She sat up, head aching enough to make her squint against the low flame of the lamp. Her face was damp, and her hip rested on something hard—an upturned basin.
Dear God.
Aunt Wilcox.
Wait, ought those two be put so close together?
Fighting back a groggy giggle—a worry, because she shouldn’t be giddy—Nora knelt and reached across the bed, her breath steadying as her fingers located Aunt Wilcox and then a brachial pulse. Muzzy-headed as she was, she hurried to Aunt’s other wrist and found the pulse again—confirmation.
The infusion was working. At the very least, it hadn’t killed her.
Nora knelt back onto her heels, breath steadying. Did she imagine the room darker? Or were her fuzzy eyes still clearing? “Sarah?” she called weakly, the words barely making it past her lips. When she spoke, the pain in her head sharpened. Perhaps she’d hit it when she went down. Feeling for bruises, Nora turned to the fireplace to find only curls of thin smoke andashes. Had she been unconscious for more than a few seconds? The spent coals and fading light outside indicated she’d been out for far longer.
Nora closed her eyes to steady herself as she used the mattress to pull herself upright. Her chest tingled with a strange chill as her stomach lurched. “Aunt?” She prodded the woman’s frail cheek with her hand. There was a color resembling human flesh blooming beneath the gray skin. The bed was damp where Nora touched it, still wet from the spilled solution that hadn’t made it into the improvised tube.
She started to sigh but buckled as her stomach flipped.
Nora stumbled to the water closet, hardly making it to the toilet in time. She’d suffered from diarrhea frequently during the pregnancy, and tonight was no exception. She made her way back to the bedroom and forced her eyes to focus on the clock on the wall, but the unwound hands had stuttered to a standstill hours ago. She hadn’t brought her own watch. She crossed to the window and drew back the drapes.
“Good Lord,” she half prayed, half cursed. Thick ice had yanked the heavy tree limbs to the ground, the unlucky ones already snapped, casualties lying in the road. The snow had turned into the worst kind of storm—wet, frozen, and impassible. Where was Sarah? Daniel would never get the carriage through. With so many broken branches, there wouldn’t be any hackneys, either.
Was Sarah safe? Guilt roiled her already unsettled stomach, and Nora shivered at the frigid tendrils of air slipping through the casement and curling around her. In her haste, she hadn’t fully sealed the window. With one last, desperate look downthe barren street, she locked the window and pulled the drapes. Aunt Wilcox needed to stay as warm as possible.
Nora swiped at the hot tears needling her eyes. No time for that. She pictured Horace’s fierce scowl and squared her sore shoulders. She’d collect firewood and more coal from the kitchen and boil water for tea. This time she’d raid the larder for anything edible. She hadn’t eaten in hours, and the little passenger inside her…
Nora paused midstride, her hand pressed to the small mound of her abdomen. “At least I’m not entirely alone,” she murmured with a caress on her belly. At the touch, her muscles tightened uncomfortably, and she hurried to the toilet once more. In the small, dark room, she closed her eyes and breathed against the rising fear.
You’re not sick. You’re immune to this. It’s only the pregnancy.
The words repeated like a rosary prayer, giving her a crust of courage.
Immune.
Immune.
The thought of hiking to the basement and dragging up supplies only multiplied the wet droplets on her eyelashes. Every life in this house depended solely on her, no matter how weak or tired she was. One step after another, she’d go.
“Aunt.” Her raised voice brought no response. “I’m going to get you tea and warm bricks.” She studied the small figure buried in quilts, still breathing. “But I’m coming back.”
Chapter 37
“She’s not in the laboratory,” Mrs. Phipps said.
“I haven’t seen her since lunch,” Julia confirmed.
Daniel rubbed the back of his neck, more worried than he cared to admit. Nora wouldn’t leave, not with so many patients so close to the edge. Unless… “No one remembers any summons for a birth or an emergency call?”
Ruth shook her head. “I thought she must be resting upstairs.”
Daniel knew she wasn’t, because he’d fallen asleep in their bed almost instantly when she’d sent him up hours ago. She’d never come in their room.
“She might have snatched a minute in my parlor,” Mrs. Phipps said slowly. “And fallen asleep? It’s quiet there.” Mrs. Phipps considered her parlor a necessary retreat and allowed few intrusions there, but Nora sometimes joined her. “I’ll look now,” she said, out the door before Daniel could respond.
“This isn’t like Nora,” Julia said. “She usually leaves a note. But we’re all tired. Perhaps she forgot?”
Daniel hoped so. And once he found her and railed at her for worrying him enough to cause a heart seizure, he’d apologize for being ridiculous.
He paced to the window again. “She didn’t take the carriage, because Harry was using it. Where could she be?”
