He returned in a few minutes with a small ceramic basin and several face cloths. Gently he dipped one in the water, wrung it out, and laid it over his daughter’s forehead.
“I’m afraid I shall get your sheets damp. I should have brought something to lay underneath her.”
“I don’t mind. I can do that if you like.”
“Allow me. How many nights am I at the Manor and you must tend to her alone?”
“It is my responsibility.”
“I’d say it is mine as well.” He continued his ministrations, whispering more to sleeping Anne than to her, “What’s the use of having a physician for a father if he cannot care for his own child?”
He untied his daughter’s nightdress and laid another cool cloth across her chest. The little girl tossed her head, whining at the intrusion.
“If this doesn’t work, we shall have to set her in a tub of cool water. She shall like that far less, I fear.”
“What do you think is wrong?”
“Hard to tell at this point. Stomach is relaxed—no distension. Has she been pulling on her ears at all?”
“No.”
“There is quite a lot of sickness going around. Hopefully nothing serious, just something that must run its course.”
Charlotte watched him continue to touch a third cloth to his daughter’s face and arms.
He looked at her suddenly. “How are you feeling, Miss Lamb? I do hope you are well.”
“Yes, I think so. A bit tired, but that is to be expected.”
He reached his hand toward her, then, seeing her surprise, hesitated, hand midair. “May I?”
“Oh, of course.”
He gently touched her forehead, his fingers tracing down her cheeks before returning to the basin. “You feel fine. I never stopped to think Anne might have something contagious. Perhaps I ought to take her to my room.”
“I do not think that necessary. And I am quite certain that if Anne has anything catching I should already have caught it in any case. Or perhaps even passed something along to her.”
“I doubt that. You are so rarely out alone. When would you have occasion to come into contact with some ill person?”
“At the park or market, I suppose, though Anne is always with me. Or church. No, she goes with me there as well ...”
“No wonder you are tired. It’s amazing you are not exhausted.”
“It is nothing compared to your days and nights. You so rarely sleep in your own bed, or at all for that matter.”
“I usually find at least a few hours of sleep at the Manor. My own bed holds little appeal for me these days.”
Charlotte could feel a blush warm her cheeks at the implication of his words. An awkward silence hung between them.
“Forgive me. I’m tired. I did not think... .”
“It is understandable,” she whispered. “You miss Lizette, and no wonder.”
“Perhaps. Still ...” He shook his head.
Trying to lighten the tension, she said, “For my part, I rarely slept the night through at the Manor. All the noise and having to share my bed so.”
“You—” he hesitated, eyes on his task—“object to sharing your bed?”
