“Don’t scratch it. It will not get better if you do,” she reminded Rose again.
Rose seemed tired from her ordeal. Sarah put her to bed early. The stings were still very red. Perhaps she’d not cleaned them as well as she’d thought. If they weren’t better by morning, she’d ask Mrs. Walker for some salve.
#
Sarah woke in the middle of the night to the sound of Rose gasping for air. She lit the candle beside the bed. The poor girl’s face had turned bright red. Her lips were strangely swollen, and every breath seemed to come with great effort.
Sarah had never seen anything like this. Was it scarlet fever? How could it come on so suddenly? Sarah threw the covers off to cool Rose down. She ran to the washbasin and dipped a cloth in the water, then placed it on Rose’s head. But as she touched the child’s brow, it did not feel especially hot. Sarah opened the window for cool air anyway. But that might be too cold, so she closed it again.
Rose’s little chest heaved. She was suffocating.
Sarah needed help.
Mr. Selwood was the closest. He would know what to do.
She ran into the hall and around the corner. She threw open his door. He was in bed, asleep. Sarah grabbed his shoulder and began shaking.
“Mr. Selwood. Sir.” She put one hand on each shoulder and shook again. “Sir. Sir!”
His eyes opened. Now that her face was less than a foot from his, it occurred she might have knocked first. And put on a cover. And probably tidied her hair, as much had come loose from her braid and now hung against Mr. Selwood’s cheek.
“Something is very wrong with Rose,” she said. “I don’t know what to do. Will you come and see?”
He sat up. “Wouldn’t Mrs. Walker be the better choice?”
Sarah paced to the door and back. “I don’t know where Mrs. Walker is. I mean, I know where her room is, but yours is so much closer. Please, will you come. She looks very unwell.”
He nodded and tossed the covers off. Sarah turned her back while he climbed out of bed. When she turned around, he was tying the rope of a dressing gown around his waist.
She hurried behind him as he strode into the corridor. “I lived many years at Harleigh’s School for Girls and saw lots of girls get sick, but I’ve never seen anything like this. Her face is all red. And she can’t breathe.”
He opened the door, and Sarah ran to the bedside. Even in the few minutes she had been gone, Rose had gotten worse. Or perhaps it was that she had forgotten how bad off she had been when she’d left. Either way, that gnawing pain was back in her heart, and she felt her stomach fold like kneaded bread.
“What do you think?” she asked Mr. Selwood as she dipped the cloth in the water basin and reapplied it to Rose’s forehead.
Mr. Selwood stood several feet away. “I think she needs a doctor. I’ll send for one.” He turned to leave, but Sarah caught his arm.
“You will come back?”
“I’m not sure what I can do.” He pulled his arms free and glanced back at Rose. “I’m not . . . good with children.”
“Nonsense. She likes you very much. And sir,” she looked up at him, “I don’t want to be alone.”
“I’ll send Mrs. Walker.” He left the room.
Sarah pressed the damp cloth to Rose’s forehead, but the girl’s breathing did not ease. She moved the pillow away to open Rose’s throat, and that seemed to help a little. In her nine years at Harleigh’s School for Girls, Sarah had only known one girl who had died. And that had been during the holiday break when the girl caught a fever and died at home. Many illnesses had come and gone, and now Sarah would give her left leg to have paid more attention to the treatments those girls received.
At last the door opened. It was not the doctor. That would have been too fast, anyway. Nor was it Mrs. Walker. It was Mr. Selwood.
Sarah jumped up from her seat on the side of the bed. “You came back?”
He smiled at her. A smile that dimpled his cheeks and lifted the corners of his eyes.
“If I’d known it would make you so happy, I might have hurried a bit more.” Then he seemed to regret his words. His face went stern, and he cleared his throat. “The doctor has been sent for, and in the meantime, Mrs. Walker is on her way with some remedies of her own.”
In the dim room, his eyes shimmered a deep iridescent blue like the hard shell of a darkling beetle. His hair was mussed, and a shadow grew where his beard and moustache would be.
After the disgraceful Charlie Crump incident, she had sworn she’d never fall for a man again. Men were deceivers ever, as Shakespeare had said. One foot in sea and one on shore. She tended to agree with most things Shakespeare said, but especially this. Had she a moment of leisure time, she would have stitched it onto a cushion or a banner or something.
Yet the way Mr. Selwood’s eyes stayed on hers gave her a sensation she’d never experienced before. Unlike the sun, whose heat started on the outside and worked its way in, his gaze created a slow burn that started somewhere in her chest and slowly spread outwards.
He still did not approach Rose. But he stood behind Sarah as she did what little she could to ease Rose’s suffering. He did not seem at all comfortable with being in the sick room, but he did not leave. In less than a quarter hour, the door opened again and Mrs. Walker came in.
She had a pungent-smelling concoction that she dumped into the water basin along with a kettle full of steaming water. “Put this on her chest to help her lungs.” She gave Sarah a new cloth saturated with the herbal water.
“What is it?” She should pay attention to the treatment in case this ever happened again. Or she might be fired. Yet again she’d shown her incompetence at the tasks given her.
“Mint, yarrow, and a touch of comfrey,” said Mrs. Walker.
Sarah unbuttoned Rose’s nightdress to apply the cloth. Then she gasped. It was covered in a red rash. “Look at this,” she said.
Mrs. Walker leaned over her one shoulder, and Mr. Selwood peered over the other.
“Great merciful heavens,” said Mrs. Walker, her voice vacant of any hope.
“What? Is this very bad?” Sarah placed the damp cloth on Rose’s tiny chest. “She will be all right, won’t she Mr. Selwood?”
For some reason, it was him, even with his pale face and eyes like a frightened animal, whom she needed comfort from. He was the master of the house, and if he said Rose would be fine, Rose would be fine.
But he looked ready to faint.
“Mr. Selwood?” asked Mrs. Walker. “Are you well?” A look passed between them. “You need not stay here. Sarah and I can attend the child.”
His eyes went to Sarah’s, then back to Mrs. Walker. “I’m fine.”
“But if this is too hard—”
“I’m fine,” he repeated.
Chapter Six
Sarah kept the cloth on Rose’s chest, rewetting it every so often with Mrs. Walker’s remedy. After another half hour, the doctor arrived. Sarah gave him her post by the bedside.
He rubbed his hands along the rash on her chest and along her arms, where it also included white bumps. He pulled back her lips and looked in her mouth. Then he took her pulse.
“Was she sick before the rash? Runny nose or coughing?”
“No, sir. Well, she had a bit of a runny nose when she first arrived here, but it was due to being outside in the cold. I wiped it up and she’s been fine ever since. That was nigh on a week ago. You don’t think she took a chill, do you? She was fine this morning. She ate a good breakfast. Porridge, a boiled egg, toasted muffin with blackberry jelly. Milk! I almost forgot she drank a glass of fresh milk. From Mr. Walker’s special cows. It’s Rose’s favorite.” The butler kept his own cows in the stables and prided himself on feeding them the best hay, thus producing the best-tasting milk.
“I’m sure the doctor doesn’t need to know such details,” said Mrs. Walker. It wouldn’t be proper.
“On the contrary,” the doctor replied. “This is one of those times where the mo
re details the better.”
“Um, let’s see,” Sarah continued. “After breakfast we went outside to hear the birds singing. A wood pigeon and a robin. Rose stepped off the path and had a bit of trouble with some nettles, but I washed it right away. I got some too, just here on my leg.” She lifted her nightdress and showed where she’d been stung, but it was so faint it could not be seen in the dim light of the room. “Then, when she calmed down after the nettles, we had lunch. A warm stew from the cook, some cold ham—that’s Rose’s favorite—and a wedge of Cook’s gingerbread pudding. Doctor, it’s the best thing I ever tasted.”
Mr. Selwood let out a grunting sound behind her.
“Let’s go back to the nettles.” The doctor looked again at the rash on Rose’s body. “Where did she get stung?”
“Just here. On her arms.” She showed him. “And nowhere else. I checked carefully.”
The doctor opened Rose’s mouth again and looked inside. Then he stood. “She is having a reaction to the nettles. I’ve seen this once before.”
“A reaction?” said Mr. Selwood.
“Yes. Every once in a while, there is a person whose body rejects what a normal body can easily tolerate. When that happens, the consequences can be mild, or as in this case, life threatening.”
“Life threatening?” Sarah had only taken her eyes off the girl for a moment. Now she might have killed her.
“In this case,” the doctor continued, “the illness has affected far beyond the afflicted area. Her mouth and throat are swollen, making it difficult for her to breathe.”
“What do we do?” Sarah asked. Was Mrs. Walker’s concoction even helping at all?
“Under normal circumstances, I would prescribe a nettle tincture to reduce the swelling. But in this case, I feel that would be unwise. I’ll prepare an alternative medicine that may help. Keep applying the mint water to her chest to keep her lungs clear. And if you have a rosemary sachet, burn it like incense and let her inhale the smoke. Beyond that, we must wait and hope her humors will return to balance.”
“That’s it?” Sarah wanted a cure, not a wait and see.
“The substance causing the problem has swollen her blood, thus creating the imbalance. I could let some, but that procedure has its own risks in a child so small.”
“No,” said Mr. Selwood. “There will be no bloodletting.” His face had gone completely white, and he stood with his back pressed against the door, as if he’d rather be on the front lines fighting the French than here.
The doctor nodded. “Then we must wait. Either her blood will accept its new element or it will not. We cannot force it. It is spring, the season of blood, so that is something in our favor.” He opened his bag and removed a bottle of laudanum. “I’ll give her a small dose, enough to help her relax but not enough to depress her respiration. Do you have a syrup?”
“I will fetch some,” said Mrs. Walker.
But before she could take a single step, Mr. Selwood stumbled out through the door, calling over his shoulder, “I’ll go.”
Mrs. Walker directed her eyes at Sarah, but Sarah could not understand the weighty look. Mrs. Walker had been the housekeeper for ages. Long enough to see Mr. Selwood grow from babe to man, she’d told Sarah more than once.
It took a good ten minutes before the syrup arrived, but it wasn’t Mr. Selwood who delivered it, it was Mary. She handed the thickened sugar water to Mrs. Walker and quickly left the room.
The doctor added several drops of laudanum to the syrup and spooned a spoonful into Rose’s mouth. With great effort, she managed to swallow it.
“Give her another dose in four hours.” He packed his things into his worn leather bag. “Send someone if she gets worse.” Then he was gone.
#
Sarah sat with Rose throughout the night, applying the herbal water to her chest and dosing her with the laudanum tincture according to the doctor’s instructions. The air in the room was thick with smoking rosemary.
Sarah had been the so-called governess for less than a week, and already Rose had nearly died. She’d barely passed muster as a maid. What on earth made her think she could ever be a governess? Mr. Selwood had made a grave mistake advancing her to such a position.
Whoever heard of such a promotion anyway? Governesses weren’t picked from the pool of lower house staff. They were refined ladies with accomplishments. Women who’d also been raised by governesses and understood the proper care and raising of children. Sarah had been raised by a school. A group of teachers who cared a little, but not a lot, about her.
It was time to move on, before her past caught up with her. This was not the place for her, and she should never be given responsibility for a living creature again.
Throughout the night, Rose’s redness slowly faded and her breathing improved. By the following afternoon, Rose was at last resting peacefully. When she was sure Rose was out of danger, Sarah left the child sleeping in their large bed and went to find Mr. Selwood.
She knocked on his chamber door. There was no answer. Of course he wouldn’t be in there this late in the day. Her sense of time was off because she’d not slept at all. She went next to the library and rapped on the door.
“Enter,” came Mr. Selwood’s voice from inside.
She pushed the door open and marched across the floor to stand in front of his desk.
“Why me?” she demanded.
He stared at her; his eyebrows hitched up like someone was pulling his hair too tightly from behind.
Chapter Seven
“How is the child?” Mr. Selwood asked.
“She is better. Sleeping. Her swelling is almost completely gone, and the rash as well is—do not try to change the subject.” She stepped closer and planted her fists on his desk. “Why me?”
He stood up so that now instead of looking down at him, she had to raise her face to his.
“I want to know why you chose me for governess. I am not a governess, nor have I been trained to be such. Oh, it sounded lovely at first, and much better than scooping coal ash from the fireplaces or collecting your dirty laundry strewn about the room like the four winds had come dancing through your chambers. Heaven knows I need the extra wages. However, I cannot stay here. I need to get to America. I thought the extra wages would help, but not at the expense of a child’s life. Rose could have died. I almost killed her. I only looked away for a moment, and look what happened. I am not a governess, so why did you pick me for such a job? I cannot do it.”
He hadn’t blinked through her entire speech. He just watched her with his blue eyes and perfectly handsome face. His good looks might have affected her before, when he’d coerced her into this position, but not now. She stood her ground against all his glory, shoulders squared and chin high.
“Why do you need to get to America?” he asked. He had completely ignored her question. She’d not meant to say that. It had slipped out while she’d been enumerating her grievances.
“That’s not the point.” She leaned toward him. “I cannot do it. Something worse will befall her. I will give you one week to find a real governess. Then I’m leaving, even if I have to walk to America. Or at least to Liverpool, I suppose.”
He leaned forward, meeting her eyes. “Miss Woolsey, you are tired. Why not get some sleep? I’m sure you will feel better after. Let’s not be rash.”
“Rash?” How dare he accuse her of rashness when the child’s life was on the line. And wasn’t he the one who had promoted her faster than the blink of an eye? “She almost died, Mr. Selwood. Because of me. You can’t possibly know how that feels. I’m not the person for the job. Rose deserves better.”
He lowered his eyes and shuffled some papers on his cluttered desk, then spread them out again. “I can’t find a new governess in one week,” he said. “It would be impossible.”
“Two, then. But no more.” She’d meant to finish strong. Maybe pound the desk to prove her determination. Or stomp her foot like an angry schoolgirl. Instead she found her eyes had dri
fted to his mouth, which was much closer than she’d first realized. His lips were pressed together, but in a way that looked more sad than angry. He was beautiful again. Or still. His handsomeness tugged at her, trying to dissuade her. She would not be fooled.
At last he looked up. He stared at her for a long while. Then he straightened. “You look exhausted, Miss Woolsey. You’re not seeing things clearly. The child stepping into the nettles was an accident. None of us—not the doctor nor the most experienced governess in the country—could have predicted what would happen. On the contrary, you saved her life.”
And now he was trying to flatter her. “Nonsense. I didn’t do anything.”
“You were with her. You saw that something was wrong, and you got help. Another governess might not have checked on the child in the middle of the night. What would have happened then? You stayed with her and nursed her all night long.”
Perhaps there was a grain of truth in his words, though saving someone hardly made up for nearly killing them in the first place. Or perhaps he didn’t want to be bothered with finding a new governess and said whatever he thought would make her stay.
The simple fact that he’d chosen a governess from a housemaid had made her think he had little concern for Rose in the first place. Again, she was reminded of the way he tossed his clothing willy-nilly about the room. On the other hand, he had come right away when Sarah asked him to. He had sent for the doctor without a second thought. And he had stayed with them even though he was clearly discomfited by the sick room.
“I’ll need at least a month to find a governess,” he said.
That was a long time. It seemed like forever. True, they were not in a central location and the villages here were old and sparse. Perhaps it was reasonable.
“Fine. One month. And not a minute longer.” She took one last look at his beauty and hurried to the door. As she reached for the latch, he said something, but it was so soft she did not hear it.
To Love a Governess Page 20
