by Cathy Bryant
Early the next morning, just after sunup—with her bundle in hand, Sarah set off for Alice’s. Upon her arrival, she found that not only was Alice extremely ill, but two of the children were as well; therefore, she set right to work seeing to her friend and the sick children.
Back at the house, while Martha and Mr. Swyndhurst were breakfasting together, they discussed Sarah. Martha expressed her gratitude that he had spoken up the night before concerning Sarah and her wish to go to bed without taking any nourishment. “Had you not been here, Mr. Swyndhurst, she would have gone to bed, yet again, on an empty stomach.”
“As you had said, she is extremely undernourished. If necessary, I shall see that she eats something when she returns. In fact, I think I shall delay my trip for a time. I believe I am needed here more. I shall go in a few weeks, after I have had some time with Sarah. Perhaps we might fatten her up a bit during that time,” he said with a wink.
“It is going to be wonderful having you here, Mr. Swyndhurst,” responded the faithful servant, who was feeling relieved that someone other than herself would be there to encourage Sarah to take better care of herself.
The two talked for an hour or so before setting off to different areas of the house. Alexander had matters to discuss with Peter, while Martha made her way to check on her underservant, Esther.
When evening came, despite what Sarah had said about not coming back for a few days, Alexander hoped that she might return—but that was not to be. With concern, he questioned Martha. “How long do you suppose Sarah shall be at the Strouts’ home?”
“Lord only knows. When it comes to Alice and her children, it might be days.”
“You certainly were not exaggerating about how it is with Sarah. Though I have been here but a day, I share your concerns.”
It had been three days since Sarah had set off for the Strouts’ home. She had pressed on with very little sleep the entire time she had been there. Alice and the two older children had been quite ill when she had first arrived. Although they were not completely well as yet, they were finally on the mend. Little Mary, however, had come down with the sickness during the second night that Sarah was there.
On the third evening, after making certain that all of the children were settled in for the night, Sarah went to speak with her friend. “Alice, the children are all in their beds. I believe they shall sleep through till morning. I must go home and get some rest, but I shall return at day break, before the children are even up. Listen for little Mary, won’t you?”
“Sarah, I don’t know how I would have managed without you. You are such a good friend. Yes, go home for the night and rest. We shall be just fine.”
With that, Sarah set off for home. As she dragged herself along, she wondered if she could take yet another step. In the past, Sarah had seen no need to bother one of the servants to convey her to Alice’s. As the Strouts’ home was not far from the Swyndhurst estate, she had always walked; however, on this night she almost wished she had been a bother. But as she thought about it, there would have been no way to send word that she was ready to return home.
As she continued to walk unsteadily along, she felt as though someone were watching her. While glancing toward the tree line, she caught a glimpse of a tall man standing there in the shadows. Though it was difficult at that distance to make out the man’s face, from his silhouette she knew just who it was. It was Matthew Raymond. She had yet to tell anyone that he had apparently followed her from Cambridge to Amesbury, showing up just a few months after her husband had set off for England. Seeing him at church had been unnerving enough, but observing him in the shadows was even more frightening to her. As she hastily moved past, she recalled the incident in the barn and shuddered. When her foot finally touched down on the grass at the Swyndhurst estate, she thanked God that she had made it safely home. As she scurried toward the door, she wondered at his reason for being there, lurking in the shadows. His home was a mile the other direction, beyond the Swyndhurst estate. Then, believing he may possibly have been keeping track of her comings and goings, she began to tremble all over. After shaking her head as if to dislodge the unsettling thought, still trembling, she grasped hold of the door handle.
Upon entering the house, she found that Martha had waited up to see if she might return that evening. Her faithful servant would not allow her to go to bed on an empty stomach, if she had anything to say about it. While attempting to regain her composure before her elderly friend sensed that anything was wrong, Sarah dropped her eyes to the floor.
“Sarah! You look as if you might collapse!” exclaimed Martha as she quickly approached and took hold of the weary woman’s bundle. Setting it aside, she grasped Sarah’s arm and directed her over to a chair at the table.
While unfastening the pins from the young woman’s hair, she inquired, “You have been gone for three days now. What kept you? Surely Alice could not have been sick for so long a time.”
Alexander listened from his study just off the kitchen, where he was presently looking over the records his bookkeeper had given him earlier in the day. Following Martha’s question, he listened for Sarah’s response.
“The older children had come down with the sickness before I arrived three days ago. Since then, little Mary has fallen ill as well. After I tucked the children into their beds tonight, I told Alice that I needed to go home for the night to rest. I assured her that I would return in the morning.”
“You shall do no such thing! Alice is surely well enough to take care of the children by now,” Martha responded, with her temper rising.
“Martha, she is not quite herself, as yet. Perhaps in a couple of days she shall be able to take over again,” Sarah replied in barely a whisper. By now, the young woman had rested her head against the back of her chair. Then, with the intention of taking herself off to bed, looking white as a sheet, she attempted to stand.
While placing her hand on Sarah’s shoulder to keep her from rising, Martha blurted out, “Oh, no you don’t! I know you are exhausted, but you must eat at least a little something before going to bed.”
“Oh, Martha, all I want to do is wash, change my clothes, and climb into bed. I promise to eat something in the morning.”
All at once, Alexander appeared. “Good evening, Sarah. Busy time with the Strout family, I see. You look as though you could sleep for a week. Then again, what can another few minutes matter? Why not take a little food before retiring?”
While her employer attempted to persuade Sarah to eat, Martha had placed a trencher full of food and a cup of water in front of the young woman. As thirsty as she was, Sarah drank half the cup before speaking. “Maybe just a bite.” She knew there would be an argument if she refused, and as before, it would be two against one.
By this time, Alexander had taken a seat beside Sarah, while Martha sat directly across from her. As they waited to see if the young woman would, indeed, take some nourishment, with concern they peered over at each other. Martha tilted her head in Sarah’s direction. Mr. Swyndhurst nodded to indicate he had observed the same; Sarah looked dreadful.
In a short time, with her elbow on the table, Sarah had rested her chin on her upraised palm. Struggling to keep her eyes open, she stopped eating after just a couple of bites. Martha raised her hands in frustration. “Mr. Swyndhurst, I believe she is asleep. No use trying to get her to eat now. Perhaps you should carry her up to her bed. I shall follow to help her into her nightgown.”
Alexander rose from his seat and came around to the other side of Sarah’s chair. As he gently lifted her, he gazed down at her pale face. Though it was clear she was suffering from a lack of food and sleep, to him, she was still quite lovely. Then, as he left the kitchen with Sarah in his arms, he noticed how slight she truly was; to him, she felt no heavier than a child. A boney one at that, he thought.
Martha followed him up the stairs to Sarah’s bedchamber. After turning back the bedcovers, she turned to Mr. Swyndhurst. “Just lay her there,” she said, pointing. “I shall ready her f
or bed.”
After placing Sarah on her bed, the worried husband, making his way from the room, waited on the other side of the door for Martha to emerge.
Within a few minutes, closing the door behind her, she appeared. “Mr. Swyndhurst, the moment she rises in the morning she is sure to set off for the Strouts’ home. I am concerned that, unless something is done to stop her from all she is doing, she shall eventually collapse. I thought she might do just that when she first came home tonight. She looks simply awful.”
His countenance falling, Mr. Swyndhurst nodded. “I should have been here, Martha. Had I been, perhaps things would have been different. I would have had some say about her leaving for three days. But to Sarah, I am little more than a stranger. As such, I have no right to speak out where she is concerned.”
“So you have said, but I do not agree. You are her husband, after all. Furthermore, Mr. Swyndhurst, you needed your time to grieve. You are here now.”
“We must stop her from going back there tomorrow,” he stated unwaveringly. Martha is right. I am her husband, after all. As she seems to shrug off every attempt of Martha’s to rein her in, I must at least try and get through to her.
Glancing up at him, Martha said, “She willingly complied when you asked her to eat something before she went to bed. She might just listen if you express your desire that she remain at home.” The elderly servant felt blessed to have Mr. Swyndhurst home and taking her side in these matters. Things might finally change around here.
“I fully intend to, Martha, but don’t be too hopeful that anything I might say should have any influence over her. We both know that as far as she is concerned—”
Breaking in, Martha said with exasperation, “I know…I know. You are no more than a stranger to your wife.” Though she hated to, she had to agree. Sarah had no real connection to her husband. “Nonetheless, you must have a go; otherwise, when she returns to Alice’s, I fear the worst. We might lose her.”
“I shall do my best, Martha.”
With the conversation coming to an end, Mr. Swyndhurst and Martha went to their separate bedchambers. Sleep eluded the young husband as he thought about the conversation he was to have with Sarah the following morning. Lord, where she is concerned, I have no right to insist on anything; nevertheless, I cannot leave her to make the decision. It is clear that she cares little about herself.
Alexander was up with the sun. He immediately went to knock on his wife’s door. “Sarah, are you awake?” Not hearing an answer, angry at himself for not rising earlier, he opened the door a crack to peek in. He fully expected to find the room empty, but there was Sarah, sitting on the edge of her bed, looking dazed. “Sarah, are you all right? Did you not hear me knocking?” She made no answer but simply sat there. Alexander then entered the room to ascertain why she had not responded. As he approached, he spoke a bit louder, “Sarah!”
All at once, she glanced up and saw her husband standing in front of her. Weakly, she replied, “Was there something you needed?”
By now, Alexander had surmised that Sarah was ill, and with that glassy look in her eyes, she was most likely feverish. “I have been speaking to you. Did you not hear me?” he said in a softer tone.
“Oh, I did not realize. I need to dress and go to Alice’s. Little Mary—”
Alexander had taken a seat on the bed next to her. Upon hearing that she intended to go to the Strouts’ home, he interrupted her, “No! You are not going anywhere!” He then gently took hold of her arms and slid her back against her pillow. “Can you not see that you are ill? You need to stay right here and rest.”
After he said this he reached over and felt her forehead. He immediately rose from the bed and hurried from the room. Dashing through the house, he found Martha in the kitchen. He then quickly explained that Sarah was quite feverish and that Peter should go for the apothecary, Joseph Brainard, who also served as surgeon. “I shall send him straightaway, Mr. Swyndhurst. You go and be with Sarah until Mr. Brainard arrives.”
He raced back up the stairs to Sarah’s bedchamber. As Alexander approached the bed, he explained to his wife that the apothecary-surgeon would soon be there. He then sat down on the edge of the bed.
In great distress, she glanced up at him and said, “But Mary…she needs me. Alice doesn’t know how—”
Alexander reached over and placed his fingers over her lips. “Do not concern yourself, Sarah. I shall send Esther in your stead. Mary shall be just fine. At the moment, I am more worried about you.”
Comforted by the knowledge that Esther would be tending to Mary, Sarah acquiesced to the wishes of her husband. Then, shivering, she pulled on the covers. In truth, she knew that she really had no choice but to rest, for she was struggling to stay awake.
Alexander breathed a sigh of relief as he watched her body relax at his words. As he observed her, he thought about the selfless woman he had married and how her sweet and giving disposition had served to put her health at risk. And then, with a slight grin he reminded himself that, not only did she have godly character traits, such as selflessness, but she was also very stubborn. Then, growing serious once more as he recalled that her stubbornness was exactly why she was in this predicament, he felt sorry for thinking it a humorous thing. At that thought, he determined that, no matter what, he would not allow her stubbornness to rule any longer. Not on my watch!
Before long, Joseph Brainard, Jr., the son of the late Joseph Brainard, Sr., came into the room. Though he hadn’t seen Alexander Swyndhurst in some time, they were very well acquainted. He had been the one to care for the first Mrs. Swyndhurst until the time of her death. There was an epidemic of smallpox the year she passed. Rebecca had contracted the dreaded disease from one of her servants. The apothecary-surgeon, to no avail, had attempted to save her life.
Devoid of a formal education, Joseph Brainard had apprenticed under his father, an apothecary, who had also served as surgeon for the towns of Amesbury and Haverhill. Therefore, as his father before him, he was quite capable of carrying out the duties related to both areas of medicine—one having more to do with dispensing herbal remedies, the other being more hands on, such as suturing wounds and so forth.
As Mr. Brainard approached the bed, Alexander rose and moved out of the way. “How long has Sarah been in this condition?” he asked while feeling her flushed face.
Martha had come in behind him prepared to answer any questions he might have about Sarah. “She appeared quite ill last night. We were unsure, however, whether it was merely exhaustion. You see, she—”
Breaking in, Mr. Brainard responded, “No need to explain Sarah to me, Martha. I am quite aware that she has been nursing the Strout family back to health. I have told her time and time again…well, no need to go into that now.”
“Sir, we need to know what you have been telling my wife,” responded the worried husband.
Martha spoke up at this point. “We have all been uneasy about Sarah for some time. She is always doing for others at the expense of her own welfare. You may have noticed that she is nothing but skin and bones.”
“I am in complete agreement with your assessment of the girl. That is precisely what I have been telling her—that she needs to look after herself. If she goes on this way much longer, I fear the worst for her. In such cases, when an illness grabs hold the person has little strength with which to fight. Sarah has been running about, taking care of the sick in town for far too long.”
Turning away, Alexander gripped the back of his neck. He could not bear to lose another wife, especially now that he understood what a treasure he had in Sarah.
While continuing his assessment of the young woman, Joseph Brainard stated, “Alexander, my boy, you need to take this girl in hand, now that you have come home. If you do not…well…I believe you understand my meaning.” Joseph Brainard felt sad for the gentleman, for he knew that Alexander had suffered much for his young years.
Looking directly at Alexander now, Mr. Brainard informed him, “Sara
h has an extremely high fever. For many years, I have followed the advice of the physicians who believe the best course of action for bringing down a high fever is lukewarm baths, as well as administering cinchona bark at regular intervals. We need to fill a tub with tepid water and place her in it. When the water begins to grow cold, you must remove her from the tub. This is to be repeated whenever you feel that her skin is as hot as it is now. Come over and touch her face,” Mr. Brainard then directed the worried husband.
“Yes, I had noticed the fever. That is precisely why I sent for you,” Alexander responded as he approached the bed. He then reached down to assess Sarah’s fever once more. In understanding of what the apothecary-surgeon had advised, he nodded. Alexander then directed Martha to have one of the servants fetch the wooden tub from the laundry and place it in the buttery.
After Martha had gone, the apothecary turned toward the worried husband, and said, “Alexander, I can assist Sarah if you wish. But as she is your wife, I think it best if you help her with this. Though she is very slight, she is too much for Martha—at Martha’s age.”
Martha returned shortly after. She informed the two gentlemen that she was heating the water for Sarah’s bath and that Peter, as requested, had carried in the tub. “I shall fetch a clean nightgown and some toweling for drying her, and follow you down shortly.”
Mr. Brainard thanked Martha before explaining to her that Mr. Swyndhurst would be assisting Sarah. He further directed her to set up a chair in the buttery for her employer, and something with which to dip the water.
“Well, Alexander. I shall take my leave. I have others to see today. This illness has broken out all over town. Keep her as cool as possible. Get her to drink as often as you can manage it, and do not forget to have Martha administer the cinchona bark tincture. I left it over there,” he said, indicating the table beside Sarah’s bed. “Send for me if you have any trouble getting her fever to come down, but I don’t expect that you will. The trouble will be in keeping it down.”