A Sister's Quest (24 page)

The pressure holding her to the wall lessened. She wanted to whisper Alexei's name, but no sound emerged save for a moan. Someone touched her face, and she focused on a mouth moving in front of her. No words entered the haze separating her from everything but pain.

“Alexei?” she whispered with the last of her strength.

A bright light and hands moving along her hardly pierced her stupor until fingers touched her left arm. She screamed with the renewed agony that journeyed with her into oblivion.

Michelle woke to pain. It cleared her mind of the webs of senselessness. She opened her eyes, but nothing told her where she was or what had happened.

“Alexei? Alexei?” Even to her ears, her voice sounded like a frog croaking.

Where was Alexei? He had been with her only a moment ago. Hadn't he?

If only she did not hurt so badly …

“Hush,” came a woman's soft voice. “Rest, child.”

Forcing her eyes open again, Michelle saw the ceiling of her bedroom in the apartment. Slowly she focused on Frau Schlissel.

“Count Vatutin is alive,” Frau Schlissel said quietly. “He shall be in to see you soon.”

She closed her eyes, and a smile wafted along her lips. If Alexei was coming to see her, he must not be badly hurt. Joy thudded through her heart.

An arm beneath her shoulders tilted her up enough so she could swallow the warm liquid placed against her mouth. Whether it was tea or coffee or heated brandy, her senses were too deadened to tell. All she could feel was the never-ending pain on her left side.

Slowly that faded as she drifted into a world where there was no beginning and no ending and no now. She simply was.

For that moment, it was enough.

Some time after she first woke, Michelle opened her eyes again. A second or a century could have passed. With the drapes drawn over the window, she could not tell if it was midday or midnight. The caress of rain against the panes comforted her. The sleet must have turned to rain as the day warmed.

She groaned as she tried to stretch. An ache along her back warned that she had been lying in the same position for too long.

“Lie quietly, Fraulein D'Orage.”

Michelle saw a strange man bending over her. She screamed. Or at least she tried to scream. All that emerged was a moan.

“Alexei!” she whispered. “Alexei, help me please!”

“What is she saying?” grumbled the man. “Is it French?”

Frau Schlissel answered, “She is distraught and asking for Count Vatutin.” Coming into Michelle's view, she whispered, “Hush, child. No one will hurt you again. Here. Drink this. It will help the pain.”

When a cup was placed at Michelle's lips, she realized how parched her throat was. She gulped the honeyed tea, and her eyelids drooped. The pillows came up to surround her as she sank into the nothingness again.

The pattern continued over and over. Michelle woke, tried to battle her pain, drank some sweetened tea, and fell asleep again. Finally she realized there must be a sleeping potion in the tea.

When she woke one sunny day, the room was bright. Inching her face toward the right, she saw that the drapes had been pulled aside to let in the sunshine. Ice frosted the panes.

It was cold again. She wondered when it had stopped raining. Then she told herself not to be foolish. Surely more than a day had passed since … Her mind veered away from the past.

In the distance, church bells chimed. Sunday, she decided. Only on Sunday would she hear so many bells ringing. It sounded as if every church in Vienna had joined the symphony.

Underneath that exultant clanging came a hushed squeak. The door opening. She had fearfully waited for that sound after the apartment was ransacked. Now … was Alexei coming to see her?

When a man entered, she knew that she had seen him before, although she could not recall where. His black frock coat and dark breeches resembled a raven's feathers. White eyebrows matched the few wisps of hair he had remaining.

A tired smile deepened the lines in his face. “Good afternoon, Fraulein D'Orage.”

“Who are you?”

“Herr Doktor Telemann.” He adjusted the glasses perched on the very tip of his long nose. “It is good to see you awake, Fraulein. How do you feel?”

“Horrible,” she answered with a weak smile. All her muscles, even those in her face, were so stiff, she was surprised she could move them.

He grinned, transforming his angular face. “Unfortunately that is what your recovery requires. I did not want to keep you sedated any longer.”

“How long?”

As he placed a dark satchel on the chair and opened it, he murmured, “You were on your way back from a ball last Friday night, correct?”

“A week ago Friday,” answered Frau Schlissel from a bench near the foot of the bed. Until now, Michelle had not realized she was there.

He glanced at the housekeeper and away quickly. “Almost a fortnight then. Today is the Feast of the Immaculate Conception.” Harrumphing deep in his throat, he continued, “Now let's look at that arm of yours.”

Her gaze followed his fingers as he touched the bandages swathing her left arm from the middle of her palm to past her elbow. Two wooden splints lay on either side of it.

The doctor said, “I shall be gentle, but I must examine it.”

He lifted her arm slightly, and everything telescoped into blackness as pain surged over her. “No!” she cried, but heard only a moan. She did not want to be lost in oblivion again.

A cool cloth against her cheek offered comfort. She blinked and saw Frau Schlissel leaning over her, concern on her face. “There, child. I know it hurts, but Herr Doktor will be as quick as possible.”

“What is wrong with me?”

“Your leg is healing well, for it was little more than a scratch. A ball struck the bones in your forearm, fracturing them.”

“Ball?” She gasped.

Memories exploded around Michelle as the gunshots had through the carriage. Clenching her right hand, she fought to silence the echo of her own screams. Again and again and again, the balls had struck the carriage.

“Fraulein D'Orage!”

At the doctor's tight voice, she looked up to see that his face was as drawn as Frau Schlissel's. “I will …” She took a steadying breath. “I shall be fine.”

“Of course you will be.” He smiled. “What you must do now is rest. You need to remain in bed and have quiet for at least another three or four days.”

“Can Alexei come and see me?”

His bushy eyebrows jutted. “Fraulein, has no one told you—”

Frau Schlissel interrupted, “Herr Doktor, may I speak to you for a moment?”

Michelle wanted to protest, but she had too little strength. She watched as the doctor and Frau Schlissel stood by the door and spoke too quietly for her to hear. Fear flashed through her, as overpowering as the pain. Until now, lost in her drugged dreams, she had not questioned Frau Schlissel's assertion that Alexei was fine.

“Tell me,” she begged in a cracking voice. “Is he alive?”

The doctor came back and took his satchel off the chair. Sitting, he took Michelle's hand. “Count Vatutin is alive, but barely. He was struck many times. Fortunately none of his vital organs was pierced. Frau Schlissel lied to you on my orders. We did not want your recovery jeopardized by your worries for your—” He cleared his throat. “For your employer.”

“But will he live?”

“We should know soon.”

“Soon? You don't know yet?” Her eyes widened in horror.

“You were both very lucky,” he said grimly as he stood. “The assassins appear to have been Herr Damrosch's enemies. You must have been struck by the balls that went awry. Herr Damrosch did not survive.”

“And Rusak?”

“He is fine,” Frau Schlissel said. Her smile was gentle. “Truthfully, he is fine.”

Michelle stared as the doctor accepted his hat from Frau Schlissel. Nodding a farewell, he told her he would be back to check on her tomorrow. Numbly watching him leave, she tried to erase the memories of the attack. She could hear her own screams and, even more clearly, Alexei's moans as he risked his life to shield her.

“Stop!” she cried. “I do not want to remember!”

“Hush, child,” soothed Frau Schlissel as she put another cloth on Michelle's aching forehead. “Count Vatutin must have quiet.”

“Be honest. Will he live?”

“Herr Doktor is hopeful.”

“He must live!”

“No,” said the housekeeper with a gentle shake of her head. “Nothing is guaranteed. All we can do is wait and pray.”

“I am not good at waiting,” she whispered.

Smoothing tangled hair away from Michelle's forehead, Frau Schlissel murmured, “And at praying?”

“I have been doing that since the guns fired.” Tears welled in her eyes.

“Then do more, child, for both Count Vatutin and yourself. 'Tis Christmastide. Mayhap you both will be well enough to get out of bed in time for Christmas Day.”

“Is that possible?” she asked, clinging to any hope.

Frau Schlissel smiled with compassion as gentle as her fingers, which were tucking a blanket around Michelle. “Anything may be possible. For now, you must rest.”

“Frau Schlissel?” She grasped the woman's arm. “Is Rusak really unharmed?”

“Yes, and for that we must be grateful. He has overseen Count Vatutin's care, leaving me free to sit with you.” She patted the bed. “Sleep now.”

She grumbled, “That is all I have done since …” Tears filled her eyes again. So many times she had questioned Alexei's reasons for being kind to her, accusing him of having an ulterior motive.

“Don't cry, child. It will not help now.”

Shocked, Michelle touched her cheek. Tears coursed along it. Sobs gushed out in a torrent.

When Frau Schlissel placed a cup to Michelle's lips, she drank the sweetened tea gratefully. She wanted to be enfolded in the velvet forgetfulness of sleep, where she could dream that she was in Alexei's arms again.

Chapter Fifteen

“Fraulein D'Orage!”

Michelle ignored Frau Schlissel's reprimand. She had meant the curse sincerely and would say it more loudly if she bumped her left leg again while sliding to the edge of the bed. Her eyes narrowed as she gauged the distance to the door. She wanted to get up so she could convince the doctor to let her visit Alexei.

Each day Herr Doktor Telemann brought her a report on Alexei's condition, but trite phrases like “No change for the worse” and “He is doing as expected” did little to ease her anxiety. She wanted to see with her own eyes how he was healing.

A distant knocking intruded. Frau Schlissel said, “Stay where you are, Fraulein. I will see who is at the door.”

Michelle nodded but, as soon as the housekeeper left, inched her toes toward the floor. She winced as the bandages around her leg caught on her nightgown. Reaching across the sling supporting her left arm, she loosened her nightgown. Off balance, she clutched the covers as she tipped toward the floor.

She trembled as she righted herself. She was incredibly weak. As she glanced at the pillows against the headboard, the temptation to rest in their welcoming nest again was intoxicating. She fought it. She must escape from this bed.

A soft moan escaped her pursed lips as her right foot stretched for the floor. No matter what she did, she strained her left side, which burned as if it were afire. Half-on and half-off the bed, she panted with the exertion of the simple movement. Gingerly she lowered her left foot to the scratchy rug.

Pain blasted through her. She sagged, brushing her left arm against the covers. The agony escalated until she was sure it would rip her mind away, but she refused to let her wounds halt her. Inching along the bed, she leaned on the mattress with every step.

The room she once had crossed in several paces now seemed as gigantic as the ballroom where she had danced with Alexei. When she reached the end of the bed, she clung to the upright.

“Don't be stupid!” she snapped. “You will never be able to do it until you try.”

Her anger at her feebleness spurred her feet forward. Slowly her fingers released the footboard. Swaying, she fought for her balance.

Counting one small step after another, Michelle knew each was a victory. She smiled when she touched the back of the chair. She wanted to shout out her joy, but must not disturb Alexei's recovery.

“What are you doing?”

She smiled as she faced an astounded Frau Schlissel. “I am walking, or at least that is what I am trying to do.”

“Did Herr Doktor give you permission to get out of bed?”

“'Tis time.”

“He shall be upset. Come. I shall help you back to bed before he arrives.”

“Yes,” Michelle replied as her legs trembled with exertion. She knew she must be cautious, or she might jeopardize her healing so far. She let Frau Schlissel help her onto the bed. Leaning her head back into the pillows, she closed her eyes and sank into their comfort. “Who was at the door?”

“No one important, Fraulein. Do not fret about it.”

“Frau Schlissel, who was there?”

The housekeeper refused to meet Michelle's eyes and plucked at the brightly embroidered apron she always wore over her dark skirt. “It was a caller for you. His Royal Highness Prince Bartholomew.”

“Bartholomew is calling here?”

With unease etched on her face, Frau Schlissel nodded. “Almost every day.”

“Why haven't you told me?”

“Would knowing that have helped or hindered your recovery? His visits made you uncomfortable before. I answer his questions and send him away as politely as I can, using the doctor's order that neither you nor Count Vatutin may have visitors.”

“And Bartholomew accepts that?”

“If I may be so bold, Fraulein D'Orage, I would guess that he cares very much for you and does not want to risk endangering you.”