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Chapter Twenty-Five
Amelia passed the night at her mother’s side, and Marianne had spent it in the main room. In the morning, Sophie entered the bedroom with tea and slices of bread and fed the dwindling fire. Amelia woke at the sound of the door, and sleepily glanced at her mother to check again for the rhythm of her chest. She placed a hand on her forehead. It was still warm.
“Thank you, Sophie. I will take the tray. I will need my mother to drink the tea. Could you bring me some water as well?”
Sophie nodded and exited. Marianne came in to the room, her hair slightly disheveled, and her eyes heavy with sleep. “How is our patient doing?” She went to touch the hand of her friend’s mother.
Amelia sighed. “Still feverish, but I will help her to drink this morning.” Marianne sat on the other side of the bed. “Amelia, I will help you to get your mother to drink, but then I will watch her while you bathe and take your own tea and breakfast.”
Amelia smiled weakly. First, Marianne and Amelia helped Henrietta to sit up, and they spooned in tea and the medicine and Henrietta slowly swallowed but kept her eyes closed. Sophie entered with a cup of water. Marianne took it, and said, “Sophie would you please boil some water? Amelia will be taking a bath.”
“Yes, Miss.”
While Amelia was gathering cloth and warm water for her bath in the kitchen, Marianne heard a knock at the door. She called to Sophie, but Sophie did not hear. “She must be by the well.” Marianne stood, and caught a glance of herself. She looked tired and a little ragged, but with a few adjustments of her hair pins, she was presentable enough.
She opened the door to find William Fraser on the other side, flowers in his hand.
“Och, Lady Browne. I had thought Amelia would open the door.” He smiled.
Marianne crossed her arms. “No, that is apparently not the case. Have the things been brought Mr. Fraser?”
William coughed and handed her the flowers. “These are from Lady Kinnaird, and they are for the patient. She would like tae visit soon as well. And, yes, I have arrived with your belongings along with Margrete.” He motioned behind him at the open carriage, and Margrete got out of it to walk towards them.
“I shall go and help the maid inside, Miss.”
“Yes, thank you.” Margrete walked around Marianne to enter the hallway.
Marianne turned to watch her go, and then turned her gaze back to William, the flowers clutched in her hand.
“May I bring in the trunk? Or will that be a problem for you?” He asked with a wry smile on his lips.
Marianne colored slightly, and then said with a bit of overdone drama, “Yes, please. That would be most kind. Thank you.”
William was happy to elicit some sort of positive response from the lass. He removed the trunk from the back of the carriage while Marianne stood at the doorway, watching his strong arms hold the wooden box and carry it to the door. He walked through and placed it as instructed by Marianne.
He stood, brushing his hands together before rubbing his beard. “May I ask how the patient is?”
“She has influenza, I’m afraid, but the doctor has been, and we’re hopeful for a full recovery.
William frowned, and placed his hands above him to rest on the rafters. “I am sorry tae hear of her ailments. Ye must inform us if there is anything tae be done. I know Lady Kinnaird would want tae help.”
Marianne moved away from his close form, trying to find her words, “I will tell Amelia of your kindness. Lady Fiona’s kindness.”
He chuckled despite the situation and moved a little bit closer. “Just hers, then? I see.”
There was a silence for a few moments until Amelia entered from the kitchen area, holding an iron bucket. “William!” She rushed over to hug him once again, and asked, “What are you doing here?”
William glanced at Marianne’s flushed face, and replied, “I was instructed tae bring Marianne’s trunk and lady’s maid. And I and Fiona wanted tae hear about yer mother. Is all well?”
She leaned up to kiss William on the cheek, explaining, “Aye, for now. She has not gotten worse, to be fair, but she has not yet improved. I am holding out hope.”
She turned to Marianne. “Are you, all right? Where did you get these flowers?”
Marianne responded quietly, “These are from William, Mr. Fraser.” she corrected herself.
“How wonderful!” Amelia took them from Marianne and breathed in their scent. “Mother will love these. Thank you very much.”
There was a pause until William said, “Well, I shall be off. Plenty tae do now. I am staying at me own house now until the mess is sorted.”
