by Rose Pearson
For whatever reason, his mind traveled back to the young lady he had met in town, recalling her big beautiful eyes that seemed overly large in her thin, drawn face. His heart swelled in sympathy for her all over again, wondering if she was still alive, or whether she had succumbed to the fever like so many others.
“Here we go.”
It was just as well that he enjoyed being around his horses, for to feed them, groom them and even muck the stalls out did not seem to Gideon to be much of a labor. In fact, he almost relished it. It forced him to stop worrying about all that was going on around him, forced him to concentrate simply on what he was doing rather on what might happen to his estate and his family if the fever continued to spread. He did not know how many hours had passed but it certainly felt like a long time before he stopped and stretched tall, his back a little painful from where he had been bending with the shovel.
“There we are,” he said to his pride and joy, the dark stallion in the corner stall. “All safe in here, are we not?”
The stallion, Hunter, snuffled his pocket in an attempt to find some sugar but Gideon only laughed and rubbed Hunter’s velvety nose. Sighing heavily to himself, Gideon lingered in the stables for another moment or two before pulling his coat back on to step outside into the cold evening air.
“Gideon!”
He jerked his head around to see Francine running towards him, her skirts flying in the wind. Her face was sheet white and he caught her hands, hearing her gasp for air.
“What is it?” he asked at once, dread running all through him. “What is wrong, Francine?” He was terribly afraid that another one of his staff had died, or that Jones the butler had suddenly succumbed, despite his belief that he might miss it altogether.
“You must send for the doctor!” Francine cried, beginning to drag him towards the house. “It is Mama.”
Gideon stopped dead, his whole body frozen in place. “Mama is ill?” he asked, hoarsely. “Are you sure?”
Francine nodded, tears in her eyes. “I had to put her to bed myself, Gideon, even though she continued to insist that she was quite well. She is burning with fever and yet protesting that she is cold!” Her fingers tightened on his, fear running all through her expression. “Her throat aches, Gideon. Her throat!”
He could not move, could not speak for a full minute, realizing that the worst thing he had imagined was now coming to pass. His own mother was ill with the fever.
“You must go for the doctor,” Francine cried, tugging him again. “Please, Gideon, you must go now! She must be cared for.”
“No.”
Gideon spoke slowly, his voice thick with emotion.
“No, I will not send for the village doctor, Francine. I cannot, not after what he insisted upon doing to Maisy.”
Francine’s eyes widened. “Then what will you do, Gideon?”
He paused for a moment. “I think I must return to London to fetch someone from there,” he said, slowly. “Someone who has dealt with the illness and knows precisely what they must do. Jones, our butler, knows everything that our village doctor has prescribed for the servants that have been taken by the fever. He will guide you. I must find someone else, someone who will not insist on bleeding her, someone who has something else to try. London is the only place I can go where I might be able to find someone like that.”
A ragged sob escaped Francine. “But Gideon, that will take you some days.”
“And yet it is the best I can do for our mother,” he insisted, hating the idea of leaving them both but knowing he had very little choice. “Jones knows what to do in order to help Mama as much as he can until I return from town.” Putting his hands onto Francine’s shoulders, he looked into her eyes and tried to hold his gaze steady. “It will mean leaving you to deal with things here, until I return,” he said, quietly, knowing just how much he was asking of her. “I will be, at the very most, only four days gone.” He winced inwardly, knowing just how quickly the fever could take a hold. “But I will go almost this very moment if you feel you are able to remain here.”
Francine held his gaze, her lip quivering as her blue eyes, so like his own, blinked back tears.
“Yes,” she said, hoarsely. “Yes, I can do it. Go then, Gideon. Go now. I will remain here with Jones and Mama.”
“Thank you.” He kissed her cheek, squeezed her hands and stepped away, hurrying back towards the stables he had only just come from. His stallion was ready and waiting, snorting eagerly as Gideon threw the saddle onto his back. He would have to change horses at least once on his ride to London but he knew an inn where he could do so. He had no intention of resting or remaining anywhere overnight, praying that the moon would be bright so that he could continue his journey onwards through the dark hours of the night.
Buttoning his coat, he placed one foot in the stirrup and threw his leg over the saddle, urging Hunter forward out onto the gravel path.
“I will not be long,” he whispered, as though his mother could hear him. “Be strong, mama.” Urging Hunter into a gallop, he soon left the Dunstable estate behind him, terrified that by the time he returned with the doctor, it would be too late.
5
Josephine leaned her head back against the cold stone wall of the church, drinking in the air and letting her eyes adjust to the midday sunshine, even though it was something of a gloomy day. Her heart was heavy, her spirits low. She felt as though she carried death with her everywhere she went, as though the stink and the stench of it clung to her clothes and even her skin.
She had been working alongside the doctor for some weeks now and whilst there were some who had recovered, there were many more who had died. Each time, she had felt herself crumple with exhaustion and grief, the memory of her own parents coming back to her with full force – only for her to straighten her shoulders, rise tall and force herself to keep going.
There was no other choice. She could not continue on in her misery and pain, not when there were those who needed her. Doctor Thomas seemed to be pleased with her, and Sam kept on encouraging her whenever he could, but especially on difficult days.
Today was a difficult day.
Closing her eyes, Josephine forced herself not to become lost in the memories of her past. She did not want to think of what she had lost, not when so many people had lost loved ones, just as she had. She could see the grief in them, a shared understanding that was in their eyes. Whenever she met someone new, there was that flash of sympathy in their eyes, sympathy that told her they knew precisely what it was like to be left alone on this earth, separated from those you loved. The fever took anyone and everyone, old and young, wealthy or poor. They all came here, now. Here or to the other fever wards, set up wherever there was space.
Josephine sniffed the air, catching the faint scent of burning. Closing her eyes, she let out a long sigh. That was a regular occurrence around here these days. If someone died from the fever, everything they’d touched was burned, but it did not seem to make much of a difference. Those who had lived with the sick person often seemed to catch the fever soon after, and the process would begin all over again.
She rubbed her arms, glad for the new clothes that the doctor had found for her. They were not threadbare or torn, her feet encased in warm stockings and sturdy shoes that kept her from stepping into the vomit that was so often on the floor of the basement. Small mercies, she thought to herself, gratitude rising her in despite the desperation of her circumstances.
“Is this the Devil’s basement?”
Josephine opened her eyes and saw a slightly older lady looking down at her, her face a little pale.
“Yes,” Josephine replied, scrambling to her feet and feeling the same heaviness enter her soul. Was this to be another one sick? Another one she would have to tend, not knowing whether or not they would live or die? “Are you unwell?”
“No,” the lady replied, with a slight frown. “I – I have had the fever and have recovered.”
Josephine’s eyes flared wi
th a sudden understanding. “As have I.”
“I – I know,” the lady replied. “My name is Geraldine Easton. There are four of us here – myself included - who want to help you.”
For a moment, Josephine did not understand. “Help me?” she repeated, slowly. “Four of you?”
“Yes.” Geraldine Easton smiled a little carefully. “You might not need us, of course, but we wondered if there was something we could do.”
Josephine stared at her, her spirits suddenly lifting, renewed and wonderful.
“We be maids in Lord Falconer’s house, but he’s sent us all away for a time,” Geraldine continued, still looking a little uncertain. “I got ill soon after but the other three, they all cared for me and not one of them has the fever. I think they said they might have already had it or some such thing, but it’s been a few weeks now and we’re all as healthy as we can be.” She tipped her head, looking at Josephine carefully. “Is it really terrible down there?”
Tears were putting an ache in her throat. “Yes,” she replied, her voice shaking. “Yes, it is terrible. Much more than you would think.” Praying that she hadn’t set this good-hearted lady against the idea of helping simply by being honest, Josephine spread her hands. “But we’re struggling with the number of people that come in. If you’re truly wanting to help us, then I know we could use you all. In fact, we’d be more than grateful.”
Geraldine smiled but her eyes remained grave. “Then I’ll just go fetch the others. We’ll come in straight away.”
“Thank you.” Josephine’s voice was barely louder than a whisper, such was her gratitude and she held onto the lady’s hands for a moment, feeling her burden lift for just a moment. “You can’t know what this means.”
Three days later and the work was still hard, the loss and the pain still terrible but yet there was something about having extra folk involved that helped Josephine to manage the constant requirements that were asked of her. Doctor Thomas had been just as overwhelmed as she had been, thanking each of the ladies in turn. He had suggested that if someone had already had the terrible disease, then they would not be likely to catch it again – which had brought a great deal of reassurance to Josephine and to the rest of her new friends.
The five of them worked steadily, with Sam pitching in to help wherever he could. The girls learned quickly what to do and Josephine no longer felt so alone in her duties. When there was a loss, they comforted each other, helping one another to find the strength to keep going. When there was tiredness, someone came to insist they rest, when there was hunger, someone brought food. Josephine worked as hard as she could, feeling herself filled with sorrow and, occasionally, when the illness was beaten and the person emerged from the fever, she let her heart fill with joy.
She could not let her spirits sink into despondency, not when she knew she had to keep going in order to bring as many people through the fever as she could. The vinegar and feverfew helped to prevent the temperature from rising, but aside from that, she could only do what the doctor told her, giving the sick either gruel or broth to drink as well as administering the various medicines Doctor Thomas handed her. On occasion, he gave laudanum to those who were suffering the most, trying his utmost to let them find a little peace whilst their bodies decided what to do next – to keep fighting or to give up completely. It was both a blessing and a curse, for so often it seemed to be the peace the person required simply to slip away into the next life. It tore at Josephine’s heart each and every time it occurred.
“You are doing marvelously well,” Sam murmured in her ear, as she wrung out the cloths for what seemed to be the hundredth time that day. “Doctor Thomas is ever so pleased with you. I doubt we’d have managed to keep this place going without you. And now look, you’ve managed to bring in four other women to help.” His eyes shone with admiration and a renewed hope. “I always said you were an angel, Josephine.”
“You’re too kind, Sam,” Josephine replied, quietly. “You do just as much as I do.”
“When I can,” Sam grunted, clearly well aware of his own failing health. “My old bones like to complain whenever they can.”
She let out a quiet laugh and made to turn away, only to hear the sound of Doctor Thomas’ raised voice.
“Goodness,” she murmured, as Sam came to stand a little closer. “Is Doctor Thomas arguing with someone down here?”
Sam frowned. “It surely can’t be someone unwell,” he muttered, his eyes glinting in confusion. “We’re busy, yes, but Doctor Thomas doesn’t send anyone away.”
Josephine moved forward, a little confused and yet interested to know who it was arguing with Doctor Thomas. The voice sounded vaguely familiar and, as the men came into view, she felt another stab of recognition.
It was the gentleman who had helped her all those weeks ago, the gentleman who had given her what was more than enough to live on simply for showing him the way to his fiancée’s home. She closed her eyes struggling to remember his name.
“Baron Dunstable,” she said aloud, moving forward with purpose. “Whatever is the matter?”
She saw Baron Dunstable gesture wildly, whilst Doctor Thomas shook his head sadly, but with a steely glint in his eye.
“Might I be of any help?”
Doctor Thomas looked at her for a moment, something flickering in his expression. Baron Dunstable also looked at her but there was no immediate recognition in his expression. Josephine felt a small wave of disappointment wash over her but she immediately shrugged it away, knowing she was being foolish.
“Ah, Josephine,” Doctor Thomas said, rubbing his forehead with the back of his hand. “This is Baron Dunstable. He is asking me to return with him to his estate in order to tend to his mother.”
A wave of concern washed over Josephine, even though she did not know the lady in any way. “She has the fever?”
“Yes,” Lord Dunstable replied, sounding frantic with worry. “I have searched London for a full day already, desperate to find a doctor able and willing to return with me but none have been able to do so. I must return this very afternoon but I cannot go back without some help. Please, we are all quite alone.”
“Do you not have a village doctor?” Josephine asked, seeing Lord Dunstable frown immediately. “Can he not help you?”
“No,” Lord Dunstable replied, fiercely. “He has bled one of my maids already and she died only a few hours later. He has no idea of what else to do and I will not allow him near my mother.”
Doctor Thomas sighed. “That is the problem with these country doctors, Lord Dunstable. So many of them are poorly trained and have very little skill but who else can the village folk turn to?”
Lord Dunstable turned back to the doctor, sounding a little more hopeful. “Then will you come with me?”
Gesturing to the sea of people lying across the Devil’s basement, Doctor Thomas shook his head. “I cannot leave these people, Lord Dunstable. More of them come in every day and the fever wards are already full. I have people to help me now, which is an astounding blessing given the danger of it all, but I cannot simply turn my back and leave it to them to deal with.”
Lord Dunstable closed his eyes. “Please,” he said, hoarsely. “I need someone.”
“I will go with you.”
Josephine clamped her mouth shut but it was much too late. The words had already left her lips and she found herself staring into the eyes of Lord Dunstable whilst Doctor Thomas, after a moment of thought, began to nod slowly.
“You?” Lord Dunstable exclaimed, waving a hand. “A scrap of a thing? I highly doubt you can –”
“I would watch what you say, Lord Dunstable,” Doctor Thomas warned, interrupting the man. “This young lady, Josephine, has done more for these people than anyone. She has helped me in ways I did not expect. It was she who gave me the tonic to help bring the fever down and it has been more successful than I ever expected. She knows everything there is to know about the fever and how I treat it.” He smiled at Josephine, who
felt her stomach cramp nervously. “I can give you the medicines to take with you. You know what doses to give and when.”
Josephine nodded slowly, suddenly feeling very nervous about leaving London and traveling with Lord Dunstable, who still did not recognize her and certainly didn’t seem at all convinced that she would do in the place of Doctor Thomas given the scrutinizing look on his face.
“I hardly think that a woman can take the place of a doctor,” Lord Dunstable muttered, shaking his head. “Come now. Surely there must be someone else.”
Josephine lifted her chin. “Either I go with you, Lord Dunstable or no-one does. Surely you cannot expect the good doctor to leave all of these sick folk behind simply to go to the aid of one of the nobility. Their lives are of equal importance, are they not?”
Lord Dunstable, to her surprise, now appeared rather ashamed. “Yes, of course,” he said, dropping his head. “I would not like you to think that I cared nothing for these poor people.”
This answer satisfied Josephine, aware that the gentleman was, in fact, simply desperate for help for his ailing mother. She recalled just how kind he had been to her, how he had spoken kindly to her and felt her heart soften.
“Do you think you can spare me, Doctor Thomas?” she asked, turning to the man who had become something of a friend these last few weeks. “I should have asked you first, of course.”
Doctor Thomas studied her for a moment, thinking hard. “I think, Josephine, that this is the best solution for everyone involved. I would not want to let you go had you not found four others to come and help me.” He reached for her hand and held it for a moment, and Josephine felt her heart lurch in her chest. “You will come back to the Devil’s basement though, won’t you? Once you are no longer required to help Lord Dunstable?”
There was not even a moment of hesitation. “Of course I will come back to help you,” Josephine replied at once. “Thank you, Doctor Thomas.”