Mia’s days quicklyfell into a pattern, as if her life had been severed into four-hour blocks around the clock. Sleep. Eat. Care for Selina. Get up and do it again. Not that there was a great deal of sleeping or eating, but she tried to keep her strength up. After some tension, Kerr quietly fell into the same pattern, alternating with Mia. They spoke little.
Meals, simple but adequate, were left at their doorstep along with regular deliveries of water, tea, clean linens, and sometimes—God be praised—ice. In turn they left dirty dishes, soiled linens, and chamber pots to be carried away.
On the second day, a message from Selwyn Court and a package were left next to a pitcher of water. The message, in Uncle Ludlow’s scrawl, informed her that her cousin Eustace and the Not-So-Honorable Richard Bettinton had fallen ill with influenza, caught, Uncle believed, at the Cockcrow. Two grooms were ill as well. Sir Harvey Rowlinson seemed to be spared. He had hightailed it back to London. Mia wondered if Eustace’s useless friends had infected Selina so that her adventure in the rain brought it on. Or perhaps she’d encountered the grooms when she’d gone to release Hector.
The next bit startled her.That young physician Mr. Gideon Kendrick sent over left us with a list of things we’re to do. Mr. Kendrick’s kindness didn’t surprise her, but Uncle’s acceptance of it did. The note went on,We could use you here, Euphemia, I can tell you that. The staff is at sixes and sevens. But my girl needs you. I charge you to stay where you are and do your best for her.
“I’m doing that, Uncle,” she whispered under her breath. She wondered what he would do if her best wasn’t good enough.
The package contained a fair amount of the herbals she had requested, though his letter indicated they had held some back for their own sickroom. She was particularly happy with the slippery elm and quart of honey. No one had found the elderberries she’d requested.
One bright light on the second day occurred when Mr. Kendrick knocked. He stood well back from the door to inquire about Selina, but his concern gave Mia a bit of strength. She needed it. His news, however, was not good. He reinforced Uncle Ludlow’s belief that the Cockcrow was a source of contagion. Three of the grooms who frequented it were ill with influenza, including Mr. Pritchard. Mr. Kendrick’s worry for his friend was obvious. He had come, in fact, for Mia’s advice.
“Who is nursing them?” she asked.
“I am, as much as anyone. The other grooms are afraid of contagion.” He shook his head. “Two others are ill but not as bad. Pritchard is frail.”
His grim expression tore her heart. She wished she could reach over and put a hand on his arm. “I’m sorry about your friend.”
“It’s my fault. I sent him to the pub,” he said, eyes downcast.
“You can’t have known there was influenza there,” she said, puzzling over his words. “Why would you send him to the pub?”
“There’s been talk. About me. Turning uglier than usual. I needed warning,” he said.
“Eustace’s nonsense? How can anyone believe that you—”
“Would kill my brother? The good people of Nether Abbas have been primed to believe the worst of me since I was a boy. Talk spreads and grows in the telling. I of all people know that. But it wasn’t worth Pritchard’s life,” he said.
“Don’t speak as if it is hopeless!”
He smiled sadly. “Thank you. Hope matters, doesn’t it?”
The warmth of his eyes filled her. “In the sickroom, always.” She sent him on his way with some of her precious supply of slippery elm and instructions for the kitchen. He left her to her struggles, feeling the loss of his presence, his support, his warmth.
Day slipped into night, and Mia slept in her clothes, once sitting up, once leaning over Selina’s bed. The following morning, she and Kerr changed Selina’s bed linens. Their patient groaned.
“You were always cruel, Fee. Can’t you see I hurt? My head is…,” Selina murmured, squeezing her eyes shut. Mia glanced across to see a similar expression on Kerr’s face as if the maid’s head pounded in sympathy. Mia was too tired to think about it.
The day passed as the previous ones had, in a daze. Late on the afternoon of the third day, Mia noticed Kerr’s hand shook when she picked up the water pitcher to replenish Selina’s cup. “You’re chilled!”
“No, I—” The maid’s teeth chattered, making speech difficult.
Mia put a hand to Kerr’s brow. “You’re burning up! Willow bark for you, and a lie down.”
Kerr shook her head. “Save it for my miss.” She didn’t object when Mia took a counterpane from Kerr’s pallet and bundled her in it and into a chair.
“You can’t care for Selina if you don’t care for yourself. You’ll be no good to her ill. Take this,” Mia insisted. The willow bark tea was lukewarm, there being no way to keep their tea hot, but Kerr took it.
“I ache everywhere,” Kerr admitted.
“How long has that been going on?” Mia asked.
“Since morning.”
“Sit and finish your tea,” Mia said. The woman’s meek acceptance frightened her more than anything. She was obviously ill.
“Fee, what is it?” a weak voice from the bed called.
