Page 75 of The Quiet Wife
Jemie took a long moment to gather his composure. When he did, he pulled up a chair and placed it on the other side of the bed. He sat in it, took hold of Elinor’s other hand.
“We will hear if your husband returns. Any sound at all, and I’ll disappear.”
“You shouldn’t,” she protested but it was a weak effort.
“I know. But if you think I’m leaving you to deal with this alone, you’ve got bats in your attic.”
“Thank you,” she choked.
CHAPTER 23
Speke Hall - Liverpool.
Frederick didn’t come.
Frances spent the entire night with Elinor. She and Jemie worked to keep her cool, dosed at regular intervals with the doctor’s draught, and as comfortable as possible while the fever took hold.
She glanced over at Jemie, who still sat on the opposite side of the bed. They’d spent a harrowing hour only a short while ago as Elinor, battling the fever, was incoherent and clearly suffering with the most appalling nightmares. She’d cried, thrashed, and shouted, breaking Frances’ heart. They’d held her through it, bathed her to keep her cool, and done everything that they could, but it felt precious little. They only had love, cool water laced with tincture, and a draught from the doctor which was nothing compared to what the fever brought as it ravaged its way through Elinor’s small, defenceless body.
“You should sleep,” Frances turned to Jemie.
“In a while. Look, dawn is breaking.” He stood up and stretched, then went to the window and pushed back the curtains. “Let’s let some sunshine in.”
Dawn filtered through. Pink and apricot shades bathing the room in its glow.
“I’ll go and make us some tea.”
“The servants will be up by now.”
“Then I’ll get one of the servants to make us some tea.”
Frances managed a small smile. She could scarcely believe he’d stayed with them. She knew in her heart that whatever happened, she would love him for it for the rest of her days.
He disappeared and Frances turned back to Elinor, who seemed to sleep peacefully, so she sat back in the chair and peered out of the window at the sky. She had exhausted all prayers she knew, reciting them over the course of the evening, often resorting to begging. She’d tried bargaining too. She wasn’t sure if any of it had been heard, but the glorious morning seemed somehow optimistic.
Jemie returned with tea and resumed his place on the opposite side of the bed. He picked up Elinor’s hand. He stroked the back of it, then laid his hand across her forehead.
He hesitated. “I may be indulging in some spectacularly wishful thinking, but she doesn’t seem as hot?”
Frances stood up and surveyed Elinor’s sleeping form. She, too, placed a hand gently on her forehead, and was inclined to agree. She was warm, but not burning as she had been for so long and her head was coated in a clammy sweat.
“You may be right.” She felt her neck and then pulled back the sheet to feel her arms. “She’s definitely not burning anymore?”
A tiny shiver of hope fluttered in her chest. “Let’s see what Doctor Emslie says when he arrives. He promised he’d be back this morning.”
Jemie nodded with a small, hopeful smile and sat back.
“Don’t,” Frances said sharply. “Don’t say anything. Don’t raise our hopes.”
She gathered Elinor’s pale hand in both hers and kissed her fingertips.
***
Jemie sat restlessly in the drawing room with Lizzie and his mother, whilst the doctor was upstairs with Elinor and Frances. He had to force himself to sit still. Lizzie stared out of the window, while his mother sat in the chair by the fireplace, smoothing the fabric of her dress.
When the door opened, they all leaped up as one.
“Doctor?” Lizzie rushed over to him.
