Page 82 of Mending the Baron's Sins
Sudden exhaustion overtook him, and Horace could no longer stay propped up on the pillows. He fell to the side, though Orla reached over him, trying to pull him up again.
“Horace!” she exclaimed loudly. “Colm could flee Lancashire. He’ll run if we do not stop him now.”
“I’m not chasing after him.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
When he groaned in sudden pain, Orla reached for him again. She settled him back on the pillows.
Horace rubbed his eyes. It was the first time in days he was able to focus on anything. He focused on Orla’s face now and saw that she had heavy bags under her eyes, as if someone had smudged her skin with gray charcoal.
“Ah, Orla.” He cupped her cheek, and she leaned into him. It was a stolen touch, momentary, but it meant everything to him, and his heart leapt. He so badly wanted to tell her that he loved her, that in this time confined to this bed, he realized everything that was still wrong in his life, but now was not the time. “I need a constable. Get Adam.” His strength lost him, and his hand fell to the bed. “Get him to send for a constable at once.”
“Yes, yes, of course. I’ll go now.” She ran from the bed.
The moment she was gone, he regretted his words. He felt very lonely in that room by himself and was suddenly frightened. How often had he been alone in this room with Colm, when that man had the power to kill him at any moment? It was almost impossible to believe that Colm could actually try to kill him now?
Do I believe he did it intentionally… or not?
Colm’s tearful response was enough persuasion to make Horace doubt his convictions. Maybe indeed Colm had just always intended to render him incapacitated, but it didn’t make up for years of torture.
That’s all this was, wasn’t it? Torture, so I would keep paying him more money.
When Orla returned to the room, she came with Adam. The two were talking so fast that Horace found it difficult to keep up with the conversation, but he heard enough to realize that on the way, Orla had told him what had happened.
“Colm? That man? This is appalling!”
“It’s dreadful,” Orla seconded, reaching for the bed. She clambered onto the bed, apparently no longer caring how inappropriate it looked for her to be climbing onto his bed insuch a way. She mopped Horace’s brow once again with a cool cloth, urging him to turn his head toward her.
At last, he could look at her as she did this. The pain in her face was evident.
“Horace?” Adam’s face now swam into focus. “I’ll get the constable.”
“Yes, get him,” Horace begged. “Send him after Colm. Camphor poisoning.”
“Don’t strain yourself to speak. Orla has told me.” Adam gripped his shoulder. “We will search the whole of Lancashire if we must, but we’ll find him. Just concentrate on getting better now, all right?”
Horace barely managed to nod, then Adam’s face was gone. It was replaced once more with Orla.
“Orla,” Horace whispered to her. “Camphor… Will I…”
“You’ll live,” she said with sudden vigor, flinging herself off the bed. He groaned, needing her back beside him, but she returned fast, placing a pestle and mortar on the table beside the bed and suddenly grinding up herbs into tiny pieces that filled the air with their fragrant scent.
“Now I know what he gave you. I can fix things, but I’m sorry. First, I need to make you sick, Horace, just in case any of it is still in your system.” She turned toward him and pushed a hair out of his face.
It was a loving touch, such a kind one that he sank into it.
“I trust you. Do what you need to do.”
***
“Horace, why are you out of bed?”
Horace looked around. In front of him on the writing bureau he’d had moved into his room were the constable’s reports. For five days they had pursued Colm now, but they could not find him. There wasn’t even a trace of Colm back at his own lodgings in Manchester, suggesting that the man might not have gone home at all after fleeing this place.
“Orla?” Horace whispered as she hurried into the room.
She was tired, as she had often been over the last few days. He could see it at a glance. Yet what made him smile so much was the ease with which she walked into his room and moved to his side. It had become their habit over these last five days. Therewere few boundaries now, and certainly no walls, as they had lived in and out of one another’s pockets as she had healed him.
