“Mr. Hatcher?” Judith rubbed at her eyes, trying to dispel the last of her sleep.
“The master is very ill, and they’ve called for a physician—” she whispered, but Judith hurried past the maid before she said another word. The movement snuffed her candle, and Judith abandoned it on a side table, allowing her feet to follow the familiar path she knew even in the black of night. Slivers of moonlight filtered in through windows, guiding her way, and Judith’s breath seized in her lungs as she considered just how poorly Mr. Byrnes must be for them to wake her.
Judith paused at the threshold of his bedchamber for only a moment before shoving aside propriety and hurrying in to find Mr. Hatcher standing over his friend as the physician examined his patient. The room was filled with candles, though it did little to stave off the shadows. Mr. Byrnes let out a wrenching, wet cough, and Judith’s lungs gave a sympathetic twinge at the sound. His breath rattled as he fought for air, and Judith drew closer, wishing she could clear them somehow.
Mr. Hatcher met her gaze, a hard look in his eyes. “You must ready the children.”
“For what?” she asked.
The physician straightened and turned to face her. “Mr. Byrnes has caught a fever that is circulating through the area. I fear it is quite serious, and the children must be removed from the household for their safety.”
Mr. Hatcher snapped into action, barking orders to the maid concerning inns and carriages, servants and trunks, but Judith struggled to move. Her heart froze, sending a wave of ice through her veins as she stared at Mr. Byrnes.
“But what of Mr. Byrnes?” asked Judith. “He needs a nurse.”
“I shall stay with him,” said Mr. Hatcher.
“Have you any experience with attending the sick?” she asked.
“I shall have Dr. Parnell to aid me.” Mr. Hatcher motioned her towards the door, but Judith did not do as bidden.
“He has other patients to tend to,” she said, glancing at the physician, who nodded in agreement.
“I must divide my time between the worst cases,” added Dr. Parnell. “As of now, Mr. Byrnes is not among their ranks.”
Judith took in a breath, forcing her heart to function. Gathering her strength about her, a plan formed in an instant, and she turned to face Mr. Hatcher.
“You must take the children, and I shall stay with him. I have nursed many children over the years and have the skills to tend to Mr. Byrnes.”
Mr. Hatcher shook his head. “The children need you, and I shan’t risk your health—”
“I am only their governess, Mr. Hatcher.” Stepping closer, Judith laid a hand atop his forearm and squeezed it. “If the worst happens, and both Mr. Byrnes and I succumb to this illness, they will need their guardian. And their financial future is tied up in Mr. Byrnes’s business. You must manage it in their father’s stead.”
Mr. Hatcher frowned at that, but there was no arguing against her logic.
“Take them to the Slades’ home,” she continued. “Their aunt and Nurse Johnson can manage the children without me, but I am trusting you to protect them and their future.”
He frowned and looked to his friend, who lay panting on the bed. Then meeting Judith’s gaze, Mr. Hatcher nodded and swept out the door to do his duty. Judith dragged a chair to the bedside and reached for the bowl of water on his nightstand, dipping a washcloth in it and pressing it to Mr. Byrnes’s forehead. He turned towards the touch, murmuring something she couldn’t understand.
Dr. Parnell gave her instructions for the various powders and tinctures before following the others out of the bedchamber, leaving her alone with Mr. Byrnes.
“The children will be safe,” she whispered. “So rest and heal.”
Mr. Byrnes stirred, his eyes opening for a moment, but they did not focus on her. Judith did not speak the words aloud, but her heart filled with a litany of pleas for him and the children.
***
There were places in the world where the sun scorched the earth and the air was so damp that one’s clothes were drenched the moment one put them on in the morning (or never dried out from the day before). The heat soaked through the skin, burying itself into the bones until it felt as though one would dissolve into liquid. Silas had experienced it many times before, but now, the world itself was burning.
Silas panted, desperate for air to cool him, but he couldn’t fill his lungs. They ripped and tore with each breath, halting and fighting every movement, and inky blackness surrounded him, sticking to him like tar.
Leah screamed, and Silas jerked, but his muscles wouldn’t pull him upright. In the darkness, Helen stood before him, watching him with cold eyes. His throat groaned as he opened his mouth, but no words emerged. He reached for her, but she turned away. Silas shouted her name, but it came out as a whisper as she faded into the darkness. He tried to push off the bedcovers, but they were like heavy stones, weighing him down.
Griffith ran past him in the shadows, sprinting into places Silas could not see, though he shouted after his son to stop. And where was Felix?
Ice touched his forehead, and Silas turned towards the bit of relief, wishing it might spread. Then it vanished, and Silas reached out, hoping to lay hold of it once more. Another cool press against his face, and Silas sighed, but the relief appeared and disappeared without warning, making the heat feel all the hotter in its absence.
A voice cut through it all, sweeping through him with a peace that felt out of place in this black and boiling prison. Silas couldn’t make out the words, but they were an anchor in the storm, holding him in place when he was ready to drift off into the nothingness. He knew the voice—hervoice. But his thoughts couldn’t lay hold on her name.
