Chapter 11. The Lion and the Unicorn

The night watch at the clinic seemed endless. Rather than wake Dr. Donaldson at midnight, as he had requested, Meg let him sleep. He had tended the victims of the fire for much of the day until he became overwhelmed and sent for Meg; it seemed logical to her that he was in greater need of rest than she was.

The evening was quiet after Mr. Thornton's visit. The injured men rested comfortably, and, to her great relief, did not succumb to their injuries but showed some signs of improvement toward the morning. Two were actually able to sleep, and the third drank some water and asked for something to eat. Meg had plenty of time to think, but rather than the fire, she found her thoughts drawn to the Master of Marlborough Mills. He was a man of such principle and honor, she thought warmly, but that principle was tempered by a kind heart. A woman would be very lucky to win the heart of such a man, she mused, and she hoped with some bravado that he would find a woman worthy of his love. A small voice inside of her insisted that he had found her, but she sternly silenced that voice.

As he had promised, several servants from Marlborough Mills arrived shortly after dawn, bringing bandages and pots of soup and broth. Meg gave the men bowls of broth, and all were able to eat and managed to keep the food down. When Dr. Donaldson, unshaven but rested, came into the examination rooms that morning, he found two of the injured men drinking broth, and Meg in the process of removing the bandages of the third so that she could examine his wounds.

Looking up from her ministrations, she greeted the doctor in a relatively cheerful manner.

He crossed his arms on his chest and glared at her sternly. "Miss Hale, I asked you to awaken me at midnight. Have you been up the entire night?"

"No, I managed to steal a few hours of sleep on a cot in the back room," Meg replied serenely, "once I determined that our patients were either sleeping or resting comfortably. I would have heard them easily had they called out. Please tell me if I am hurting you," she said in an aside to her patient, who shook his head stoically.

"Who brought this food?" Dr. Donaldson inquired. "Was it Miss Dixon? I would have thought she'd be exhausted after the day she had."

"No," Meg replied quietly, "It came from Marlborough Mills."

Dr. Donaldson whistled, and leaned against the doorjamb. "So Thornton heard about the fire and sent to see how we made out-that was good of him."

Meg nodded, unwinding a length of clean bandage. "He came himself to find out how we got on. It was very good of him, considering that we have heard nothing from Mr. Hamper."

Dr. Donaldson snorted in disgust. "I would have been downright shocked to learn that Hamper had come to check on his men. I have no very high opinion of that man, and this has done nothing to alter that opinion."

Meg fussed with keeping the bandage in place about the man's wound. "It shows the high regard in which Mr. Thornton holds you that he came to offer us assistance," she remarked.

An amused smile lit the doctor's features. "It does indeed show his high regard, but I doubt very much whether that regard is directed at me."

Meg ignored his provocative remark. "Thanks to Mr. Thornton, we have nourishing food to feed the men, as well as clean bandages to replace our supply. When I am finished here, I shall go around to the apothecary for more salve."

When she completed her bandaging, Dr. Donaldson grasped her by her elbow and propelled her from the room.

"Indeed, you most certainly will not go to the apothecary," he said sternly. "I shall send Boucher when he arrives. You are going home to bed, and I do not want to see you back here until much later today."

"The other patients-" Meg protested, but her cut her off in mid-sentence.

"I can handle the patients. I will need your help later today in assessing further treatment for our serious injuries, and in performing an inventory of supplies we will need. Meg, do not argue with me," he added as he saw her open her mouth. "You were a God-send yesterday, and I do not want you to become ill from lack of sleep."

He surprised both of them by kissing her lightly on the forehead, and pushing her out onto the sidewalk. "Do not let me see you back here until after three this afternoon," he commanded, and shut the door in her face.

Meg walked briskly home, warmed by Dr. Donaldson's praise and concern. They had done a good day's work yesterday, and were truly blessed not to have lost another life to the fire. She thanked heaven once again for the opportunity to work with a man such as Dr. Donaldson, from whom she had learned so much. She also said a prayer of thanks for Mr. Thornton's kindness. She could still feel his strong arms about her as he comforted her last night. Unable to trust her treacherous feelings, she had wrenched herself from his embrace, and regretted seeing his expression of soft concern fade to one of stiff propriety.

Halfway home, Meg decided to stop in at Francis Street and check on Bessy's condition. Mary had mentioned yesterday that her sister had been quite ill. Of late, Bessy had shown little appetite, and she was not sleeping well. Meg had prepared several draughts to help her sleep, but her patient complained that they gave her unpleasant dreams and she would rather have difficulty sleeping than to keep waking with a start and in a fright.

Meg thought of how her relationship with Bessy had grown during the months she had been in Milton. She regarded her as a friend with whom she could share stories and gain insight on the ways of Milton. Bessy knew everyone in the Princeton district and most of the workers at Marlborough Mills, and enjoyed talking about their lives. She loved to hear stories about London, and had Meg delving deep into her memory to come up with information about London during this time period, rather than the London Meg knew so well. Lately, Meg had spent her visits reading to Bessy; the girl would lie back in her bed, propped up on pillows and with her eyes closed so that she might concentrate on the adventures of Ivanhoe. She was quite enthralled with the stories of the dashing knight and his chivalrous pursuits.

Upon arriving at Bessy's home in Princeton, Meg stepped lightly to the door and knocked gently, not wanting to disturb her friend if she was sleeping. Several moments passed before Mary opened the door, wrapped in the shawl that Meg had given her. Tears stained the girl's face.

Meg asked sharply, "Mary, what is it?"

"Oh, Miss," Mary whispered. "It's Bessy."

Meg stared at her. "Has she had another spell?" Mary nodded her head vehemently.

Meg moved swiftly around Mary, and saw Bessy lying on the bed in the corner, her face smooth and her arms crossed on her chest. In her hands she clutched a scrap of lace that Meg had given her.

She felt the girl's pulse for several moments before closing her eyes in grief. Bessy was dead. She had thought her friend was growing stronger, and had fooled herself into believing that she might survive.

Mary crept next to the bed, and Meg placed her arm about the grieving girl's shoulders and pulled her close in an embrace. "I'm sorry, Mary," she whispered. "Bessy is gone." Mary gave a small sob and burrowed her face in Meg's shoulder.

It was inconceivable that the lovely, funny girl who was her first friend in this strange town should be dead. Bessy was beautiful in her repose, her expression calm and a half-smile upon her lips. Her pain was gone now, and she was at peace, Meg thought wistfully.

Tears pricked Meg's eyes. She had thought that if she saved Mr. Thornton, she might be able to save others as well. Nicholas and the rioters were safe now, but she had held out a small, wild hope that Bessy might be spared an early death. She heaved a shaky sigh; Bessy's illness had been too far along for Meg to make any difference. How arrogant that I thought my nursing skills alone might make her better, Meg thought with bitter regret. I could not save her.

"Let me help you, Mary. What can I do?" Meg asked quietly.

"Please, Meg, would you help me lay out the body?" Mary asked hesitantly.

Meg gathered her into her arms and hugged her tenderly. "Of course, I will." She stopped and asked, "Where is your father?"

Mary ducked her head. "Over to Goulden Dragon," she said, wiping her eyes with a corner of the shawl.

Meg grimaced. "I will go around and fetch him," she announced.

Mary gasped in consternation, "You will never go there by yourself, miss! It is a rough place."

"I daresay I have seen rougher," Meg replied tersely. "I shall be but a minute-and I will be fine. I will send your father home to you, and I will tell him about Bessy so he will be prepared when he sees her. I will return to help you when I have fetched a few things from home." She hugged Mary once more before she left.

Meg stepped briskly out into the busy street and wended her way through the daily bustle of Princeton to the door of the Goulden Dragon. It was quite unsavory looking, but as Meg had intimated to Mary, she had seen worse in London during her early days of nursing. She pushed open the grimy door and stepped inside, pausing to let her eyes adjust to the gloom of the barroom. As she scanned the interior, she was instantly accosted by a rough looking man.

"Hell-o, my bonny girl, what brings you here?" he said leeringly to her.

Meg wrinkled her nose; his bleary eyes and the odor of stale ale emanating from him told her that he had been imbibing for quite some time. "I am looking for Nicholas Higgins," she said in her clear tones. "Have you seen him?"

"Can't say that I have, but I'd be all too happy to take his place," he said slyly, reaching out to take her arm. She slapped his hand off, and he looked surprised, then angry.

"Do you think you're too good for me, miss?" the man demanded.

"Shove off, Trimble," Nicholas said in a low, deadly voice. He had come up behind Meg and stood glaring over her shoulder at the man.

It was obvious that Trimble recognized Higgins as someone to be reckoned with, for the greasy little man moved away rapidly without saying another word. Nicholas watched his retreat before turning his attention to Meg.

"What are you doing in here?" Nicholas asked belligerently.

"I have come to fetch you home," she said quietly.

"Oh, you have, have you?" he snapped. "Is Bess all in a lather because I've been gone for too long?"

Meg looked at him steadily. "I think you had better go home, Nicholas. Mary has need of you."

His expression grew wary and then frightened, as if he had a premonition of what she was about to say. Taking her by the arm, he led her outside and around the corner of the taproom, away from the prying eyes of his cronies. "Tell me what has happened," he demanded in a breathless tone.

Meg closed her eyes; she knew of no gentle way to break the news to him. "Nicholas, Bessy has died."

She saw his face go lax with shock. "Bess...dead?" he whispered. She nodded, and watched as his face crumpled in grief. Before she realized what she did, she clasped her arms about him and hugged him to her, and he sobbed his grief into her shoulder. They stood several moments in the street thus, the object of curious and compassionate eyes.

Nicholas pulled away eventually, swiping his hand across his eyes and whispered, "Was Mary with her?"

"Yes, she was," Meg said. "Nicholas, I must go home and gather some things to help Mary...." Her voice trailed off, and she continued quickly, "Would you like to come with me to speak with my father?" Perhaps Mr. Hale could provide some comfort, she thought, grasping at possibilities.

Nicholas shook his head. "No, I want to see my girl. Thank you for fetching me." He turned and headed for his home.

Meg watched him turn the corner before she hurried toward her home in Crampton. She had been exhausted when she reached Princeton, but the death of her friend acted as a bracing tonic, and she was awake and alert to her purpose. She would not let Mary down.

As she rushed into the house, Dixon came up from the kitchen and immediately noted her stricken expression. "What is it, Miss Meg?" she asked in a hushed tone, her anxious eyes scanning her young mistress' face.

"Bessy died," Meg choked out, and fell into Dixon's sympathetic arms. Her tears flowed freely, as Dixon petted and cosseted her over the loss of her friend.

"That poor child," Dixon exclaimed, tears in her own eyes. "I hope some neighbor has come to help Mary. She will be prostrate with grief."

"I am going to help Mary, Dixon," Meg sniffed, pulling away from her comforting embrace. "I have come home to gather a few things before I return to Princeton."

"Miss Meg" Dixon exclaimed in consternation, "do not tell me that you are going out after being at that clinic all night! You must be dead upon your feet!"

"Dixon, I must go," Meg replied firmly. "Mary has asked me to help prepare her sister's body. I cannot refuse."

"Let me go," Dixon urged, but Meg shook her head firmly.

"No, Dixon, thank you for the offer, but I must go. This is something I must do for Bessy and Mary. You must stay here in case Mother needs you. I promise I will be home soon." She kissed Dixon on the cheek and smiled reassuringly before moving toward the staircase.

Moving swiftly about her room, she extracted several undergarments from her chest of drawers. Stepping to her armoire, she pulled out the green gown that Bessy had admired so extravagantly the evening of the Thornton's dinner party. Her friend had never worn such a dress during her lifetime, but somehow it seemed fitting that she be buried in it.

********

On a warm summer day, Bessy was laid to rest in the graveyard far above Milton, wearing the ball gown she had admired so extravagantly. Meg had commissioned a coffin, and she and Mary had washed and laid out the body in her finery. Meg filled the coffin with flowers and rosemary, for remembrance; and tucked in various mementoes that she knew Bessy loved, such as her shawl and the lace-edged handkerchief Meg had given her.

Nicholas Higgins was disconsolate; Mary told her that he had wept like a baby when he returned home and saw that his oldest daughter was indeed dead. He could not think or act coherently for several days after Bessy's death, and leaned heavily upon Meg to make the few simple arrangements necessary to bury his eldest daughter.

Mr. Hale attended the funeral, as did Jenny and her family. It was a small service, and the vicar read Bessy's favorite Bible verses that Mary had provided to him. Higgins hung back from the grave until Meg took him by the hand and forced him to stand by her, her arm and Mary's about his waist for support.

After the funeral, Meg insisted that Higgins and Mary come to her house for tea so that Nicholas could talk to her father and derive what spiritual comfort Mr. Hale could offer, and Mary might find consolation in speaking with Dixon. It was a somber tea, but Nicholas appeared to derive a great deal of solace from his discussions with Mr. Hale. Once she saw they were conversing comfortably, Meg left her father and Nicholas to their own devices, and joined Dixon and Mary in the kitchen.

Mary spoke wistfully about Bessy, and the mischief that she and Bess would get into when they were young girls. Nicholas would not allow them to have a pet, Mary said, but the girls would let the neighborhood dog into their house while their father was at work so that they might play with him, under the indulgent eye of their mother. Nicholas never knew where the extra pork chop or chicken leg left over from dinner went; unbeknownst to him, the girls would spirit it away and wrap it up for their four-legged visitor.

Margaret smiled to hear these stories. "Was the dog named Brutus?" she asked unthinkingly.

"Why, yes," Mary replied, her eyes wide in astonishment. "How did you know that, Meg?"

Meg caught herself and responded quickly, "I supposed Bessy told me." In truth, she remembered Gran's stories about this dog whenever Meg and Amelia asked for a pet, and Lily refused. She felt close to this young girl who would one day adopt her and care for her with all of the love of a real grandmother, and she wished once again that she had been able to save Bessy for her sister's sake.

Nicholas was quite calm when the time came to depart. As they left, Meg followed them out onto the stoop and hugged first Mary, then Nicholas.

"I will come as soon as I can to see how you fare," she whispered, close to tears again at the thought of the void left in all of their lives by Bessy's death.

As she extracted herself from Nicholas' embrace, her eyes met those of Mr. Thornton. He stood across the street and glared at her. Her lips parted in surprise, and she started forward. After staring at her for a brief moment, he spun about on his heel and walked quickly in the direction he had come.

"Thornton will not think much of you consorting with union rabble," Nicholas remarked gloomily.

Meg lifted her chin and met Nicholas' gaze directly. "That is Mr. Thornton's problem, not mine," she said firmly. "I will come to visit you as soon as I am able," she repeated, and lingered to watch father and daughter walk slowly home arm in arm.

She hoped that Mr. Thornton might reconsider and return, but they did not see him that day or for the remainder of the week. Mr. Hale opined that business was keeping him too busy to call for his lessons, but Meg feared he would not come because of her presence. She grieved to think her father might be deprived of the company of his friend because of her, but she did not know, short of accepting his suit, what she could do to mend matters. She could not accept his offer of marriage while her future was so unclear, no matter that her heart cried out there was nothing she would rather do more.

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