Chapter 5

Jude stared out of the window at the gathering dusk. Twilight, that time between light and darkness. At this moment he longed for darkness, and to close out the tumult of emotions coursing through his body. He needed to be out of this place, this confinement in the house, away from this madness, his elegant townhouse turned into a nursery with the threat of sickness hanging over them. The quarantine period must soon end.

A faint knocking at the door made him look up, it was Mrs. Driscoll, and he knew from the look on her face that something was very wrong.

"Mrs. Driscoll?"

"There's no easy way of putting this, Your Grace. It's Miss Banks. She returned to her room early with a headache, after not feeling hungry at supper. She told me she felt a little melancholy and wanted an early night.

"I decided to check on her, as we are in quarantine, and she had a headache," Mrs. Driscoll continued. "She is delirious with a high temperature. It's come on so rapidly. She seems very sick. I fear the worst. We need Dr. Carstairs."

"Where is Sasha?" Jude asked. "We must make sure the child is apart from Miss Banks."

"I've alerted Nurse, who is with her now. The little girl won't leave her. Nurse tried to move the truckle bed into her chamber, but Sasha screamed and cried and refused to leave Miss Banks' side."

Shock hit him in an instant. The anger he had felt for Miss Banks drained away. Empty. His whole body felt numb as the creeping cold fear worked through his body. They had all somehow felt the threat of illness had passed. It had been five days and no sign of illness. Tomorrow, they had planned to leave quarantine. Now, the reality of illness and death returned.

He remembered the body of Sasha's mother in the street. Death had come quickly. The thought of losing Miss Banks, Laetitia, maybe even before the end of the day was devastating.

Somehow, he managed to stand. He needed to see Lettie. He needed to ensure she was cared for.

"Has anyone sent for Dr. Carstairs?"

She nodded. "He's on his way. Nurse insisted we fetch him, and she is making Miss Banks comfortable." Mrs. Driscoll's voice faltered, growing quieter until almost silent. "I think she may have the morbid sore throat, Your Grace. Miss Banks' pallor is deathly white, and her breathing is very shallow."

Jude felt his nails digging into the palm of his hands as he tried to steady himself.

Lettie, hang in there.

He paced the corridor outside Miss Banks' room. Outside in the garden, the pear trees looked ready to join the cherry trees and burst into blossom. The sky was bright blue, alert with fluffy white clouds floating past.

He imagined a day in the future when he might be in the garden with Miss Banks, walking under the trees, the perfume of the blossom permeating the air.

The door of the sick room opened, and Nurse Walters came out, grim-faced.

"The poor lamb is exhausted," she chided Jude. "She may be a governess, but I don't think she is used to this much work, and she has had no rest looking after that poor wee mite."

He entered the room and stood by the bed. Miss Banks was calm and motionless, but he could see the sweat beading on her forehead. Her eyes moved to meet his gaze and he saw the intense fear. She mouthed a word, and he leaned closer to hear what she said.

"Sasha?" she said, her voice barely a whisper.

"Don't worry, Sasha is fine," he reassured her. "All will be well. I promise." He was making promises he had no power to keep.

"I've given her a sedative, a fine herbal potion I brought from Clairville. She needs rest more than anything." Nurse Walters told him. "Sasha is awake but refuses to leave. Mrs. Driscoll will take her downstairs when the doctor arrives, but she can't stay in here."

Overhearing Nurse Walters, the child ran across to Miss Banks and tried to hold onto her. "I won't go. I won't leave Miss Banks," she cried, and Jude could see she was close to hysteria.

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Jude was pleased Sasha was talking again, and expressing her care and concern for Miss Banks.

They could not let her stay in the sick room, but it was impossible to move her when she was this upset. He knew it was the grief for her mother which was overwhelming the child.

Nurse Walters began to sing songs Jude recognized from his own days in the nursery, and she smiled at him when he joined in to sing with her.

He heard the rasp of Miss Banks' breathing as she struggled for each breath. Jude had no thought for his own health. He needed to be with her, however inappropriate that was deemed to be. Miss Banks gave every impression of being a strong young woman. He refused to panic about the possibility he might lose her, she might die.

Sasha sat down in a corner of the room, the singing appearing to have soothed and calmed her. She was holding a doll, cuddling it close to her. Jude watched as she put it down on the floor and covered it with a blanket, tucking it around the doll, caring for it.

Nurse Walters sat down by Miss Banks' bedside, holding a cold compress to her forehead. "There now, Miss Banks, you rest and get better." Nurse Walters' voice was soothing.

"Jude. You shouldn't be in here with Miss Banks." Only Nurse could get away with calling him Jude. She had been his nanny and nurse since the day he was born. To Nurse, he would always be her "little" Lord Jude."

"There are very few of us here, Nurse. You, Mrs. Driscoll, and Rosie can't do everything," Jude responded, determined to stay.

"Indeed, you're right. I've told Mrs. Driscoll to take Sasha to the parlor as soon as she can and keep the child there until we know what we're facing. The trouble is, as you've seen, she refuses to leave Miss Banks. What a to-do."

Jude moved over to Sasha and crouched down next to her. He waited for her to look at him and, when she did, he said her name gently and quietly. "Sasha."

The child kept looking at him, big eyes, shining like saucers out of her tiny face.

"Sasha, I need you to listen to me. Miss Banks is very poorly, but the doctor is coming to make her well."

She nodded and whispered, "Mama."

"I know this is very scary, but it isn't like Mama. Miss Banks is strong, and we are all here to look after her. I have known Nurse for many years. I've never known anyone not to get better with Nurse looking after them."

Sasha nodded and Nurse Walters looked in her direction. "That's right. We're going to make sure that Miss Banks gets well again. Do you want to help?"

Sasha nodded.

"Well, little one, this is what you must do," said Jude. "You need to go with Mrs. Driscoll and help her cook lots of broth for Miss Banks. She is too ill to eat proper food and needs to keep her strength up. And, when she feels better, she will need some pictures of flowers to cheer her up. She is going to be too ill to go into the garden to look at all the beautiful blossom outside. You and Mrs. Driscoll can make her some pictures to put in her room and make her feel happy. That is as important as anything that the doctor will do."

The little girl looked thoughtful and held her doll close. Then she looked up at Jude again and nodded.

"Good girl," he said, his voice gentle. "Now can you go downstairs with Rosie and find Mrs. Driscoll, and start to do those jobs to help Miss Banks get better?"

She nodded solemnly and stood, picking up her doll. Her gaze moved to Miss Banks, lying pale in the bed. Jude hoped the child did not catch the illness, but she had been ill before her mother and he thought it likely the child was now immune to this disease, but it wasn't possible to be sure.

Nurse Walters, listening attentively, nodded with admiration. After Rosie had come and helped Sasha gather her belongings to go downstairs, she came up to Jude.

"Well done, Your Grace. There is no way that child could stay in this sick room. Now all we need is Dr. Carstairs and hope our patient starts to pull through this fever."

Jude looked at Miss Banks, seeing her eyes flickering open and her voice murmuring incoherently. "She looks worse… much worse," he said to Nurse Walters. "Should she be this pale?"

"It's the nature of the illness," said Nurse Walters. "She is paler, her pulse is faster, and she has a fever. We need to hope that the fever will break soon. Once the fever breaks then we know she is likely to be out of danger. We need the room to be warm with hot bricks on her feet. That should help the fever."

Jude was still standing there when Dr. Carstairs arrived, medical bag in hand, a serious expression on his face.

He hasn't even seen Miss Banks and he looks as though he is at a deathbed already, thought Jude despondently.

Dr. Carstairs nodded to Jude and Nurse Walters before asking Jude to leave the room. There was no way he would dare to ask Nurse Walters to leave. She glared at him with the experience of many years of sick children and inadequate doctors. Jude's heart was heavy as he closed the door behind him. This doctor was austere but competent. He had been a naval surgeon in the war and knew the realities of dealing with infection at sea.

Jude waited outside while Dr. Carstairs did his examination. When the door finally opened, he took a breath before entering the room.

"How is she?" he asked nervously. "Will she survive?"

Dr. Carstairs looked at him with pity in his eyes. "It's hard to say, Your Grace. She has symptoms of the putrid sore throat, but there is only mild redness in her throat. That's positive news. However, she has become delirious, and the fever is raging throughout her body."

"But will she live?" Jude repeated.

"If the fever does not abate…" Dr. Carstairs' words faded as he shook his head. "If Nurse Walters can help her work through the fever, then there is every chance, but it is a close-run thing." He looked at Nurse Walters, who nodded.

Dr. Carstairs continued, "There is, however, a possibility, and I had not planned on mentioning this, but it may help you to know, there is a possibility that this is not the same illness which killed the child's mother."

Jude stared, trying to take in the words. "Different? How so?"

"Nurse Walters agrees that the symptoms of this fever are different to the putrid sore throat. We can see no signs of white lesions in her throat and, this is crucial, there is no sign of a rash, which signifies the blood poison spreading. In the putrid throat, the rash would have appeared," the doctor explained to Jude.

Dr. Carstairs continued, "She was exhausted no doubt. The signs are of scarlet fever or scarlatina, a disease which you will most probably all have had when in nursery. It is strange for an adult to fall sick with scarlatina, but not impossible. Until we see a rash, then let us hope she has escaped the putrid throat."

Dr. Carstairs paused and placed a hand on Jude's arm. "It is by no means certain, but there is hope and not only for Miss Banks, but the rest of you, if you remain in quarantine."

"We will form a rotation, Your Grace, and take it in turns to make sure she is cared for every minute. If we can help the fever break, then she should come through and live." Nurse Walters' voice was business-like and reassuring as she determined to take charge of the situation. "We will keep a steady level of perspiration with a hot brick on her feet and a cold compress on her forehead."

Nurse Walters was already setting about her duties as the doctor picked up his bag and hat and quietly left the room.

"Jude, there is every chance she will come through. I've seen many a worse case. Now, I need to prepare some medicine if you could sit with her awhile."

As Nurse Walters left the room, he felt the weight of exhaustion pressing on his shoulders. The frail body on the bed next to him had slipped into unconsciousness. Would she ever awake from this deep sleep?

Here they were, a small group of people, trapped together, waiting for sickness to strike. He heard a voice downstairs and knew Sasha was safe with Mrs. Driscoll.

You need to get another compress, not sit feeling sorry for yourself, he chided himself. This won't help Miss Banks recover.

Here he was, a peer of the realm, pressing a cold compress on a stranger's forehead. Yet where else would he want to be?

Miss Banks gasped and turned toward him, her eyes flickering open, but then closing again. The compress applied, he reached for the invalid cup next to him and put his arm behind her to lift her body and dribble a little of the herbal tisane into the corner of her mouth.

Her body felt heavy against his arm, but he held her gently, angling the cup against her lips. Her lips moving, she took a little of the liquid, showing no signs of awareness of him, or the room around her.

He didn't realize he had spoken out loud until he heard his own words. "Stay strong. Don't leave."

Her lips began to move, and he listened closely to her ramblings.

"No, I won't marry that man."

"Save that little girl."

"Where are the toys? My head is spinning, spinning like a top."

She seemed agitated, writhing almost as if in a spasm, and he reached for her hand to give comfort, gently willing her to fight and come through this crisis.

"Your Grace."

He stopped, startled to hear her call for him.

"Don't leave me… what's that scent? Sandalwood and spice."

He watched as her eyes flickered open again and she gave him a weak smile. His heart stopped; time stopped in that moment. There was only the two of them in the room with a close connection forged between them. Her blue eyes meeting his and the impression of falling, falling into deep pools of cool water. His body temperature felt hot then cooled as he felt the cooling balm of her gaze, like a cocoon.

Jude took her hands in his, almost close enough to hear her heart beating. He realized suddenly that the pulse in her wrist was a little stronger. Could it be? Was he imagining it?

No, her pulse was stronger. Was It possible she had turned a corner?

Feeling her forehead, perspiration now pouring off her, her pulse felt stronger, and her breathing had become deeper and more regular.

He felt a tear in his eye and wiped it away.

The door opened, and there was Nurse Walters, bustling in, unaware of the scene of intimate, close connection in front of her eyes.

"Look, look," Jude cried. "I think she may be through the worst."

Nurse Walters came to examine her patient, taking Miss Banks' hand and nodding in agreement. "Her heart is beating more strongly, which is a definite improvement. Let's hope this is scarlatina and not the putrid throat."

She busied herself mixing a powder into warm water from the little tea kettle on the stove.

"There's white willow bark in a draught, you must help her drink it over the next hour. I'm going to rub some herbal ointment on her body."

Jude spent the next three hours sitting beside Miss Banks, holding her hand, and talking to her about his life, his family, and his estate at Clairville Hall.

He talked of his life with his sisters. How he missed the older two, now living their own lives with their families. Alice, the sister nearest his age, and how he knew she and Miss Banks could be friends, His two youngest sisters, the twins, who had transformed the house with their antics.

Jude then talked about his horse Hermes and his dog Tess. Also, about his mama, who wanted him to marry, and how he vexed her by not complying. He had told her the story of his life.

He had faltered as he told of Papa's sudden death when he was just fourteen, making him the Duke of Clairville, and how he missed his father every day.

Miss Banks' pulse continued to strengthen, and eventually Nurse Walters, who had taken a rest, returned to take his place.

Nurse Walters looked at Miss Banks, feeling her pulse and her forehead before looking at Jude.

"The signs are that Dr. Carstairs was right, and Miss Banks has scarlatina, which, though serious, is not the putrid throat. Her pulse is stronger and her breathing more regular. Most importantly, her temperature has come down. I believe she is through that first crisis and the immediate danger has passed. We are not through the woods and Miss Banks is seriously ill, but she has broken through the fever and her temperature has dropped" she said, smiling.

Jude knew now, with certainty, that all he needed was for this woman, who had entered his life, to live, so he could continue getting to know her better. He realized that without her smile, her gentle insistence on how things should be done, he was lost. He remembered the connection he had felt in the library, and how he felt as though destiny had brought them together.

He put the thoughts to one side as he responded to Nurse Walters. "That's good news. We must concentrate on keeping her strong to keep fighting this illness. I believe it's that broth you keep feeding her which has made all the difference."

"There's nothing better than my broth, it's helped you and your sisters through many an illness," responded Nurse. "Now Miss Banks temperature has dropped I'd like to move her to the forest bedchamber. She won't need continual nursing and I'll sleep in the little adjoining side room. It also means that there is a chaperone when you are with her. I need your help with nursing, while we are all in quarantine, but we have to think of her reputation."

"Very well Nurse. That makes perfect sense." he agreed.

"We're such a tiny group, with only me, you, and Rosie to take turns in caring for Miss Banks. It's imperative that Sasha has consistency, so I want Mrs. Driscoll to stay away from the sickroom and take charge of the little girl," she continued, smoothing the blankets covering her patient.

"I'll go and get some rest and return later," he added, knowing Miss Banks could not be in better hands than those of Nurse Walters.

***

He looked out of the window into the walled garden. He loved the town garden where the warmth of the sun reflected on the earth. When he had become Duke of Clairville, he had begun to make changes in the gardens, which had surprised their head gardener and his mother.

In the midst of grief, he had asked for a gazebo and sitting places to be constructed in all their gardens, to enable the family to spend time outdoors and enjoy the grounds.

The landscaped park at Clairville was a wonderful sight from the windows of the Hall, but for him, gardening was all about being out there, close to the trees, and flowers, feeling the warmth of the soil in his hands as the seasons changed. This was his favorite time of year, when all the signs of spring were bursting through in the garden.

He promised himself that, if Miss Banks pulled through, one day they would walk in a garden, in full blossom, to somewhere they could sit and view the world together. He fervently hoped she was able to find the path which led to freedom from illness.. and life.