Page 29 of The Quiet Wife (Stately Scandals #2)

Speke Hall – Liverpool

The portrait was progressing well. Her sessions in the parlour with Jemie were, without a shadow of a doubt, the best part of the day over the following weeks, save for the time she spent with the children. It was perfect because no-one disturbed them. Not even Frederick.

She was on her way to the parlour for her sitting and looking forward to picking up the threads of their previous conversation with Jemie, when she spotted Nanny Jenks hurrying down the stairs.

“Mrs Leyland!” she called.

Frances paused at the note of concern in her voice. “Is something wrong?”

Nanny took a breath. “I… I’m afraid I think there is.”

“What seems to be the problem my dear?” Frances sighed calmly, as though the kindly tones of informality might stave off the news that Nanny Jenks was about to impart.

“I… I think the girls may have scarlet fever.”

The words thrummed through her head. Scarlet fever. Scarlet fever. Scarlet fever .

There had been terrible losses of children to scarlet fever in Liverpool in recent months.

She’d read it in the paper. She recalled with terrifying clarity the outcry and sadness when the Galsworthy family had lost their only son to the disease.

She gripped her hands together and swallowed anxiously.

“What makes you think that?”

Nanny Jenks put her hands to her mouth for a second, eyes watering, then straightened.

“A rash, Mrs Leyland. I saw it this morning on Miss Elinor’s hand, but just thought nothing of it, really.

All three girls have been feeling a little out of sorts recently and they all felt unwell again this morning, so I suggested a nap.

I thought they might have a chill so wanted them to rest up.

Then I went to check on them and…” she swallowed.

“Miss Fannie wanted to look after Miss Elinor, but I said she mustn’t. I came straight to find you.”

“Quite right. I will go to them now. Call for the doctor immediately.”

She snatched up her skirts and hurried to the children’s rooms.

She opened the door to Elinor’s room quietly to find her youngest laid in bed. She looked small and awfully fragile. Frances could see the dreaded small red rash and spots shadowing her face.

“Darling,” she spoke softly and went to sit on the side of the bed.

She gathered her hands, which also had the red rash on them.

“Whatever has happened. Do you feel terribly ill?” She smoothed her daughter’s forehead.

It was too warm, and she was running a temperature.

She made herself smile, forcing away the fear.

“I feel horrid,” Elinor groaned. “We all feel horrid.” Her eyes filled with frightened tears. “Mama, Is it scarlet fever? Are we all going to die?”

Frances’ chest ached as she forced a reassuring smile.

She tsked softly. “Of course not, darling. Do you think I would let that happen to you?” She kissed Elinor’s fingers.

“We shall nurse you all back to health. You can be sure of that. I’m told that the doctors now have medicines that will make you feel much more the thing and chase away the spots in the blink of an eye.

Besides, I shall watch over all of you myself to make sure you come to no harm. ”

Elinor didn’t look convinced, fear gripping her. “Victoria Huddleston had this, and she died.”

Frances’ stomach dropped at the memory of the charming child who had passed a few weeks ago.

“I know, and it was awfully sad, but Victoria had other things wrong with her too, not just the scarlet fever. She had a lot of ailments and wasn’t terribly strong.

Not like all of you. Why, you’re so hale and hearty, you will shake this off in a trice.

” It was a lie, but one she’d gladly tell to banish the look of pure terror in her daughter’s eyes.

“Oh, I didn’t know that.” She seemed somewhat satisfied.

“I want you to close your eyes now and rest a little whilst I speak to Fannie and Florence.” She smoothed a hand over Elinor’s head. “Rest is the very best thing.”

“I don’t much like resting. Jemie was going to sketch me later today, and I was looking forward to it,” she grumbled.

“I’m sure Jemie will sketch you as soon as you feel better.”

Elinor closed her eyes. It hurt her to see her usually boisterous, chatty, nay argumentative daughter so quiet and ill. She lay there, eyes closed, face unusually pale against the red of her hair, with those damned red spots covering her face.

She left Elinor, closed the door quietly, squeezing her eyes tightly shut to stop the tears before going to check on Fannie and Florence.

She rushed on to Fannie, who, at seventeen, was painfully aware of what could happen and wasn’t as easily placated as Elinor.

“What are we going to do, mama?” she whispered anxiously, looking as small and vulnerable as her sister.

“You are going to get all better, my love. I shall see to it. I’ve told Elinor, I’m telling you, and I shall tell Florence the same thing. Do you really think I would let anything happen to you?”

“No, but mama…”

“No buts. The doctor is on his way, and you shall have the very best, the most modern medicines that are available. You will recover beautifully,” she assured her.

“My face. My skin,” Fannie said in a small, frightened voice that cracked on the words breaking Frances’ heart.

“Just don’t scratch, darling, and it will all go away, and your beautiful skin will be fine.” She wanted to scoop up her eldest daughter and weep.

“Will they cut off all my hair?” Tears glistened in Fannie’s eyes.

At this, she did scoop her child into her arms and held her close. “Over my dead body,” she said so fiercely, Fannie choked out a laugh before a spluttering cough overtook her.

“Do you need anything? Can I get you a drink?”

Fannie shook her head. “Can I share a room with the others? It’s awfully lonely in here.”

“What a capital idea,” Frances said and smoothed her daughter’s hair. “Let me see what I can do.”

She hurried into Florence and made the same promises. Florence, the most fanciful of her children, wasn’t easily persuaded that all would be well just by the sheer force of a mother’s love but agreed it would be best if the sisters were together.

Frances kissed her and fled back down the stairs. She rushed to the parlour, where Jemie was working on a sketch of Elinor.

“There you are. I thought you were lost… what’s wrong?” He put down the pencils and came over to her. He hesitated, but then took her hands in his.

She squeezed his fingers tightly. A moment passed before she could bring herself to say the words. “Oh Jemie,” she choked, chest heaving with the weight of it all. “Oh Jemie, I think the girls have scarlet fever.”

“Christ no,” he murmured.

“I must tell Frederick. I’ve called for the doctor, and I think I’d like to put them all in one room. He mustn’t cut off their hair.” She was babbling, she knew it, but the words were just tumbling out as everything seemed to overwhelm her in that moment.

“That’s a good idea. That way we can nurse them together,” he agreed. “And definitely no hair cutting!”

She choked out a laugh that was more like a sob. He looked as though he might say more but held his tongue. “What do we need to do?”

She wanted to throw herself into his arms. He’d said ‘we’. He was asking what he could do and his kindness and thoughtfulness when she most needed it almost undid her.

“I don’t think there is anything you can do but thank you. Thank you for asking. I can’t tell you how much that means to me. I’d understand if you and your mama felt you needed to leave. You don’t what to risk catching this.”

Jemie squeezed her hands, then lifted one and dropped a swift but tender kiss on her knuckles.

“Nonsense. I’ll get my mother. She’s nursed scarlet fever before.

She will have ideas about how best to proceed.

I was laid low by rheumatic fever regularly as a boy and she nursed me back from the brink more than once. ”

“Really? Shouldn’t you… well, leave? I couldn’t bear it if you and your mother succumbed to it.”

He swallowed, squeezed her hands, then looked into her eyes. “Do you seriously think I would leave you at a time like this?”

She felt herself sway and he let go of her hands, took hold of her shoulders, still looking into her eyes.

“We will not let anything happen to them, Frances,” he promised her.

She managed a watery smile when he said ‘we’, again. “That’s just what I’ve told them.”

“And it’s true.” He urged her. “Isn’t it?”

She looked up and nodded, but her chin wobbled dreadfully. Jemie groaned, shook his head, and pulled her into his arms. She buried her face in his neck and clung to him.

He held her so tightly; she could almost believe all would be well with him by her side.

***

Frances hurried to find her husband whilst Jemie went to seek his mother. He was in his study. She knocked and walked straight in.

Frederick glanced up at her and frowned at the intrusion. “Is something wrong?”

She nodded, hands trembling. “I’m afraid so. We think the girls have scarlet fever.”

She waited for his response. For him to get up, come around the desk, and demand to see them. To take her in his arms and tell her everything would be fine which was really what she needed to hear.

He frowned, put down his pen, laying it carefully before him. “We? Who is ‘we’?”

“What?… Nanny and myself. They have all the signs.”

“Has the doctor seen them? Has he told you that is what it is?”

Frances stared at him, unable to fully understand what he was meaning because he seemed to be rather detached about it all.

“Not yet. I’ve sent for him. Oh, Frederick, I’m so worried.

” She moved forward until she reached the desk.

She really wanted him to hold her, to feel that sense of reassurance. To see that he cared.

He raised an eyebrow and sat back in his chair, moving away from her. “I can see that.”