Fair Is the Rose (31 page)

Hold Rose the women did, though tears streamed down her neck and down theirs as well. Jamie could do little but hold the candles aloft and pray. Weak as she was, Rose did not have the strength to resist them while the doctor made his thorough examination, but she tried valiantly, wriggling in her seat until they convinced her she must not move.

The doctor used both hands to open her mouth still farther. “Forgive me, lass, for I cannot sedate you. Bear with the pain, for it will be over soon enough, and you’ll be breathing once more.”

Jamie grimaced as the physician’s thin, silver-bladed scalpel disappeared down Rose’s throat. As the man worked diligently, efficiently, Leana comforted her sister without ceasing, praying aloud that she might endure what could only be agony. At last the doctor retracted the device and eased his patient forward to take a deep but ragged breath.

“God be praised!” Neda cried, echoed by the servants crowding the door.

Leana continued her ministrations, lifting Rose’s hair back from her face, wiping her bloody mouth. “Thank you, Lord,” she murmured over and over.

“I’ll take a bit of thanks as well,” the surgeon said good-naturedly, dispensing advice as he wiped his instruments clean. “Give her tepid liquids by the spoonful. No solid food for at least a week. She will not heal quickly, so put away any thoughts of her returning to Dumfries. ’Tis almost certain that is where she contracted her disease.”

Leana glanced at Jamie, as if seeking his support, then asked with some trepidation, “What disease is that, sir?”

The doctor stared at them, astounded. “I thought you knew. Your sister has croup. Though you’ll seldom find cases in Edinburgh, ’Tis not unknown in Galloway. The sea air, you know. Most often we treat infants for croup, but we’ve seen several cases this winter among young adults.”

“Infants?” Leana’s eyes widened. “Is my son in danger? Are we all at risk?”

Jamie felt his hands grow cold at the prospect. Could the day hold any more terrible news? First his marriage was in jeopardy, and now this.
Heaven help us all
.

Dr. Gilchrist pursed his lips for a moment. “You say she arrived home Friday, and her coughing began Saturday? If no one else in the household has presented the same symptoms, you should be safe. We usually see problems arising two to four days after exposure. I will make a second visit next week and see how my patient is doing. Should any additional cases arise, of course I can come sooner.” He refolded his leather etui, no larger than a volume of poetry, and slipped it inside his coat pocket. “You know, a stable lad in Dumfries infected a dozen others before we traced its source.” He laid a hand across Rose’s cheek, his manner clinical but not without compassion. “Might your sister have come in contact with the young man, Mistress McKie? Hiring a horse perhaps?”

Jamie answered for her. “Impossible, I’m afraid. The young ladies of Carlyle School would have no need of a horse. Shall we carry her back to bed now?”

“Aye, for ’tis sound sleep she needs. And feverfew immersed in boiling water round the clock.” The doctor smiled at Leana as he adjusted his spectacles. “You were brilliant to think of it, Mistress McKie, even before my diagnosis of her ailment. Feverfew is the oldest remedy in Scotland for croup.”

Thirty-Four

You can never plan the future by the past.

E
DMUND
B
URKE

C
arefully holding Rose upright in the chair, Leana watched Jamie out of the corner of her eye as he moved about the sickroom like one sleepwalking, picking up discarded linens from the floor, only to move them to another spot and drop them in a heap. “Come, Jamie,” she called, warming her voice, wanting him to trust her with his concerns. “Neda has changed the bed linens. Might you help me move Rose into bed?” Leana made sure to catch his eye before she added, “As in all things, dear husband, I cannot manage without you.”

She’d meant to encourage him. Instead he stared at her like a man stricken. “Jamie, what is it?”

“Reverend Gordon …” His sigh was sorrow itself. “We must talk later, Leana. In private.”

Of course
. The minister’s discussion with Jamie.
An unfortunate oversight
. She’d completely forgotten their chat in the nursery, lost amid the crisis. “Aye, we’ll discuss it later, for my sister requires our undivided attention now.”

Working side by side, they transferred Rose into the box bed. Her throat, ravaged by the doctor’s scalpel, would not let her speak, but her eyes communicated her thanks. Leana gazed down at her sister, brushing her hair off her brow, straightening her nightgown for modesty’s sake, then clasping Rose’s pale hands between her own.
I love you, Rose
.

Jamie stood behind her and rested his hands on her shoulders, kneading them ever so gently. “She looks better, Leana.”

“Aye, she does.” She lifted one hand to touch Jamie’s fingers, her other hand still holding Rose’s, joining the three of them together, if only for a moment.

“Leana.” Jamie gave her shoulders a final squeeze, then stepped
round to look at her. “I need to inspect several more of the ewes before I lose the light of day. ’Tis seven weeks ’til the lambing begins.”

And in a few more weeks, we leave for Glentrool
. Leana was comforted by the prospect. “It hardly seems possible.”

“If you remember, your father has promised to pay me so many shillings for each ewe that survives the winter and so many shillings for each lamb that survives its birthing.” A weary smile stretched across his features. “I intend to see every ewe thrives and gives birth to twins.”

“Och, Jamie! Such a dreamer you are.” Leana smiled and motioned toward the door. “Go on then, for I hear your woolly lassies bleating for you.”

“Will you mind terribly?”

“I will not. We’ll speak of Reverend Gordon’s news when you return.” She sent him on his way with a tender kiss, then turned to see how Rose was faring. Her eyes were closed, though Leana noticed tears shimmering between her long, dark lashes.
Poor girl
. Her throat surely hurt beyond imagining. “Feverfew, the doctor said.” Leana picked up the leather pouch from the bedside table. “Then feverfew it shall be. Whatever generous soul brought this gift to our doorstep, these herbs kept you breathing until the doctor arrived. Perhaps our good neighbor will step forward and let us shower him with thanks.”

Rose opened her eyes, then her mouth. She said one word in a whisper so faint Leana could not be sure it was a word at all. It sounded like “her.”

“Don’t talk, Rose. You ken what Neda would say: Save yer breath tae cool yer
parritch.
” She bent down to press her cheek against Rose’s, glad to find her sister’s skin neither cold nor hot. “I’ll send Annabel back up the stair with warm cloths and steaming water for your inhalation.”

When she straightened, Rose lifted her hand, as though she had more to say. Straining, her face contorted with pain, Rose could only manage a single sound: “Jay.”

Leana knit her brow. “
Jamie
, you mean? He’s gone to tend his sheep, dearie.”

Rose yanked on her sleeve, harder than Leana imagined she could and shook her head. “Jay!” she said again.

“
Jane?
Is that what you mean? Your friend from Carlyle School?”

Rose nodded her head, then collapsed as if she’d used the last of her strength on a single syllable.

“Jane Grierson, is it? Forgive me for asking you to say her name twice.” Anxious to make amends, Leana arranged her sister’s bedcovers, then plumped her pillows. “Willie delivered your letters to the school on Monday. Perhaps we’ll hear something from Jane in tomorrow’s post. ’til then, you must rest.”

Leaving one taper burning, Leana closed the door and slipped down to the kitchen, where the servants were in a hurry-scurry to get supper on the table by seven. Despite the day’s traumas, Lachlan McBride would expect his meal at the proper time when he arrived home. Leana sent Annabel to the sickroom with the steaming bowl, then located Reverend Gordon’s copy of
Primitive Physic
and retired to the quiet of her stillroom to see what she might discover among the book’s pages.

“Croup,” she read aloud. “A disease of the throat accompanied by harsh breathing and hoarse coughing.” An accurate description of Rose’s infirmity; there could be no doubt. As Leana continued to read, mentally crossing off each recommended treatment, she came to the final notation, a cautionary word from the author: “The poison produced by croup can damage the heart and nervous system and, in severe cases, may result in heart failure.”

For a moment Leana feared her own heart might fail. She’d treated Rose as if she were suffering from a common cold! When Jamie had offered to ride to Dumfries for a doctor on the Sabbath eve, what was her reply? “Goodness, Jamie! ’Tis not so bad as that.”
Nae, Leana, ’twas worse
. Her pride would not allow a surgeon to darken their door, certain she could heal her sister by herself with herbs and prayers. Though her aversion to bloodletting and opiates had played a part as well, her pride had nearly cost Rose her life.

Forgive me, Father
.

Leana closed the physic book and pressed it against her chest. How close Rose had come to death, none could say.
Too close
. Bowing her head over her book, Leana begged for mercy. She tarried in the stillness,
not moving, only breathing.
I will wait for the God of my salvation. My God will hear me
. She prayed without words, sensing a weight of silence falling over her.

A light tapping sounded at the stillroom door. Leana opened her eyes slowly and found Neda peeking in at her. “
Pittin’ the brain asteep
, are ye?”

“Aye.” Leana rested her chin on the book’s binding. “I’ve much to think about, for I’ve not been the best of nurses to Rose.”

“Hoot!” Neda pulled her into the noisy kitchen. “The lass would niver have lived tae see anither Galloway mornin’ had ye not cared for her sae ferlie. Dinna be sayin’ otherwise, for the doctor from Dumfries called ye brilliant, and so ye are.”

Leana put aside her book, shaking her head. “Whatever you say, dear woman. Father is ringing the supper bell. I’d best get to table.”

Neda nudged her toward the door. “ ’Tis why I came lookin’ for ye. Off ye go.”

Supper was livelier than usual. Her father, just arrived home from another visit to the Widow Douglas’s, had missed the day’s events and so plied them with endless questions about Rose’s traumatic turn for the worse. Leana noticed that Jamie said nothing about his private conversation with Reverend Gordon, only that the minister rode to Dumfries to fetch a doctor, convinced of an urgent need for the man’s services.

“I suppose this surgeon presented you with a bill.”

“He did.” Jamie produced a folded paper from his waistcoat pocket. “Considering the man saved Rose’s life, his fee is more than reasonable.”

Lachlan yanked the bill from Jamie’s grasp. “I’ll be the judge of that.” He glanced at the paper, grunted, then put it beside his plate without comment. “What of Reverend Gordon? Did the man have any news to pass along?”

“News?” Jamie scratched his neck. “What sort of … news?”

Lachlan stared at him askance. “The sort any minister worth his stipend discloses while visiting his flock. Come, man, Newabbey has no newspaper. How else is the parish blether to get about, if not from mouth to ear?”

Jamie visibly relaxed. “We had little time for such matters, I’m
afraid.” Though his high color began to recede, Jamie avoided looking in Leana’s direction. “He did our family a great service, galloping off to Dumfries like a wind from the Irish Sea, hard and swift.”

“Aye.” Lachlan came very close to chuckling. “The minister spared our Rose, but that
puir
nag of his may not recover.” He rang his brass handbell again, calling for the pudding to be served. At many a country table, sweets were a luxury reserved for Quarter Days. At her father’s table, they were a twice-daily indulgence. “Flummery, is it?” He rubbed his hands in anticipation. “You’ve added some currants plumped in sack, aye, woman?”

Neda placed a generous portion before her master. “A
mutchkin
o’ milk and anither o’ cream, egg yolks and rose water, sugar and nutmeg. And, aye, yer favorite currants.” She paused for a moment, then added. “ ’Tis hot from the fire, sir. Mind yer tongue.”

Leana saw a smile twitching at Neda’s mouth and hid her own smile behind a spoon. How many seasons had the woman waited to say those words to her father?
Mind yer tongue
. Och, he didn’t mind for a moment! The man said whatever he pleased, not caring whose feelings he might hurt in the process.

The threesome finished their supper, then Lachlan read to them from the Buik: “ ‘I the L
ORD
speak righteousness, I declare things that are right.’ And we,” Lachlan added, his gray eyes appraising them, “are to do the same. We are to speak the truth. To say what is right and not lie.”

Though her father preached what he did not practice, Leana believed those words with all her heart. The manner in which truth was spoken mattered too, and to that end, her watchword was simple:
Speak the truth in love
.

After such a harrowing day the McKies retired early. They tucked Ian in his crib—fed, bathed, and content—and saw to Rose’s comfort, spooning tincture of chamomile between her lips, letting it slip down her wounded throat a few drops at a time, lest Rose begin to cough and inflict more pain than the surgeon’s scalpel had. Leana left instructions for the maidservants to keep a constant bedside vigil through the night, summoning her at once if there was any reason for concern.

“Goodnight, sweet Rose,” Leana called from the doorway, then
retired to her own bedroom. Jamie was waiting for her by the hearth, still dressed, an uneasy expression on his face. She hastened to his side and rested both hands on his coat sleeve. “Jamie, I heard Reverend Gordon mention some ‘unfortunate oversight.’ Is that what’s troubling you?”