Page 41 of Whispers of Shadowbrook House

Pearl had often known tiredness, but this was something new.

She occasionally stepped away from Maxwell’s side, but she’d not rested deeply since he fell ill.

Her mind felt aswirl with colors and patterns she’d never seen anywhere but the backs of her eyelids.

Flashes of light seemed to stab outward from behind her eyes.

Floors tilted. Walls leaned. Edges melted into each other.

And all the time, Pearl avoided shutting her eyes for longer than a blink.

She had to.

Someone needed to watch Maxwell.

She saw what happened when she lost focus. His breathing became shallower, his coughs weaker. There was no fight left within him.

She’d witnessed the boy’s slow recoveries before, but this one was the most frightening. All signs forced her to consider the very real possibility of no recovery at all. She stood watch at his bedside, trying to ignore his lethargy, his rasping breath, his unwillingness to engage in conversation.

If Maxwell’s momentary returns to full consciousness increased, would he wake unchanged?

She tugged at his blanket, patted his shoulder, and ran her hands across his matted hair. Was he truly not waking, or was he pretending to still be asleep?

“Max, sit up. Do eat something. Cook has outdone herself.”

A small frown crossed the boy’s face, but she could not tell if he was reacting to her words or some internal pain.

Another tolling of the clock, and she spoke to him again, pressing him to get up if only for a few moments.

This time, he cracked his eyelids and looked at her. “Hurts too much.”

“Sitting up? I can help you.”

He rolled his head side to side. “Not sitting. Being awake.” He closed his eyes again. A thin cough turned his body in on itself, and she rubbed circles on his back until his breathing eased somewhat.

Standing beside the bed, his unresponsive hand clutched in hers, Pearl looked to the west wall.

Rain cascaded in sheets down Maxwell’s bedroom window, the drops silent as they flowed in a constant stream.

Nothing outside was visible beyond a vague smudge of greenish gray, a hint of the wintering forest behind waterfalls of rain.

The damp slipped along the inside of the walls as well, rivulets making small bulges in the horrible wallpaper Max wouldn’t let her change. He said the house needed the old paper.

A tap at the door spun Pearl around, Maxwell’s hand still hanging limp in her fingers. Mrs. Randle stood at the threshold, her hands clutching a piece of paper, her eyes darting from Maxwell’s still form to Pearl’s bedraggled state and back.

“A letter has arrived.” Although she spoke with her usual clipped diction, her voice was a deeper, heavier version of itself than Pearl was used to.

Pearl nodded, wondering why Mrs. Randle would want to distract her from her vigil for such a trifle. Then, through her exhaustion, a thought swam to the surface: The household awaited news.

“Has the doctor sent word? When can we expect him?”

Mrs. Randle made a motion with her head that appeared to be both a nod and a shake, and somehow gave the impression of neither. Pearl must be very tired indeed.

The housekeeper held out the paper. “Mr. Ravenscroft asked me to bring you this.”

Pearl lay Maxwell’s hand gently on his counterpane and walked to the housekeeper. The floor lurched traitorously beneath her feet, but she made it to the doorway and took the offered letter. Mrs. Randle turned and left.

It was addressed to Mr. Ravenscroft, and before she’d passed the second sentence, Pearl understood the most important things: The message was from Dr. Dunning, but he was not coming to look in on Max.

A wave of dizziness rolled over her, and Pearl clutched the letter and forced herself back across the room and into a chair.

Once seated at Maxwell’s side, she waited for the spirals in her eyes to clear before she focused once more on the letter.

My Dear Arthur,

I know my delay in reporting to Maxwell’s bedside has you concerned, but it’s for the best I’ve kept my distance.

Both my little ones have, for several days, shown signs of an infectious fever, and those awful indications proved true this morning.

Elijah and Emma are both suffering greatly, and I fear I would only carry contagion into your house should I come.

In another case, I would recommend immediate removal to the city for you to seek the assistance of any of the specialists I’ve previously named who would be able to look after Maxwell in a dedicated facility, but I cannot in good conscience suggest travel with the child at this point.

All roads will be dangerous in this weather, but none more so than the connecting paths between your home and Southampton.

This profusion of rain will have laid bare many of the river’s banks, and even the heartiest horses might slip in the deep mud.

Please, Arthur, send word to one or all of the physicians I’ve recommended to you. Perhaps one of them will attempt the trip to see your boy.

And, naturally, as my children pull through their bouts of this insidious illness, I’ll be at your side the moment further infection is not a danger.

Do take care of yourself, as well, Arthur. Your heart cannot bear many nights of worry like the one you described to me.

My prayers are with you and your household.

Dr. Denton Dunning

Pearl had to read the letter several times before she understood much beyond the doctor’s failure to arrive.

Specialists.

Dr. Dunning had recommended—more than once, and possibly many times—the very assistance Oliver suggested, the path to healing Pearl so vehemently rejected. And why did she refuse such help? Because Mr. Ravenscroft assured her no one was better suited to care for Maxwell than Dr. Dunning?

He surely believed it to be true, but the doctor himself seemed firmly set on assistance from the more specialized physicians in the city.

Was it already too late? She looked at the boy lying in bed, pallid and still. She could not be sure he would ever recover his strength.

Pearl set the letter in her lap and took both Maxwell’s hands. She began to speak to him in a whisper, slow and gentle words flowing from her as the rain flowed over the window glass.

“Max, my dearest Max. I know your body is tired. I know this sleep you’re in must feel renewing to you. You work so hard every day to stay well, and now you have a chance for rest.”

The chair touched the side of the bed, but Pearl was not near enough to the boy.

She stood and let the letter fall to the floor.

Climbing up into the huge bed, she sat at Maxwell’s side.

Although she was fearful of disturbing him, she needed to hold him closer.

She shifted herself and the boy so his head rested on her leg, and she placed both her hands lightly over his thin chest so she could feel every hint of his shallow breathing.

“Do you still feel such pain? Is there any relief in this sleep?”

She didn’t expect an answer, but even so, the lack of any response was disheartening.

“Perhaps you’ve rested long enough. If it is time to wake, I will be at your side. I will stay with you, as I’ve always promised, as long as you might have need of me.”

She stared at the beloved face, his wide forehead covered with a tumble of wispy curls.

His eyebrows, just darker than his hair, in two perfect arches over the wise eyes now closed in what she could only hope was restful sleep.

His cheeks, now sunken and sallow, would soon bloom in rosy health. They must. She had to believe it.

Another soft knock at the door pulled her attention away, and for a moment, she felt resentment that anyone would bother her and Maxwell, but then she heard Oliver’s voice.

“Pearl? May I come inside?”

She looked toward the door, the walls sliding sideways even as she remained sitting.

Oliver appeared hesitant, keeping himself half in the hallway. “Will it disturb either of you to have me here?”

Pearl managed a shake of her head, which made the room spin again. She raised her hand from Maxwell’s chest and placed it to her temple, as if her fingers could steady whatever was slipping inside her.

“Please, do come in. I’m glad to have you here. Take this chair.” She knew she should stand to welcome him, but she hadn’t the strength to move.

He looked from Max to Pearl with a question in his eyes. “Are you truly glad?”

Pearl sighed in her exhaustion. She attempted a weak smile. “How can you doubt it?”

“I won’t doubt any longer, but I need to hear you say the words. I’ve disappointed you in so many ways, I can’t help but worry you’d rather be finished with me.”

She swallowed down the urge to cry. “Oh, dear. No. I’m not finished with you at all.” She knew the words must sound foolish, but she hoped she could communicate both what she needed to say and what Oliver wished to hear. “I do hope you’ll stay with us. With me.”

Oliver stepped fully into the room, walking as close to her as he could. He’d changed his suit and possibly bathed. His hair was still damp, and he smelled of something that evoked clean, woody branches in the forest.

Pearl chose not to mention the lovely scent. In her exhausted state, any comment might sound very strange indeed.

Standing at the side of the bed, Oliver reached a hesitating hand to Maxwell’s head. The man’s large fingers grazed the boy’s hair in the gentlest touch. Pearl’s throat thickened at the sight of such a tender caress.

Before he took his seat, Oliver moved his hand from Maxwell’s head to Pearl’s face.

With the lightest movement of his fingers, he slipped a dangling lock of her hair behind her ear then leaned close and placed his lips softly, tenderly on her forehead.

It was the barest whisper of a kiss, and Pearl knew it would live in her memory as the most loving gesture she’d ever received.

Oliver lingered there, leaning toward her, for almost long enough. When he straightened and sat in the chair, the air around Pearl grew colder.

He shifted the seat, making it easy for Pearl to look at him without either of them needing to turn awkwardly. His shoe grazed something on the floor.

“What’s this?” He lifted the paper at his feet.

“A letter from the doctor. There is illness in his house, and he cannot come to call on Maxwell.” Pearl was surprised how much the explanation cost her, both in effort and in spirit. Dr. Dunning was her great hope, and now he could not come to save Max.

Scanning the letter, Oliver was once again on his feet. “I’ll go.”

“No, please.” The pleading in her voice surprised Pearl. She didn’t want him to leave them again.

He reached for her hands. “I can ride to Southampton and take a train to London. I’ll send messages to these doctors and bring one back with me. Surely someone will come.”

Pearl shook her head, but she was no longer saying no. She simply didn’t know how to communicate her gratitude to Oliver. His leaving to fetch a doctor was exactly what was needed. Why, then, did she wish it didn’t have to be him?

“We could send a footman.” Her voice shook, exposing her fatigue.

Oliver placed a finger beneath her chin. “I think you know the boys working here have never been farther than Riverwood. I am familiar with the roads. I have friends and connections in the city. I can discover a willing doctor more quickly than anyone else from the household would be able to do.”

Pearl knew the truth of his words, but her chin trembled as she answered. “I don’t want you to leave us.”

Before she knew he was moving, his arms were around her.

At his embrace, strength flowed into her.

He whispered into her hair. “I don’t want to leave you, not ever.

Nothing but Max’s well-being could take me from your side.

I’ll return as soon as I can, and when I’m back, we will see him well. Then we must discuss the future.”

He pulled away, and she saw his smile. Whatever picture of the future appeared in his mind, it pleased him.

Oliver bent close to Maxwell’s still form. He placed his hand against the boy’s cheek. “Hold on, little man. I’ll be back soon with someone who will help you. You look after Pearl for me while I’m gone.”

As Oliver turned to step away, Pearl clutched at his hand. She drew his fingers to her lips and placed a kiss on his knuckle. “Thank you, Oliver. As much as I wish it didn’t need to be this way, I know it’s best. Please, be safe. Come back to us.”

“I will always return to you.”

As Oliver swept from the room and pulled the door closed behind him, the house seemed to sigh as in a release.