Page 61 of The Quiet Wife
CHAPTER 20
Speke Hall – Liverpool
The portrait was progressing well. Her sessions in the parlour with Jemie were, without a shadow of a doubt, the best part of the day over the following weeks, save for the time she spent with the children. It was perfect because no-one disturbed them. Not even Frederick.
She was on her way to the parlour for her sitting and looking forward to picking up the threads of their previous conversation with Jemie, when she spotted Nanny Jenks hurrying down the stairs.
“Mrs Leyland!” she called.
Frances paused at the note of concern in her voice. “Is something wrong?”
Nanny took a breath. “I… I’m afraid I think there is.”
“What seems to be the problem my dear?” Frances sighed calmly, as though the kindly tones of informality might stave off the news that Nanny Jenks was about to impart.
“I… I think the girls may have scarlet fever.”
The words thrummed through her head.Scarlet fever. Scarlet fever. Scarlet fever.
There had been terrible losses of children to scarlet fever in Liverpool in recent months. She’d read it in the paper. She recalled with terrifying clarity the outcry and sadness when the Galsworthy family had lost their only son to the disease. She gripped her hands together and swallowed anxiously.
“What makes you think that?”
Nanny Jenks put her hands to her mouth for a second, eyes watering, then straightened. “A rash, Mrs Leyland. I saw it this morning on Miss Elinor’s hand, but just thought nothing of it, really. All three girls have been feeling a little out of sorts recently and they all felt unwell again this morning, so I suggested a nap. I thought they might have a chill so wanted them to rest up. Then I went to check on them and…” she swallowed. “Miss Fannie wanted to look after Miss Elinor, but I said she mustn’t. I came straight to find you.”
“Quite right. I will go to them now. Call for the doctor immediately.”
She snatched up her skirts and hurried to the children’s rooms.
She opened the door to Elinor’s room quietly to find her youngest laid in bed. She looked small and awfully fragile. Frances could see the dreaded small red rash and spots shadowing her face.
“Darling,” she spoke softly and went to sit on the side of the bed. She gathered her hands, which also had the red rash on them. “Whatever has happened. Do you feel terribly ill?” She smoothed her daughter’s forehead. It was too warm, and she was running a temperature. She made herself smile, forcing away the fear.
“I feel horrid,” Elinor groaned. “We all feel horrid.” Her eyes filled with frightened tears. “Mama, Is it scarlet fever? Are we all going to die?”
Frances’ chest ached as she forced a reassuring smile. She tsked softly. “Of course not, darling. Do you think I would let that happen to you?” She kissed Elinor’s fingers. “We shall nurse you all back to health. You can be sure of that. I’m told that the doctors now have medicines that will make you feel much more the thing and chase away the spots in the blink of an eye. Besides, I shall watch over all of you myself to make sure you come to no harm.”
Elinor didn’t look convinced, fear gripping her. “Victoria Huddleston had this, and she died.”
Frances’ stomach dropped at the memory of the charming child who had passed a few weeks ago. “I know, and it was awfully sad, but Victoria had other things wrong with her too, not just the scarlet fever. She had a lot of ailments and wasn’t terribly strong. Not like all of you. Why, you’re so hale and hearty, you will shake this off in a trice.” It was a lie, but one she’d gladly tell to banish the look of pure terror in her daughter’s eyes.
“Oh, I didn’t know that.” She seemed somewhat satisfied.
“I want you to close your eyes now and rest a little whilst I speak to Fannie and Florence.” She smoothed a hand over Elinor’s head. “Rest is the very best thing.”
“I don’t much like resting. Jemie was going to sketch me later today, and I was looking forward to it,” she grumbled.
“I’m sure Jemie will sketch you as soon as you feel better.”
Elinor closed her eyes. It hurt her to see her usually boisterous, chatty, nay argumentative daughter so quiet and ill. She lay there, eyes closed, face unusually pale against the red of her hair, with those damned red spots covering her face.
She left Elinor, closed the door quietly, squeezing her eyes tightly shut to stop the tears before going to check on Fannie and Florence.
She rushed on to Fannie, who, at seventeen, was painfully aware of what could happen and wasn’t as easily placated as Elinor.
“What are we going to do, mama?” she whispered anxiously, looking as small and vulnerable as her sister.
“You are going to get all better, my love. I shall see to it. I’ve told Elinor, I’m telling you, and I shall tell Florence the same thing. Do you really think I would let anything happen to you?”
