The Ribbon Weaver (45 page)
Both Lily and Beatrice were waiting for her there, ready to remove her clothes, dry her and change her into a clean nightgown. The doctor was also present, and once Amy had been gently transferred to the bed he ushered the men and the maids away, keen to see if his patient would need a nightgown or a shroud. He did, however, allow Samuel and Josephine into the room as he felt for a pulse. For a while his face was grave but then suddenly he gave them a glimmer of a smile.
‘She is alive,’ he told them. ‘But only just. Her heartbeat is weak and her pulse is thready. And now I will examine her properly.’
Josephine was crying softly as a vision of Amy’s injuries flashed before her eyes. A bone had actually been protruding through the skin on her leg, and there did not seem to be an inch of her that was not bruised or cut. And then there was her face.
Her beautiful face
. Would it ever be beautiful again? Josephine doubted it after seeing the horrendous gash on her cheek. But then, she told herself, none of these things mattered, just so long as Amy lived. That was the best they could hope for now.
‘Have you informed Mrs Ernshaw that Amy has been found?’ Josephine’s exhausted husband asked her.
She nodded, the overwhelming fear she was experiencing showing clearly in her eyes. ‘Yes, I sent the carriage to fetch her. She should be here at any moment.’
Even as she uttered the words, they heard the front door open and Molly was helped inside by Lily. The first thing she saw was Toby sitting on a chair in the hallway, his hands dangling between his knees and his head bowed.
‘Oh, Toby … she ain’t …’
He stared up at her from red-rimmed eyes. ‘I don’t know, Molly,’ he told her truthfully. ‘The doctor is upstairs with her now.’
Without waiting for an invitation, Molly hobbled along the hallway and wheezed up the stairs, ignoring her aching legs. She found the Forresters standing on the landing and as she approached them, Josephine took her hand.
‘The doctor is in with her now, Molly,’ she told her. ‘She is alive but seriously injured. All we can do now is wait to see what he says.’
Molly’s shoulders sagged and as Samuel pushed a chair towards her she sank on to it and screwed her eyes tight shut.
It was nearly half an hour later when the doctor strode from the room.
‘I am afraid she is in a very bad way,’ he told them solemnly. ‘Her face I can stitch, although I have to be honest and tell you, with a gash so deep, she will be scarred for life. But that is the least of her problems. I found at least three breaks below her left knee, and I fear … Well, I fear that there is no way to save that leg. I shall have to amputate below the knee.’
‘
Oh, no!
’ Josephine burst into a fresh torrent of tears as Molly stared at the doctor from tortured eyes.
‘But will she live?’ This was from Samuel and now the doctor looked him full in the eye as he replied, ‘That I cannot say. Who knows what internal injuries she may have sustained, as well as the ones that are visible? What I do know is I have to operate now whilst she is still unconscious. Do you wish me to proceed?’
Samuel and Josephine looked towards Molly and when she nodded numbly they then nodded their consent.
‘Right then, I shall need a good solid flat-topped table to be carried into the room,’ he told them brusquely. ‘And also as much hot water and clean towels as you can supply me with.’
Josephine bustled away to see to his requests as Molly sat there feeling as if her whole life was falling apart around her.
Twenty minutes later, the doctor was ready to begin with his shirt-sleeves rolled up to above his elbows. ‘It is kinder this way,’ he explained to them. ‘Should she wake up, the pain of stitching her face would be excruciating and as for the amputation – well …’
They were standing in Amy’s room. She had been transfered to a stout oak table that had been carried up from the kitchen. A smaller one was placed at the side of it and as Molly’s eyes rested on the bottle of laudanum and the instruments lying there she shuddered, feeling as if she had been caught in the grip of a nightmare. Only the day before, her girl had been stunningly beautiful with a wonderful life stretching ahead of her. After today,
if
she survived, she would be maimed for life and a cripple. As Josephine led her from the room she began to sob.
The night hours ticked away on the grandfather clock in the drawing room as the Forresters, with Molly and Toby to keep them company, waited for news from the doctor. Both Beatrice and Lily had refused to go to bed and whilst Lily served the silent party at regular intervals with tea which was left to go cold, Beatrice volunteered to help the doctor. He would need someone to pass him his instruments, and being Amy’s lifelong friend she wanted to be present.
At last, the doctor appeared in the doorway, his apron covered in blood, looking weary and sad.
‘I have done all I can,’ he said heavily. ‘Now we can only wait to see if she wakes up.’
‘How long is that likely to be?’ Josephine asked fearfully.
The doctor shrugged. ‘There is no way of knowing, I am afraid. She is in a deep coma and we have to remember that on top of all her injuries she had lain outside for a whole night. I would suggest that in the morning you employ two nurses. Should she survive, she will need constant care.’
Mr Forrester nodded. ‘It shall be so,’ he assured the man huskily. ‘And thank you for what you have done.’ The words sounded ludicrous even to his own ears. Why was he thanking this man for cutting Amy’s leg off and maiming her for life? But then had he not, the alternative was too terrible to even contemplate.
‘Can I go in to her now?’ Molly asked pitiably from the depths of the chair.
The doctor nodded. ‘Of course you can, Mrs Ernshaw, but I should warn you that she will not be aware that you are there.’
Molly rose slowly as her back screamed in protest and Josephine accompanied her. Toby too now rose from his seat and addressing Mr Forrester he told him, ‘I ought to be going now. There’s nothin’ more I can do here. Good night, sir.’
‘Good night, Toby, and thank you. I don’t know what we would have done without you tonight.’
Toby inclined his head and then strode past him with his mouth set in a grim line. This had been the worst night of his whole life.
It had now been two days since Toby had rescued Amy from the bottom of the ravine but as yet she showed no signs of gaining consciousness. It had almost broken Molly’s heart the first time she had stepped into the room and seen her. The gash on Amy’s cheek had gone deep to the bone and the doctor had stitched it as best he could, but it still looked grotesque. If anything it looked even worse now than it had on the night the doctor had stitched it. Now the whole area around it was black and blue with bruises, and that side of her face was so swollen that the corner of her mouth and her eye were pulled down and she looked disfigured.
A cage had been placed beneath the sheets to hold them off her leg. The doctor explained that he had amputated halfway between the ankle and the knee, and assured them that once the stump was healed, Amy would be able to have a wooden leg made that would fit over it. But this was little consolation to Molly. She knew that Amy would never be the same girl again. Not that it made her love her any the less. If anything she loved her even more now and had not left her side once. She talked to her constantly and begged her to come back to her. If the girl died, Molly knew that she would have nothing left to live for.
Josephine had barely left the room either and she and Molly had taken it in turns napping in the chairs that had been placed at either side of the bed. Two nurses were now in attendance and the only time the two women slipped away was when they needed to use the commode or when one of the nurses was changing the dressings on Amy’s leg. Somehow, neither of them could face watching that. The doctor was still calling in three times a day but each time he would leave shaking his head. There was nothing more he could do now.
Samuel had written to François to tell him of the accident but knew that it would probably be at least another week before he could expect a reply, and with Amy as she was, anything could have happened by then.
Toby had called in to The Folly each evening on his way home after work to enquire after Amy, but had declined the offer to see her. For now, he preferred to remember her as she had been, not the broken girl he had lifted up the steep cliff face.
It was on this evening, as he was making his way home after calling in at The Folly, that he began to question for the first time how the accident might have come about. How could Amy, such a sensible soul, have fallen from the edge of the ravine if she was sitting sketching? And why had the sketches he had seen been trampled on and scattered about? But then, he asked himself, who would ever hurt Amy? She was loved by all. There was one thing for sure. Unless Amy woke up to tell them what had actually happened, they would never know.
By the fourth day, although no one admitted it out loud, everyone was beginning to lose hope of Amy ever awakening. Molly was so tired that she was sure she could have slept for a whole month straight through, but she was afraid of taking any more than a few moments’ nap at a time in case Amy stirred.
Adam had been in to see her that morning, looking pale and pinched as they all did, but after hearing that there was still no change he retired back to his room.
At lunchtime, the doctor called in for his midday visit just as he always did, and for the first time after taking her pulse, he smiled tentatively. ‘Her pulse is steadier,’ he told them, not wishing to raise their hopes yet wanting to give them something to hold on to. ‘And her heartbeat is more regular too.’
‘Does that mean that she’s goin’ to be all right?’ Molly asked hopefully.
‘Well … let us just say for now that it is a step in the right direction,’ the doctor told her cautiously. ‘I shall be back this evening. But if there is any change at all in the meantime, do not hesitate to send for me.’
The two women bade him goodbye, then sat back to continue their vigil. Molly’s head was dropping by mid-afternoon, but she still clung firmly to Amy’s limp hand. It was whilst she was doing so that she suddenly detected a slight twitch in the girl’s fingers. Her head was up in an instant as she stared down at it, and sure enough a few seconds later it twitched again.
‘Mrs Forrester … I reckon she just moved her hand a little,’ Molly muttered, praying with all her soul that she had been right. Josephine was up in an instant, and taking Amy’s other hand, she gently shook it up and down.
‘Amy, my dear … can you hear me?’ Her voice was little above a whisper. For long moments there was no sign that Amy had heard her but then she suddenly let out a low groan.
It was Molly’s turn to try now. ‘Amy, if yer can hear us, open yer eyes, pet.’
Again nothing for some long time, and then Amy blinked. It wasn’t much but it told them that she had heard them.
‘Blink again,’ Molly urged, and this time Amy obeyed her almost instantly. Looking towards Josephine, Molly told her, ‘Get someone to run fer the doctor. I reckon she’s comin’ round.’
With an excited smile on her face, Josephine lifted her skirts in a most unbecoming manner and ran to do as she was told.
Amy opened her eyes properly early the next morning, and groaned with pain. Molly was up and leaning over her in an instant as she soothed, ‘It’s all right, lass. Just relax an’ take it easy.’
As Amy’s eyes settled on the old woman’s face her eyes fluttered shut again as she fell into a natural sleep. From time to time she would wake, flailing and crying as if she was caught in the grip of a nightmare, but then when she saw Molly she would settle again. This went on for two days, during which time her mouth would open and close as if she was trying to tell them something, but no words came out.
‘She is probably just traumatised from the accident,’ the doctor told Molly when she expressed her concerns. ‘In actual fact she is doing very well, so try not to worry too much. Injuries such as Amy sustained are going to take a long time to heal, so please be patient.’
Molly nodded. She knew only too well that they had a long way to go. As yet, Amy had no idea that she had lost part of her leg; nor about the damage to her face, but Molly knew that soon they would have to tell her, and she dreaded it. Outwardly, her cuts and bruises were healing. Even the scar on her face was not quite so swollen now, but already Molly could see that if would never disappear, and it ran in a jagged angry line from just beneath her eye to her chin. And the girl had been so beautiful; it almost broke her old heart to see her.
Josephine was just relieved that Amy had survived the accident, and chattered to her constantly about François and the forthcoming wedding. ‘We shall have to get you well,’ she would tell her as she spooned chicken broth into her mouth. ‘so that you can get busy on the design for your wedding dress. I have no doubt that François will be coming to see you soon to make sure that you are recovering.’
But François did not come. The following week Amy received a letter from him, which Josephine read out to her. He expressed his regrets at her accident and assured her that he was looking forward to the wedding and counting off the days. Secretly, Josephine was a little peeved that he had not taken the trouble to come and see Amy personally. After all, he
was
her fiancé. But then as her husband pointed out, the Laroques were very busy people and could not just leave their businesses unattended without a great deal of preparation.
Now that Amy was showing signs of improvement, Molly finally accepted the Forresters’ offer of a room next to Amy’s where sometimes she went to rest but never for more than a few hours at a time. As yet, Amy had not spoken a word, and when she was awake she would just lie staring at the ceiling. Sometimes she would appear agitated and her hands would grasp the sheets, but when she was asked what was wrong she would simply purse her lips.
