She shook her head. “No, it won’t.”
She was likely right, but he wanted to see the fear leave her lovely face.
“Where do you want me to take the supplies?” he asked instead of closing the distance between them and holding her, which was what he wanted to do.
“Please come to the church.” She raised a hand to Baron and then turned away from him.
He climbed back into the driver’s seat and urged his horse on, following her to the church, where he stopped once again.
“Hello, Ash.” Essex Sinclair arrived.
“He and Baron are here with supplies from the castle. They have had scarlet fever,” Dorset said with none of the emotion she’d shown him upon arriving in her voice. “They are here to help.”
“Oh now, that is wonderful news. Two healers are much better than one. Dorrie, you tell them where to place the supplies.” Unlike her younger sister, Essex Huntington looked in complete control.
“It will be an honor to work alongside you.” Baron bowed.
“I have studied a journal I had at Oaks Knoll,” Essie said. “And while the practice is not used as often as it should be, I think we need to ensure that hands are always washed, Baron, and that clothes or any medical implements are cleansed thoroughly. Cleanliness is important.”
“I agree,” Baron said.
Ash watched Dorrie as her sister and Baron spoke. Her eyes were moving, hands clenched. Tense and nervous, which she had every right to be considering what was going on around her.
“I made a study of it when Ash and I had it,” Baron said. “I don’t know exactly how the disease spreads, but believe the nose and mouth should be covered when dealing with sick patients.”
“Do you really?” Essex looked intrigued.
“These are my observations only,” Baron added. “The captain and doctor of the ship we were on did not agree. I understand it is not a practice people use.”
“But if you can stop someone coughing all over someone else, it may stop the spread?” Essex asked.
Baron nodded.
“Well, that seems an excellent idea,” she said. “We shall see about getting some material for this purpose.”
They unloaded the wagons and distributed the supplies to where they were needed. More cots were set up in the church. As they did so, others who had fallen sick arrived. Baron stayed inside the church while Ash went to build a fire on his friend’s orders.
He and a man named Stephen collected wood, and then the old lady who had sat next him at the wedding appeared, stomping toward him with her cane.
“You need to go back to your house, Mrs. Radcliff, and not leave it.”
“I’m old and have been subjected to the fever before, therefore I will help.” She waved his words away. “She’ll need your help, young man.”
Ash eyed her stooped shoulders and wrinkled face. He wasn’t sure how much help she could be.
“Dying people need comfort,” she said. “Now you go on and see what that girl of yours needs.”
“Pardon?”
“Your younger Sinclair. She needs your support. Make sure she gets it. The middle one too, but she is used to the sick and dying; the younger is not.”
“She is not my anything.”
“Well, she should be.”
Her eyes might be faded, but they were piercing in their directness. He had the sudden need to shuffle his feet. No one had intimidated Ash for years.
“I will help while I am needed, and then I will be leaving,” he said.
