Chapter 16

Olivia woke and rubbed her eyes. She’d not meant to fall asleep on the settee, but with so many children ill, she’d not been sleeping as one normally would.

Oh, if only they suffered from epidemic cold, then all would be well. Instead, they had chincough, a frightening diagnosis. The last epidemic of chincough had been in 1812, and so many children had died. Olivia did not know the number, but even one would have been too many and she feared for the children in Westbrook House. That is why she and Xavier had returned to the parlor to review the texts for all references on the treatment of chincough.

She’d been so tired and the words blurred before her eyes and had only meant to close them for but a moment, but apparently had slept through the night.

Olivia was also certain that she’d been sitting up when she closed her eyes but when she woke, she was lying on the settee, a pillow beneath her head and a blanket covering her. Her shoes were on the floor. She sat up and pushed the blanket away, careful to make certain that her skirts covered her legs modestly as she returned to sitting.

“Did Fern or Corliss do this?” She motioned to the blanket.

“One of the women provided a blanket when I requested it,” Xavier answered.

“You should have awakened me.”

So much valuable time wasted.

He glanced up to her over the rim of a paper, his light brown eyes were red rimmed from lack of sleep or too much reading, or both.

“You need your rest. The next few weeks will be exhausting.” He rose and went to the bellpull. “At least two of the women have been in the kitchen all night and will bring you tea. They are worried about you.”

Olivia pushed a few ringlets of hair from her face. She must look a fright.

Except, none of that matters. Now that it was daylight, the first thing that she needed to do was send for Dr. Valentine and hoped that he had returned to Town. Certainly, he’d had more experience with this awful disease than either she or Xavier.

“I apologize,” she said to Xavier. “I should not have slept through the night.”

“You are rested, that is all that matters,” he dismissed. “Further, there is nothing in these texts to be of assistance.”

There must be something in the writings that he hadn’t discovered yet and as soon as she was more alert, she would continue reading herself. Just because several children had died last time did not mean any would at Westbrook House. Olivia would not allow it. “I am going to send for Dr. Valentine.”

“I have already asked one of the women if they would do so once it was morning, when it was safe to do so.”

The sleep fog from her brain had not totally lifted, and she glanced around to the open texts stacked on tables and the floor.

“Did you get any sleep last evening?” She would feel horrible if he continued to work through the night while she slumbered.

“I could not. There is too much to read and understand.” He pushed his fingers through his hair. “I studied this in medical school, but it meant little to me at the time.”

“As that was not going to be your area of concentration, I understand why,” she murmured.

“It is no excuse.” Xavier picked up a text. “Nobody can agree on how best to treat chincough,” he blurted out in frustration. “I have read Treatise on the History Nature, and Treatment of Chincough, by John Watt, which was published as recent as 1813, with no clear answer on how to treat the children within this house.”

He started pacing. “Watt correctly noted that the breathing and the lungs were what was affected, though I could never understand why other physicians believed there was another cause.” He shook his head and still paced. “He made no mention of phlegm in the lungs, but mucus in the stomach, and that it was one of the main issues with whooping cough. Though how mucus in the stomach could affect the lungs and cause coughing is not understood. At least not by me, nor was it explained.”

His hair was tousled, suitcoat discarded on the back of a chair, waistcoat on another, and if Olivia was not mistaken, his cravat was a wrinkled mess beneath the table, next to his boots. Further, the stubble on his chin from last night had thickened along his jaw and his shirtsleeves were rolled up to his elbows.

“I have read Observations on the Asthma and on the Whooping Cough by John Miller.” He picked up the text and waved it. “Domestic Medicine by William Buchan.” He picked up the next and did the same, setting it back down before he picked up another. “A Treatise on the Kincough. With an Appendix, Containing an Account of Hemlock, and Its Preparation, by William Butter; Febrifugum Magnum: Or, Common Water the Best Cure for Fevers, and Probably for the Plague. With a Discourse of Curing the Chin-Cough by Water, by John Hancocke.”

Olivia arched a brow and though she should not find humor in his frustration, she could not help herself because she’d never seen Dr. Sinclair flummoxed before.

“Treatise on the Nonaturals, in Which the Great Influence They Have on Human Bodies Is Set Forth, and Mechanically Accounted For; to Which Is Subjoin’d a Short Essay on the Chin Cough, with a New Method of Treating That Obstinate Distemper, by John Burton; Essay on the Diseases Most Fatal to Infants, by George Armstrong.”

With each title, Dr. Sinclair gestured to the book or document.

“The Queen-like Closet, or Rich Cabinet: Stored with All Manner of Rare Receipts for Preserving, Candying and Cookery, by Hannah Woolley.”

“I need that one.” Olivia held out her hand. “If the children are going to be given something bitter tasting, these recipes will help make the taste a bit sweeter.”

Dr. Sinclair nodded and handed the book to her.

“Here is another.” Dr. Sinclair handed her A Collection of above Three Hundred Receipts in Cookery, Physick and Surgery for the Use of All Good Wives, Tender Mothers, and Careful Nurses, by Mary Kettilby.

“Did you not read Culpeper’s Complete Herbal?” she asked.

“I reviewed for herbs used specifically for cough, and hyssop may be the most effective in expectorating the phlegm.”

“All the more reason for a sweet receipt since hyssop can be bitter.”

“Each author has their separate opinion for the treating of or remedy for chincough.” With a sigh, he dropped back down onto the settee and reached for the teapot to pour another cup of tea, but when no liquid came out, he frowned.

“A fresh pot should be delivered shortly, though you should really rest,” she offered gently.

“I cannot rest,” he nearly yelled. “These children are ill. Do you know what the mortality rate is?”

She knew well because she’d read the same texts as he.

Fern entered a moment later with a fresh pot of tea and cups then took the one from last night away. Olivia quickly poured Xavier a cup as he was in more dire need of it than she.

“What surprised me the most, I suppose, is the use of hemlock.”

Olivia recalled reading such. “Yes, but used properly, in small doses mixed with other remedies, I am to understand that it is not deadly but could be considered beneficial.”

“One also must wonder if the increased percentage from death is because more actually die from the treatment than the disease.”

“Such questions will plague you with no answers if you do not set them aside,” Olivia advised.

“I do not care where the recommendation comes from, I’m not going to further risk the health of children by adding even a small dose of hemlock to their tea.”

She would listen to his advice and determine if it was sound before she agreed to any treatment. Though, she had to agree that hemlock was never a good choice.

“I will not allow any child at Westbrook House to succumb to this disease.”

Olivia arched an eyebrow. “I had not known you carried such power.” Though she was not surprised that he’d declare such since Dr. Sinclair was arrogant and stubborn. But in this instance, if it helped save the lives of the children and hasten their recovery, she did not mind.

He held the cup of tea near his lap and looked down. “I had never witnessed anyone die before,” he nearly whispered.

“Before Eve?” Olivia clarified.

Sinclair nodded. “I hated that useless feeling. I will not allow it to happen again.”

“People die,” she reminded him.

“Yes, I understand that, but they should not do so until they are ancient, having lived a full and wonderful life, leaving pleasant memories for those they left behind,” he insisted. “They should not die young, especially when it could be prevented.” He straightened. “Therefore, I will not rest until each child in Westbrook House has recovered.”

It was a declaration that he took seriously, and Xavier was going to treat the children night and day. He was a physician. He had been educated at the finest medical school, and he was going to use it to benefit the children of Westbrook House.

For the next sennight, they tried tea and poultices and plasters. Fresh air and darkened rooms. Meals of hearty soups, rich with beef and vegetables along with fresh bread. Day after day they cared for the children, and all through the night.

Xavier took to sleeping on the settee in the parlor so that he could be summoned if needed. The children were always worse at night, though he didn’t understand why. He had suggested instead of laying on their backs that they rest in an inclined position and had left long enough to purchase enough pillows so that each child could have at least two.

Blankets were added, but when the children became too warm, they were removed.

Each morning, Xavier returned to his set of rooms, washed, changed his clothing only to return to Westbrook House where he again cared for the children. However, long before he ever thought to find his rest on the settee, his suitcoat was discarded, along with his cravat and waistcoat. They were simply too confining and uncomfortable while trying to treat children.

Dr. Valentine eventually returned to London and called on Westbrook House immediately. Xavier and Olivia explained the treatments that they had employed for the children, and much to their disappointment, Valentine had nothing further to offer.

After a sennight, Xavier reviewed the books once again. The children suffered, although none neared death, but the disease was not done running its course.

“Was it a fortnight ago that the children first showed signs of a mild cough, low fever and the sniffles?” he asked Olivia.

“Truthfully, it was longer than that. They are children and I have seen too often that a few sniffles or a couple of coughs don’t turn into an illness, so we don’t make them take to their bed right away.”

He nodded. “From what I’ve read, the first stage, the cough, sniffles and low fever could last a sennight or fortnight. Once the cough with the identifying whoop begins, it could last several weeks, and we have just completed one sennight.”

Olivia pressed her fingers against her temples and massaged what he assumed was tension. They were both exhausted and Xavier drew her into his arms and rubbed his hands up and down her back in comfort. She embraced him as well, her head against his chest. The two of them were in this battle together.

Even though there was no cure that he could offer, Xavier no longer felt useless because he was helping. He was needed and his knowledge was helping keep children alive. This experience alone convinced him that he would continue his medical career as a surgeon. There were enough doctors in society to treat gout and nervous conditions but not nearly enough surgeons to care for the orphans and the poor.

This was also not the first time that he and Olivia had comforted the other in their exhaustion. Xavier had already admired Olivia, but a deep caring had developed and he wanted to take care of her as well, not that she would allow him to do so.

The passion and desire he’d experienced a sennight ago had not died and simmered below the surface. But now was not the time for such. They were both tired and the children were their priority, and Xavier was content to simply hold her as she held him.

“It pains me to hear them cough so. It’s dry and harsh, and must be quite painful,” she whispered against his chest.

“We can only hope that the tea is soothing,” Xavier offered.

“They will still be ill even after the coughing with the whoop has ended. A cough will remain.” Olivia pulled away.

“It is likely the children will be ill for another month.”

“So long as they survive,” Olivia said.

“They will,” Xavier insisted. He may have failed in other areas of his profession, but he would not fail these children or Olivia.

Xavier may have left Westbrook House each day, but from what he understood, Olivia had not. He did come to learn that she kept a chamber in the house and Lady Victoria would bring fresh clothing for her because Olivia wouldn’t leave until all the children had recovered.

She was a remarkable woman and to think he had dismissed her when they had first met six months ago.

He had been such a bloody, arrogant fool.