Glenis would know what to do.
Chapter 11
Glenis dipped the linen cloth into the basin and wrung it out. She laid it across Garrett’s forehead, carefully covering the bruised, swollen knot above his right temple. She touched his stubbly cheek and found that his skin was cool. He was sleeping peacefully. After four long days and nights, his fever had finally broken.
She smoothed the blanket and tucked it beneath his wide shoulders. Then she rose wearily from the chair and turned around.
“He’s seen the worst of it, Sergeant Fletcher,” she said quietly. “The fever’s gone, ye’ll be glad to know. As soon as we can get some nourishment into him, he’ll be as good as new.”
The stocky soldier nodded gratefully, a look of admiration for the stooped old woman showing on his face. “We can’t thank you enough, ma’am. You’ve saved his life…you and Mistress Fraser.”
Glenis smiled faintly. She picked up the basin and moved to the door. “I’ve some beef broth simmering in the kitchen, and good hot tea in the kettle. Ye must let me know when he wakes, and I’ll bring up a tray. He’ll be thirsty, but dinna let him drink too much water. He needs the broth first, for strength.”
“Yes, of course,” Sergeant Fletcher agreed. “Whatever you think is best.” He sat down by the bed as Glenis left the room.
She walked stiffly down the hall, stopping at Madeleine’s door. She peeked in and shook her head in exasperation.
Madeleine was curled up on her bed with the tartan blanket thrown carelessly over her. Rain was pouring in through the open windows, the drenched curtains hanging like sodden rags from the wooden rods.
“Och, that child,” Glenis muttered. She set down the basin and crossed to each window in turn, closing them firmly. The last one slipped and crashed down with a loud thud.
Madeleine stirred beneath the blanket. “Glenis?”
“Aye, Maddie. ‘Tis me. Go back to sleep.”
She sat up, rubbing her eyes. “No, no. I’ve slept enough. How is he, Glenis?”
Glenis sighed and sat down on the bed beside her mistress. “The fever’s broken, thanks to yer fine care during the night, Maddie. Ye know, I could have stayed up with him—”
“‘Twas no matter,” Madeleine interrupted her gently. She yawned widely and stretched. “I dinna mind, and ye needed yer sleep. We canna have ye taking sick, Glenis. The household would be a shambles without ye.”
She swung her legs to the floor and patted her servant’s thin shoulder. “Ye’ve a kind heart, Glenis Simpson. Ye cared for the captain like he was yer own kin, redcoat or no.” She glanced at the clock and saw the hands just touching noon. “Ye’ve been with him all morning. Now it’s my turn. And it’s time for ye to have another rest.”
“Aye, I do feel a bit tired.”
“Then it’s settled. Come on, I’ll walk with ye to yer room.”
Madeleine took her servant’s arm and helped her to her feet. While they walked downstairs and into the kitchen Glenis told her what she had advised the sergeant.
“Not too much broth, mind ye,” Glenis instructed, stopping by the hearth, to give the pot’s bubbling contents a quick stir. “Give him a wee taste and see if it stays in his stomach. Then give him a bit more. And see that he drinks a full cup of my special tea.”
“Aye, Glenis, dinna worry,” Madeleine said. She pushed open the door to Glenis’s room, just off the kitchen. “Go on with ye. And dinna mind about supper. I can see to myself.”
“Ye’re a good lass, Maddie Fraser.”
Madeleine smiled and closed the door quietly. She turned around just as the sergeant strode into the kitchen.
“Oh…Mistress Fraser,” he said. “I was looking for your housekeeper, Glenis. The captain is awake—”
“She’s resting, sergeant. I’ll see to the tray for Captain Marshall.”
Madeleine quickly ladled some steaming meat broth into a bowl and poured a cup of tea. When the tray was ready, she followed the sergeant back up the stairs. Her mind was racing as she walked slowly down the dim hallway, careful lest she spill anything.
Garrett was awake at last. She could hardly believe it. He was going to live…
When she had first seen him lying on her father’s bed so ashen and still, with a bloodied gash in his forehead, she had thought he would die for certain. She had tried not to blame herself, knowing in her heart she had done what she needed to survive, yet she had felt responsible nonetheless.
Perhaps that was why she had worked side by side with Glenis and Sergeant Fletcher, fighting to save Garrett’s life. If not for the loss of blood, he might have been up on his feet the next day. But a burning fever had set in. Never before had she seen such agony and such thrashing as his body was wracked by chills and then fiery heat.
