Chapter 3

three

A GONY. SHEER AGONY was the only thing Perry could feel, smell, taste, and hear.

Surely, someone was battering his skull with a sledgehammer and a lot of passion because that was the only possible explanation for the ridiculously intense pain in his head.

“Perry…” someone whispered his name, but he couldn’t tell who the person was and couldn’t open his eyes.

He was so tired. He wanted to sleep and forget the pain. Whoever called him could wait.

A pungent smell woke him up. Perhaps an hour, a day, or a month had passed since he’d last opened his eyes. The headache that threatened to break his skull in two was barely bearable. He fluttered his eyes open, which required an outrageous amount of energy; it was also pointless. The only thing he saw was a giant, blurry grey-and-white halo.

“Lord Peregrine,” a woman said.

Hell, the smell. It was a combination of carbolic acid and strong lye scullery soap. Other sounds reached his ears, but using them to simply listen to his surroundings hurt. So he closed his eyes and ran his tongue over his parched lips. He wanted to sleep some more.

Once again, someone woke him up by shaking his arm. They should leave him bloody alone. He needed to sleep.

“Perry.” That was Albert, scared to death if the tremor in his voice was any indication. “Can you hear me?”

Bugger. Perry forced himself to open his eyes again. Great. Now the giant blur had changed colour. Instead of grey and white, it was brown. He tried to talk, but only a strangled noise came out.

“He opened his eyes,” Albert said with the tone of someone who gave extraordinary news. “I’m here, Perry. You aren’t alone.”

Yes, he’d gathered that much. But he’d like to know where ‘here’ was. The brown thingamabob around him could be anything.

“Perry.” The second voice belonged to a girl. He’d heard that voice… somewhere.

Oh, right. Miss Edith Winkworth, the girl who never stopped reading and who had spectacular forest-green eyes. Eyes that had captured him. He’d met her at the Rosherville Pleasure Gardens right before he’d boarded the steamship.

A shock of stillness went through him. Now he remembered. Princess Alice had been hit. He’d jumped into the river with Edith, her mother, and her sister a moment before the steamship had been sliced in two. The water had been pure, undiluted slime from the sewers. Awful.

The stink had made him gag. The slime had coated his nose and mouth. Then large pieces of broken wood and even larger pieces of scorching metal had rained all around him as the steamship had been shattered into smithereens. Something had hit his head. Hard. At least now the headache and the previous lack of memories had a cause.

Soft fingers touched his hand. “Perry, it’s me, Edith.”

He blinked furiously to clear his vision until something vaguely resembling a human silhouette appeared. Her strawberry-blonde hair formed an indistinct golden halo.

“You’re at St. Bartholomew’s Hospital,” she said.

That made sense.

“You’ve been unconscious for almost two months.”

That didn’t make sense.

“Can you hear me? Blink once if you can.”

He did as told since his throat didn’t work.

Relief flooded her voice. “He said yes.”

“It might be a coincidence. Ask him something else.” That was Albert, always the optimist.

Her delicate fingers brushed his knuckles. The sensation was nice. “Do you remember me? We were on board Princess Alice when it sank.”

He blinked once.

“Good lord, Perry, you’re awake.” Albert must have taken his hand because the sensation felt different. “I was so worried. The doctors had no idea if you would ever wake up.”

“He must be thirsty,” Edith said. “He keeps licking his lips.”

A gentle hand lifted his head, and a cool glass was pressed to his lips. He swallowed the deliciously fresh water. His throat burned, but his sight improved a little. After that, he was too tired to blink. Edith’s sweet voice saying his name was the last thing he heard before drifting to sleep.

Finally, Perry’s headache was a dull throb. When he woke up—he had no idea if another two months had passed—his ears didn’t buzz anymore, and he could see properly. Although the walls were far too bright for his liking, and whoever had washed the bedsheets had used starch enthusiastically since they were slabs of marble that chafed his sensitive skin.

The only window let the pale sunlight in. The weather and the frost on the glass made him think he hadn’t been unconscious through the winter.

He meant to call Albert, but what came out of his mouth was a chilling sound like that of a growling beast, ready to pounce. Footsteps approached. A nurse he’d never seen peered at him.

“Your Lordship is awake.” She hurried out of the room.

Voices. Footsteps.

“Perry?” Edith’s face swept into view.

Except it wasn’t the face he remembered. Not exactly. Her face was gaunt. Her eyes were clouded, and her hair was a dull colour, not the glossy strawberry-blonde he liked so much.

“Can you see me?” she asked.

He opened his mouth to talk, but only an odd whimper came out. That wasn’t possible. He’d clearly meant to say ‘yes,’ but somehow, his tongue refused to obey. He tried again and winced at the shrieking sound of his own voice. He’d heard dogs with better, more dulcet tones.

She put a hand on his forehead. “Don’t force yourself to speak. You received a serious blow to the head. The physicians, even my father, said that a brain injury was likely.”

Brain injury. He stared down at his body and did a quick check. His toes moved at his command, and his fingers seemed all right. His arms and legs were still attached to his body, and he controlled them. Yet he couldn’t speak.

He touched his throat, meaning to ask her if the incident had hurt his vocal cords.

She brushed a curl of her hair with a bony hand. “Your throat is fine. We think the problem is only your brain. The blow impeded your speech ability. But don’t despair.” She squeezed his hand. “You woke up, and you’re conscious and understand me. That’s an excellent start. Give yourself time. Father said that speech impairment was a possibility after a head trauma. But your ability to speak will return.”

He tried again to speak. Bad idea. What came out wasn’t simply gibberish but awful noises. He gave himself goosebumps. The glass would shatter if he kept trying.

He lay down on the pillow, exhausted.

She sat on the chair next to him. “Are you thirsty?”

He nodded.

As she helped him drink an entire pitcher, her neckline lowered a few inches. He didn’t like how her collarbone protruded from her shirt. His chest tightened for her. He probably looked the same or worse, but she’d suffered, too.

“Hungry?” she asked.

He shook his head and pointed at her.

“Do you want to know what happened to me?”

He nodded.

“The sinking of Princess Alice was such a tragedy. It’s a miracle we are alive. More than seven hundred people are dead.”

Seven hundred. He ran his tongue over his dry lips again. The steamship shouldn’t have been so crowded; she shouldn’t have changed course.

“Your tutor, Mr. Montague, is fine, by the way. He didn’t board the ship because he was searching for you.” Edith lowered her long eyelashes. “In my case, the problem was the water. It was so rotten and polluted that I caught an infection. I lay in a bed in this hospital, with a high fever for days on end, between life and death. I was delirious and in pain, casting up my accounts. I felt my body burn from the inside out. My mother and sister were sick, too. Well, all the passengers, who didn’t die on Princess Alice and swam in the water, fell sick. Many of them died. The doctors said that some people got cholera. Others had typhoid fever. Others got obscure, haemorrhagic diseases or dysentery.”

Haemorrhagic diseases. He frowned and gave a light shrug, mouthing he wanted to know what type of disease causes a haemorrhage.

“People bled from their internal organs because the infection damaged them.”

Sometimes ignorance was bliss.

She held his hand, and her touch had a soothing quality he liked. “The fever took a toll on my family and me. We’ve barely recovered. But we’re alive. Thank you for warning us. Those moments before the tragedy were precious. So many people drowned because their clothes pushed them down. We would have died if we hadn’t removed our petticoats or jumped when you told us to. Thank you.” Tears glistened in her eyes.

He closed his fingers around her, wishing he could tell her she didn’t need to thank him, and that he was sorry for how much she’d suffered.

She wiped her cheeks quickly. “My father visited you as well, and we all took turns to watch over you, including your brother. You were never alone during your sleeping months. Day or night, someone was always here with you.”

Somehow, he’d been aware of that.

“Speaking of your brother, I’ll send word to him. He wanted to know if you woke up again.” She went to stand, but he didn’t let her go.

A moment of panic lashed out at him like a snake snapping at his throat. He didn’t want to be alone in that bright, smelly room.

“It’ll take but a moment,” she said, seemingly reading his mind. “I’ll be right back.”

He shook his head.

She caressed his cheek with such tenderness, his pulse slowed. “I know the feeling, the fear that takes you out of nowhere. I believe this fear comes from the knowledge that death was very close. You’re alive, Perry, and you’ll get better. I promise.”

He blinked tears away. They burned more than they should.

“Let me warn your brother.”

He slowly released her hand. The moment she left the room, he wheezed. Panicking was silly of him, but he closed his eyes and waited until she returned.

“I’m here.” She held his hand, and he gripped it with desperation for no reason. “Don’t be ashamed of crying. Not with me.”

He didn’t want to, though, but he needed a hug. As if reading his mind, she sat on the bed and held him, wrapping her arms around him, and he sagged against her for who knew how long. She rubbed his back and gave him the strength he needed.

“Better?” She released him.

He nodded. Much better. He wanted to tell her how grateful he was. Another day, if and when he spoke again.

She smiled, and although her face carried the signs of her ordeal, the smile brightened her.

Albert barged into the room, dishevelled, pale, and generally looking terrible.

Edith rose from the bed and curtsied. “My lord.”

“Miss Edith. Perry.” Albert too had lost weight, and deep purple shadows circled his eyes. “Perry.” He touched Perry’s face, chest, and arms as if wanting to make sure everything was real.

“I’ll leave you.” Edith picked up a book that lay on the table and left.

Of course, she had a book. She must have read the entire encyclopaedia of medical science while watching over him. She gave him a timid smile before closing the door.

A lump swelled in Perry’s throat as Albert hugged him, crying. Perry hugged his brother back, and they remained like that without saying a word.

“I was so worried.” Albert wiped his face with a wrinkled handkerchief. “I have to thank Dr. Winkworth for his help. He visited you every day, gave you water and soups, and moved your limbs regularly. I’m in his debt.”

Now that Perry paid attention to his own movements, there was a certain resistance and lack of coordination in them. He couldn’t quite lift his arm as high as he wanted.

Albert sat down on the chair. His tie was askew, and a stubble covered his jaw. “Do not worry. I’ll employ the best physicians to help you recover fully. I found a clinic in Switzerland specialised in cases like yours.”

Switzerland? He frowned and made the mistake of trying to voice his questions. Albert looked horrified at the odd sounds coming out of him. Real gibberish.

“Don’t fret. I promise the trip will be good for you. Even Dr. Winkworth agrees. The clinic is in a beautiful town surrounded by the Alps. It’s equipped with the latest medical devices. I’ll come with you, and together, we’ll get through this moment.”

Perry rubbed his sore neck. He wasn’t sure he had the energy to leave, but Albert was right. If Perry wanted to recover, he ought to do everything the physicians said.

Albert hugged him again. “We’ll leave as soon as you can travel.”

Fantastic. He so looked forward to spending days on end on a train, ship, and carriage to go to a foreign country he didn’t speak the language of.

Oh, right. The last one didn’t matter.