Alexander went to him and placed his hand on the boy’s forehead. “She’s right. Let’s get you to bed, young man.”
I expected him to protest, but instead he went limp against his father, who lifted him in his arms.
“Lizzie, will you make him some tea with honey?” I asked.
“Yes, yes. I’ll bring it up,” Lizzie said.
As I followed Alexander up the stairs, I heard Mrs. Wu speaking in rapid Chinese.
Chapter 24
Alexander
I gazed at Quinn across a candlelit table. We’d started the meal with a few of Mrs. Wu’s sausage-stuffed dumplings and were now enjoying roast chicken. I’d had Jasper bring up a good bottle of wine from the cellar, which he’d decanted and poured before disappearing to check on Theo. He’d been sound asleep when I came down for dinner.
Quinn ate heartily and drank often from her glass. For such a sliver of a thing, the woman had quite an appetite.
She caught me staring at her. “What?”
“I enjoy your enthusiasm for a meal.”
She set down her fork. “It’s embarrassing how much I love Lizzie’s food. And those dumplings were the best thing I’ve ever eaten. Don’t tell Lizzie.”
“She would never forgive you,” I said.
“I’m feeling rather guilty about leaving her with all of the kids tonight, plus two more with the Wus,” she said. “And we took away her day off.”
“She offered,” I said. “Knowing the Wus would need her.” I’d promised to make it up to her next week with an extra day.
“Christmas is coming soon. We’ll kill one of the turkeys to eat for supper.”
“I hate thinking of the poor dears as supper,” Quinn said.
“They’re delicious dears. And anyway, that’s what they’re born for.”
“They live only to be slaughtered. How sad.”
I laughed. “It’s best to know one’s purpose.”
“I suppose.” She dipped her chin before tucking back into her piece of chicken.
When we’d finished, Jasper swept in to take our main course plates and replace them with a dessert of pound cake.
“What are your traditions at Christmas?” she asked after a scoop of cake.
“We attend church on Christmas Eve,” I said. “And then wake up in the morning to open gifts. In the afternoon Harley and Poppy join us for a meal. It’s the one day of the year I’ve convinced Jasper to allow the staff and the family to eat together. You?”
Tears moistened her eyes as she glanced toward the windows. “We also go to church and then home to a meal. Nothing like the feasts Lizzie makes, I can assure you. But a special day, nonetheless.”
“You miss them?” I asked, knowing the answer.
“Yes. Every day. Christmas will be strange without them.”
“I understand,” I said. Someday, when I’d gotten her to agree to be my wife, I would bring them here. All in good time, I told myself.
Chapter 25
Quinn
I woke with a start. Something was wrong. I bolted upright and swung my legs to the floor, the space between my ears thudding with my heartbeat. The sound of a child’s cry pierced the silence. Theo. I must have heard it in my sleep.
The room was mostly dark, without even an ember in the fireplace to help. However, a sliver of moonshine made it possible to see objects in the room. I reached with my fingers over to the bedside table to find the matchbox and pulled one out, then struck it against the rough side of the table. It lit, thankfully, and I used it on the lantern.
The clock read just after midnight. I ran out to the hallway, my nightgown swirling about my legs. Toes numb from the cold floors, I rushed to the boys’ room. Theo thrashed around on his bed, moaning. A quick glance toward Flynn told me that he was sound asleep.
I went to the side of Theo’s bed. His eyes sprang open, wide and scared. Damp curls clung to his forehead. Sweat soaked the collar of his pajamas.
I placed my cool hand on his forehead. His fever was much hotter than it had been that afternoon.
“Miss Quinn. I don’t feel well.”
“I know, sweet prince.” I ran out of the room and down the hallway to Alexander’s room, then pounded on the door. “It’s Theo. He’s worse.”
Seconds later, Alexander appeared, wearing pajamas.
“He’s burning up,” I said.
We rushed to Theo’s bed. His ragged breathing and glazed eyes turned me cold with fear. “Alexander,” I said, more of a croak than words. “What do we do?”
Alexander picked him up, his face pinched with worry. “Let’s take him into the library.” We rushed down the stairs. I almost slipped in my socks but grabbed the railing just in time. In the library, Alexander placed the little boy on the settee.
“Let’s give him more aspirin,” Alexander said. “There’s some in my desk.”
I rushed over to the table where the liquor was kept and poured a glass of water. Alexander dumped a teaspoon into the glass, and I stirred to dissolve the powder. He lifted the boy against his chest and pressed the glass to his mouth. “Please, Theo, swallow. This will make you better.”
Theo’s eyes remained closed, but he opened his mouth like a baby bird and drank.
“We need cold compresses,” I said. “I’ll get them from the kitchen.”
As I ran out of the library and down the stairs, it occurred to me for the first time that I was wearing my dressing gown. My toes were completely numb and my breasts, for what they were, completely bare under the thin flannel fabric. This thing was nearly as old as I, too short, with a frayed hem.
Lizzie came out from the door that led to the bedrooms at the same time I entered in the kitchen. She was dressed in a thick robe and wool socks. “Is it Theo?” she asked.
“Yes. He’s taken a turn for the worse. How did you know?”
“I heard your footsteps on the stairs and figured.” Lizzie pulled two white cloths from a stack by the sink and ran them under cold water. “Take these up. I’ll make tea.”
I flew up the stairs. By the time I returned, Alexander had Theo out of his soaked pajamas and covered with just a light blanket. Theo shook so violently that his teeth chattered.
“He’s always been prone to terrible chest colds,” Alexander said. “He was small when he was born.”
I knelt on the floor next to them, my embarrassment over my attire long since forgotten, and placed the cold compress on his forehead. Theo groaned and shuddered.
I continued with the cold compresses against his forehead and chest, hoping it would cool him. The room was so cold, we could see our breath.
“How did you know he was sick?” Alexander asked.
“I heard him cry out.” I pushed aside his damp hair, which stuck to his flaming pink cheeks.
Lizzie came up with a sweater that she insisted I put on. She also brought a pot of regular tea. “Thank you, Lizzie,” I said, and squeezed her hand.
“Whatever I can do to help,” she said. “Call for me and I’ll come.”
For an hour, Alexander and I alternated between the cold compresses and medicinal tea. The aspirin seemed to have no effect, so we gave him a little more. Another hour passed with no improvement.
“Should we send for the doctor?” I asked as I dabbed a clean, dry cloth over his sweaty skin.
“He won’t do anything,” Alexander said. “Other than look at him and declare him feverish. The man’s a quack.”
I didn’t argue. Most doctors were. Selling their wares and miracle cures to the hopeful and desperate. I’d spent hard-earned money just last year for my mother’s breathing problems. None of the powders did any good.
I was growing desperate when Lizzie returned. This time she brought a strange-smelling tea with her. “It’s from Mrs. Wu,” Lizzie said. “She says it’s an ancient Chinese cure for fevers.”
“What is it?” I asked.
“No idea,” Lizzie said. “Some kind of herb mix that she added to hot water and
stirred.”
“Should we try it?” I asked Alexander.
“Nothing else is working. Some herbs can’t hurt him.” Alexander helped to get Theo upright. He took the cup from Lizzie’s outstretched hand and lifted it to Theo’s mouth. “Take a few sips. It’ll soothe your throat.”
“Here, let me try,” I said, taking the cup.
Theo opened his mouth, obedient even while incoherent with a fever. I tilted the cup just enough that he was able to take a small amount. After the third sip, Theo shook his head and collapsed against his father’s arms. Alexander guided him gently back onto the pillow.
“She said he has to drink all of it,” Lizzie said. “Use this.” She handed me a spoon.
“You sit him up and I’ll feed it to him,” I said.
Spoonful by spoonful, I fed him the strange-smelling concoction. Finally, the cup was empty, and Theo collapsed back onto the pillow.
After a few minutes, he calmed somewhat and stopped thrashing about. He curled on his side, moaning softly in his sleep. We continued with the cold compresses. I winced over the way they made him shiver.
Finally, around three in the morning, his fever broke. We wrapped him in warm blankets and took him upstairs to his bed. Lizzie had changed his sheets while we were downstairs. Once Alexander had him settled, he sat on the edge of the bed and caressed the boy’s cheek. I sat on the other side of him, watching the man and his son, both of whom had captured my heart the very first moment I met them. If I’d only known what was waiting for me here. All this love.
Theo opened his eyes. “Hi, Papa.” He turned to me. “Miss Quinn? Why are you both here?”
“You had a high fever,” Alexander said. “But you’re better now.”
“I kind of remember some bad soup,” Theo said. “Did you feed me bad soup?”
“A special tea made by Mrs. Wu,” I said. “I think it cured you.”
Theo closed his eyes and turned onto his side. “I don’t want to miss school.”
“Go to sleep, little man,” Alexander said as his shoulders sagged with obvious exhaustion.
“Yes, Papa.”
We gave Theo one more look and added another blanket over his quilt.
We fetched our lanterns and walked into the hallway. He rubbed one hand over the stubble on his face as we made our way down the hallway to my room. The shadow of whiskers made him seem older and dangerous. At my door, we halted. He turned me toward him and splayed his fingers in my loose hair. “I’ve never seen you with your hair down.”
“I’d forgotten it was down,” I said. “This was a tumultuous night.”
He gave me a tired smile. “I couldn’t have made it through without you.”
“You could. You did before I came.”
“I can’t remember before you.” He kissed my cheek, then lightly on the mouth.
I smiled up at him, my chest all achy and soft. “Get some sleep.” When I turned toward the door, I slid slightly in my stocking feet.
Alexander wrapped an arm around my waist. His eyes locked with mine. For a second, we froze, our lanterns hung at our sides with his one arm around my waist. “You must be careful not to fall.” His voice sounded low and throaty and made the spot between my legs quiver.
“It’s too late,” I said. “I’ve already fallen.”
He trailed a finger down the length of my neck and slipped under the collar of my nightdress. Under the soft fabric of my gown, my nipples hardened and ached for his touch. “Do you know how badly I want you in my bed?”
“I won’t know what to do,” I whispered. “I’m afraid I’ll disappoint you. I know nothing.”
“I’ll teach you.” He pulled me closer. The hard muscles of his chest and thighs pressed into me. The sweater Lizzie had given me seemed suddenly hot and cloying. “The things I’ll do to you will make you forget your fear.” He kissed my neck, then nibbled my ear. I shuddered and let out a soft moan.
I might burst into flames, I thought. Right here in the hallway.
He kissed my mouth, penetrating with his tongue. His stubble scuffed my sensitive skin, but I didn’t care. I arched my back and clung to him with my free arm. When he lifted his mouth from mine, I saw the question in his eyes. Would I let him inside my room?
It took every ounce of strength to say what I said next. “Alexander, not yet. Not until we’re married.”
“I know, my love. I know you’re right.” He placed one finger over my mouth. “You’re all I think about. Do you know that? I’m consumed with your beauty and goodness. Every night before I fall asleep, I imagine you next to me when I wake up in the morning. Tell me you’ll marry me soon before I die of thirst.”
I held his scruffy chin in my hand and pecked his lips with mine. “I’ll quench your thirst, Alexander Barnes. Soon.”
He dropped his arm from my waist, and I escaped with my virginity barely intact. Once inside, I stood against the hard, cold wood as my heart thudded in my chest. I held my breath and listened for footsteps. Finally, I heard him walk away from the door toward his room. Only then could I breathe.
Chapter 26
Alexander
When I reached my room, I undressed and crawled into bed. The clock said it was almost 4:00 a.m. I closed my eyes and thanked God for sparing my boy, then, despite how I wished Quinn were next to me, fell into a deep sleep.
I overslept the next morning. Still weary, I sat up and rubbed my eyes. It was after ten. Was Theo all right? What kind of father was I? Sleeping when he might have taken another turn for the worse. I threw on my dressing gown and rushed down the hall to the boys’ room. Theo was asleep in his bed. I sat on the edge and gazed down at him. His cheeks were no longer bright red but a cheery pink instead. I brushed hair from his forehead.
His eyes fluttered open. “Hello, Papa. May I have a drink of water?”
“Yes, yes.” I went to the dresser and poured him a glass from the pitcher. There was a note propped up against the mirror addressed to me in Miss Cooper’s handwriting. I grabbed it as well as the glass of water.
Theo had risen slightly, his eyes fixed on the glass.
“Can you hold it?” I asked.
“Yes, Papa. I’m feeling much better.” Theo took the glass and sipped tentatively at first, then downed the entire glass.
“Do you remember much from last night?” I asked.
He wrinkled his forehead, obviously searching his memory but coming up with nothing. “The last thing I remember is riding home from skating and feeling very cold.”
“You gave me quite a scare.”
“I’m sorry, Papa.”
This boy and his earnest expressions, I thought. “Nothing to be sorry for. Sickness can get all of us at one time or another.”
“Not you, Papa. You’re strong.” With a tired sigh, he settled back against the pillow. Despite his improvement, a spasm of fear jerked through me. He’d been so ill. I had no idea how close we’d come to losing him. “Or Flynn. My sisters. Everyone’s strong but me.”
“You’re quite strong,” I said. “When you were first born, the midwife told me you might not live. But you fought. Sometimes it’s the smallest amongst us who have the most grit.”
His nose crinkled as he turned onto his side. “Mother told me I was weak.”
I drew back in surprise. “When did she tell you that?”
“Do you remember that time I had a bloody nose from wrestling with Flynn?” he asked.
I vaguely recalled the incident. If memory served, Ida had been about six months pregnant with Fiona.
“She said Flynn was the strong one. That he’d taken all the strength and that I’ll die young.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. How could she have said such a thing to a wee boy? “Theo, this is quite simply not true.”
His round eyes watched me, world-weary and resigned. “How do you know?”
“Because I’m your father. I know everything about you.” I smoothed the bedcovers over his thin legs. “There
are all different kinds of strengths.”
“Like what?”
“Flynn and your little sisters are made of solid stock, no question. Your and Josephine’s strengths are more of the kind that come from in here.” I tapped my chest. “You have strong hearts that make you kind and compassionate and so very generous. Did you know that it’s harder to be kind than physically strong?”
“Are you sure?”
“Physical strength is good, too, of course. But as you grow older and become less agile and strong, what remains untouched is what’s inside you. Your kind of strength never goes away. In fact, a kind heart continues to grow larger the longer you live. Kindness takes practice, after all.”
“It does?”
“Absolutely.” I placed my hand on his shoulder. “The way you see the suffering in others and try to help is a great gift to the world. When you become a man, you’ll be a force of good.”
“Why did Mother tell me I was weak? Could she not see what you see?”
I hesitated before answering. Since Ida’s death, I’d struggled to keep my bitterness toward her inside. She was the children’s mother. They deserved to remember the good parts of her. “Theo, your mother was not well. She couldn’t see anything clearly.”
“Like a blind person?”
“No, not like that. Even if a person’s eyes don’t work properly doesn’t mean they can’t see with their other senses. Your mother’s illness made it so her brain saw everything the wrong way. She could only see darkness. No light at all, do you see?”
“Miss Quinn said it wasn’t my fault that Mother went into the snow.”
“Did you think it was your fault?” I stared at him, incredulous and horrified. Had he thought this all along?
“Yes,” he whispered. “I thought it was because I was…” He trailed off. His eyelashes fluttered as he blinked several times.
“Because of what?”
“Being here. Being the weakest.” Tears leaked from his eyes.
I reached into my robe for a handkerchief and used it to soak the dampness from his perfect cheek. “Darling boy. None of your mother’s troubles were because of you.”
The School Mistress (Emerson Pass Book 1) Page 22
