The Duchess

by Danielle Steel

  “What did she say?” Helen asked her when they sat down together for a minute.

  “She said not to send for him, it’s just a cold.”

  “It looks like more than a cold to me,” Helen said in a hushed tone. “She coughed the whole time you were gone.”

  Angélique wasn’t surprised to hear it, and was distressed by Eugenia’s denial of medical care for her child, although if she had been sick herself, she would have called for the doctor immediately. She seldom did for the children, and thought their maladies were either imaginary, transitory, or insignificant, and didn’t require the services of a doctor, who should be kept in reserve for adults.

  Helen brought the dinner trays in when they sent them up from downstairs. They had included more of the gingerbread biscuits, thick beef stew, and potatoes for each child. It was a hearty meal for a winter afternoon, and when the two boys woke up, they ate well. They were still eating when Angélique told Helen she was going downstairs to get some broth and toast, and tea with honey for Emma when she woke up. The twins were still asleep, and only drank milk and ate soft food, which had come up on the trays as well.

  “I’ll be back in a flash,” Angélique promised, and hurried downstairs. She found the kitchen teeming with activity. Eugenia was having guests from a neighboring estate. They were having soup and fish followed by suckling pig, and an elaborate dessert. The cook was busy, as were all of her assistants and kitchen maids, so Angélique helped herself to what she needed.

  “Didn’t they like the stew?” the cook asked over her shoulder as she put the delicate sole on a platter.

  “They devoured it. Emma’s sick—I need a bit of broth for her. She’s got a fever and is feeling very ill.”

  “Poor lamb. I’ll send her up some of the pudding, and for the boys, after dinner.” Angélique doubted that she’d eat it, as sick as she was, and she was panicked at not being able to call the doctor for her.

  Emma ate soup and toast and some boiled potatoes they’d had on the stove, but threw up immediately after, and Angélique spent the rest of the day at her bedside, either watching her, or singing to her, holding her hand, or bathing her brow. And by nightfall she was in a deep sleep. Helen had managed the others all afternoon, and put them to bed, and then went to bed herself. She had far less energy with them than Angélique, and was less adept at keeping them busy. Since they had already been out once that day, Helen didn’t want to take them to the park where she would have been afraid to lose them. They loved running away from her, which Angélique didn’t allow. She had grown to be very capable with the children, much to her own surprise. They loved and respected her, and did what she said, most of the time.

  She spent the night sitting in a chair at Emma’s bedside, still in her clothes. She hadn’t wanted to leave her long enough to change into her nightgown. Emma woke several times in the night. And in the morning she was no better, but at least she was no worse, and since that was the case, Angélique didn’t dare approach her mother again. She was sure she would refuse to send for Dr. Smith.

  They limped along for another day—it was raining, so the boys couldn’t go out anyway. Angélique fed the babies, set up games for the boys, and sent Helen downstairs for more broth for Emma, and some rice, but by suppertime, she thought Emma was worse. The fever was higher, and Emma said her head and whole body hurt and she could hardly swallow it hurt so much, and she had a racking cough. Angélique was determined to tackle the child’s mother again in the morning.

  After a restless night, Emma seemed weaker, and as though she were fading away. At eight in the morning, Angélique went downstairs and knocked on her employer’s door, which she knew was bold, but she didn’t want to wait a moment longer. Emma had been too sick for too long. This was the third day, with no improvement.

  She knocked softly at first, and then harder, and then finally Eugenia called out in her darkened room, while Angélique waited on the other side of the door.

  “What is it?” She sounded sleepy and not pleased to be awakened.

  “It’s Angélique, ma’am. I really think we need the doctor for Emma.”

  “Is she worse?” she called out from her bed, through the door.

  “No,” Angélique said honestly, “but she’s not better, and she’s very, very sick.” There was a long hesitation as Angélique waited for her to respond, and then finally she did.

  “Wait till tomorrow. I’m sure she’ll be fine.” How could she know that? She hadn’t even seen her. Angélique wanted to pound on the door and scream at her, but didn’t dare.

  “I really think we…” She was pleading her charge’s case with tears in her eyes. What if the child died of influenza? Angélique loved her, perhaps more even than her own mother.

  “That’ll be all, Angélique!” Eugenia shouted, and with tears rolling down her cheeks, Angélique walked away. Her hands were tied. She couldn’t send for the doctor without her mother’s permission.

  Angélique went back to the nursery and stayed with her again all that day, and by nightfall she was worse again. Emma was weak from the fever and couldn’t get out of bed. The fever was higher, and she was delirious and not making sense. And by then, Angélique refused to wait a moment longer. She knew that Mr. Ferguson had arrived earlier that day from London. Maybe he would get his wife to listen to reason or be more concerned himself. She went downstairs when they were dining with guests. She stood outside the dining room with trembling knees, ready to ask a footman to go in and take them a message, when Gilhooley saw her, and asked what she was doing there. She explained the situation to him as he frowned.

  “You can’t go in,” he said sternly to her.

  “I know. Will you tell them? I want to send for the doctor now. It can’t wait any longer.”

  The serious-looking butler nodded, and lowered his voice to answer Angélique. “I will send for him myself. If she gets angry, she can blame me. It sounds as though you believe the child is very ill, abnormally so.”

  “Yes, I do,” she confirmed, grateful that he was willing to pay attention to her. No one else had for four days, least of all the child’s mother, and Angélique was even more panicked after watching Emma waste away with the fever, and her cough getting worse every day.

  “I will tell her after supper, and by then Dr. Smith will have seen her, and there will be nothing she can do except shout at me.” He smiled at Angélique. “If she dares. I’ll send one of the grooms for him immediately.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Gilhooley,” she said in a whisper, with enormous gratitude. “I’ll be waiting for him in the nursery.”

  “Good girl,” he whispered back, and went downstairs to fulfill his mission, after sending the footmen in to serve.

  Angélique hurried back upstairs, and hoped that the doctor would come soon. And much to her surprise, he was there half an hour later, and entered the nursery, carrying his bag. She had just come out of Emma’s room when he walked in. She was so relieved to see him, thanked him for coming, and told him all of Emma’s symptoms of the past few days.

  “Why didn’t you send for me earlier?” he asked unhappily. He didn’t like what he’d just heard. He was concerned that it might be scarlet fever, or something even worse. He asked if she’d had seizures, but she hadn’t. And he was worried for the other children if they came down with it too, especially the twins.

  “Mrs. Ferguson thought it was just a cold,” Angélique said softly. The doctor pursed his lips and didn’t answer, thinking of the many times Eugenia had summoned him for herself for far less. And this was clearly more than a cold.

  They walked into Emma’s room together, and Angélique gently woke her up. She cried when she saw the doctor and said she hurt, and then gave her hideous racking cough and eventually threw up. She went through the full repertoire of symptoms in front of him, and finally when she settled down again, they left the room.

  “It’s not scarlet fever,” he said, relieved, “but it’s a very severe case of influenza, whic
h can be fatal in children that age. You were wise to have them send for me. Mr. Gilhooley said to come at once. Fortunately I was free and not delivering a baby somewhere. We need to break the fever, and she needs strong medicine for that cough. And I’m going to give you some drops to make her sleep. I don’t want her left alone, someone must sit with her at night. I want her closely watched, and if the fever rises, send for me at once.” He looked concerned, and despite what he said of the risks of influenza to a child Emma’s age, she was relieved. At least he was there to help, and tell her it wasn’t something worse, and confirm that she’d been right to ask him to come. It would be worth facing Eugenia’s wrath now when she found out what Angélique had done. She was sure that her employer would blame her and not the butler for calling the doctor, but she didn’t care.

  “I’ve been with her every night,” Angélique told the doctor, “and most of the day. The nurserymaid has been helping me with the others.”

  “We don’t need to quarantine her, but I don’t want them in the same room.” As he said it, Angélique prayed that Simon hadn’t caught it from her before he left. It would be terrible if he were as sick as his sister, alone at school. But she had no way to know, since they couldn’t contact him. And the school would never tell them unless he contracted a serious disease or died.

  As they spoke in whispers, they could hear Emma’s barking cough start again. He handed Angélique the syrup he wanted her to use, a bottle of the drops to make her sleep, and told her to keep Emma warm, but bathe her face in cool water, and he promised to return in the morning, and told her to send for him during the night if she thought it necessary. “Thank you, sir,” she said gratefully, and he smiled. He was impressed by her diligence and by how obviously bright she was.

  “They’re lucky to have you,” he said sincerely. “You’d make a good nurse one day if you decide not to remain in service. I’d be happy to have a nurse like you.”

  “Thank you,” she said shyly. Nursing was a career she had never considered, and she wasn’t sure she was suited to it, but she loved Emma, and had been desperately worried about her, which he could see.

  “She’ll be all right,” he reassured her, “as long as she doesn’t get any worse. The drops will help her sleep, so she can get her strength back. Children recover quickly.” Unless they die, Angélique thought to herself. She wasn’t sure if Emma’s life had been in danger, but it had looked that way to her. “Things move like lightning when children are ill, either for the better or the worse. We’ll get her going in the right direction now.” He patted Angélique’s shoulder with a fatherly gesture, and left a moment later, and went back down the stairs and out through the kitchen. He was told by Mrs. Allbright that the Fergusons were having a party, so he didn’t ask to speak to them. And their very competent nanny had everything under control. She looked young, but she seemed resourceful and as though she knew what she was doing. The child was in good hands. He left, feeling hopeful that the little girl would improve soon.

  Angélique gave Emma all her medicine after the doctor’s visit, and bathed her face and hands, and a little while later she was asleep, and hardly coughed in the night. She had a more peaceful night than she’d had in days, and Angélique sat in the chair next to her and dozed, as she had since Emma got sick. Helen told Angélique in the morning that she didn’t know how she was still on her feet. But there was no other choice.

  The doctor returned at nine, right after the other children had had breakfast, and Emma was just waking up. Angélique looked tired and pale, but she was alert and busy, in a clean dress and apron when he arrived.

  “How’s our patient?” he asked, after greeting the children, and noticing that they all looked well, and had eaten a hearty breakfast.

  “She had a much easier night, and I think the fever is a little lower. She’s still hot, but she doesn’t seem as dazed, and she didn’t cry when she woke up, for the first time in days.”

  “Splendid.” He went in to see Emma with Angélique, and to a new visitor to the nursery, she would have appeared frighteningly sick, but to both of them, she looked better than the night before, and Emma smiled, which was a major improvement. He saw Angélique hold her hand, and the child gaze lovingly up at her. “I think you’re going to feel well again very soon, young lady,” he said to Emma. “Now you have to take your medicine, and do everything Nanny tells you, and eat all the good things Cook sends up for you, and very soon you’ll be right as rain and playing with your brothers and sister.” It was obvious that her aches and pains had lessened since she hadn’t complained, and she held her doll out to him as he talked to her.

  “She’s sick too. She needs medicine to make her better.” Angélique and the doctor exchanged a smile across her bed. This was a definite improvement from the previous days.

  “Really? Well, we’ll have to have Nanny give her some medicine too. Has she been coughing?” Emma nodded with a grin. She liked the doctor and thought he was a nice man. “Then she’ll need syrup,” he said seriously to Angélique, “and drops. See to it that she takes them and doesn’t spit them out,” he said, pretending to be very stern as Emma giggled about her doll. “Good children always take their medicine and then they get well.”

  “Can I see Rose today?” she asked about her baby sister, which was a good sign too. All the evidence was pointing in the right direction, much to the adults’ relief. But the doctor told her she still needed to rest until she was all better. She had missed playing with Rose. She loved her baby sister, and being with her whenever she could. She liked helping Angélique take care of her, and watching her feed her.

  The doctor left the nursery a few minutes later, and promised to return the next day, unless she needed him before that, or for the others if they felt ill too. Angélique hoped they wouldn’t and was so relieved that Emma was out of danger, she was smiling from ear to ear.

  The doctor stopped on the second floor on the way down. He knew where Eugenia’s room was, after being there many times, and delivering her babies, and he knocked on the door to her dressing room. Stella opened it immediately and panicked when she saw him, and her eyes grew wide in fear.

  “Oh, no…is it…is something…”

  “Not at all,” he quieted her concern immediately. “She’s doing better. But I wonder if I might have a word with Mrs. Ferguson for a moment.”

  “I’ll tell her. Her hair’s not done and she’s just had breakfast, but I’ll ask her immediately.” Stella disappeared into the inner sanctum of the bedroom, and returned at once, and told the doctor he could go in. Eugenia was sitting up in bed, in her dressing gown, with her breakfast tray across her knees. She was surprised to see the doctor, and momentarily worried.

  “Is someone ill?” Her eyes were blank. It never even occurred to her it could be Emma, since she had told Angélique not to bother the doctor with a cold.

  The doctor understood the situation perfectly, and wanted to spare Angélique the grief of being scolded for calling for him, and Gilhooley hadn’t had time to mention it to her the night before. “Of course I know you were concerned about Emma. But fortunately, no one else is ill, and I wanted to commend you on your caution, having the nanny send for me. Emma has had a very severe case of influenza, which can be so very dangerous, even fatal in children, but I believe she’s on the mend. Wonderful nanny you have, she’s a very bright girl, and so sensible with the children. What a wise thing you did, hiring her. She was quite right to send for me. The child took a turn for the worse last night during your party, and she was afraid to disturb you. Good level-headed girl,” he said easily, as Eugenia stared at him, and realized she was getting credit for deeds she hadn’t done. She hadn’t even thought to ask about Emma for two days.

  “Yes, we had a party here last night,” she said vaguely. “I’m glad she called you if it was that serious.” She sounded utterly amazed that the doctor had taken her condition so seriously.

  “I won’t have them come down for a week or so. You
never know. Children always make one sick.”

  “She’ll be fine in a few days or a week. I wouldn’t worry.” But Eugenia never went near her children when they were sick. And now that they knew Emma had influenza, she considered her a major threat. She had apparently been as sick as the nanny said. Eugenia had thought she was just a hysterical young girl, overly worried and making a fuss about a cold. “Well, your nanny is a gem, and you were so wise to let her call for me. Just let me know if any of the others get sick.”

  “Of course,” she said, worrying about herself.

  “I’ll be back tomorrow, unless you need me before,” he said with a smile.

  “Thank you, Doctor,” Eugenia said as he walked out of the room, and she stared into space for a moment. She would have berated Angélique for calling for him after all, except that apparently she’d been right to be worried, and he was praising them for sending for him, so she could hardly accuse Angélique for that. She didn’t want to see anyone from the nursery for a while, if Emma had influenza. She told Stella about it when she came in.

  “Apparently Emma became quite ill last night, and Nanny sent for the doctor. She has influenza. Whatever you do, don’t go up to the third floor. I certainly don’t want to, and you shouldn’t either, if you’re with me, and touching my hair.”

  “Yes, madame,” Stella said politely. “Is Emma all right now?”

  “Not yet, but he says she will be. I suppose it’s a good thing Nanny sent for the doctor. He says that influenza can be very dangerous to children and even fatal. I always knew that, of course. I don’t know how she got so sick. She took a turn for the worse during our party last night.” Which wasn’t true, she had been just as sick for four days, but her mother wouldn’t listen and didn’t care. And what she cared about now was not getting sick herself. “Tell Nanny that if she takes the others out, she’s to go down the back stairs, and never come into the second-floor hall.”