My Laird's Love (My Laird's Castle Book 2)

by Bess McBride

  “Surely that isna all ye’re going to eat, dearie, is it?” Aunt Edith asked. I was afraid she would notice my lack of appetite. “Are ye feeling unwell?”

  “No, I’m fine, thank you. I just don’t seem to be very hungry this evening. I’m so sorry. Everything looks so lovely!” That I had been invited to dinner and failed to have an appetite was unforgiveable, I knew, but I couldn’t very well force the food down.

  “Are ye sure ye’re nae taking ill?” James asked as he set his fork down and studied me.

  “Maggie?” Beth chimed in.

  “No, I feel fine. I really do. Could I have some of the soup?”

  “The tattie-broth?” Aunt Edith asked, her look of concern easing. “Aye, of course.” She ladled some of the soup into my bowl, and I dug in, trying to do the tasty soup justice.

  “Delicious!” I said, hoping to appease everyone and turn the attention from me. Aunt Edith looked satisfied enough, as did Beth. James continued to watch me, and I looked down at my bowl until he returned his attention to his food and the conversation at the table.

  The sheen of sweat remained on his forehead, and I wondered if he was coming down with something.

  I listened to Beth, Colin, Aunt Edith and James discuss the vagaries of the late spring weather in the Highlands, the aggravation of the continuing presence of the English soldiers and the whereabouts of the Bonnie Prince who had apparently escaped to France last year.

  I watched the foursome while I ate, especially James. He winced when he thought no one was looking and moved a hand to his left side, where he appeared to be pressing hard, as one does when in pain. He looked up at me, and I dropped my eyes, as if I’d seen nothing.

  After a few seconds, I looked up again. His eyebrows were drawn together, and deep lines appeared at the corner of his mouth. Yes, he was definitely in pain. If anyone looked ill, it was James.

  “James, are you all right?” I asked, this time in front of everyone.

  He gave me a startled look and dropped his hand.

  “Aye, I feel well, thank ye.”

  “James?” Aunt Edith asked sharply. “I ken ye too well, my boy. What ails ye?”

  James shook his head. Underneath the sheen of sweat on his forehead, his normally tanned skin paled.

  “It is naethin,” he said briefly. “A pain, no more.”

  At that moment, James gasped and clutched at his side. I jumped up, as did the others at the table. Not wanting to crowd him, I stood back as his aunt and Beth bent over him.

  “I think I will just go lie down,” James said. He pushed back his chair and stood, seemingly dizzy, his left hand clutching his groin.

  He grabbed at the edge of the table with his free hand but was unable to stop his fall. Neither Aunt Edith nor Beth could catch him in time. I pushed away from the table and ran around to him.

  Chapter Eight

  The butler ran forward. Robbie barked. General chaos ensued as everyone simultaneously rushed to James’ side. Slumped on the carpeted floor, he appeared to be unconscious. I hadn’t heard a heavy thud, so I didn’t think he’d hit his head hard enough to knock him out. I hovered over the scene as Aunt Edith and Colin crouched down near James’ face. As much as I wanted to cradle James in my arms, I deferred to his aunt. That was her place, not mine.

  “James! James!” Aunt Edith cried out, running her hands over his face.

  “He appears to have fainted,” Colin said. “Do ye have a doctor?”

  “Aye, Dr. McDougall. Bracken!” she called over her shoulder. “Send a lad for the doctor!”

  “Aye, mistress.” Bracken hurried from the room.

  “Is James prone to such fits?” Colin asked.

  “Nay, never!” Aunt Edith said. “He has the constitution of a horse! I canna think what ails him.”

  “He grabbed at his lower abdomen,” I said in a small voice.

  Beth, standing near me, spoke.

  “Yes, I saw that too.”

  Bracken returned.

  “The lad has gone to fetch the doctor.”

  “Good! Please help Laird Anderson carry Master James upstairs,” Aunt Edith said. Between them, Colin and the butler picked James up and shuffled through the door. Aunt Edith followed. Robbie ran up the stairs behind them. Beth grabbed my arm, and we trailed everyone up the steep, winding steps of the castle, lit by the occasional wall sconce.

  I was thankful that Beth had pulled me along, because I wasn’t about to let James disappear from my sight. The group ahead stopped at the first landing on the stairs, and we followed them down a narrow corridor toward a room. A length of dark-red carpet ran down the hallway, warming what was an otherwise cool part of the castle. Again, candles in two wall sconces provided some lighting.

  Bracken and Colin carried the still-unconscious James into the room and laid him on a bed. Colin loosened James’ cravat while Bracken removed his boots. Aunt Edith hovered over them. Beth and I watched from a position by the door. I barely noticed that Robbie snuck under the bed.

  “Do you have any medical training, Maggie?” Beth whispered into my ear.

  I shook my head, biting down on my lips to keep from crying. The months of caring for Sam just didn’t count as a degree in medicine.

  “No, I wish I did. I know some stuff, but I don’t know what’s wrong with James. This isn’t good, is it? The year. No X-rays, no CT scans. Are the doctors any good?”

  “Scottish doctors are the best in the world, but even they don’t have CT scans in 1747. I’m not going to lie. I’m worried about him. I’m worried about me!” She put a protective hand to her stomach.

  “Are you pregnant?” I squeaked. “Oh, Beth, congratulations!” I would put a positive spin on her news, no matter what. “Everything is going to be fine!”

  She stared at James. “I hope so. Pain is not my thing.”

  I sighed heavily but said no more. Surely they had something for the pain of childbirth, even in 1747, didn’t they? I didn’t know, and this probably wasn’t the time to discuss it.

  “We can only await the doctor now.” Colin approached us and spoke in a low voice. “Do ye ladies wish to return to the great room to finish yer supper?”

  “Not a chance,” Beth whispered. “We’ll wait here. If the doctor needs us to leave the room, then we will. I know Maggie would want to be as close to James as possible.”

  Colin shot me a curious look, and I shrugged, thankful that Beth had balked at leaving.

  “Beth is right,” I said. “I want to stay. I don’t know how or why, but James means a great deal to me.”

  “Aye, I kent such was the case,” Colin said.

  “Bracken, please fetch our guests something warm to drink. It is a bit chilly in the master’s room,” Aunt Edith said, turning away from the bed.

  “Aye, mistress,” Bracken said in a quavering voice. I didn’t know if his voice shook from age or from anxiety. I realized I hadn’t really heard him speak before now. He rushed out of the door.

  “I will start a fire,” Colin said as he moved toward several chairs positioned in front of a small fireplace. Beth remained at my side.

  “Thank ye, dear,” Aunt Edith said. “I must go down to the kitchen and speak to the servants. They will be worried. There is naethin more I can do here while we await the doctor.”

  She shook her head and followed Bracken from the room.

  Free to approach James at last, I moved to his bedside and laid my hand against his forehead, as I had done so many times with Sam—checking for fever, for a drop in his temperature, for perspiration. James’ skin, now dry, burned against my touch, and my heart dropped. Whatever was wrong with him clearly involved an infection.

  “He’s burning up, Beth,” I said, speaking freely as I had not done in front of Aunt Edith. “He’s got an infection of some sort.”

  “Oh, no! That’s bad news. They don’t have any antibiotics. I think they use natural herbs for that kind of thing.”

  “What kind? Do you know?”
/>   Beth shook her head. “No, I don’t. I’ve been lucky so far.”

  “Do you think it’s appendicitis?” I asked.

  “I don’t know,” she said with a helpless shrug. “Which side is that on? Gosh! How can I not know that?”

  “The right side. If it’s a rupture, he’s going to die, Beth.”

  I couldn’t dwell on the thought, and I sought action. A pitcher and basin on a bureau caught my attention.

  “I can at least try to bring the fever down.” I hurried to the bureau and poured some water onto a linen towel, bringing it back to drape across James’ forehead. Given the coolness in the room, the water was fortunately cold. So deeply unconscious was James that he didn’t stir when the cold towel touched his face.

  I pushed his damp hair back from his face, studying the furrows between his dark brows. The pain on his face was evident. Something was awfully wrong, and I didn’t know what to do about it. Where was that doctor?

  Aunt Edith returned in ten minutes. I could see by her red-rimmed eyes and nose that she had been crying.

  “How is my boy?” she asked as she moved to James’ side.

  “He is still faint,” Colin replied, returning to stand by the bed.

  “When will the doctor come, Aunt Edith?” Beth asked. “Maggie says he has a fever.”

  “If he is at home, he can arrive within the hour. If he is away from home, I dinna ken.”

  “He must come soon,” I couldn’t avoid saying in my anxiety. And that didn’t help anyone.

  Aunt Edith looked at me, and a fresh round of tears streamed down her face.

  “Perhaps the lad simply ate something that didna agree with him,” she offered

  “He has a fever, Aunt Edith,” Colin offered. “I think it must be something more severe than colic.”

  Beth wrapped an arm around the older woman and hugged her. Bracken returned to the room with a tray of tea that he set on a table in front of the fire.

  Beth urged Aunt Edith to take a seat, and Bracken poured tea for them. Colin brought me a cup, and I took it and set it on a small table by the bed, unwilling to move away from James’ side. Colin returned to sit with Beth and Aunt Edith, and Bracken left the room to await the doctor downstairs. I noticed Robbie’s tail move occasionally under the bed.

  I turned James’ compress over and perched myself on the edge of the bed, a difficult task given the hoop skirt. I watched him for sign of consciousness, but his eyes remained shut. I ran my fingers along his cheek. Despite the compress, his skin continued to burn.

  There was nothing I could do for him until the doctor came, and the knowledge galled me. I felt as helpless as I had watching Sam die. Sam’s death had been inevitable, his diagnosis terminal. I didn’t know about James. His condition seemed more acute, more urgent.

  A knock on the door brought Bracken with a short, thin man dressed in dark clothing—a jacket and trousers. No kilt for this man. By the bag in his hands, I guessed he was Dr. McDougall.

  “Dr. McDougall,” Aunt Edith said, hurrying to rise. “I am so thankful to see ye. James has taken ill. He clutched at his stomach at dinner and fainted dead away. They tell me he has taken a fever.”

  The doctor, a solemn man with wispy gray hair under his tricorn hat, strode to James’ side. He removed the compress and handed it up to the air, assuming someone would take it. I grabbed it up, hoping I’d done the right thing. Perhaps bringing a fever down wasn’t always the best move. I didn’t know.

  He laid a hand on James’ brow, peeled back his eyelids, checked his pulse and then started pushing on various parts of his body.

  The four of us, including Bracken, waited with baited breath. The doctor turned and eyed us with a severe look.

  “I will need to undress the laird to examine him further. If ye please, ladies?”

  As one, we turned and headed for the door. Once on the other side, I leaned against the wall, my legs unwilling to support me. Aunt Edith looked equally as weak, but Beth kept an arm around her.

  “We could go down and await the doctor in the drawing room,” Aunt Edith said uncertainly.

  “I would rather stay close, if that’s okay with you, Aunt Edith?”

  She looked at me curiously but nodded.

  “Aye, of course. I didna want to stray far from his side either.”

  Minutes passed, and I longed to press my ear against the door, but the thick oak doors of the castle weren’t about to let noise pass through. The events of the past hours had exhausted me. Or maybe I’d never really recovered my own strength after nursing Sam.

  How I wished I had a degree in nursing, a medical degree, anything.

  At last Bracken opened the door and stepped aside. We filed back in, anxiously awaiting the doctor’s verdict. He turned and regarded us with the same severe expression.

  “I ken ye are worried, Mrs. Carmichael, ladies, and rightly so. Young James has typhoid fever. It is infectious. He will likely die of the fever.”

  Aunt Edith shrieked and ran past the doctor toward James, but Colin grabbed her arms.

  “Nay, Aunt Edith, ye canna infect yerself.”

  I must have made a sound of some sort, because Beth grabbed my hand. I remembered then. Her baby!

  “Leave the room.” I leaned in to whisper in her ear. “You have to go. The baby.”

  “I’ve had shots. You probably have to. But Colin hasn’t.”

  “Take him and go. Your shots may not protect the baby. I’ll send Bracken to you to tell you all what I need.”

  Beth grabbed Colin and Aunt Edith and turned for the door.

  “I will stay with James and nurse him,” I told the doctor. “I have had typhoid fever. I am immune.” That wasn’t exactly true. I hadn’t had the fever, but I had received a typhoid booster the year before.

  I heard the door close behind me, and I was alone with the small doctor and Bracken.

  “Ye must leave as well,” the doctor told Bracken.

  “Nay, I must stay to tend to his lairdship.”

  “Man, ye canna take care of him if ye wish to live. The mistress here will see to him.”

  The butler gave me a dubious look. I was, after all, a stranger.

  “Bracken, you’d better go,” I said. “Could you wait outside the door, and I can pass my needs on to you?”

  “Aye, mistress,” he said. “I will take the dog with me.”

  “No, leave him here. He’s okay,” I said.

  Bracken left reluctantly, and I turned to the doctor, who had moved over to the basin to wash his hands. That was the first thing I was going to change, the water!

  “How can I help him?” I asked.

  “Continue the cold compresses,” the doctor said, returning to my side. “If he awakens, try to feed him some broth, but I dinna ken if he can eat. It could cause more damage to his bowels than good. Try to make him comfortable in his final hours.”

  “No!” I said sharply. “No, these are not his final hours! Is there anything else, Doctor? Anything else he can take? A medicine?”

  “I have naethin for typhoid, lass. His fever will abate within days, but he may become delirious. He will find it hard to breathe and may contract pneumonia. He may hemorrhage from the bowels. His heart will race with the disease and may nae keep up. Nay, lass, ye must accept the lad’s fate. He will die in about four weeks, sooner if he can take no nourishment at all. I can leave you with a tincture of opium to ease his suffering.”

  I bit my lip to keep from screaming, and I laced my hands behind my back to keep from throttling the little man. I couldn’t blame him, but I did.

  “Thank you, Doctor,” I said, accepting the little brown vial he handed me. A plan to save James was forming in my mind. I wasn’t giving up. I wasn’t.

  “Send for me if ye have any further worries. I suggest ye send the servants away,” he said. “I will check in again in a few days.”

  I watched the doctor leave, and turned back to James.

  Typhoid fever! I tried to reme
mber what I could about typhoid fever. Nothing! Just that I had been vaccinated against it. I needed the Internet! I needed modern medicine! I needed a hospital! I was pretty sure I needed antibiotics.

  I touched James’ forehead again. Burning. I picked up the basin of now dirty water and hurried to the door.

  “Bracken, have someone empty this, will you?” Bracken reached for the bowl, and I pulled back. “Wait! Do you have any gloves?”

  “Gloves, mistress? Are ye chilled?”

  “No. Well, don’t touch the water, okay? And if you do, wash your hands with fresh water and soap.”

  “I dinna ken what ye mean, mistress,” he said with a frown.

  “I can’t explain it. Just don’t touch this water. Throw it wherever you dispose of the human waste. Then find me some clean, fresh water, boil it in the kitchen, and bring it up.”

  He gave up trying to understand me and took the basin from me.

  “Aye, mistress.”

  “Oh, and could you ask Laird Anderson to come upstairs to talk to me?”

  He nodded and hurried away, bearing the bowl in front of him like it did in fact hold human waste.

  I wasn’t sure about the mechanics of typhoid, but I assumed it was a bacteria, not a virus. Something I’d read about Typhoid Mary, poor thing. I think she’d been a cook and infected quite a few people. If that were true, then it suggested that typhoid was contracted through dirty hands, maybe infected with waste. Once again, I mourned the loss of the Internet.

  A knock on the door sounded within minutes, and I opened it and stepped outside. I definitely wasn’t going to allow Colin into the room.

  “Colin, I can’t remember what causes typhoid fever, but it is curable in the twenty-first century. I think it might be contact with human waste. I’m sure Beth is immunized against it—most Americans are—but since she’s pregnant, I wouldn’t want to endanger the baby. I think she should go home. And I think Aunt Edith should go with her. I really think you should go too, but I want to run an idea by you before you do.”

  “Aye, whatever I can do, Maggie. I agree that Beth and the babe must go. Aunt Edith as well. I can stay to help.”