met the pillow.”
Pip swallowed a fresh surge of alarm. “What happened to Julian?”
Dr Harris gave him a reassuring nod. “Nothing to be concerned about. He overtired himself. On top of the exertion of fetching Dr Goodfellow, the discovery of Lord Cross’s passing came as a great shock. He refused to leave your side until you regained consciousness. We had a bed made up for him in here, but he refused to sleep.”
Poor Julian. To have lost one half of his family, and Pip not be there to comfort him… “I am grateful you were on hand to assist.”
Mereweather and Harris exchanged a glance. Mereweather laid his hands flat on the arms of his chair. “Lord Cross was unwilling to allow me to investigate his condition further, but I was very concerned about his health. I talked to Dr Harris, and we travelled down to Foxwood together hoping that in the familiar surroundings of his home, Lord Cross might allow us to look into his condition.”
“We arrived too late to be of any use to Lord Cross,” Harris continued. “Dr Goodfellow had taken charge of treating your wounds. She begged that we would look at Lord Cross whose condition baffled her.” Dr Harris paused. “Is this painful to discuss, Mr Leighton?”
Pip’s hands clutched the edge of his blankets as if they were all that held him back from a precipice. “Go on.”
Mereweather continued the tale. “Goodfellow’s request confused us. We’d been told upon arrival that Lord Cross was dead and that your life was as yet in danger. When we entered the room where the—the accident—took place, we understood what she meant.” His frown deepened, Mereweather choosing his next words with great care. “Lord Cross had been dead for some time. I do not mean hours, but some days, Mr Leighton. Perhaps even weeks.”
Pip inhaled. So Thomas’s suspicions had been correct! He had died in Connaught.
Dr Harris tilted his head. “Did you…anticipate this, Mr Leighton?”
“Anticipate is not the right word, but no… I am not surprised.” Pip took a deep breath. “Continue.”
“Judging from the appearance of his remains, he died of his illness, though an autopsy would be needed to confirm that.”
“There is no need.” The vehemence of his reply startled him. Pip ground his fists together. He had not been there for Thomas at the moment of his death, but he might at least spare him that indignity. “It is as you surmise. Thomas passed away from liver failure.”
“There is something else.” Mereweather withdrew a leather pouch from his medical bag. He placed it on the bed. “Do you recognise this, Mr Leighton?”
The pouch containing the heart. Pip felt his chest thrill in alarm. He placed his hand on the pouch, feeling the pulsing beat of the heart within. “I do. Where—?”
“Did we find it?” Dr Harris asked. “It was in the library, near Lord Cross’s body. While we were digesting our surprise at its reappearance, Mr Westaway appeared, searching for it. When he returned with Dr Goodfellow, it was resting on your chest.”
“On my chest?” That made no sense. It was Thomas that was ill—
Pip sucked in a breath. “No. Oh, no. This is monstrous!” Had Thomas sacrificed himself for Pip? “Where’s Julian? I must—”
“Please, Mr Leighton, calm yourself.” Mereweather sprang to his feet, preventing Pip from rising. “Mr Westaway direly needs rest.”
“But you don’t understand. Thomas—” Pip saw the sympathy bare in Harris and Mereweather’s gaze, and caught himself. “My condition when Goodfellow arrived. Was I—near death?”
Harris and Mereweather again exchanged a glance. “You had lost a lot of blood, but were stable. Goodfellow applied a tourniquet and took measures to stem the bleeding. Once she realised Dr Harris was familiar with transfusions, she asked his aid replacing the blood you lost.” Mereweather coughed. “We share a blood type. I was your donor.”
Service and then some. Pip forced a smile. “I am grateful, Dr Mereweather. There were no ill effects to you?”
He shook his head. “I have had ample time to recover. You have been resting some time, Mr Leighton.”
Resting some time… Pip stared down at the leather pouch. Seriously injured then, much more than he’d realised. Thomas… Thomas had saved his life. Pip swallowed, the emptiness he’d only just been holding back welling up once more. “If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, I need to rest.”
***
A cold wind blew up during the funeral service. The majority of mourners at the graveside stayed just long enough to see the first shovel of dirt thrown into the open grave before