The Dead Queen's Garden by Nicola Slade Read Free Book Online Page A

handed her a cushion.
    ‘Thank you,’ she said, and glanced round again, looking anxious. ‘Is there another cushion, please? I believe he will be more comfortable if we can raise him a little higher.’
    A second cushion was passed to her and presently a warm rug offered, which was placed over the patient, while a glass of brandy appeared to hand as if by magic.
    ‘Thank you once more.’ She looked up and was startled to see the heroine of the Crimea bending beside her. Charlotte nodded gratefully and helped the captain to take a restorative sip. ‘I think he’ll recover now, do not you, Miss Nightingale?’ Her words weremore hopeful than she felt but she saw to her relief that the naval man was showing some sign of improvement and making an attempt to sit up.
    ‘Come, Captain,’ she soothed, gesticulating hastily for a basin lest the captain’s queasy-looking countenance should indicate actual vomiting. ‘There,’ she murmured as her patient regained some colour in his cheeks. ‘Lean back against the wall for a few more minutes then we’ll find some strong arms to help you to the morning-room where you may lie upon a sofa in peace until you are more composed.’
    She rose and looked around the room for help and indicated to the hovering butler that a footman was needed. The captain’s colour continued to improve so she moved a little to one side, to give him air, but ready to assist if need be.
    ‘I am impressed, Mrs Richmond.’ Standing near her, Miss Nightingale astonished Charlotte with a nugget of praise. ‘Most impressed. I like to see a woman of resolution, particularly when the rest of the room is filled with squawking geese and silly sheep, all milling around to no purpose. I suppose you would not consider….’ A slight commotion outside in the hall caused her to break off in mid-question and raise her eyes, while a sardonic smile lightened her expression for a moment. ‘Oh dear me, our troubles are all at an end,’ she murmured, a sarcastic note in her voice, ‘now that I see Dr Chant is upon us. I spotted his giddy young wife here. At present he is said to be the Capital’s most celebrated physician, even rumoured to be in occasional attendance upon the Prince Consort, no less. I trust the captain has a fat wallet and a strong constitution for he’ll need it if the good doctor is to be let loose upon him. And that goes for the Prince Consort too,’ she added thoughtfully.
    Charlotte glanced up and saw a well-dressed, grey-haired man in the doorway, expostulating with Dr Perry who had made a belated appearance.
    For a moment, Charlotte thought Miss Nightingale had a smirk on her face as she went on, ‘The bearing of an archbishop,’ was her whispered aside, ‘and the soul of a petty clerk. The good doctor doesn’t approve of intelligent women who are taller than he ishimself.’ Yes, however unlikely, Charlotte was convinced the great lady sported a broad grin. ‘He doesn’t approve of me,’ she added. ‘And he certainly won’t take to you, my dear.’
    A pompous-looking fellow, Charlotte decided, but he’ll get no change out of Dr Perry so there can be no need for me to rush to Captain Penbury’s assistance. She hid a smile as she took note of the captain’s wife who was indulging in a small fit of the vapours on her own behalf with little success, as the assembled guests merely quickened their steps, averting their eyes as they passed by her.
    ‘Oh dear,’ Charlotte sighed as she realized nobody else was likely to do anything, certainly not Dr Perry who bent over the fallen sailor, took his pulse, barked a few chastening words, and took his leave. ‘Do pray excuse me, Miss Nightingale but I must rescue the poor captain, not only from the doctor you mention, but from his own wife.’ She bowed politely. ‘It has been an honour to make your acquaintance.’
    From the lady’s frowning expression, Charlotte suspected her own timely escape bid had rescued her from being