Page 37 of Whispers of Shadowbrook House

With Oliver next to her, the work of the night felt easier: keeping her vigil at Maxwell’s bedside, watching his small, weak chest rise and fall in almost immeasurable increments, listening for the slightest change in his breathing.

Each wheeze, each weak bark of coughing fell on her ears like an alarm.

Maxwell slept fitfully, moans and gasps startling him into frightened wakefulness before exhaustion covered him again.

Pearl had no idea what she said to Oliver as he’d held her against his chest, but the release of the words helped her breathe easier.

The tolling of the magnificent clock on the landing above reminded her once again to rinse the cloth she used to wipe the boy’s brow. How many hours had passed in that darkness?

Oliver stood from his chair two or three times through the night to place another small log on the fire, keeping the room warm but not too hot.

He hadn’t spoken, and as much as Pearl loved the sound of his voice, she was grateful for the quiet.

She needed to keep all her attention focused on Maxwell.

Hour after hour, she heard only the snap of logs in the fire, the tolling of the clock, and the quiet echoes of the keening vio-lin music she’d heard when she searched the storage room for candles.

As if the house saw her pain and wept for her.

As if it knew she could not allow herself the indulgence of tears.

By an almost imperceptible increment, the room began to lighten.

The painting of a ship in harbor came into focus first, then the darkest damp patch of wallpaper against the west wall.

If the weak light was any indication, they were in for a stormy day.

She heard the maids’ gentle noises as they moved along the hallway.

“Good morning,” Oliver whispered.

She turned to him and smiled, not sure she could command her voice to make a sound.

“I can imagine you’ve long been wanting me gone, but I can’t bring myself to leave. I hope it’s all right I stay a bit longer.”

Pearl nodded and stretched her hands toward the fire. “He might not wake for a long time yet.”

“But when he does, you’ll be here.”

Pearl looked at Oliver. “I will always be here.”

He nodded. “Here by his side. But not always here in this place.” His glance around the room suggested he found it less than ideal.

She couldn’t exactly argue with that, but she’d made the room as comfortable as possible for the boy. “We can’t move him, so this is where he’ll stay. By extension, I’ll stay as well.”

“You say we can’t move him, but the journey to the city isn’t bad at all.

I’ve recently taken it myself, remember?

As has Madame Genevieve. And of course, Max won’t travel the same way I did.

If a train is too much noise and rush, a few days of slow travel on decent roads and we’ll have him in the hands of the finest doctors anywhere. ”

Oliver was a very good man, but he couldn’t possibly understand Max’s situation. He didn’t live here. He was only a visitor. “Maxwell already has a doctor. And he’ll be here later today.”

She knew he thought Dr. Dunning’s lifelong service in the surrounding small villages made him appear something of a rustic, and maybe he was, but Pearl had grown to trust the man almost as much as Mr. Ravenscroft did.

“I know Dr. Dunning is a friend of my uncle’s, and there’s comfort in that. But he can’t know everything the specialists have learned, even if he’s in contact with doctors who have treated people like Max.”

“There are no people like Max.” Her words rushed out of her with heat and passion despite her exhaustion. She took a breath, knowing she would have to make an effort to restrain herself from snapping at Oliver. Her temper would only stretch thinner as the days of Maxwell’s illness continued.

Oliver touched her arm. “I know. He’s unique.

And he’s special to me too. But there are others who suffer with similar symptoms, and there are doctors who have treated many, many patients with similar illnesses.

Doctors who have worked for years to discover which treatments are most successful under which sets of circumstances. ”

Pearl looked at the boy in the bed, motionless and pale. “I can’t risk moving him, even if Mr. Ravenscroft would allow it. And he won’t, Oliver. He refuses to take Max away. Maybe it’s only a matter of time before Dr. Dunning’s experience catches up with those city doctors.”

“It doesn’t seem we have time for a hope like that. Maxwell’s situation feels too urgent to wait on the local village doctor to suddenly become a highly qualified specialist.”

His words filled her with a desperate wish to both speed up time and slow it down. She fisted her hands at her sides. “Why is it so impossible for things to turn around? Fate can be kind. It has been in the past.” Not very often, and not lately. But she could remember times when it was true.

Oliver’s expression softened. “I hear what you’re saying about removing Max from the house. But we really ought to get him out of this room. He’s so vibrant and happy when he’s exploring. Let’s get him into new corners of the old place.”

She shook her head. “Not when he’s this low. He might stay in his bed for weeks or longer.”

“Not a couch in a warm parlor? Not at a window with a river view?”

“All I can tell you is he demands to stay here. He says this is where he must be. It was his mother’s room. It’s held generations of Ravenscrofts. He says the room needs him, and I don’t wish to argue with him about it.”

Oliver gave Pearl a troubled look, but she was too tired to attempt to interpret it.

He took her by the hand. “I don’t want to argue.

It doesn’t help Maxwell. Let’s agree to see how the visit with Dr. Dunning goes, and if he feels confident his treatments will help, we’ll hold off on seeking another opinion for a few weeks.

Meanwhile, we can take him to other spaces in the house as he rests. Does that sound fair?”

Frustrated that he felt he had a right to an opinion on Maxwell’s medical care, Pearl wavered between wanting to tell him to mind his own concerns and wanting to fall into his arms. He was so sure he was right, but what could he know?

His confidence in these unknown city specialists must come from somewhere.

But he wanted to bargain with her, to negotiate, which suggested he was willing to give her ideas some credit.

The thought made her smile.

His answering smile made hers grow larger.

He lifted one hand and, with the lightest touch, drew a finger along the side of her mouth. “Ah, this is very good to see. Everything will turn out all right in the end. You’ll see. Just relax.”

His hands ran up and down the length of her sleeves, and she wished she could release her tension simply because he asked her to.

“I’m not sure I can do that. I need to stay attentive.

I need to be responsive. Just in case.” She couldn’t say aloud just in case what .

“I really believe things will get better. But they’re not better yet.

I’m not saying I expect anything to suddenly become perfect.

I just want one good thing to happen today, and if I look away, I might miss it, Oliver. ”

Before she had finished saying his name, he brought his lips to hers. First, a feathery light touch, a memory of a dream. Then, when she lifted herself up on her toes to get closer to him, he wrapped his arms around her, kissing her fully and deeply.

When he pulled gently away to look at her face, he was smiling. “How’s that for one good thing?”

Pearl heard a giggle from the doorway and pulled herself away from Oliver’s embrace. Violet held a covered tray in both hands, so there was no way for the girl to hide her huge grin.

“I’ve brought breakfast for you all.”

Pearl looked to the window. A shaggy tree whipped against the speckled glass.

“It hardly seems morning,” Oliver said.

Violet, still grinning, set the tray on a table holding a puzzle box and several books.

“Mrs. Randle hoped Maxwell would be able to eat something this morning, so she’s included all his favorites.”

The softest white scones, still steaming from the oven, were surrounded by jars of bright fruit preserves.

The cream pot was as full as Pearl had ever seen it.

An apple, sliced into circles the way Maxwell liked best since he first grew enough teeth to eat them, lay piled in the center of the tray, and a cup of hot chocolate, full to the brim, awaited the boy’s waking.

Pearl patted Violet’s shoulder. “You’ve all been very busy this morning. Thank you.”

“Anything for little Maxwell,” she said, smiling.

Pearl knew the difference in age between Max and Violet was smaller than the girl thought, but Violet’s body was strong and robust. Maxwell’s thin arms and sloped shoulders made him look small enough that he must have appeared very young to Violet’s eyes.

“Did Mrs. Randle mention when she expects the doctor to arrive?” Pearl asked, avoiding Oliver’s eye.

Violet shook her head. “I heard her say no news had come from the doctor in the night. Maybe there’s word now that it’s daylight.”

The day had still not lightened much, but Pearl nodded in shared hope. “Will you let me know what you learn about the doctor’s plan?”

After Violet agreed and left the room, Oliver came to stand close to Pearl’s side again.

He spoke in a hushed tone. “He’s sleeping so peacefully.

Do you think Max would mind if we shared some of his breakfast?

” He gestured to the tray brimming with more food than the three of them could comfortably finish.

“I didn’t think I’d feel hungry, but I’ll admit, the smell of those scones has my stomach singing.”

“Why don’t you sit here?” Oliver pulled the chair she’d spent the night in close to the fire. “I’ll prepare you a plate.”