Cain His Brother (13 page)

Hester could see that she was profoundly afraid, and she could not blame her. Only experience made it tolerable for her. She could well remember her first night in the wards in Scutari. She had felt so inadequate, so aware of each moan or rustle of movement. The minutes had dragged by as if daylight would never come. The next night had been even worse, because she had known in advance how long and desperate it would be. If she could have run away, she would have. Only pity for the men and shame for herself kept her there.

“There is nothing you can give her that will help, except the water from that jug.” Hester closed the door and indicated the small blue china jug on the side table. “The other is just clear water for the cloths to keep her as cool as you can. Wash her brow and hands and neck as often as you please. Every ten minutes, if it seems it may help. She has not vomited since the very beginning, but if she should seem distressed in that way, be prepared for it. There is a dish over there.” Again she pointed.

“Thank you,” Genevieve said huskily. She looked alarmed. “You're not going just yet, are you?”

“No,” Hester assured her. “And when I do, I will simply be in the next room to sleep for a few hours.” She indicated the dressing room door. “I can't remember when I last lay down, but it seems like the day before yesterday, although I don't suppose it can be.”

“I didn't know she had been ill so long!” Genevieve was aghast. “Why did Lord Ravensbrook not send for me before?”

“Oh no, she was only taken ill today. We have been down in Limehouse, with the typhoid outbreak there,” Hester replied, leading the way to the bed.

“I'm sorry, I'm not being very clear.”

Genevieve swallowed, her throat tight as if she would choke.

“Limehouse?”

“Yes. There is a very bad outbreak there at the moment. We have converted a disused warehouse into a temporary hospital.”

“Oh. That is very good of you. I believe it is not a pleasant area at all.

Not that I know it, of course,” she added hastily.

“No,” Hester agreed. She could not imagine how any relative of Lord Ravensbrook would know Limehouse, or anywhere else in the East End. “Before I go, we should change the bed linen. It will be much easier with two of us. Dingle will take the soiled sheets and attend to them.”

Together they changed the bed. Hester had said good night and was almost at the dressing room door when Genevieve's voice stopped her.

“Miss Latterly! What-what can you do for them in Limehouse? It isn't like this, is it? And won't there bewell-lots of them ill?”

“Yes. And no, it isn't like this.” Genevieve, with her charming face and well-cut gowns, could not have any conception of the makeshift fever hospital in Limehouse, the stench of it, the suffering, the stupid unnecessary dirt, the overflowing middens, the hunger and the hopelessness.

There was no point in trying to tell her, and no kindness. “We do what we can,” she said briefly. “It does help. Even someone there to try to keep you cool and clean and feed you a little gruel is better than nothing.”

“Yes. Of course.” She seemed to want to discuss the subject, but as if she regretted asking. “Good night.”

“Good night, Mrs. Stonefield.”

It was only when Hester was washing her face in the bowl of water which had been left for her that she suddenly remembered the name. Stonefield. It was the name of the man Monk was searching for in Limehouse! He had said he was a respectable man who had suddenly disappeared, for no apparent reason other than to visit his brother in the East End. And his wife feared him dead.

Surely Enid would have said something, if she had overheard Monk? But Enid had not been in the room, only Monk, Callandra and herself. She was too tired now to turn it over in her mind any further. All she wished was to wash the grit out of her eyes, feel the warm clean water on her skin, and then lie down and at last stop fighting exhaustion and allow it to overcome her.

_ She was wakened by a persistent rocking and a voice in her ear whispering her name over and over. She struggled to consciousness to find a gray light seeping into the room and Genevieve Stonefield's white and anxious face only a foot from hers.

“Yes?” the mumbled, fighting to clear her mind and free herself from the shreds of sleep. Surely it couldn't be morning already? It seemed she had just lain down.

“Miss Latterly! Aunt Enid seems-worse. I dare not leave calling you any longer. I know how tired you must be-but…”

Hester hauled herself up, reaching out blindly for her robe, then remembered she did not have one. Even her nightgown was Dingle's. Ignoring the cold-there was no fire in the dressing room, although there was a fireplaceshe went past Genevieve into the bedroom.

Enid was tossing and turning and crying out with pain in a soft, almost childlike whimpering, as if she were completely unaware of her surroundings. She seemed completely delirious. The perspiration stood out on her skin, even though the jug of water and a cloth were on the bedside table and the cloth was still cool and damp when Hester picked it up. A good deal of the sugar water was gone.

“What can we do?” Genevieve asked desperately from just behind her. There was little enough, but Hester heard the fear and the grief in her voice, and felt a quick pity for her. If she was indeed Monk's client, then she had enough tragedy to contend with, without this bereavement added to it.

“Just try to bring the fever down,” she replied. “Ring for some more water, at least two jugs of it, and cool, no more than hand heat at the most. And perhaps we'd better have clean cloths and towels as well.”

Genevieve went to obey, glad to have something specific to do. The relief was naked in her face.

When the water and towels came Hester put them on the table and pulled back the bedcovers, ready to begin. Enid's nightgown was soaked with perspiration and clung to her body.

“We'll change her into a shift, I think,” Hester suggested. “And change that lower sheet again. It's very rumpled.” She reached out her hand. “And damp.”

“I'll get the clean ones,” Genevieve said instantly, and before Hester could agree or disagree, she darted away and started opening the drawers of the linen press and searching.

She brought the shift, and then went back straightaway to find a sheet, leaving Hester holding Enid and trying alone to take off the soiled nightgown. Enid did what she could, but she was barely conscious, and it was only too apparent that every touch hurt her and every movement sent pain right through her bones and joints. Added to which, her vision was so distorted by fever she could not focus on anything and kept misjudging where her hands could grasp.

Hester was intent upon causing her as little additional distress as possible.

“Genevieve!” she called. “Please help me here. Never mind the sheet yet.”

Genevieve turned around from the drawers where she was standing. Her face was white, her hair straggling out of its pins. She looked desperately tired.

“Please?” Hester said again.

Genevieve hesitated. The silence hung between them as if she had not heard, or not understood what was said. Then as if with a great effort, she came over and stood at the far side of the bed, leaned forward, her head down, and took Enid's limp body in her arms.

“Thank you,” Hester acknowledged, and pulled the nightgown off and put it away. Quickly and as gently as she could, she bathed Enid all over with cool water. Genevieve stood back again, taking the used cloths from her and rinsing them out and wringing them, then passing them back. Over and over she washed her own hands, once or twice right up to the elbows.

“I'll get the clean sheet,” she offered as soon as the task was completed.

“Help me put the shift on her first, will you?” Hester asked.

Genevieve took a deep breath, gulping awkwardly, but she did as she was bid. She stretched out her arms, and Hester saw the muscles tense, and saw that her hands were shaking. It was only then that she realized how terrified Genevieve was of catching the disease herself. She was trembling and almost sick with the sheer fear of it.

Hester was not sure how she felt. A tangle of emotions rose in her. She could understand it easily! She had felt the same overwhelming horror in her own early experiences. Now time had taught her a more philosophical view. She had seen hundreds of cases, by far the majority of them dying of it, and yet she had never been touched by it herself. She had suffered the occasional chest fever or chill, but nothing worse, although they could certainly make one feel badly enough at the time.

“You are not likely to get it,” she said aloud. “I never have.”

The color burned hot up Genevieve's face.

“I-I'm ashamed to be so afraid,” she said haltingly. “It's not for myself-it's my children. There is no one to care for them if anything happened to me.”

“You are a widow?” Hester asked more gently. Perhaps in her place she would have felt the same. It was more than natural, it would be hard to understand any other feeling.

“I…” Genevieve took a deep breath. “I don't know. I know that sounds absurd, but I am not sure. My husband is missing… ' “I'm sorry.” Hester meant it profoundly. “That must be dreadful for you-the uncertainty and the loneliness.”

“Yes.” Genevieve took a deep breath and steadied herself. Very deliberately she slid the clean cotton shift over Enid's body, watching every movement in her attempt not to jolt or bump her.

“How long?” Hester asked as they took off the old sheet.

“Twelve days,” Genevieve replied. “I-I know this sounds as if I have given up all faith, but I believe he is dead, because I know where he went, and he would have been back long ago if he were able.”

Hester went over to the linen press and fetched the clean sheet. Together they put it on the bed, moving Enid gently as they did so.

“Where did he go?” Hester asked.

“To Limehouse, to see his brother,” Genevieve answered.

“Caleb Stone…” Hester said slowly. “I've heard of him.”

Genevieve's eyes widened. “Then you know I am not foolish in my fear.”

“No,” Hester agreed honestly. “From the little I have learned, he is a violent man. Are you sure that is where he went?”

“Yes.” There was no hesitation in Genevieve's voice. “He went quite often.

I know it seems hard to understand, when Caleb was so dreadful, he seems to have nothing to commend him at all, but you see they were twins. Their parents died when they were very young, and they grew up together.” She smoothed the blanket and tucked it in with quick, careful hands. “Lord Ravensbrook took them in, but he is only a distant cousin, and that was before he married Aunt Enid. They were cared for by servants. They had only each other to show any kind of affection to, any laughter-or tears. If they were ill, or afraid, they had no one else. Caleb was different then. Angus doesn't say a great deal, I think he finds it too hurtful.” Her face was pinched with imagination of pain, and the child she could not comfort within the man she loved. Now even the man was beyond her reach, and there was nothing she could do, except wait.

Hester longed to offer her some ease or hope, but there was none, and to invent it would be cruel. It would force her through the agony of realization, acceptance and grief twice, instead of once.

“You must be tired,” she said instead. “Have Dingle bring us some breakfast, then you should change your clothes and go to your room and sleep.”

They had barely finished eating when there was a brisk tap on the door, and before either of them could answer, it opened and Milo Ravensbrook came in.

He closed it behind him and stepped a couple of yards inside. He spared only a glance at Hester and Genevieve, staring past them to Enid, his face bleak. From his pallor and the red rims to his eyes, he could have lain awake most of the night.

“How is she?” he asked, looking at neither of them.

Genevieve said nothing.

“She is very ill,” Hester answered gently. “But the fact that she is still alive gives good cause for hope.”

He swung around to her, his face tight and hard.

“You don't mince with words, do you! I hope you are kinder with your patients than you are with their families!”

Hester had seen fear lead to anger too often to respond with anger herself.

“I told you the truth, my lord. Would you rather I had told you she was better, when she is not?”

“It is not what you say, ma'am, it is your manner in saying it,” he retorted. He would not retreat. He had criticized her, therefore she must be wrong. He would forgive her in his own time. “I will have the physician attend as soon as possible-within the hour. I shall be obliged if you will remain on duty until he has been. Thereafter, if he deems it acceptable, you may go back to your patients in Limehouse for a spell, providing he is not of the opinion you may return further infection here with you. I am sure you yourself would not wish to do that.”

She was about to argue, but he gave her no opportunity. He turned instead to Genevieve.

“I am delighted you saw fit to come, my dear. Not only are you of the greatest help to poor Enid, but it gives me the chance to offer you some measure of assistance in your present difficulty.” His face softened a fraction, a tenderness above the mouth, there, and then gone again. “And as family, we should be together in this anxiety, and support each other, should it come to be a bereavement.” His expression flickered, unreadily. “I sincerely hope it will not. We may yet discover there has been some form of accidentretrievable. Caleb is violent-indeed, he has lost almost every redeeming feature of his youth-but I fmd it hard to believe he would willfully injure Angus.”

“He hates him,” Genevieve said, her voice thick with an inner exhaustion far deeper than the one night nursing Enid, the sleeplessness or the fear of disease. “You don't know how much!”

“Nor do you, my dear,” he said, without making any move towards her. “All you have heard is Angus's fear speaking, and his very natural grief at the situation, and the degradation he has seen in his brother's nature. I refuse to believe it is irredeemable.”

“Thank you,” she whispered. For an instant her face was bright with gratitude, and vulnerable as a child's with sudden new hope.