Page 65 of Mail-Order Viscountess

Her sister stirred but didn’t wake—hadn’t truly woken in the last couple hours. Not since the fever spiked.

Kate had been dozing beside her in the bed, but a moan from Clara made her jerk awake. Her sister’s skin had been hot enough to make her gasp.

And then she’d seen the rash.

Red splotches scattered across Clara’s chest and arms like angry fingerprints. Now they’d spread up her neck. Probably other places Kate hadn’t checked yet too.

The bedroom door opened, and Bea slipped inside. One hand carried a water pitcher, and the other a cloth tied in a bundle.

Her dark eyes moved immediately to Clara, then to Kate. “Any change?”

Kate shook her head. “The rash is spreading. And she’s hotter than before.” She didn’t even try to keep the worry from her voice. Bea would see through whatever she managed.

The older woman set down her supplies and moved to the bedside. Her wrinkled hand pressed against Clara’s forehead, then her cheek, then the side of her neck where the pulse beat too fast beneath such pale skin.

“Is not good.” Bea’s tone carried no false comfort. “I have seen this before. In England, and here too. It is either measles or scarlet fever.”

No.

Both could kill—she knew that much. Had heard the stories of entire families wiped out by such illnesses, children buried in small graves while their parents wept.

“Which one?” She forced the question past the tightness in her throat. “Which do you think?”

“Cannot know for certain.” Bea straightened and turned back to the cloth bundle. “Enoch will come soon with doctor. For now, ice to make her cool.”

She pulled back the fabric to reveal packed snow—clean white crystals that must have been gathered from a drift near the house. Steam rose where the cold met the room’s warmth.

Bea divided the snow into smaller portions and wrapped each in strips of cloth. “Under her arms. Behind her neck. Along her sides.” She demonstrated with the first bundle, tucking it against Clara’s reddened neck. “The cold will draw out some of the heat.”

Kate took one of the wrapped bundles and positioned it on the other side of Clara’s neck. The contrast between the ice and her sister’s burning skin made her stomach turn. How could a body generate this much heat and still work as it should?

Clara whimpered at the cold, turning her head on the pillow, but didn’t wake.

“Good.” Bea lifted the quilts and placed another bundle under Clara’s arm. “We change them when they melt. Keep her cool until doctor comes.”

Kate arranged the remaining bundles along Clara’s sides. Measles or scarlet fever. Either one could be deadly. Either one could⁠—

She wouldn’t let herself finish that thought.

Bea stood and moved to the door. “We must be careful now. Very careful.”

Kate jerked her head up to catch Bea’s expression. “What do you mean?”

The older woman turned back. “If this is scarlet fever—or even measles—it spreads easy. Like fire through dry grass.” She motioned toward the hallway beyond. “We keep everyone away from this room. Only you and me with Clara. No one else come in.”

Her insides churned anew. She couldn’t risk Bea with this sickness either. Not more than she’d already been exposed.

She swallowed to clear the lump from her throat. “You’d better stay out too. Just leave what we’ll need at the door. I’ll take care of it.”

Bea’s expression softened with something like approval. “You are wise.” She gave a single firm nod. “I will bring more snow. You call if you need anything.”

Then she was gone, the door clicking shut with a finality that made the room feel smaller.

She sank onto the edge of the bed, then reached for Clara’s hand where it lay limp against the quilts. The palm was hot, but the fingertips icy.

“You’re going to be fine.” Her whisper cracked, but she didn’t stop. Like saying this aloud could make it true. “The doctor will come and tell us what to do, and you’ll be fine.”

Clara’s breathing came shallow and quick, each exhale carrying a faint rasp that hadn’t been there before.