“I married Mr. Bowman. He is good to me and our son. Not like Papa.”
As a girl, Louisa had feared her father and tried to avoid him. Davina always suspected he beat her. “I am glad. You deserve a good man.”
Louisa nodded drowsily. “Good man.”
“He has a fine farm here. I suppose it was his family’s. I did not know them, but I remember the name.”
“Neil was in the army. Came home after the war, and I began walking out with him.” She twisted under the sheet. “I am so hot now. Hot, then cold, then hot, then . . .” Her words drifted and slurred.
“Sleep. I will be here when you awaken. Do you want to see your husband?”
She shook her head. “I don’t want them to get ill too. Promise you will not let them come in here.”
“I promise.”
She waited for Louisa to fall asleep, then went below to the sitting room. The boy held vigil with his father there. Brentworth was nowhere to be seen.
She found the kitchen, and the remains of the food Louisa’s husband had tried to cook the last few days. A chicken was his most recent effort. She found a big pot, threw the carcass in it, then called for the boy and asked him to bring water from the well and some roots from the kitchen garden.
“I can do it,” Mr. Bowman said from the door. “I’m better if I keep busy.”
“Perhaps you should do that by tending to your farm. If you don’t go too far, I think it would help you. Your son can get me what I need, and it will give him something to do.”
Mr. Bowman shifted from one foot to the other. “Is she any better?”
“She spoke to me, so I think so. She still needs to drink more. I’ll make a broth to give her. If you have beer or ale, set it out and I’ll use that too.”
“That carriage has been gone several hours.”
“Only three. Have faith, sir. If the duke said a physician would come, one will arrive soon.”
“I will pay the fee, of course, if you tell me what it is.”
She stopped her preparations and gave him her full attention. “I do not think the duke will allow that. Nor do I think you can afford it. The physician who comes will probably have very high fees. I will offer for you, however, so there is no risk that you will insult His Grace without intending to.”
He nodded, and realized that his son stood right beside him. He stepped aside so the boy could enter the kitchen. “I’ll be in the barn for a spell, then.”
Davina told the boy what she needed. She had only her thoughts to keep her company while she waited for him to return.
Louisa, despite her malady, appeared much as she remembered her. Her brown hair and plump face were the same as the girl who had laughed with her so often. She regretted sorely not returning before this, so they could laugh again.
She faced squarely what might happen in the next few hours. Sometime soon, perhaps very soon, either the fever would break or Louisa would. She doubted the physician would make much difference.
At least it had not been cholera. She had seen its effects. Indeed she had experienced them herself. On first entering that sick room she had died inside because her friend’s sunken eyes and wrinkled hands suggested just that. But there had been none of the severe purges caused by cholera, from the evidence in the chamber. The lack of fluids to her system had only mimicked the symptoms.
Louisa had wanted to spare her family and locked herself in, but she may have doomed herself. Davina had seen ill people die before. When she accompanied her father, the results were not always good ones in those cottages. She had nursed her father herself, and not been able to save him. It was always very hard when the person was a friend, and she would have to steel herself for this.
She wiped her eyes and found a bit of solace in knowing that her visit may have made a difference in Louisa’s comfort, if nothing else.
The boy came in with the water and a handful of carrots and parsnips. Davina used some of the water to clean the roots, then chopped them and added them to her pot. She hanged the pot on the hook in the hearth, then called for the boy again.
“What do you normally do at this time?” she asked him.
“Lessons.” He pointed to the worktable. “While Mum cooks.”
“Have you a slate? Go and get it, and do the same lesson you last did with her. Don’t look at me like that. You must do something besides worry.”
She waited until he returned with his slate and got busy, then let herself out the garden door. The evening had cooled substantially.
