plain words would be helpful to many. But no one would seek to purchase medicinal recipes written by someone accused of killing a patient. Unless they anticipated such a treatise would teach them about poisons.
“Nothing, Joe. I have had to put my lofty dreams away in favor of a more practical reality. I came to England to find a position as a teacher.” I shall be good at it, and teaching will not require nursing skills. “To me, there is no work more fulfilling than helping children.”
“Teacher, eh? That sounds right good, miss. I’ve never ’ad learnin’ meself.”
“Maybe I could tutor you a little while I am here.”
“Naw. Books an’ all scare me.” Joe grunted as the saw blade stuck in the branch.
“But a gardener who can read would be very valuable. It would make it easier to reach your dream, Joe.” Her dream might be dead, but his needn’t be.
“Me mum always said not to give up until God shows us our end an’ they’re shovelin’ dirt on top our coffins.” Joe worked the blade back and forth on the branch, trying to free it. He glanced over at Rachel. “But look what good dreamin’ done for ’er. Died of the pox.” He suddenly groaned and let fly a curse as the blade whipped loose, throwing him off balance. Arms wheeling, he fell from the ladder and thudded to the ground. The saw skidded across the gravel.
“Joe!” Rachel ran over to him, crouched down. His cap had flown off and she felt along the back of his skull, her hands moving with long practice that required no thought.
He winced as her finger found a lump. “It’s nothin’.”
“Does anything hurt? Your head? Your legs? Back?”
“No. It’s nothin’.”
He tried to sit up, but Rachel pressed him back onto the ground. “It is not nothing. You have a bump on your head and you cut your arm with the saw. Press your hand to the wound and lie still. Do not move.” She gave him a shove on the shoulder to keep him down. If he had broken or strained anything, movement would only aggravate the injury. “I will fetch something for the cut.”
The office door was locked tight, and Dr. Edmunds had not entrusted her with the key. Rachel rushed down to the empty kitchen. Mrs. Mainprice had mentioned she kept headache powders. Maybe she would have other medicines as well.
Rachel located the housekeeper’s supplies. After a few moments of searching, Rachel found dried cuttings of the mushroom known as agaric of oak but no sticking plaster. The agaric would quench the bleeding. Her binding would have to seal the wound shut.
Snatching up a clean rag from a pile lying next to the sink, then dipping a mug into the pitcher of fresh water standing nearby, she hurried back out to the garden. Joe had followed her directions and remained stretched out on the ground. However, he looked peevish.
“Ya know what yer doin’?” Joe eyed her as she tore the rag into two halves.
“Lie still. I am going to wash your wound then apply agaric of oak to it. The bleeding should stop. I will have to tie a rag around your arm until sticking plaster can be obtained to keep the wound closed.”
She worked quickly, carefully, probing the wound for any gravel or dirt stuck within, picking out what she could and pouring the clean water over the cut. Thankfully, the saw had not penetrated far. A deeper cut would require more serious medicine than what she had brought.
“Mrs. M would say God’s watchin’ over me, to ’ave you on ’and to patch me up. I coulda been out ’ere screamin’ for ’elp till I bled to death. That’s what I get for not goin’ to services.”
God. Him again. “I do not know that my presence in the garden was any blessing at all.” Crushing the dried mushroom, she pushed it into the wound and wrapped the cloth around his arm, sealing it shut. “It’s my fault the blade slipped and you fell. I distracted you with my silly conversation about aspirations.”
“Naw. Don’t be blamin’ yerself, miss.”
But she did. Of course, she did.
Finishing up, Rachel helped Joe lean against the tree trunk. She settled back on her heels. And nearly collapsed onto the rocky path when she realized what she’d just done. Poor Joe. Had she cleaned the wound well enough? The cut might get infected; she had seen shallower wounds fester and blacken, resulting in amputations. Without his arm,