldbe one of those who experienced a miraculous recovery. As his life blood flowed out into the bottle, Malcolm began working the bellows and pumping Horatio's blood into Juliet's arm.
Horatio could not take his eyes off Juliet. He heard Malcolm's watch ticking. Both men were watching her face intently, but it was Horatio who saw it first.
“Is it me… or is that color in her cheeks?”
“By George!” Malcolm exclaimed, “by George and Patrick and Andrew and David. By Edwin and Oswald and Alban! Yes! It is taking! Your blood is restoring her! Now, how much more can you give?”
“Take it all if you need to. Keep going!” Horatio urged as he watched death's touch recede from his wife's face.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Juliet felt that she was waking from the deepest, darkest slumber. Like she was swimming towards the light from the depths of a stygian lake.
At first, she was blind, unable to open her eyes. She smelled fire and the tang of soap. Then, she detected the aroma of Horatio's musky cologne. A masculine scent with wood overlaid with a hint of spice. His deep, regular breathing was next.
She opened her eyes.
The room was dimly lit by the faltering light of smoldering logs. Horatio sat in a chair beside her, sleeping. His face was pale and there was a blanket over his knees. Another man slept stretched out before the hearth, his coat folded for a pillow, hands clasped on his chest.
“Where am I?” Juliet croaked.
Her throat was dry, she had not realized until she had tried to speak. Horatio stirred, eyes flickering. The man by the hearth came awake instantly, bolting upright.
“Miss Semphill, you are awake!” He raced over to her bedside. “My, my, your color has improved dramatically. How do you feel?”
Juliet examined her feelings carefully, so accustomed was she to feeling tired and unwell. Something within her had changed though. There was an energy she had not possessed for a long time. A sense of wellness and wakefulness.
She felt…refreshed.
A smile broke across her face and the stranger beamed in return as he rose to his full height.
“I feel hungry and thirsty, but otherwise, I feel... well. I remember feeling very very tired. As though I were about to die. I thought I was dying, but now…”
The stranger picked up a tray and brought it over. On it was a plate of bread and cheese with a jug of milk. It all appeared utterly delicious to Juliet. But she looked to Horatio before eating.
“Is he well?” she asked.
“Just tired. He gave quite a lot of himself to restore you,” the stranger said.
