Free Fenella Miller by To Love Again Page B

boy had been happily poking his stick into the water. The child, scared witless by his shout, tumbled forward and disappeared beneath the reeds. Cursing his stupidity, Rupert ripped off his jacket and waistcoat, one boot and then the other followed. He dived headfirst into the lake and swam desperately towards the bottom.
    At first he could see nothing, just waving greenery and water. Then he caught a glimpse of something solid and lunged forward. His lungs were bursting. There were black spots before his eyes. He would not surface without the child. His questing fingers touched a slippery leg; he gripped it hard and shot up. It was too deep to stand even for him, and the water was cold even in midsummer. The boy was limp in his arms, his head lolling to one side, no sign of life at all.
    Not again, not another life lost because of him. Desperately he turned the boy over his knee and began banging him vigorously between the shoulder blades. Although a gush of water came from his mouth, Jack was still not breathing. Once, when a sailor had gone overboard, he'd watched in amazement as an Arab physician had somehow breathed life back into what had appeared to be a corpse.
    Flipping the child on to his back he knelt over him trying to remember what he'd seen. Whatever he did, it could not make matters worse. Placing his own mouth over the boy's he breathed deeply, then turned his head and drew a second breath and pushed this into the boy's lungs. He turned his head away and then the miracle took place, just as it had done on the ship. The child convulsed, vomited up the remainder of the water he'd swallowed and started to weep piteously.
    Scooping him up, Rupert stroked his little head. "Hush, my brave boy, you are safe now. Perhaps you will remember not to go near the water in future." Stopping momentarily to snatch up his jacket and wrap the shivering child in it, he ran back to the house.
    When he arrived at the terrace William was waiting for him. "Here, let me take him, sir. You must go upstairs and get yourself dry, you will have done yourself no good so soon after your accident."
    Reluctantly Rupert handed his burden over, his valet was correct. He did feel extremely unwell, he ran his hand over his dripping hair and it came away red. At least one of the sutures had broken. "Send for Dr Andrews, William. I fear that I shall need him as urgently as the little lad."
    * * * *
    "Lawks a mussy! Whatever's all that noise?" Mrs Turner jumped to her feet and bustled to the door. Emma was beside her instantly, she had hardly had time to settle behind the table for their meeting.
    Tilly hurtled down the passageway. "It's your Jack, Mrs Reed, he fell in the lake. The master got him out but he looks mighty pale. William's sent for Dr Andrews."
    The flustered girl had hardly finished speaking when William hurried round the corner carrying her beloved son wrapped in Mr Bucknall's jacket. What felt like a stone lodged in her stomach. Her voice sounded strange, as if it belonged to someone else. "Bring him through. Mrs Turner, fetch a warming pan and hot water. Tilly you come with me."
    William waited, holding the dripping bundle, while she placed a thick comforter on top of the bed. He gently placed her child in the centre and stood back. "Quickly, Tilly, we must strip off his wet clothes and then rub him dry with a towel. The more vigorously we rub, the quicker we will restore his circulation."
    Although he was deathly pale and cold he was definitely breathing. His eyes flickered open and he half smiled at her before slipping back into a swoon. She flung his wet clothes in a heap on the boards and dried him vigorously. Tilly rubbed one arm whilst she worked on the other. His skin was less pallid, their treatment was working.
    The patter of light footsteps warned her Mary was about to arrive. "Mama, is Jack drowned?"
    "No, darling, he is cold and miserable but not drowned. Fortunately Mr Bucknall was there to fish him out in time."
    Jack