Page 62 of The Quiet Wife
“No, but mama…”
“No buts. The doctor is on his way, and you shall have the very best, the most modern medicines that are available. You will recover beautifully,” she assured her.
“My face. My skin,” Fannie said in a small, frightened voice that cracked on the words breaking Frances’ heart.
“Just don’t scratch, darling, and it will all go away, and your beautiful skin will be fine.” She wanted to scoop up her eldest daughter and weep.
“Will they cut off all my hair?” Tears glistened in Fannie’s eyes.
At this, she did scoop her child into her arms and held her close. “Over my dead body,” she said so fiercely, Fannie choked out a laugh before a spluttering cough overtook her.
“Do you need anything? Can I get you a drink?”
Fannie shook her head. “Can I share a room with the others? It’s awfully lonely in here.”
“What a capital idea,” Frances said and smoothed her daughter’s hair. “Let me see what I can do.”
She hurried into Florence and made the same promises. Florence, the most fanciful of her children, wasn’t easily persuaded that all would be well just by the sheer force of a mother’s love but agreed it would be best if the sisters were together.
Frances kissed her and fled back down the stairs. She rushed to the parlour, where Jemie was working on a sketch of Elinor.
“There you are. I thought you were lost… what’s wrong?” He put down the pencils and came over to her. He hesitated, but then took her hands in his.
She squeezed his fingers tightly. A moment passed before she could bring herself to say the words. “Oh Jemie,” she choked, chest heaving with the weight of it all. “Oh Jemie, I think the girls have scarlet fever.”
“Christ no,” he murmured.
“I must tell Frederick. I’ve called for the doctor, and I think I’d like to put them all in one room. He mustn’t cut off their hair.” She was babbling, she knew it, but the words were just tumbling out as everything seemed to overwhelm her in that moment.
“That’s a good idea. That way we can nurse them together,” he agreed. “And definitely no hair cutting!”
She choked out a laugh that was more like a sob. He looked as though he might say more but held his tongue. “What do we need to do?”
She wanted to throw herself into his arms. He’d said ‘we’. He was asking whathecould do and his kindness and thoughtfulness when she most needed it almost undid her.
“I don’t think there is anything you can do but thank you. Thank you for asking. I can’t tell you how much that means to me. I’d understand if you and your mama felt you needed to leave. You don’t what to risk catching this.”
Jemie squeezed her hands, then lifted one and dropped a swift but tender kiss on her knuckles. “Nonsense. I’ll get my mother. She’s nursed scarlet fever before. She will have ideas about how best to proceed. I was laid low by rheumatic fever regularly as a boy and she nursed me back from the brink more than once.”
“Really?Shouldn’t you… well, leave? I couldn’t bear it if you and your mother succumbed to it.”
He swallowed, squeezed her hands, then looked into her eyes. “Do you seriously think I would leave you at a time like this?”
She felt herself sway and he let go of her hands, took hold of her shoulders, still looking into her eyes.
“We willnotlet anything happen to them, Frances,” he promised her.
She managed a watery smile when he said ‘we’, again. “That’s just what I’ve told them.”
“And it’s true.” He urged her. “Isn’t it?”
She looked up and nodded, but her chin wobbled dreadfully. Jemie groaned, shook his head, and pulled her into his arms. She buried her face in his neck and clung to him.
He held her so tightly; she could almost believe all would be well with him by her side.
***
Frances hurried to find her husband whilst Jemie went to seek his mother. He was in his study. She knocked and walked straight in.
