‘Fiddlesticks!’ Isabel said.
The old woman stiffened, her eyes wide with shock.
Isabel met her gaze and continued, ‘Damp that fire immediately and open the windows.’
Mrs. Mead looked at Sebastian.
‘Isabel?’ Sebastian raised a quizzical eyebrow.
She returned his gaze with unblinking evenness. ‘Trust me, Sebastian. I know what I am doing.’
He turned to Mrs. Mead. ‘Please do as her ladyship has asked, Mrs. Mead. Her methods are unorthodox, but I know from personal experience they seem to work.’
Isabel looked at him, and her heart lurched as he smiled and winked at her. Did he remember that night in London when she had nursed him through his fever’s crisis?
The old woman gave a sharp intake of breath. ‘But, my lord, the doctor was most insistent...’
Isabel bit back a retort about the wisdom of the doctor and said, ‘Please, Mrs. Mead. I do have some knowledge in these matters.’ She glanced at Matt. ‘Mister Alder, can you fetch me a bowl of water? Cold from a well, if possible. And some cloths.’
She flung back the curtains and shutters and opened the windows, filling the room with the cool night air. The girl on the bed took a shuddering breath and her eyes flickered open.
Sebastian perched on the edge of the bed, taking one of her hands in his.
‘Connie. I’m here,’ he whispered.
‘Bas?’ The girl turned bleary eyes to the sound of his voice.
‘I came as soon as I heard you were ill.’
‘Don’t leave.’ Her voice cracked and she flung her head to one side, again lost in delirium.
Sebastian did not relinquish her hand as Isabel rolled her sleeves up and began folding back the voluminous bedding. She ignored the squeak of alarm from the housekeeper and picked up Connie’s free hand, running her fingers lightly over the bandaged wrists. Spots of blood marred the white sheets.
She looked up at Sebastian.
‘Little wonder she’s so weak.’
‘Of course she’s been bled. Doctor’s been every day,’ Mrs. Mead’s voice quavered. ‘He said it would purge the bad humour that is affecting her.’
Isabel looked up but bit back the caustic remark that rose to her lips.
Matthew appeared at Isabel’s elbow with a large basin of water.
‘Straight from the well, as you ordered.’
‘Set it on the nightstand.’ Isabel dipped one of the cloths Matthew had also brought with him into the water and began to sponge the girl’s face and hands.
‘Oh, you’ll kill her,’ Mrs. Mead said at last, wringing herhands together.‘The fever must be sweated out of her. The doctor was most insistent ...’
Sebastian frowned. ‘I don’t recall Dr Neville being an advocate of bleeding. In fact, I seem to remember his thoughts about the treatment of fever were much the same as Lady Somerton’s.’
‘Dr Neville moved to Chester last year. We have Dr Llewellyn now.’
Sebastian rose to his feet. ‘Then I will send the coach to Chester for Neville in the morning.’
‘Cap’n Alder, you can’t...’ Mrs. Mead began and then broke off in the realisation that he could, and he would.
Isabel stood up and laid a hand on the old woman’s arm.
