“No party,” Aunt murmured as Sarah laid out her tray and handed her a fine napkin. “No one from high society will set foot in here for weeks after hearing the foul disease was in this home. How did it get here, Daniel? In Mayfair?”
The rumble of a cleared throat halted them all as they turned toward the doorway. Horace crossed his arms imperiously, his shabby coat straining against his wide shoulders.
“If any of us knew that, we’d be wealthy beyond mention and wiser than Solomon.” He stared at Nora with fathomless eyes. “I’ve never once been sick with cholera, even though I’ve been exposed to thousands of patients. And Nora’s been ill to the brink of death twice now.”
She didn’t miss the tightness in his voice or the exhaustion in his face and limbs.
“I didn’t know I was ill when I decided to come,” she defended herself meekly.
Daniel nodded. “It comes on fast. But you’re still with us, and that’s what matters.”
Horace’s thick white eyebrows shot upward. “Didn’t know?Truly? No headaches? No change in appetite? You didn’t think to anticipate the weather? Did you even check my barometer?”
Nora never checked Horace’s barometer, no matter how many times he admonished her.
“I had other things on my mind—Aunt Wilcox and the patients and—”
“And her pregnancy.” Daniel’s mother set down a china bowl of broth and stepped closer, the shadows of the half-open curtains obscuring her face.
They hadn’t yet mentioned it. Nora tried to swallow, but her dry, burning throat barely allowed it. “Yes,” she admitted.
Sarah wrung her hands. “I don’t know what has gotten into young women these days. Climbing mountains. Trekking through tropics. And you, nursing patients almost to death while carrying my grandchild.” She frowned in confusion but not anger.
“You nearly helped yourself to the grave.” Horace grunted as he took a heavy seat on Nora’s bed, half landing on her leg. He didn’t ask permission before he pulled at her lip, checking her gum color. “Still too pale. Why didn’t you get me when she woke?” he chided as he pinched with his fingers, making it impossible to reply.
“Because you’re an old, tired man.” Mrs. Phipps scowled.
Nora released a breath of laughter. Too many people had crowded into the nursery; her head ached from their movements and voices.
“Confusion?” Horace asked. “Disorientation?”
Nora closed her eyes. “A bit.”
“To be expected,” he mumbled.
In the darkness of her closed eyes, Daniel spoke up. “It’s time to take them both back to private rooms. Aunt can’t rest with us checking on Nora endlessly, and neither is in danger any longer.”
“Anything’s better than this arrangement,” Aunt grumbled. “This room smells damp, and I hardly fit in this tiny bed. Tell Agnes—” The careless sentence broke, and she fell silent, pressing her lips together. After a long moment, she tried again. “I’ll need someone to arrange my things.”
Daniel found words first. “Mother can help you. Would you like to walk or have me carry you?”
Aunt grimaced. “Don’t be foolish, Daniel. I’ll take my cane. Get my wrap.”
***
Fifteen minutes later, Nora was situated in a room with a thick Marseilles quilt stitched with such an intricate pattern of fruits and flourishes that looking at it made her dizzy.
“Your color’s looking better every minute,” Daniel said, sitting gently beside her. “I truly thought I might lose you.”
“Like Miss Pritchard.” Nora let her head delve deeper into the down pillow, as if she could find a spot where the memory didn’t stab so painfully. The cotton pillowcase smelled of lavender sachets. “Your aunt is heartbroken.”
“Not as heartbroken as I’d be if we’d lost you.” Daniel rested his forehead against hers and she closed her eyes, his closeness better than medicine.
The door creaked quietly on its brass hinges, and they both turned to find Horace hovering. “I want to listen to the child.”He stepped over the Turkish rug slowly, his blue eyes clouded with worry.
Nora reached for her stomach. “Horace, it’s too small,” she started, but he’d brought his best stethoscope. She’d forgotten she was talking to a man who’d once pressed his head so close to a termite mound to hear their movements that he’d gotten one in his ear. If anyone could hear her little one, it was him.
“Have you felt anything?” he asked as he approached.
