Sanditon: A Sisterhood Forms

50

"Miss Heywood," Linton's voice broke through the white noise. The din in her ears was almost deafening as she stared back at him, feeling as if she had just regained consciousness; a sliver of time lost forever.

And yet, somehow, she remained standing in an unfamiliar room - her mind threatening to slip again as she took in her surroundings. She looked down, and there he was below her, laid out on a table. His exposed skin appeared hazy in the candlelight.

She blinked.

"Miss Heywood-," he started again, "someone, quickly, fetch a chair."

"No," she said, the word sounding harsh to her own ears, "please, I only need a moment."

She leaned onto the tabletop, her fingers grazing Sidney's arm. It was cold to the touch.

"We must inspect the wound now - there is no time to waste."

"I am aware," she croaked, exhaustion threatening to take hold until she shook it away, meeting Linton's eyes again.

"Are you... quite certain you wish to stay for this," Linton asked.

"I-" she stopped, brushing his arm again with her fingertips, the motion familiar. A steady stream of tears flowed down her face as she looked down at him again, "I cannot leave his side-" she breathed, moving her fingertips along his arm, realising absently that she sought the comfort of his pulse yet again, "I can't leave."

"Yes," Linton replied, eyelashes fluttering as he blinked rapidly, his attention turning to the patient below them, "my thoughts, exactly."

She peered over at her companion, watched as he began to unravel the gauze - the colour of flesh appearing through it as more candles were lit around the room. She noticed a slight tremor in his hand that increased with the removal of each layer, the absence of breathing as he peeled the gauze from Sidney's skin, the silence that fell upon the room as the servants looked on - and once again, the world righted itself and she came to, wiping at her eyes, shaking away what emotion she could for the greater task.

"We-" she breathed in, her lungs desperate for air, "-will need hot water and clean cloth."

----------

Georgiana blinked, her vision blurred again at the sound of the figure's voice behind her, the large hand still firmly pressed over her mouth as they moved backwards. Her ankle gave way, and the figure's arms supported her, held her in place. She brought a hand up to the arm that crossed over her torso, the shape familiar beneath her touch - yet in the darkness, she could not be sure.

She shifted her head and his hand moved with her - his breath landing on her cheek as he paused, breathing faster, now. She pulled at his wrist and it fell away, freeing her as she twisted in his arms - deciphering the planes of his face in the night. "Otis."

----------

The light flickered across Sidney's torso, shifting with each marginal rise of his chest. "What happened to you, Master Parker," Linton murmured, moving in for a closer look - as if to be sure the candlelight hadn't been playing tricks on them, "... this is not a knife wound at all."

Charlotte kneeled upon the floor, cloth in hand as she cleaned edges of the wound, working inward - noticing how it puckered, swollen at its centre. "The bandages," she murmured, "they must have offered him some protection from the blade. Perhaps it did not cut through as we thought."

"But then..." he started, perplexed, "why has he bled so? I expected a laceration - and a large one, at that - with this much blood."

Charlotte wiped around the swollen flesh of his side. "Linton," she said, almost hesitantly, "what did he tell you of the fight - when you changed the bandages at the inn."