His Defiant Wife, the Adventures of Linnett Wainwright, Book 2 (9 page)

Only an hour
ago they had lain in this very bed, safe and warm together. If only
John had listened to her and not gone outside. She had trusted his
judgement but look what had happened. Linnett had believed John
knew what he was doing when he had ventured outside. Oh why had she
put such trust in him?

Round and
around in her head the jumble of confusing thoughts went until
eventually, unbelievably, she must have slept for she woke to
bright light of day and a thin voice calling her name. John was
awake but in a great deal of pain. Linnett checked his swathed
wounds and found that they were still seeping blood.

“John, do you
think you could make it up to the bed?” she asked him. “We can but
try,” he returned bravely. Linnett hooked her arms under his and
pulled him up to a sitting position, John’s face ran with
perspiration and his teeth were gritted with the effort.“Are you
sure that you can do this? Would you rather stay here on the floor
as you are?” Linnett inquired, worried it would be too much for
John but he shook his head. “No, on both counts. I can’t stay here
on the floor, for one thing my back is hurting like the very devil
and another I am blocking the doorway. Let’s just get this over
with.”

Linnett nodded
and tucking her hands under his arms struggled to get him to his
feet but she did achieve it. John swayed alarmingly and lent
heavily on Linnett. They made slow progress over to the bed. As
they reached the bedside John sank down gratefully and Linnett let
him rest for a second or two before lifting his legs up onto the
bed, she was very anxious. John lay there, breathing heavily with
his eyes closed, his face as white as the sheet he lay on.

Gently Linnett
placed a pillow beneath John’s head and drew the covers up over
him. “Would you like a drink?” she asked as she smoothed the dark
hair away from his forehead. With a slight movement John shook his
head. “No, just sleep,” he mumbled, not even opening his eyes.
Linnett frowned, concerned. “Are you are sure? I will go and tend
to the animals and when I come back, you must have something to
drink, John. I will tend to the dressing on your leg as well.” John
merely managed to grunt, his eyes still shut.

Linnett watched
him for a little while and then satisfied that he was sleeping, she
built up the fire, put water on to heat for washing and ate some
bread and milk. She wasn’t particularly hungry but knew she must
keep up her strength. Wrapping herself warmly, Linnett took one
last look at her husband before setting off to tend the animals in
the barn. Closing the door behind her she turned and the sight that
confronted her made her gasp.

The snow was
splattered with John’s blood from the bear attack. There was so
much of it, Linnett saw with dismay. No wonder John was so weakened
and ill, not simply the terrible wounds but also the loss of blood.
Linnett fetched a shovel and cleared the bloody snow as far from
the cabin as she could, throwing it under trees and piling fresh
snow over the reddened snow to cover it. She didn’t want the smell
of blood attracting any more predators.

Linnett noticed
the musket lying in the snow where John had dropped it the previous
night; she picked it up and kept it close to her side, while she
made her way to the barn. There had been no fresh snow falls since
John had last cleared a path, so the going was relatively easy,
although still very slippery.

When she opened
the barn door she found that Amber was pleased to see her; she
swung her head towards Linnett with ears pricked eagerly forward
and she whickered softly in greeting. Linnett went straight to her
and patted her soft nose, soothing the troubled mare. Both the
horses seemed nervous and had obviously heard the bear during the
night. The other horse snorted and pawed the ground, determined not
to be left out of any reassurance being offered. Linnett reached
over and patted and soothed her until she was calmer.

Linnett mucked
out the horse stall and refilled it with fresh hay. The water
trough she filled with snow, which would soon melt in the warmer
air of the barn. Linnett settled down on a small wooden stool to
milk the cow. The gentle, sweet creature stood patiently while
Linnett rested her cheek against the animal’s warm hide and tugged
on her teats with gentle firmness. Before long, the milk pail was
half full of creamy frothy milk. Linnett moved the pail out of
harm’s way, covered it with a clean cloth and then went to perch on
an empty trough. She watched the three animals contentedly chewing
their hay.

A small
shuddering sob escaped her and soon she was crying wretchedly.
Linnett stood up and threw herself down on the pile of fragrant hay
and gave full vent to her misery. When at last she was completely
cried out, Linnett dried her eyes and rolled over onto her back.
What on earth should she do if the worst happened and John
died?

Linnett shied
away from such an unbearable thought. He wasn’t going to die, she
would make as certain of that as she could. Linnett realised that
part of her misery was anger with John for making such a dangerous
mistake. Yet, he was as human as the next man, why should she
expect perfection from him? Was it because he expected it from her
and punished her for her mistakes? The wound he had received could
kill him, the shock alone could do that and then what would she
do?

Fresh tears
welled up and impatiently Linnett brushed them away. It was strange
how important John had become to her, so much so that Linnett could
no longer imagine life without him. Yet she had been bitterly
opposed to their marriage. John was, Linnett realised, quite
simply, everything to her now. John was her life and without John,
Linnett knew, she would not wish to go on.

Not for the
first time since their arrival at the Lammers’ cabin, Linnett felt
strong waves of homesickness for Lavenstock Hall sweep over her.
She liked this country with its wide open spaces and yet she still
yearned for the gentle safety of England’s soft countryside, for
the temperate climate of that pleasant isle. Just how long would it
be before she saw her homeland again she had no idea.

Linnett found
herself longing for Sarah’s sensible kindly presence. Could she
make the journey back to the farmstead in all this snow? Almost as
soon as the thought entered her head she dismissed it, she knew the
snow lay too thick on the ground. She would have to manage alone
and John would get well because she would make him well again.

This time she
would be the strong one and he, in his weakness, would need to lean
on her. Linnett knew she was a woman now, no longer the proud,
‘green’ girl that John had married and she had to succeed in
nursing John back to health for both their sakes; the alternative
was unthinkable.

When Linnett
sat up, determined, a new mantle of maturity had settled upon her.
It was time to get on. She had to take on all the chores now and
there was no time to sit and mope. She had bread to bake and had
all the blood soaked clothes from last night to wash. John must
have some wholesome broth to help him keep his strength up, that
would need time to make. With new resolve, Linnett petted the
beasts one last time, checked that all was as it should be and then
locked up the barn and made her way back to the warmth of the
cabin.

John was still
asleep when Linnett returned to the cabin, which meant that she was
able to get on with all the tasks she needed to complete. By the
time John awoke some time later, the cabin was tidied and the
aromatic smell of broth and the homely smell of freshly baking
bread filled the cabin. Far from whetting his appetite, however,
John felt sick. He lay quietly and watched Linnett moving
efficiently around the cooking area; she looked so beautiful he
thought tenderly.

Her hair,
hastily pinned up earlier in the day, was tumbling free of its
pins, wisps curled damply around her flushed face which was pink
with exertion and a film of perspiration glistened on her brow. Who
would have thought that the haughty and spoiled Miss Linnett
Wainwright, correction
Lady
Linnett Wainwright, John grinned
to himself, would make such an able and domesticated wife.

John moved
slightly and winced, giving an involuntary groan as he jarred his
pain racked leg. Immediately Linnett was at his side. “How are you
my love?” she asked him, a concerned hand on his forehead checking
for fever. “Thirsty,” he croaked, his voice ragged with pain.
Linnett went at once and fetched him a cup of fresh milk to drink.
“When you have quenched your thirst I have some nice broth ready
for you.” John pushed the mug away.” No I’m not hungry.” He lay
back against the pillows closing his eyes again.

John was
surprised when a few moments later he was eased forward and more
pillows were tucked behind him so that he was raised almost
upright. Linnett sat down beside him, a bowl cradled in her hands.
She tucked a cloth under his chin and raised a spoon to his lips.
“Come now, open your mouth,” she ordered crisply. Without arguing,
John did as she bid. To his surprise the broth tasted good and he
found he was able to eat after all.

When he had
consumed the entire contents of the bowl, Linnett calmly removed it
and then fetched a bowl of hot water and another cloth. “What is
that for?” John enquired suspiciously. “For your wash,” Linnett
replied briskly. John shook his head “No I’ll attend to that in a
day or two when I am feeling well enough.” Linnett ignored him and
pulled the covers back. She unfastened the buttons of his shirt
whilst all the while his hands slapped hers crossly away from
him.

Finally she
stood back, put her hands on her hips and glared down at him. “Now
you just listen to me, John Foster. You will tire yourself
unnecessarily with this futile behaviour and then, when you are
exhausted, I will wash you anyway! So let us just make this easy
for the both of us and get it over with quickly. I have a lot to do
and you are not helping.” John glowered at her, “I am not a child
and I will not be bathed like one!”

He glared up at
her mulishly. Linnett considered him for a moment or two, before
dropping to her knees beside him. “Listen to me, John dear, when I
was sick you took care of me. Now that you are sick, allow me to
care for you. You are my husband in sickness and in health, under
the eyes of God. Now please, let me fulfil my obligation to you as
your wife and don’t resist help that is my duty to give and yours
to receive. After all, I allowed you to care for me when I was
ill.”

John gave her a
rueful look and finally with a sigh nodded “Get on with it then,”
he said ungraciously, “and you can stop looking so damned
smug!”

He lay with his
eyes closed throughout the entire proceedings only wincing once,
when she jarred his wounded leg. When he was clothed in a clean
night shirt, Linnett placed the bedcovers over him, turning back
the material at the end of the bed that covered his legs so that
the air could circulate around them. Linnett fetched a bowl of
clean freshly heated water and more cloths.

John watched
her suspiciously and asked, “Now what torture are you
planning?”

Linnett brought
him a large pewter goblet with a little whiskey. “Here is your
reward for being so brave.”

John cheered up
immediately and sipped the liquor gratefully. Linnett left him to
enjoy his reward in peace. She gathered up the pot of herb ointment
that Sarah had given her for wounds. It had soothing qualities and
was very healing. Glancing across at her husband, she saw that he
finally slept, and Linnett hoped the effect of the whiskey would
ensure that he stayed asleep while she changed the dressing on his
leg. Gently, she wet the bandages until they were soaked and would
peel away from the wound easily and then very carefully lifted the
first of the dirty dressings away from his leg.

“Why you sly
little vixen!”

Linnett jumped
out of her skin with surprise, glancing up into a pair of twinkling
grey eyes. “John, you startled me so! Your wound cannot be left or
it will fester, do you wish to take some more whiskey? It might
help with the discomfort.”

John kept his
gaze steady on her as he shook his head. “No, I’ll not take any
more liquor. I can see you are determined on this and so your
lovely face will have to distract me from the pain.”

“Are you sure?
This is going to hurt.”

Linnett had
turned pale and John was touched to see that she trembled.

“Do what needs
to be done, I know you will be as gentle as you can,” he reassured
her.

“Oh darling, I
promise I will try not to cause you any unnecessary pain,” Linnett
said, as she tried to control her distress. But her hands shook as
she continued with her ministrations.

John was very
brave and did not move a muscle as she removed the final strip of
cloth. His leg was a ghastly sight; the flesh looked mottled, angry
and swollen. The wound was still seeping, but at least it did not
smell putrid. Still, Linnett was apprehensive, knowing that the
worst was yet to come, and she hesitated to continue.

John spoke
gruffly. “Just get it over with, there’s a good girl....just get on
with it.” Linnett poured some of the whiskey into the water as she
had done the previous night, and resolute, she started to wash the
wounds. John flinched and gritted his teeth, and beads of sweat
stood out on his brow.

Linnett carried
out the task with gentle efficiency and began to coat the wounds
liberally in the herbal ointment. John ground his teeth and
muttered under his breath but remained quiet for the most part.
Linnett bound up the wounds once more and John visibly relaxed.

“Fetch me that
whisky now!” he ordered, his voice hoarse. Linnett did as he bid
and held the bottle out to him. “No you first” he said, “you look
as though you need it, my love.”