Chapter 342 - Three Hundred And Forty One

Chapter 342: Chapter Three Hundred And Forty One

Once the doctor’s footsteps faded away, Murry turned back to the door. He turned the handle quietly and pushed the door open just a tiny crack to take a peep inside.

The soft light from a single candle on the nightstand illuminated the bed. Camilla looked so small and fragile lying beneath the blankets. Her forehead was wrapped tightly with the bandage, and her chest moved up and down with slow, steady breaths. She looked so helpless.

Murry let out another soft sigh and pulled the door shut.

He walked down the quiet hallway, his shoes making almost no sound on the floorboards. He walked all the way to the master bedroom at the center of the house. He raised his hand to knock, but stopped himself. He gently turned the knob and opened the door a bit to peep inside as well.

The room was warm and quiet. The curtains were drawn tight against the night air. On the bed, Damon lay still on his side, his broad chest wrapped tightly in thick layers of clean white linen bandages. His face was still pale, but his skin looked warm, and his breathing was calm and deep. The doctor had done his job well; the bullet was gone, and the wound was stitched tight.

Murry slowly closed the door, sealing the dark bedroom shut once more.

He stood alone in the dark corridor of the mansion. The silence of the night settled heavily on his shoulders. He leaned his back against the cold stone wall and rubbed his wrinkled face with both hands.

A deep sense of dread began to creep into his heart. His initial relief over their survival was slowly replaced by a dark worry.

"What do I tell the old duke?" Murry thought to himself, his stomach turning into tight knots.

~ ••••• ~

The Next Day...

Groan!!!

That was the first sound of the day.

Bright, warm sunlight streamed into the bedroom through the tall glass windows, cutting through the thin lace curtains. Golden light danced across the floorboards and spilled over the soft silk sheets of the bed.

Camilla slowly opened her eyes, a groan escaped her lips. Her vision was blurry at first, filled with bright white light and strange shapes. She blinked slowly, once, twice, trying her best to focus her gaze on her environment.

The soft smell of lavender and clean linen filled her nose, replacing the metallic smell of blood and damp stone from the night before.

She shifted her head slightly against the soft feather pillow, but a sharp, throbbing pain immediately shot through her forehead. She winced, squeezing her eyes shut for a brief second before opening them again.

She looked up at the ceiling. She recognized the delicate plaster patterns of flowers and vines carved into the white plaster. She looked at the floral wallpaper and the familiar dark wardrobe standing near the window.

"My room?" Camilla thought to herself, her mind filled with surprise and confusion.

She had not slept in this room for a long time. It was her old bedroom, the one she had stayed in when she first entered the mansion.

She turned her head slowly to the right. Sitting near the small table near the window was a young woman dressed in a clean maid’s black dress and white apron. The maid had her back turned to the bed, carefully folding clean linen hand towels into a small basket.

Camilla’s throat felt as dry as dust. Her tongue felt heavy in her mouth. But her very first thought, the only thing occupying her mind the moment she regained consciousness, was not about herself or her injuries.

"Damon..." Camilla called out slowly in the midst of her deep confusion. Her voice was barely a rough whisper, scratchy and weak.

The maid froze instantly upon hearing the faint sound. She dropped the linen towels back into the basket and turned around quickly.

When the maid saw Camilla’s eyes open and looking at her, a wide, joyful smile spread across her face.

"My Lady!" the maid gasped, her hands coming together over her apron in happiness. "You are awake!"

Camilla swallowed hard, her throat burning. She ignored her own physical pain and looked directly into the maid’s eyes.

"Lord Damon..." Camilla rasped, her eyes wide with questions.

The maid stepped closer to the bed, speaking in a gentle, reassuring tone. "Lord Damon is fine, my lady. Doctor Aris stitched his wound last night. The bleeding stopped, everything is fine."

Camilla let out a small breath, but her brow remained furrowed with worry.

"Is he awake?" Camilla asked, her voice trembling slightly.

The maid’s bright smile faded a bit, and she shook her head slowly. "No, my lady. He lost a great deal of blood during the ride back. He is still unconscious in the master bedroom, but his breath is strong."

Hearing that Damon was not awake yet made Camilla’s heart ache, but she took comfort in the fact that he was stable. She closed her eyes for a long moment, letting the relief settle deep into her chest. He was alive and that’s all that matters.

After a few quiet seconds, Camilla opened her eyes again. She felt a burning dryness in her throat.

"Water," Camilla whispered.

"Right away, Lady Camilla!" the maid said quickly.

The maid rushed over to the small round table near the wall that held a clear glass pitcher filled with fresh water and a porcelain cup. She picked up the pitcher and poured a generous amount of cool water into the cup, making sure not to spill a single drop.

She hurried back to the bedside and extended her arm, offering the cup to her mistress.

Camilla forced her weak arms to move. She slowly pushed herself up into a sitting position against the headboard of the bed. Every single muscle in her lower back screamed in sharp agony, reminding her of the bruises she had sustained during the fight, when she slammed into the carriage door and tumbled down the grand stairs. She bit her lower lip to keep herself from crying out, hiding her pain from the maid.

She reached out her hand, took the cup from the maid’s fingers, and brought it to her lips. She drank the water rapidly, gulping down the cool liquid until the cup was empty.

The cool water refreshed her dry throat and cleared some of the fog lingering in her brain.

She held out the empty cup, and the maid took it back with a polite bow.

Camilla sat up straight, wiping her lips with the back of her hand. Her eyes turned sharp and focused once again, her natural authority returning to her posture.

"Call Doctor Aris here," Camilla commanded, her voice growing stronger and firmer with every breath. "And get me ready for the day."

The maid looked at Camilla in shock. "My lady! You suffered a terrible fall down the stairs last night! Doctor Aris said you must stay in bed and rest—"

"I do not have time to lie in bed," Camilla interrupted, her voice cool and unyielding. "I have work to do. Do as I say. Fetch the doctor and prepare a clean dress for me."

The maid swallowed her protests, seeing the dangerous spark in Camilla’s eyes. She bowed her head deeply. "Yes, my lady. Right away."

The maid turned on her heel and hurried out of the room, shutting the door behind her.

Left alone in the quiet, sunlit bedroom, Camilla sat quietly on the edge of the bed. She raised her right hand slowly and touched the bandage wrapped around her forehead. She felt the dull, steady throb of the cut underneath the cloth.

She looked around the room, her brows drawing together as she tried to piece together the shattered memories of the previous night.

"What happened?" Camilla asked herself in a quiet whisper, staring at her own trembling hands.