Chapter Text
After Thomas was removed from the bath, Mrs. Hughes, Mrs. Baxter and Andy gently laid him on the ground. Everyone sighed with some relief as the task was not easy.
-Now ...- Mrs. Hughes began first,-we must undress him so that we can dry him. I think it will be nice and we can cover him up as much as we can. I'll go get a blanket and you dry him.
Andy and Phyllis nodded, holding Thomas slightly. After Elsie left the room, Phyllis stroked the lying man's wet hair and sighed.
-Come on, Andy- she began.
Andy was already holding a large towel in his hands, nervously trying to start a dialogue.
- Let's put it below. The floor is cold and he is not dressed ... I guess it's not good to get sick right now ... if ... if he ...
-Don't even say it ...- Phyllis said.
Andrew stretched the towel on the cool floor and moved it slightly under the under-butler.
-That's better ... I think.
Although it was difficult, they were able to remove the water-and-blood soaked blouse. The young man's body was as pale as his face. For a moment, Andy and Phyllis looked at each other questioningly, apparently wondering the same question - how much blood had he lost?
Phyllis stood up and reached for the several towels hanging on the hanger. Taking them, she saw the neatly strapped uniform right next to them. For a moment she remembered how handsome and proud he looked in them, then instinctively turned to the mortally white man lying on the floor. She had a hard time holding back her tears, but continued on to Andy, handing him one of the towels.
- Here. We need to dry him quickly so he not get cold.- Saying this, she bent down and began to dry Thomas' chest and lower body.
When they were almost ready, Mrs. Hughes came in with a few folded blankets in her hands.
-Are you ready? - She asked, alarmed, looking carefully at Thomas was he breathing. Her gaze stopped at the red spots on the floor towel, just below the young man's wrists.
-Yes- Phyllis replied. She was dealt with the face. - Only the hair remained, but it hard to dry it.
- Leave the hair. Let's move him to bed and warm him up. Andy, take the blanket and put it on him nicely.
Andy took the first blanket and spread it on Thomas.
-Done- said the boy, -I'll take him to the room. I think I can do it.
- Fold the blanket under him so they won't see his hands if anyone meets us.
Andy quickly obeyed the order and lifted the lifeless underbutler in his hands, wrapped in a blanket.
Carrying him was no easy task, but eventually Thomas was already in bed. The damp blanket kept the bed from getting wet with water. Phyllis found it increasingly difficult to keep her composure. Her hands were shaking more and more uncontrollably.
-Mrs. Baxter, calm down… everything will be fine…- Mrs. Hughes said, as if trying to convince herself of her own statement. - Let's get him dressed. The doctor is coming soon…
-Yes ...- The other woman confirm.
She picked up a set of clean pajamas and leaned back against the bed. Thomas still didn't move, and she could barely feel his breathing.
- Andy, help me! She commanded, trying to lift Thomas's upper body to put on his top.
Andy rushed in and held the young man upright. Phyllis quickly put on his shirt, carefully with the makeshift dressings.
- Yes. We're ready. Now let's put on the bottoms too - Mrs. Hughes continued.
The procedure was identical.
- He is still bleeding- said Phyllis, pointing to the already bloody sleeves of the newly dressed shirt.
- I hope that the doctor will come faster.- Andy replied. Together they pulled out the wet blanket under Thomas
Meanwhile, Mrs. Hughes covered the young man with the other blanket that she had brought. Now they could only wait. The two women were seated on chairs on both sides of the sick man, and Andy sat low part on the bed. Andy spoke first.
-He was never bad with me- the boy bit his lower lip. -I treated him badly. I should have paid more attention to him, maybe ... maybe that wouldn't have happened ...
Everyone signed.
-No one paid enough attention to him- said Phyllis -He ... was never bad ... when he was little ... he was much different ... more open ... always compassionate .. I don't know what happened to him to alienate and change so much.
Mrs. Hughes had known Thomas since he arrived at the manor. He knew all his successes. And failures too. The constant threat of dismissal, the bad advices and bad company, the horror of a war he never shared, the legal ban to love ... She wanted to talk, but it was too much horror at that moment. She hoped that the boy would survive, as he had survived as he survived everything else, and would rise again, but he hoped he would no longer be alone… he was never alone… but he never felt it for real. She kept staring at him. Deathly white, he didn't move. She hoped that he will win this battle too… She was clutching his cold arm, hoping he would tremble to feel that he would be there tomorrow. The doctor was still missing... The blood had already made small red stains on the white sheet.
At that moment there was a knock on the door.