“You did the right thing,” Mrs. Phipps clipped, always brisker when deeply troubled. “We’ll care for her. Quietly,” she added when Nora opened her mouth to protest. There was currently a sign on the clinic door announcingCholera Patients Seen in Homes Only.
“We must be adaptable,” Mrs. Phipps said reflexively—one of Horace’s maxims. “She’s a child.”
The four women worked together, removing the stainednightshirt and wiping down the cold, soiled skin. At one point, the girl gave a sigh that sounded so much like a last breath that Nora panicked and searched for a heartbeat. It still slogged on—lethargic and reluctant.
Nora fitted a tube into the girl’s mouth, tucking it between her teeth and cheek where the saliva glands were located, and used a funnel to drip a slow stream of tea. Jasmine leaves stimulated blood flow, and Nora’s most immediate fear was the small heart stopping.
“A cholera cot would be best,” Mrs. Phipps said, speaking of a cot with a hole cut away and a bucket placed underneath so the patient didn’t need to be moved and cleaned constantly.
Nora gave her head a small shake. She and Daniel had only just reconciled. If he came home to her cutting up cots and treating a cholera patient in their own home—
But then again, once he saw Amelia…
They’d done everything they could in the exam room. The girl hadn’t focused her eyes once. Nora doubted she knew where she was. If she survived, this day would be folded away into the mysterious vaults of her mind, never to be reopened. Nora chewed the inside of her lip and looked to Mrs. Phipps.
The older woman steeled herself. “We’ll put up the screens and set her far away from the others.” Her eyes dipped to Nora’s middle, and her voice dropped. “But perhaps you shouldn’t tend her anymore.”
Nora stepped forward to tuck the girl’s dangling arm on top of her frail chest. Without warning, the weak purple fingers closed around Nora’s, the grip fragile and pleading.
Mrs. Phipps knew the answer as soon as Nora lifted her eyes. “This way,” Mrs. Phipps said, leading Ruth out the room. “We’ll put her on a cot by the stove.”
Julia caught Nora’s sleeve as she started to follow. “We can let her stay, but Mrs. Franklin said Amelia’s mother delivered a dead baby today.” Julia’s voice lagged as her eyes melted into pools of blue worry. “It sounds like cholera kills unborn children.”
“I—I doubt—” Nora stammered.
“You should keep your distance.”
With timid hands, Nora smoothed her skirt over her stomach. It was swelling. Though not visible to anyone else, she’d loosened the drawstring on her drawers by several inches. The small person was making its presence known.
“But, Nora,” Julia added in a conciliatory tone before she sucked in her breath. “You can still teach Ruth what to do. You could teach the midwives how to nurse all the sick patients instead of only laboring mothers. If you taught them basics like suturing and treatments, they could do work when you can’t.”
Nora stood still, staring at the striped wallpaper. Had the idea just sprung into existence in Julia’s mind? It was surprisingly brilliant. “Horace always says cholera is like an invasion, marching over cities and devouring everything.” Nora’s words escaped slowly, knitting into solid thoughts as she spun them off her tongue.
Every doctor in London was whittling away with the demands of a sick, teeming city. But the midwives were women with time and talent to spare. Nora had thought only of training them in labor and delivery, but they could do far more. Theycould help stem the flow of disease and suffering. Women well acquainted with the most afflicted neighborhoods and their tenants.
“If it’s true—if cholera is an armed invasion”—Nora’s eyes widened—“then we need soldiers.”
“The midwives?” Julia asked hopefully, giving a small bounce on her feet.
Nora smiled. She could kiss the brilliant girl in front of her. “The midwives.”
***
Between the hackney and his umbrella, Daniel managed to stay mostly dry above his ankles, but he’d spent so much effort getting Horace safely through the swimming streets that he’d not placed his own feet carefully enough. Now the two men were reduced to using the clinic entrance to avoid Mrs. Phipps’s wrath. Whatever vile substance covered their shoes, they didn’t dare track it into her parlor.
“You’re back.” Julia froze as they opened the door. She balanced a pillow in one hand, a small pile of clothing in the other.
Horace gestured to the mud on his trousers. “Don’t come too close. We haven’t washed yet.”
“Cholera patients?” she asked, a strange tightness to her face.
“All day,” Horace replied. “We’ll change into new clothes in the ice room.”
Daniel hardly relished even chillier temperatures, but it was certainly the last place they needed to worry about infecting anyone. And unless Nora had had a terrible day, there were no bodies stored there at the moment.
“Would you bring a bucket of hot water and soap?” he asked.
Julia’s nervous eyes darted down the hall. “Of course.”
