“I’m perfectly well, I assure you.” Eliza frowned. “Why?”
“The mummy, curses...this is something you’d normally believe in and investigate no matter how much I tried to deter you.”
A smile pulled at Eliza’s lips. “Because it wasn’t a real mummy,” she offered smugly.
Sophia leaned forward. “How do you know?”
“For one, even though there were bandages all around his neck and head, there were openings for his mouth, nostrils and eyes. If the journals that Rosemary’s mother sent are true—.”
“—They are,” Rosemary interjected.
“Then the entire head of the mummy would be wrapped and we wouldn’t be able to see any skin.”
“Was the rest of his body wrapped up as well?” Sophia asked, wishing that she’d taken the chance to look herself.
“Blankets covered the rest of the body, so I don’t know.”
“It has to be the mummy’s curse,” Abigail cried again. “First the carriage accident that hurt Lord Norbright’s friends and now I have spots.”
“Spots?” Rosemary questioned in alarm.
“I’ll summon the doctor, but I’m fairly certain the explanation will be reasonable and have nothing to do with curses.”
“I hope that whatever Abigail has isn’t contagious.” Eliza rubbed her arms.
“How did they know there was a carriage accident?” Rosemary asked. “We didn’t even know that.”
Eliza shrugged.
“They came in later than us. Maybe they overheard Lord Norbright discussing the events with his companions,” Sophia offered.
Rosemary looked at Eliza with narrowed eyes. “Are you certain there isn’t a curse involved? Carriage accident and spots. We were all around the mummy. What if something happens to us?”
Eliza rolled her eyes. “He is not a mummy but a man.”
“You have been sick, Abigail,” one of the girls said.
Sophia leaned closer to the door.
“You have?” Mrs Wiggons asked in alarm.
“It’s nothing,” Abigail insisted.
“That is not so,” Ruth argued. “These past few days she’s had a runny nose and this morning she was claiming her throat was sore.”
“Goodness!” Mrs. Wiggons exclaimed. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I always have a runny nose, sneezing and coughing during this time of year.”
“Do you always get spots, too?”
“No,” the girl admitted.
Eliza and Rosemary edged toward the crack in the door, as they silently tried to listen and find out what was wrong with Abigail.
“You have a fever,” Mrs. Wiggons announced.
“It’s nothing,” Abigail insisted.
