Regency Rogues: Rakes' Redemption: Return of the Runaway (The Infamous Arrandales) / The Outcast's Redemption (The Infamous Arrandales)

‘Well, ’tis too late for you to be travelling on now and ’tis the least we can do, for all your trouble.’

‘You are very kind,’ murmured Raoul.

‘Nay, ’tis you and madame that have been kind, monsieur, helping us as you have done.’

Madame Deschamps appeared to be in no hurry to leave, but once the other women had gone Cassie touched her arm and murmured that they must not keep the good doctor from his work. She cast a last, shy glance at Raoul and ushered the landlady from the room. Bonnaire stood gazing at the door and Raoul prompted him gently.

‘Well, Doctor, would you like to examine your patients?’

‘What? Oh, yes. Yes.’

It did not take long. Raoul had already stripped the men of their clothing and cleaned their lacerated bodies. The doctor gently drew back the thin blanket from each of the men and gazed at their lower limbs.

‘Legs crushed beyond repair,’ he observed.

‘Yes.’ Raoul nodded. ‘Both men will require amputation at the knee.’

The young doctor blenched. He placed his case upon the table, saying quietly, ‘I thought that might be the situation and brought my tools.’

He lifted out a canvas roll and opened it out on the table to display an impressive array of instruments, very much like the ones Raoul had lost when he had fled from Paris, only these looked dull and blunt from lack of use.

Raoul frowned. ‘Have you ever performed an amputation, Doctor?’

Bonnaire swallowed and shook his head.

‘I saw one once, in Paris, but I could not afford to finish my training. These tools belonged to my uncle. He was an army surgeon.’

Raoul closed his eyes, his initial relief at finding a medical man on hand rapidly draining away. He sighed.

‘Then you had best let me deal with this.’

‘You? You are a surgeon, Monsieur Duval?’

‘Yes. And I have performed dozens of these operations.’

The relief in the young man’s face was only too apparent. A sudden draught made the candles flicker as the door opened and the priest came in.

‘Ah, Dr Bonnaire, they said you had arrived. Thanks be! A sad business, this. Will the Lord take any more souls this night, think you?’

‘I hope not, Monsieur le Curé,’ was the doctor’s fervent response.

‘Good, good. I came to tell you that you are not to worry about your fee, Doctor. If these poor people have not the means there is silverware in the church that can be sold. You shall not go unrewarded for this night’s work.’

The young doctor bowed.

‘Thank you, but if anyone is to be paid, it should be this man.’ He glanced at Raoul. ‘He is the more experienced surgeon and is going to perform the operations necessary to save these two men.’

‘Is that so indeed?’ declared the priest, his brows rising in surprise.

‘It is,’ said Raoul, grimly inspecting the instruments spread out before him. ‘But to do so I will require these to be sharpened.’

‘But of course, monsieur! Give me the ones you need and I shall see it is done without delay.’

‘And get someone to take this fellow home,’ added Raoul, nodding at the man dozing in the chair by the fire.

‘I will do so, sir, I will do so.’ The priest gathered up the instruments and bustled away, leaving Bonnaire to fix Raoul with a solemn gaze.

‘Thank you, monsieur, and I meant what I said about payment.’

‘I do not want the church’s silverware, but you should take it, Bonnaire, and when this night is done you should use it to go back to Paris and finish your training.’

They set to work, preparing the room and arranging all the lamps and candles to provide the best light around the sturdy table that would be used to carry out the operations. The situation was not ideal, but Raoul had worked in worse conditions during his time at sea. A woman crept in timidly and helped the injured man out of the room just as the priest returned with the sharpened instruments.

‘Thank you.’ Bonnaire took the honed tools and handed them to Raoul. ‘Perhaps, mon père, you could send someone to attend to the lights and the fire while we work.’

‘But of course. I will ask Madame Duval to step in.’

‘No.’ Raoul frowned. ‘She is not used to such work.’

The priest stopped and looked at him in surprise.

‘Really, monsieur? If you say so. Madame Deschamps, of course, is a woman most resourceful, but she is very busy at the auberge.’

‘Well, there must be someone else who can come in,’ said Raoul irritably.

The priest spread his hands.

‘These are simple people, monsieur, uneducated. They are easily frightened and I fear they would be sorely distressed by the sight of their neighbours in such a situation as this.’

‘But my wife...’

Raoul’s words trailed off. What could he say, that his wife was a lady? That she was too cossetted and spoiled to be of any use here?

‘Madame Duval has shown herself to be most resourceful in this tragedy,’ the priest continued. ‘The villagers turned to her in their grief and she did not fail them. While they could only weep and wail she arranged who should go to the fields to fetch the mothers and wives of those who were working in the barn. She helped to feed the children and put them to bed and it was madame who organised the women to prepare this house for you, to boil the water and tear up the clean sheets for bandages. Even now she is helping to cook supper at the auberge for those who are grieving too much to feed themselves or their families.’

‘Practical as well as beautiful,’ remarked Bonnaire. ‘You are to be congratulated on having such a partner, Monsieur Duval.’

Raoul’s jaw clenched hard as he tried to ignore the doctor’s remark. He did not want to be congratulated, did not want to think how fortunate a man would be to have a wife like Lady Cassandra.

He shrugged and capitulated.

‘Very well, let her come in.’

They had tarried long enough and he had work to do.

They lifted the first man on to the table. He and his fellow patient had been given enough brandy to make them drowsy and Raoul worked quickly. He was aware of Cassandra moving silently around the room, building up the fire to keep the water hot, trimming the wicks on the lights and even helping Bonnaire to hold down the patient when necessary. He glanced up at one critical point, fearing she might faint at the gruesome nature of the business, but although she was pale she appeared perfectly composed and obeyed his commands as steadily as the young doctor.

Midnight was long past before the operations were complete and the patients could be left to recover. Raoul felt utterly drained and when Bonnaire offered to sit with them through the night he did not argue. He shrugged on his coat and escorted Cassie to the auberge, where the landlady was waiting up to serve them supper.