Page 27 of The Duke's Price
“We’ll see about that,” Perry said grimly.
“Not in those clothes, Perry,” Ruth told him. “Go and turn yourself into a duke again. Walter, take me to the canal boat. I’ll see what I can do.”
“I’ll come with you far enough that I know where to bring the doctor,” Perry said. “Sick how? And for how long?”
It had come on after they left Beziers—first a griping stomach pain and then, as Walter delicately put it, voiding at both ends. Both other adults were ill, as well as Bella and two of the three daughters. Fortunately, the daughter and the canal horse knew what to do to get them to Agde, while Walter emptied, cleaned, and returned buckets, and did what he could to comfort the sick.
“It could be something they ate,” Ruth suggested. “Do they have a high fever, Walter? Headaches?”
“Not to say high,” Walter said. “Up a bit, I’d say.”
Probably not typhoid, then, though there were other diseases with similar symptoms.
“There’s the boat, sir.” Walter pointed.
Perry nodded. “I’ll bring the doctor,” he told them. “I will be as quick as I can.”
They parted ways, and Ruth hurried on with Walter. “What did they last eat, Walter? And did you have any?”
Bella was weak and pale, but she insisted she was well. “I have not needed a bucket for more than two hours, Ruth, but I am so glad to see you. I am worried about Madame and Monsieur.”
Ruth found the well daughter trying to look after her parents, who looked gaunt and certainly did need the buckets that Walter kept recycling. While Bella put on a kettle to make tea, Ruth washed the faces of the remaining patients and asked questions about what foods they had eaten in the past twenty-four hours.
Mushrooms picked from the canal side were almost certainly the problem, since they’d had them for lunch, all except for Walter and the one well daughter, neither of whom liked mushrooms. The doctor confirmed the diagnosis when he arrived. “The girls are already recovering, Mr. De-Ath. They should be given plenty to drink, and they must rest. Moreau and Mrs. Moreau? You are doing the right things, Mrs. De-Ath. Continue. Keep them as clean as you can. Encourage them to drink. I shall call again tomorrow.”
Perry went off to let Hanzi know what was happening, but soon returned.
“Hanzi is gone and so are the horses,” he reported
“I suppose he thought we had abandoned him,” Ruth acknowledged.
Perry shrugged. “In any case, I need to sell another gem. I’d planned to top up my purse when we returned to the yacht, butinstead I’m going to send a messenger to fetch the yacht. Have you got everything you need here? I’ll head out again and see what I can manage.”
“Some ingredients to make a nutritious broth,” Ruth ordered. “Also, ginger and peppermint, if you can find them, to make tea.”
“And something for us for dinner,” Perry concluded. He gave her a kiss on the cheek in front of Bella, Walter and the Moreaus—though the couple were not thinking about anything except their unstable digestive systems—and left again.
He reappeared some time later, walking in with freshly washed buckets when Ruth expected Walter. “I have put aside the ones that need to be emptied and rinsed out,” she said, without looking around.
“Certainly.” Perry’s voice jerked Ruth’s head around.
“You’re back.” Ruth had been feeling weary, but Perry’s presence made her feel she could manage anything.
He touched her cheek. “For that smile, darling, I would climb mountains. Emptying a couple of reeking buckets is easy enough. But where is Walter?”
“I sent him to bed. Bella, too.” Everyone else, in fact. “They were up all night, Perry, and you and I slept well after…” She blushed. After their coupling, her emotional outburst, his unbelievable proposal.
“Then we shall look after the Moreaus,” Perry said. If his thoughts had marched with hers, he gave no sign of it, but trudged away, uncomplaining, with the buckets.
He had managed to purchase broth and the herbs and ginger Ruth had asked for. He sat with the canal boat couple while Ruth made them a drink each, and heated enough of the broth for the patients. For him and Ruth, he’d bought bread, cheese, and fruit, and they ate that, washed down with a rather pleasant local wine, while he told her what he’d achieved.
“No jeweller, but I had enough cash left for the food, and I gave one of the fishermen a pearl to sail across the basin to Sète with my message. The yacht will arrive in the morning. Hopefully by then the Moreaus will be able to manage without us.”
At that moment, Mrs. Moreau called for another bucket.
It was a long night,but by morning, both Mr. and Mrs. Moreau were past the worst of it. Pale, weak, but no longer voiding, and sleeping peacefully. “Go and get some sleep, Ruth,” Perry suggested. “I shall watch our patients, but I think they are on the mend.”
Ruth wasn’t sure where she could sleep. Every cabin was occupied. In any case, while her body ached with tiredness, her mind was still racing. Again and again in the night, Perry had come up with reasons she should marry him. If he only knew, his greatest argument was his presence, washing Mr. Moreau’s face, spooning broth into the poor man, holding a bucket for him. Who could not want a husband who was so kind—and so practical in his application of that kindness.
