Please God, keep him safe. I’ll do anything in return. Anything at all.
Thus far, her prayers had not been answered. The lamp’s glow revealed the toll of the illness on James. Days of fasting had sharpened his cheekbones and deepened the shadows beneath his eyes. The dark scruff along his jaw was juxtaposed with the pallor of his skin, which had lost its vital glow. Save for the shallow surges of his chest, he lay frighteningly still.
Despair clutched her chest, and she took his hand in both of hers, bringing it to her cheek.
“Don’t l-leave me.” Her voice hitched, tears sliding from her eyes and dampening his knuckles. “I could bear anything but that.”
A dreadful certainty fell over her like a shroud. This—all of it—was her fault: James falling ill, the destruction of their marriage, the loss of their babe. Even their last row had been her doing. Now he might die and their last memory of one another would be of anger and pain. Unable to bear it, she shut her eyes, held his palm against her cheek, and prayed. Even though she knew it was useless, she poured her heart and soul into a bargain with God.
Heavenly Father, I know I have committed the gravest of sins, but James is a good man. He has done nothing wrong. I am the one who must atone. Punish me, not him. I will do anything you ask, anything at all. Or…or take me, not him. I would gladly go in his stead?—
“Evie?” James’s hand twitched against her cheek.
She opened her eyes. James was staring at her groggily.
Have my prayers been answered?
“James,” she breathed. “Oh, my darling. You’re awake!”
“Have I…” His voice emerged as a croak. “Have I been sleeping?”
Seeing his grimace, she released his hand and hurried to fetch him some water.
“You must be parched. Drink something before you try to talk.”
Helping him raise his head from the pillow, she held the glass to his cracked lips. He took a sip, then another. When he began to drink greedily, she controlled the flow with careful tilts of the tumbler.
“Slowly now,” she said. “One sip at a time.”
After he finished half the water, she set it aside.
“Let us see how that settles. You haven’t kept anything down in days.”
“Days?” His voice was still hoarse, but his eyes seemed more alert. “What happened?”
“You’ve been ill, darling. The physician thinks you caught a case of influenza, perhaps from visiting the hospital. You have had a terrible fever for three days.”
“Three days?” James looked confounded. “But I am never ill.”
Given the severity of his illness, his conviction in his invincibility made her sigh.
“Nonetheless, you were this time. You had everyone worried.” When her hands trembled, she put them to use tucking the sheets neatly around him. “You fainted right here in this chamber. We tried to rouse you and couldn’t. Your brothers lifted you into bed, and we’ve all been taking turns keeping watch. We sent word to Mama and Papa, but they’re away visiting their estates and may not have received the message.”
He frowned. “I don’t recall any of that.”
“That’s hardly surprising, given that you were delirious with fever.”
She pressed a palm to his forehead: it was damp but cool. Relief billowed through her like smoke from an extinguished fire, the intensity nearly smothering. She took several breaths before speaking again.
“The physician said that once the fever broke, you would make a speedy recovery. How are you feeling now?”
“Fine.”
At the habitual reply, she lifted her eyebrows and waited.
“Perhaps my head has a slight ache,” James muttered.
“Well, that’s to be expected. The physician left some willow bark, and a good lady from the village shared an effective remedy for megrims. I’ll have both brought to you, along with some nourishing beef tea. And perhaps a dish of blancmange.”
