As he ran, a maid stopped him on the landing. “Dr. Gibson, I believe your mother is here.”
Heavens, he hoped not. What in the world was she doing, arriving unannounced in a blizzard? Bounding up the stairs, he decided the maid must be mistaken. Perhaps she’d meant a message had arrived from his mother and stumbled over the words.
But when he reached the hall…
“Daniel!” His mother flew at him, clutching him with icy fingers. If not for her voice, he would hardly recognize her—hems muddied, hair rumpled and falling to her shoulders, a stricken expression on her face, her height disguised in layers of clothing and thick furs. Even wrapped within an inch of her life, she shivered violently. Mrs. Phipps and Horace, already in the hall, stared openly.
“It’s your aunt,” she quavered through chattering teeth.
“What’s wrong with her?” Daniel demanded, bracing himself for news of an accident, his feet ready to fly.
“She and I took our luncheon at the refuge yesterday. It was a sort of holiday celebration.”
“Yes?” Daniel fought the urge to roll his eyes. His mother had a maddening habit of starting stories far too early.
“I was going to stay and help her with preparations for her Christmas party. But she fell ill yesterday afternoon.”
Daniel didn’t mean to be impatient, but the words took too long. “Ill? But why did you come now? Why not send someone?”
“Her doctor said it’s cholera.” She choked back a sob. “Fenella sent nearly all the servants away to protect them. But the ones who were supposed to stay and help all fled. I’m the only one left. Miss Pritchard is sick, too.”
Daniel’s eyes widened. “How did you get here from Mayfair? Is Aunt alone?”
“Nora’s with her,” she continued without hearing him. “But she needs help. And she wants her bag.”
“Nora?” The buzzing in Daniel’s brain sharpened at his wife’s name. “She’s in Mayfair?”
“If she’s treating cholera, why doesn’t she have her bag?” Horace demanded.
Daniel’s mother had to speak over the sudden snap of ice hitting the windows, and they all looked toward the panes. The sharp sleet threatened to crack the glass. “She only came to call, so she didn’t bring any supplies. But she found us just in time.” His mother pried a glove from her hand, revealing fingers crimson from the cold.
Daniel shook his head, clearing away questions he didn’thave time to ask. “In time for what? Isn’t Adams there?” He’d made such a show of being Aunt’s personal physician.
“He bled her yesterday and checked her again this morning, but he said there was no hope and he had other patients—” His mother’s composure broke, and she slumped.
“Sit down, now,” Mrs. Phipps ordered, and guided his mother to a chair, calling for blankets and tea.
“But Aunt’s still alive?” Daniel pressed, kneeling in front of his mother. He placed his hand against her cheek, even though cholera didn’t cause fever.
“She was. Only just. Nora showed up like a miracle and sent me to fetch you.”
“And you?” Daniel asked, searching her colorless face. “Any headache? Abdominal pain?”
His mother gestured away his concerns. “I’m fine. Only tired. But the roads are unbearable. It was near impossible to find a hackney. No one’s risking their horses in this snow. The driver refused to take me all the way, so I came the rest of the way on foot. And I kept falling because of all the ice. I skinned my hands and wrenched my ankle. No one even offered to help me.”
It was a wonder she’d made it. “Horace, can you see to her?” he asked, releasing her icy hands. “I need to go.”
Horace frowned as he faced the windows. “If you go by horse, you’ll have to saddle it and ride. I don’t trust any carriage on this ice.”
Daniel assessed the thick flakes plastered to the black window. He knew frozen snow like this… Any journey would be pure hell. The mare’s hooves would cake with ice, and he’dhave to dismount every five minutes to chisel it out, but going on foot to Mayfair in an ice storm was impossible.
Mrs. Phipps reappeared—not that he’d seen her leave—arms laden with thick clothes. “Are you sure you shouldn’t wait until morning? The streetlights aren’t even burning, and Nora’s safe with your aunt, so—”
“She won’t be able to do much without her bag.” Without medicines and a tube to help ease the liquids into Aunt’s mouth… Daniel shook his head. All he’d wanted was to see Nora well and safe for the last two hours. Nothing could deter him now. “I’m not waiting until morning,” he announced. He’d never forgive himself if his aunt died while they were at odds. “Tell Harry what’s happened and ask him to saddle the mare. If my mother could manage…” He shook his head.
“Walking might be the best option,” Horace said. “It would take half the night, but I could come with you.”
Mrs. Phipps dropped one of Daniel’s boots. “No, you will not. Harry will go, if anyone does, but I think Daniel can get there much faster on his horse. Daniel, put these on. The maid will be here soon with hot stones for your pockets.”
