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As they pulled up in front of the house built along the side the river, it struck Illya that it looked out of place, and belonged to a different time. Though the house seemed well to do, there was something he couldn't put his finger on about it... perhaps, the old decadence of Miss Kingsfords family had given way to something else...a tiredness, as upon examination, there were signs of decay here and there.
A native servant dressed in a white shirt and pants greeted them at the front door of the once grand house, and Maggie introduced them and instructed him to take her guests to the guest rooms upstairs.
"I'll have fresh clothing and toiletries sent up to you. There's bathroom at the end of the hall, please feel free to bathe. Once you've washed awaythe dirt of the rainforest from yourselves and are presentable, you can relax until we call you for supper. I'll inform my family we have more guests joining us.
"More guests?" Illya finally spoke up.
Maggie laughed. "You think you are the first whites I've rescued from the camp? I hope roast beef, potatoes and with carrots and peas will suit you, oh yes and Yorkshire puddings as well. None of the local foods are served here, as my great-grandfather would have none of it. We are after all of British stock," she smiled, leaving the servant to escort them upstairs.
The walls were filled with a myriad of paintings, family portraits perhaps, along with carved African masks, and the house was full of lots of greenery...small potted palms were everywhere they looked. It was if the jungle was slowly intruding into the house.
The furniture looked antique and European in design, though most of it seemed to be just a little worn. The rugs were Persian from the look of them, but they too seemed to have suffered the ravages of a tropical environment. It gave the impression they had stepped back in time, the old house must have been a sight to behold in its early days.
Napoleon was shown to his room, filled with dark wood furnishings, the bed was a four-poster canopy with mosquito netting draping gracefully down around it. The mattress was covered with a pure white chenille spread, and he wanted so badly to collapse onto it, and simply relish its softness, but he refrained from doing so as the didn't want to get it dirty. He decided he could last until he'd bathed.
He suddenly recalled a promise he'd made to his partner, and that was that Illya had dibs on the first bath. Napoleon walked across the hall to his partner's room, and found the Russian spread-eagle on his bed, not a canopy style, but the mosquito netting was suspended from the ceiling, and Illya had pulled it away before crawling onto the bed.
He chuckled as the man didn't seem to care about the white bedspread.
"Hey, go take that bath...remember I told you had first crack at one tovarisch."
"I will in a moment, thank you. I am just taking in the comfort. This is a feather bed and I have not slept in one like this in a very long time...my babushka had one.." Illya closed his eyes, recalling a distant memory. "Katiya and I would crawl in bed with Baba when we were frightened by the sounds of the war... it was so soft as it comforted both of us, making us feel safe."
Napoleon withheld any sort of remark, much less a witty one. "Come on buddy, go soak in that tub, just leave me a little hot water if you don't mind?
Illya hiked himself up. "Hot water? I am going to take a cold bath, if there is such a thing as cold water in this place." He headed out the door and down the hall to the bathroom.
The room was completely white, with the walls covered in glossy tiles and there were more small palm trees present. Plenty of towels, several white cotton robes, as well as a shaving kit that had been laid out. There seemed to be was a lot of white in this house, as if the owners were trying to make it look pure against the world that surrounded it.
There was no shower, but an old fashioned white clawfoot bathtub. Illya put the stopper in the drain, and turning the spigots, he decided a warm bath would be better for him. As the tub began to fill, he found a bottle of bubble bath on the shelf and poured it into the water...not caring that it smelled like strawberries.
He sighed as he lowered himself into the water and sat there, soaking for a bit and once he was comfortable he scrubbed himself until his skin was pink. He pulled into place a shelf that fit across the width of the tub, with a small face mirror on it, and with the straight razor and shaving cream, he removed the remnants of his beard. Illya splashed his face with the bath water, then dunked his head, giving his hair a wash as well.
Looking at his face in the mirror, he saw the gauntness his beard had hidden. There were dark circles under his eyes. He did not look well, and in spite of the warm bath, his breathing felt a bit ragged. Perhaps an exam by Maggie's cousin might be in order after all?
Illya stepped from the tub, toweling himself dry and putting on one of the robes. He drained the tub, cleaned it in preparation for his partner to use it.
Napoleon was in his room and his partner knocked on the door, before peeking inside.
"Hmm, nice room," he commented, "The bathroom is all yours my friend and I left you plenty of hot water, I promise."
Solo grinned, smelling the scent of the bubble bath wafting towards him.
"Is that strawberries I smell?"
"Yes, and not one word..." Illya quickly closed the door and returned to his room, where he found a khaki shirt, pants, underwear, fresh socks and boots all waiting there for him.
He was nearly finished buttoning his shirt when there was a knock at his door. It wasn't Napoleon's code.
"Come in," he called.
"Hello, I am Dr. Marcus Kingsford, my cousin tells me you are ill."
"That is yet to to be determined Doctor."
"Leave your shirt open please, " Kingsford said, pulling a stethoscope from his black medical bag.
He touched it to Illya's chest, moving it about, asking his patient to take deep breaths and exhalations. Kingsford felt the glands in his neck and under his arms, then came the reflexes. He stuck a thermometer under the Russian's tongue, taking his pulse and checking his pupillary reaction.
"Well Mr. Rösbruk, I suspect that you have the beginning of stages of pneumonia. Given your condition, you'll need bed rest and definitely better food." He pulled a vial from his medical bag, along with a syringe. "I'm going to give you a shot of antibiotics."
"I am allergic to penicillin," Illya took hold of Kingsford wrist, stopping him.
"This is not penicillin, now if you will please release me and allow me to treat you?"
"I apologize, I do have an aversion to needles as well."
"Sorry old chap, but prepare yourself and drop your trousers as I'm not only giving you a shot of antibiotic, but gamma globulin and B12. You are very run down and given your immune system is compromised at the moment; we need to give you a boost."
Illya leaned against the bedpost, doing as ordered for once, and when he went to hike up his trousers the doctor told him not to bother.
Kingsford went to the dresser and pulled out a pair of white cotton pajamas, and handed them to his patient. "Sorry, bed rest for you young man."
"But I was looking forward to the roast beef..."
"Not to worry, there'll be a tray sent up for you, if you have an appetite for it." He patted Illya on the shoulder.
"Do not concern yourself Doctor, I always have an appetite." He tried to smile.
"Good, you need to put on some weight, as does your friend." He winked, and left Illya to change and get into bed.
When the coast was clear, the Russian stepped across the hall to his partner's room, giving his coded knock but not waiting for Napoleon to respond. He found Solo lying on the bed, propped up on pillows with his hands behind his head and dressed in the same sort of khaki clothes.
Now that the dark beard was gone, he could see that his friend had lost quite a bit of weight, but at least he looked healthy.
"Hey tovarisch, just resting up before dinner. So what did the doctor have to say."
"I have pneumonia, and was given antibiotics as well as the usual things to help boost my system. I have been ordered to bed for the moment."
Napoleon sat up, swinging his legs to the floor. "Hmmm, well then you better get back to bed. I'll scout things out, and take a look at the telephone."
"Good, you are reading my mind. The sooner I can get the phone fixed..."
"Yes, I know...the faster we get home."
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