Always True to Her (Emerson Book 2) (13 page)

Mrs. Simmons looked none too happy, but did as she
was bade. Without another word, she marched through the tap, then up the stairs
to a small room at the very back of the inn. “Don’t be asking for a better
bedchamber. This is the only one that’s vacant. It don’t matter whose brother
you are, this is all we got. So make use of it. Or don’t. Price is the
same.”

The room was small but clean. There was a bed that
might accommodate two, a washstand in the corner and two wooden chairs, one of
which might not collapse under James if he sat on it. The fireplace was cold,
but there was a small stack of wood and kindling.

It would do for an hour or two.

James gently laid Anna on the bed. She was
definitely warm and he was growing more worried by the moment. Anna had barely
stirred as he’d carried her. That wasn’t like her at all.

Mrs. Simmons craned her neck to get a good look at
her. “Are you sure she ain’t sick?”

“She is simply tired from the journey,” said James,
trying to hide his anxiety that something was truly wrong with Anna. He’d
never seen her like this. Even when she’d been sick on the ship, she’d never
been this listless, had never seemed this warm.

Mrs. Simmons turned her attention from the health of
the child to more practical matters. “About the coin for the room. We always
expect our guests to pay in advance.”

She then quoted a rate that far exceeded the value
of the tiny, barely furnished room, and would likely go a good way toward paying
for every bedchamber on that floor.

“I’ll pay half that,” said James, knowing even the
reduced rate was twice what it should be.

“But I’m giving it to you for the whole day and
night.”

“We only asked for an hour.”

“But I’ve no one to clean it after you leave. You
wouldn’t want to deprive me of income if I cannot rent it out when you leave.”

“Yes, madam,” he said dryly, “I would not be able to
sleep for a week if it were to come to that. Very well, I will pay your
price.” He hated giving in, but he wanted the woman gone so he could turn his
attention back to Anna. He gave her the last of the coins in his pocket. He
realized he would have no choice but to borrow money from Irene from that moment
on. “Do be so good as to close the door on your way out.”

Mrs. Simmons showed shockingly good sense in taking
the hint and leaving, thereby avoiding the embarrassment of having James order
her out.

He looked at Irene sheepishly when Mrs. Simmons was
gone. “I did not want to give in on the price, but felt I had no choice.”

“The money is not important. Anna is.”

James and Irene stood shoulder to shoulder, studying
Anna as she slept. The girl was restless, shifting from side to side.

“I would like to get her out of that gown, then put
her under the covers,” said Irene. “She’ll sleep better if she’s more
comfortable.”

James nodded, unable to speak from the fear growing
inside him. They worked to take off Anna’s gown, leaving only the shift
beneath.

“Oh, dear,” whispered Irene, as she looked at the
girl’s shoulder. “Bring a candle closer.”

James did as she said. “What is it?” he asked.

Irene studied a spot on Anna shoulder. “I
believe….I believe she has the chicken pox.”

As she pulled back the shift, three more spots came
into view.

James looked at the spots, then sat heavily in the
chair.

“I’m so sorry, James,” said Irene. “Chicken pox can
be extremely uncomfortable, but at least now we know what is wrong with her.”

“You don’t understand. Smallpox devastated the
Indian tribes in North America. Whole nations were all but wiped out.”

“But this isn’t smallpox. I know the difference.”

“But the two diseases are related. We do not know
how she will react to it.”

“That is true, but I also know there is no point in
thinking the worst.”

“I want to go home,” said James.

“She cannot make a sea voyage at this time. Perhaps
in a few weeks when she has recovered and has her strength again…”

“No, I want to go to Ridgeway Manor. I want her to
be with family.”

It had been almost two hours since Irene had found
the first spots. Half a dozen more had already appeared. James went downstairs
to inform Mrs. Simmons they would be staying the night.

“You’ll need to pay twice the rate, plus a cleaning
surcharge,” said the woman.

“But we are already paying the overnight rate
because you said no one was available to clean the room.”

Caught in her earlier lie, Mrs. Simmons did not have
the grace to blush. Instead, she became even bolder. “Why are you staying the
night? Is it to spend more time with your so-called ‘wife?’”

“Do not insult my wife again, Mrs. Simmons, not even
by implication. We will not be paying a shilling more. I also need you to
summon a surgeon.”

“So the girl is sick, just as I thought. I hope she
hasn’t brought some foreign disease down upon us.”

“We believe she has the chicken pox.”

“That’s terrible!” said Mrs. Simmons.

“Yes. We fear she may have an uncomfortable night
ahead of her.”

“I meant it’s terrible for business. Won’t nobody
want to stay here if they know we have chicken pox in the place. You’ll have
to leave.”

“While I would like nothing more, it will be dark
soon and too difficult to travel, given the icy condition of the roads. But we
shall be gone by first light and no one need know we were ever here, unless
your innate sense of honesty forces you to announce it.” James felt certain
that would never happen. “Now do be so kind as to summon the surgeon.”

“There’ll be a charge for that.”

Barely restraining his temper, James gave her a few
shillings – anything to get the surgeon there as soon as possible.

“I think it’ll take more than that,” said Mrs.
Simmons.

“No, it won’t.” James was through negotiating.

Mrs. Simmons must have sensed it, as well, for she
pocketed the coins, then turned away. “You’ll get your surgeon. But do not
bandy about the girl’s condition. No use putting everyone in a panic.”

James went back to the room, proud of the restraint
which had kept him from breaking a few chairs in frustration.

“How is she?” he asked, as soon as he entered the
room. Anna was sleeping fitfully and Irene was wiping her face with a damp
cloth.

“About the same. More spots have appeared, but the
cool water seems to help.”

“Mrs. Simmons will send for a surgeon.” He watched
Irene care for his daughter. “I did not inquire about a second bedchamber. I
didn’t want to raise Mrs. Simmons’s suspicions.” He didn’t add that the old
biddy was already suspicious enough. “It might seem odd for us to sleep
separately. Not to mention, she would have been sure to price the room at an
extortionist’s rate.”

Irene bit her lip, but did not pause in her
ministrations to Anna. “I would prefer not to leave Anna’s side. And I daresay
you would not want to, either.”

“Absolutely not.”

An hour later, a girl came in to bring supper, as
well as start the fire. Judging from the way she scurried about, Mrs. Simmons
had evidently warned her about Anna’s condition. It was growing dark and
colder by the moment. Irene had ordered beef tea for Anna and from time to
time they tried to get her to take some, but to no avail.

“I can change Anna into her night clothes, if you
could please get them out of her valise.”

James did as she suggested, thankful to have a task,
even as nothing could stop his mind from worrying. He gave the gown to Irene,
then stepped back to stoke the fire.

*

Irene had never cared for a sick child before.
Indeed, she didn’t have much experience with sick adults. What little she knew
she’d gleaned from visits to the Ainsworth servants when they’d been ill. She
knew fevers were dangerous and were especially so for the young and elderly. Her
priority was to make Anna as comfortable as possible, then pray the surgeon
could help.

That second hope was thoroughly dashed when the
surgeon, Mr. Phelps, finally showed up, reeking of a terrible combination of
body odor and spirits. Though Irene figured there probably wasn’t a good
combination of those two things.

Mr. Phelps had been in the room for less than a
minute when he announced, “There’s nothing to it but to bleed her.”

“No!” said James adamantly.

“Mr. Phelps,” said Irene, who was just as firmly
against it. “We will not be pursuing that course of treatment. Anna has the
chicken pox. More spots are appearing hourly and causing her discomfort. What
can we do for her?”

“Chicken pox, eh?” said Mr. Phelps, right before
belching. “Then we should definitely bleed her.”

“Never!” said James, taking a step toward Phelps,
forcing Irene to step between the men.

Irene realized the surgeon must truly be foxed
because he did not perceive the danger he was in. Which was substantial. “Mr.
Phelps,” she said firmly. “We will not be bleeding her. Now or ever. What
other remedies do you have for a fever and the chicken pox?”

“Are you sure it is chicken pox?” asked Phelps,
taking a step backward. “Could be smallpox.”

Irene heard James’s sharp indrawn breath. She could
feel his panic before she even turned around. She took one of his hands in
hers. “It is not smallpox,” she said firmly. “I know the difference.” That
wasn’t exactly true, since she’d never actually seen either disease. But she’d
read about the distinction and it appeared that Anna had the lesser of the two
ailments.

At least Irene prayed that was the case.

“Examine her, Mr. Phelps,” said Irene.

Phelps squinted his eyes from where he was. No
doubt the drink was not making the task any easier.

“I must ask that you get closer to her,” said
Irene. “If nothing else, you’ll want to know for your own health which of the
diseases she has.”

“I suppose you have the right of it there,” said
Phelps. “But I ain’t going to touch her.”

“I believe that is wise on all accounts,” said Irene,
since the man looked none too clean.

Phelps drew closer to Anna, but still maintained a
distance of about six feet. “Give me more light.” Irene and James both
complied, though from the way James’s hand was shaking it would be a miracle if
he didn’t drop the lantern and set the inn on fire.

Finally, Phelps drew near enough to examine one of
the lesions, being careful not to touch it. “It is chicken pox, after all,” he
said.

Irene breathed a sigh of relief.

“Are you certain?” asked James.

“Quite. But she’s in for a painful few days or so.
Each lesion will last a day or two before it crusts over. And she’ll keep
developing new spots for another week or so, mayhap ten days. Are you sure you
don’t want me to bleed her?”

“Our daughter will not be bled,” said Irene
emphatically and, hopefully, for the last time.

Phelps narrowed his eyes. “She can’t be your
daughter. She’s too dark.”

“She is our daughter, regardless of the color of her
skin,” said Irene. “We love her. Nothing else matters. Now, Mr. Phelps, can
you give her something for her fever or to make her more comfortable when the
spots begin to appear in earnest?”

“Don’t know what would work for someone like her,”
he said. “Though, I reckon, we can always dose her with whisky. I hear those
people like it.”

“I hear some of you people like it as well,” said
Irene.

Phelps took offense. “What do you mean by ‘you
people,’ madam?”

“Arses,” said Irene. “Leave now, Mr. Phelps before
my husband escorts you out via the window.” She dropped a few coins into his
hand. “This is for your time, as worthless as it was.”

He looked at the coins, squinting yet again. “You
ain’t got more than this? I missed my supper, I did.”

James began to move toward Phelps menacingly, but
Irene held him back, though just barely. “No, Mr. Phelps. As it is we are
being quite generous. Do not press your good fortune by remaining.”

Phelps grumbled as he left.

Irene bolted the door after him, in case Mrs.
Simmons tried to evict them from the premises.

When she turned to face James, she was not prepared
for what she saw. He was shaking and had gone white as a sheet. She went to
him immediately.

“James, we’ll get through this. I know it.”

“But what if she doesn’t have the ability to fight
this like other children? What if she…”

Irene pulled her to him and was immediately
overwhelmed by a tall, muscular male holding on to her as if she were his only
hope. She prayed that Anna would make it through the illness. For while she
might have seemed calm in reassuring James, inwardly she was anything but.

She’d never heard of a child with the chicken pox
being this feverish. And since the spots were only beginning to appear now,
she feared the worst was yet to come.

He finally pulled back from her and looked in her
eyes. The moment was so intense Irene almost had to look away.

But didn’t.

“Thank you for being here,” he said. “For caring
for her.”

It had never even occurred to Irene that she had a
choice. Anna was sick. She would do whatever was necessary to help her. She
was telling the truth when she told Phelps she loved Anna. She wasn’t sure how
it had happened, but Irene had come to love the girl in just a few short days.

And she was afraid she was also falling in love with
James.

She couldn’t think about that now.

“There is no need to thank me for caring for Anna.
Now, let us get back to our patient.”

The ensuing night was a long one. Spots began
appearing all over Anna’s body, and whenever she’d awaken, she’d try to scratch
them.

“No, sweetheart,” said Irene sometime after
midnight. “Please don’t scratch.”

“But I have to,” said Anna.

“Please, poppet,” said her father. “Try very hard
not to. Would it help if I held you?”

With tears in her eyes, Anna nodded. James sat on
the bed, then pulled Anna onto his lap. She curled into him, even as he began
to rock her to sleep. It was a sight so sweet, yet so sad, that Irene was
overwhelmed. She went to the basin to splash water on her face as she choked
back tears.

After a few moments, Anna was asleep once again.

“You should go to bed,” James whispered to Irene.

“If she awakens, she’ll need someone to help her.”

“And I shall do it.”

Irene lifted her chin. “I would like to assist.”

“You already have. More than I can ever repay you.”

“I do not look for repayment.”

“Nevertheless, I am in your debt.”

The words hung in the air, all the more so for how
quiet the room was, save for the crackling fire. Even the courtyard was still,
though they could hear the howling wind.

“Get some sleep, Irene. And before you argue
further, I expect I will be of little use to Anna tomorrow from lack of sleep.
I hope you’ll be able to watch over her on the journey.”

“You know you can depend on me.”

“Thank you. Now get some sleep.”

When she looked to the chair, he said, “In the bed.
Do not argue. Just get some rest.”

Irene did as he said, removing only her boots as she
did so. There was something terribly intimate about the situation. But it
wasn’t the same intimacy of kisses and physical attraction. It was more than
that.

It was the intimacy of being a family.

With that unsettling thought she closed her eyes and
fell asleep.

*

As James rested against the headboard, he felt Anna
fall into a deep sleep. She was still dreadfully warm, despite the cold room.
But he felt that if he held on to her long enough he could somehow save her.
He prayed Irene was right and that Anna would come through the illness
unscathed.

Irene. His gaze landed on the graceful figure inches
away from him. She’d fallen asleep almost as soon as her head had hit the
pillow. She’d been of invaluable assistance to him. Her sense of calm had
helped keep his panic at bay. It wouldn’t do for him to show Anna just how
scared he was.

As he sat there in the dark he realized he was
comforted by having Irene so close. In that moment, well after midnight in a
cold inn far from home, he felt the warmth of family.

He reveled in that as he let a light sleep take
him.

*

As soon as the sky began to lighten, James awoke.
He was still sitting against the headboard, holding his daughter. Every muscle
in his body ached and the room was freezing. He felt Anna’s forehead. It was cooler
than the night before, but still too warm.

He tried to slip out from beneath her without waking
either her or Irene.