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“But I am six years old!” the girl protested.

Laura scooped her up nonetheless and ran.

The carriage was still a good distance away. The thunder was cracking close enough now to make Iris flinch and bury her face against Laura’s shoulder.

“We’re almost there,” Laura said, cradling her closer. “We’ll be alright, sweetheart.”

By the time they reached the carriage, they were both soaked through, teeth chattering. Iris’s lips had gone blue at the edges, and Laura wrapped her in every dry thing she could find in the carriage. She threw a lap blanket and her own shawl around the girl and held her close the whole rattling, miserable ride home.

Why did I not watch the sky more carefully?!

Iris woke the following morning too warm to the touch, her cheeks flushed crimson. Laura had broth and tea brought to her and stayed by her side. By midday, the fever had climbed high enough that they sent for the physician without waiting to see whether it would break on its own.

Nathaniel appeared in the doorway within minutes of the message reaching him, the first time Laura had seen him in days. She looked up to find him pale, staring at Iris’s flushed, damp face.

“How long has she been like this?” he asked, running a hand through his hair.

“Since this morning. It’s climbed steadily since.” Laura pressed a cool cloth to Iris’s forehead.

Nathaniel crossed the room and knelt beside the bed on the opposite side, his hand finding Iris’s hand and squeezing it tight. Every trace of the cold distance he’d maintained all week was simply gone, burned away by the same fear that had settled hard and cold in Laura’s chest since morning.

“I’m here, Iris,” he said softly. “I’m here now.”

Iris’s eyes fluttered open, glassy with fever. “Mama?”

Nathaniel’s face contorted at the word, but his voice stayed steady. “It’s Uncle Nathaniel, sweetheart. And Laura. We’re both here.”

“I want Mama,” Iris said thinly, her tears spilling over. “I want Papa. Where’s Papa?”

“Hush now,” Laura murmured, gathering the girl carefully into her arms, mindful of the heat radiating from her small body. “I know, my love. I know. We’re right here.”

Iris didn’t seem to hear her, caught somewhere in the haze of fever. Laura held her through it, rocking her gently and pressing kisses to her damp curls. Nathaniel gripped her small hand and murmured low, steady reassurances that seemed to gradually reach some part of her.

“That’s it,” he crooned, and she finally fell back asleep.

The physician arrived within the hour, a kind, gray-haired man named Dr. March. He quietly examined Iris with careful hands while Laura and Nathaniel hovered at the edge of the bed. Neither of them was willing to step back far enough to give him proper room, not with Iris lying limp in the bed.

“Her fever is quite high,” Dr. March said, stepping back from the bed and lowering his monocle. “Not dangerously so, not yet.”

“Oh, thank goodness,” Laura gasped.

“But,” Dr. March continued, “she will need careful monitoring through the night. Cool cloths, as you’ve already begun. Small sips of water and broth if she’ll take them, though I’d not force it if she resists. It is most important that she rests.”

“That is all we should do?” Nathaniel rasped. “There is nothing else we can do?”

“We must watch and wait. I’ll return in the morning to examine her again.” Dr. March glanced between them, his green eyes gentle and warm. “Children run fevers hard and fast, Your Graces. Harder than grown men and women usually do. But the fever can break them just as quickly. Try not to worry too much before there’s proper cause. She is a strong little girl.”

It is, Laura thought, watching him gather his things and depart, considerably easier advice to give than to follow.

The hours that followed blurred together into something Laura could keep up with.

Iris’s fever climbed, then eased, then climbed again. Her small voice kept crying out almost inaudibly for her mother, for her father, who had chosen for himself an early grave. That saddened Laura the most.

She held her through it all, murmuring whatever comfort she could summon. Nathaniel sat close beside them, his hand rarely leaving Iris’s, his face growing more drawn and pale with every passing sleepless hour.

They worked as a single unit, without ever discussing it. Laura held Iris through the worst of the delirium while Nathaniel refreshed the cooling cloths. Laura would give a nod when her arms grew too tired to hold the girl steady any longer. Neither of them left the room for more than a few minutes to call for fresh water or a change of linens.

By the second half of the night, Laura had eaten nothing since the previous morning. Nathaniel noticed it first, his eyes narrowing on her face in the dim candlelight.