White Water (3 page)

The girl coloured instantly and put her glands up protectively to hide the blue silk gown which was her best. ‘Felicity! Speak truthfully now.’

‘Oh, ma’am — ’

The old woman’s face hardened. ‘’Tis the silk!’ she challenged. ‘The blue silk. Answer me, I say.’

‘Aye, ma’am. The blue silk.’

Ruth sucked her breath in sharply. ‘How many times have I told you that gown is for special occasions? For visiting and such like. I have told you repeatedly
not
to wear it about the house when there’s none to see it. The kersey is quite good enough for the likes of you — ’

‘I’m sorry, ma’am. I — ’ She hesitated, reluctant to point out that Romney House saw so few visitors that the dress might well never be worn at all. It was the girl’s only luxury — to wear the blue gown and feel the silk, smooth and cool to her hands, and to hear it rustle as she walked.

‘Make me no excuses you ungrateful child!’ cried Ruth. ‘You take a cruel advantage of my sightlessness and laugh at me.’

‘Indeed no, ma’am!’ the girl protested, her sensitive feelings hurt by such an accusation. ‘I never laugh — ’

‘You mock me!’ Ruth insisted. ‘You — ’ She was seized by a fit of coughing. The girl hesitated but, as though sensing her concern, Ruth waved her away. ‘Go change the gown!’ she told her angrily, ‘and then stay in your room. I can’t abide such deceptions. You are a wicked girl!’ Felicity’s mouth trembled as she stood head-bowed and made no answer.

‘And come back at seven with my hot posset — and leave the letter in my hands. You shall read it again later.’ Felicity handed her the letter, crossed to the door and closed it quietly behind her. Ruth sank back against the pillows and closed her eyes. Her anger had exhausted her and she breathed deeply while her fingers fumbled with the folded paper.

‘Martin … ’ she whispered, ‘and Lorna and Piers … ’ She stopped, struggling for breath, ‘ … and Matthew, such clumsy hands — ’ She stopped again and her head seemed strangely heavy for her neck and fell sideways. Her vacant eyes rolled slowly upwards and her jaw dropped, but she was still aware of the paper between her fingers and knew only that she was still alive.

*

Beatrice Quarterman lay on the truckle bed immediately below the window and watched Amy’s fingers thrust the needle in and out of the white linen. Perspiration glistened on the maid’s broad forehead and her frequent glances towards her mistress were fearful.

‘Put that away,’ Beatrice told her, ‘and look out again for Mama — Ah, that will be her now.’ There was a banging on the door below. ‘Run down at once and let her in. I feared she would be too late.’

Amy obeyed and Beatrice was left alone in the small upper room. Her own body was bathed in perspiration and she lay naked under a single sheet. Her limbs ached and movement was agony for her. The infection had advanced rapidly from the initial fever and now affected all her glands and she felt as though a fire consumed her body from within. She kept her eyes open with an effort. If she closed them she isolated herself from the world entirely and knew only the loneliness of darkness and pain. No one had put a name to her sickness and she acknowledged it only to herself. Footsteps sounded on the stairs and she turned her head painfully, hopefully, towards the door. Her mother had come. She would know what to do. She would save her from the dread …

‘Tis the doctor, ma’am!’ cried Amy, her panic clear in every word. ‘He would come in, ma’am. I swear ’twas not I that fetched him. Oh, ma’am, I swear I — ’

She thrust an anxious fist into her mouth and waited for her mistress’s wrath. The plague doctor followed her into the room — a gruesome figure in the familiar protective clothing, floor-length leather coat and a matching hood. This completely covered his head and face, apart from the two round eye holes and beak-like protuberance for the nose which was filled with scented herbs and garlic. A slight groan escaped Beatrice at the dread sight, but as she struggled to sit up the doctor spoke reassuringly.

‘Don’t stir yourself, mistress, and calm your fears. ’Tis only I, Master Phillips — ’

‘Master Phillips?’ gasped the maid. ‘Faith, sir. I didn’t recognize you.’

He laughed. ‘Hardly surprising in this guise,’ he said, ‘but I assure you ’tis no stranger who attends you.’

Beatrice breathed a sigh of relief and her most immediate fears lessened. She had known Daniel Phillips since she was a child herself and he had confirmed her pregnancy earlier that year.

‘Fearfully hot, these robes,’ he told her as he knelt beside the bed. ‘In this heat I am slowly roasting and will be nicely cooked by supper time.’

‘A cool drink — ’ Beatrice suggested and he nodded as he turned back the sheet.

‘Fetch ale for the doctor,’ said Beatrice, then winced as his gloved lingers probed gently for the telltale swelling.

‘Nothing in the neck,’ he said. ‘Now gently — I want to lift your arms and feel the arm pit … Nothing there — ’ He lowered the left arm and moved round to the other side of the bed. ‘Slowly does it. I won’t hurt you — Ah! That’s what I was looking for. The bubo. ’Tis forming under this arm. A good sign, child, for the infection will gather there and be expelled. A very good sign.’

He nodded and through the holes in his hood she saw that the kindly faded eyes crinkled in a smile.

‘Then the house … ’ she began.

He sighed as he stood up moving clumsily in the unfamiliar garments. ‘We’ll have to shut you up,’ he said, ‘and promptly. Is no one here to nurse you but young Amy?’

‘My mother is coming,’ said Beatrice. ‘At least, she is sent for. I thought you were her.’

Amy returned with a tankard of ale but the doctor shook his head.

‘I’ll drink it in the back yard,’ and his voice held the hint of an apology. ‘Then I’ll write you a prescription and Amy shall run to the apothecary for anything lacking in your own cupboard.’

A sudden rapping on the street door sent Amy rushing to the window. ‘’Tis your mother!’ she cried thankfully, and hurried down to admit Maria.

‘A timely arrival!’ said the doctor. ‘I shall speak with her before I go and the watch will be along shortly to make fast the door. But don’t fret. Thirty days will soon pass and all will be well again. You have a mild attack and with your mother’s devoted care will soon be whole again. Pray for others less fortunate.’

And with a nod he left her and went downstairs to give the rest of his instructions to Maria.

‘When the swelling in the arm grows purple, lay a poultice to it,’ he told her, ‘ — as hot as can be borne but not so hot as to blister the skin, like some I’ve seen. Eighteen pennyweight of garlic cloves, fresh butter, lemon and a handful of scallions. Wrap it in calico and when ’tis cooled replace it with another until the bubo is drawn and the poison expelled. She is fortunate — no sneezing and no sign of the tokens on her skin. Aye, ’tis a mild case and she’ll recover, God willing. Not like some poor wretches — six gone in one family in Castle Street. Six in less than a week but that’s how it goes and who are we to question? Once the house is shut up you know the rules — you must admit no one and no one must leave for thirty days. If you need anything send the watchmen. They’re idle wretches mostly but will stir themselves for a coin or two and ’tis mournful work they do, in all conscience.’

Maria followed him outside into the small courtyard at the back of the house and Amy handed him the ale. He took off his hood and took several deep breaths of the bright sunlit air to clear his lungs, then he applied himself gratefully to his cool drink.

‘And the child?’ Maria forced herself to ask the question. ‘The unborn child she carries?’

‘All should be well,’ he said. ‘’Twas, as I told you, a mild case.’

‘And will you call again?’

‘If time permits, but I leave her in good hands. The plague, like poverty, is always with us and if the stars be propitious we shall cheat death a little longer. Are all well at Heron?’

‘Aye, so far thank the Lord.’

‘Then I’ll bid you adieu and be on my way.’

‘God be with you,’ she said and he replaced his hood and followed her back through the cool house and out once more into the unrelenting noonday sun.

*

As he had predicted, Amy only just got back to the house in time. Within an hour of the doctor’s visit a burly watchman arrived and nailed a bar of wood across the front door. The hammering reached Beatrice as Maria fed her with spoonfuls of warm honey water and she ‘tutted’ at the noise.

‘Thirty days!’ whispered Beatrice. ‘How will they fare at Heron without you for so long?’

Maria laughed. ‘Oh, they’ll survive no doubt. Beth is most capable and Harriet will enjoy playing “mistress of the house”. Hugo will keep a watchful eye on things and Matt will scurry to and fro to bring us news.’

Beatrice smiled faintly. ‘Tis a wonder he is let you come here alone. He has been your shadow for so many years.’

‘Aye, he’s a faithful soul. Poor Matt. He’ll never wed, being so child-like, yet I think he is happy enough. There now. You sleep and I’ll see that Amy has fetched all that we need. If not then the watchman must go. Let’s hope he’s an amiable man and willing.’

As she turned to go Beatrice cried, ‘Mama! The baby. Did you speak to Master Phillips of the child?’

‘I did and there is nought to worry us. Your babe is safe. Go to sleep now.’

In the kitchen she found Amy unloading her basket, a satisfied smile on her face.

‘’Tis all here, ma’am,’ she told Maria and ticked the items on her fingers. ‘Vinegar, scallions, treacle, butter and cloves — and from the apothecary cedar wood, rose water and rue!’

‘Well done, Amy. Now, we shall prepare the poultice and set a pan of embers — Ah! that banging goes on and on!’

She went through to the front of the house and put her head out of the window.

‘How many nails does it take to bar one door?’ she asked. ‘My daughter is trying to sleep.’

A rough-looking man of indeterminate age looked up from his work, a hammer poised in Ins hand. His hair was tousled and his smile revealed several missing teeth, but he took the rebuke cheerfully.

‘Tis the very last nail, ma’am, begging your pardon,’ he told her. ‘I’ll be painting on the cross next but that’ll make no noise at all. Then the blessing and I’m a fair hand with words. I make a real neat job and never had a complaint. Why, my last family was so pleased the husband gave me a gold ring off his own finger for my trouble and … ’

‘Well, there’s no husband here,’ said Maria sharply. ‘The husband is away in Ireland so there’ll be no gold ring but you’ll likely earn an honest penny if you can run an errand without taking all day.’

‘I can, ma’am. Indeed I can.’

‘We shall see. But now knock that last nail in and be done with your banging. And catch the next water carrier that comes by — we’re getting low.’

He touched his forehead, gave the final nail three blows and raised his hand triumphantly.

‘All done!’ he announced, but Maria had already withdrawn her head and closed the window tight to keep out the smoke from the bonfires.

‘Thirty days!’ she muttered. ‘A whole month! But ’twill pass … Aye, there’s much to be done and the time will fly.’

But she was not entirely convinced. Thirty days’ quarantine was a heavy sentence for the sin of ill health, but the regulations were very strict and if it prevented the spread of the disease then she would willingly comply.

Sighing, she thought for a moment of the rest of her family, thankful for Heron’s isolation. Little chance of infection there, she reassured herself and, comforted, made her way back to the kitchen to supervise the making of the poultice.

CHAPTER TWO

Piers, perched on top of the stable door, watched while Nat made a final count of the dead rats as he gathered them into a large sack.

‘Sixty-three, sixty-four — Ah! This devil is still alive! See that, Master Piers!’ He held a large black rat by the tail and they watched it wriggle. ‘Too heavy to climb up its tail like the young ’uns. But see here he starts to twirl. Round and round he goes to try and shrug off his tail skin. That way he’d leave me with the skin and he’d be away — free as air. Oh no, you don’t!’

He dropped the rat into the waiting jaws of the little terrier who eagerly shook the last vestiges of life from it.

‘Sixty-five,’ said Piers. The rest of the bodies went into the sack. ‘Seventy-one in all! ’Tis more than you took in the barn!’

‘Aye.’ Nat grinned, pleased with his evening’s work. He whistled the dog and they stepped out into the yard. At the far end young Ben waited with the horses. ‘You can put ’em in again now,’ Nat shouted and Piers darted off to lead his own pony back to its stall.

Ben paused. ‘Sorry to hear about your father,’ he said and Nat’s face clouded over.

He shrugged. ‘’Tis God’s will, I daresay, but he was a good old man.’

Ben nodded. ‘I hear you buried him in the woods.’

‘’Twas his last wish,’ said Nat. ‘I got some strange looks but — ’ He shrugged again. ‘He never could bear the church yard. Real mournful, he called it.’

‘I’m eight years old,’ Piers interrupted them, ‘but I’ll soon be old … and then I’ll be buried in the family grave.’

‘Eight years old,’ laughed Nat. ‘You’ve a long way to go. No need worrying your head about it yet awhile. And where’s that sister of yours? I thought she’d have been out here with you to see the fun.’

‘Kept in at her lessons and Master Parry hit the table with his fist — like this!’ He brought his clenched hand down through the air ‘ … and called her a young ninny.’

Ben, emerging from the stable, winked at Nat, ‘Young Master Piers is the perfect pupil, of course!’

Piers was not at all disconcerted. ‘My sister Beatrice is well again,’ he told them. ‘She had the plague but is quite recovered and now Mama is home again Harriet has a fever.’

The other two exchanged startled glances.

‘What fever would that be?’ asked Ben, for his sister Ellie was part of the Heron household.

‘An ephemer fever,’ said Piers. ‘’Tis not the plague. Ah, here comes Lorna now.’ He raised his voice as the slight figure of his sister appeared round the corner of the barn. ‘You’re too late!’ he assured her. ‘’Tis all over and Nat has caught seventy-one rats.’

Lorna reached them, her face flushed, skirts held high, her hair dishevelled. She looked from one to the other in dismay.

‘Too late?’ she wailed. ‘But I have run all the way.’ She put a hand out to fondle Brin. ‘Oh, how I hate that Master Parry!’

Ben grinned. ‘Who’s a young ninny, then?’ he asked.

Before she could reply, Beth came into the yard, a scowl on her round face. She had eaten too well of her cooking over the years and had put on too much weight, so that she moved with an effort and was quickly out of breath.

‘I called you, young Lorna,’ she grumbled. ‘
And
you heard me so there’s no use pretending otherwise. There’s nought wrong with your ears so you’d no call to rush past me like a wild thing and me having to traipse down here after you … ’

She paused for breath, a hand to her chest, and Lorna said, ‘I wanted to see Nat catch the rats — the way he did before. I told Piers to ask Nat to wait for me but he didn’t.’

She looked reproachfully at Nat who in turn looked at Piers. He looked guilty. In the excitement he had forgotten the message and Nat, to avoid a confrontation, said hastily, ‘’Twas the fault of my little jill ferret. She’s in a strange mood today and so restless. I dared not wait any longer or she’d have bit a hole clean through the bag and- — ’

‘Never mind you and your ferret,’ said Beth. ‘’Tis Piers and Lorna I’m after. Poor Harriet has took a turn for the worse and you’re both to ride to Ladyford with Ben and stay a few days.’

‘How worse is a turn for the worse?’ asked Ben.

Beth avoided meeting his eye. ‘They don’t tell me much,’ she hedged.

‘But is she sneezing?’ said Ben. ‘Your own ears will tell you that!’

Beth hesitated and there was no need for the brief nod that followed.

The men crossed themselves and the children’s expressions changed.

‘’Tis the plague?’ cried Lorna. ‘Harriet has the plague!’

‘I’m afeared so,’ said Beth, ‘but you two will be well out of it — ’

‘Will she die?’ asked Piers, wide-eyed at the unwelcome news.

‘Not if the mistress has her way!’ said Beth. ‘Beatrice didn’t die, did she? Maria has sent for the doctor and will nurse Harriet herself, though how she’ll find the strength, I don’t know, for she’s only just come back from Exeter, poor soul, and has gone so thin with the worry of Beatrice.’

‘And now she’s another patient on her hands!’ said Nat. He swung his sack over his shoulder and waited hopefully for someone to remember his fee. But Beth was hustling the two children to saddle up their ponies, refusing to allow them back into the house, promising to send clothes and toys after them.

‘Your mother wants you out of Heron at once,’ she told them. ‘So no “ifs” or “buts”. And she says to do as your Aunt Melissa bids you and be no trouble to her.’

Brin barked suddenly and darted off after a large ginger cat which sprang down from the stable roof. Nat coughed loudly and Ben said, ‘Ah, your money. Seventy-one rats, you say? How much is that then? I’m no scholar. You’d best see the mistress.’

Beth said, ‘There’s none to be allowed into the house. He must see Hugo when he comes back from the mine, which will be within the hour. Wait here, Nat, and the master’ll pay you.’

Nat lowered his sack to the ground, settled himself on the cobbles beside it and took a hunk of cheese from his pocket and began to eat hungrily.

Protesting half-heartedly, the children were finally mounted on their respective ponies and Ben threw a saddle over the old mare’s back. ‘No message then?’ he asked Beth as he swung himself up.

Beth put a hand to her perspiring forehead and tried to think. ‘Say as the doctor’s sent for and please to keep them until she gets word. And there’ll be a letter in the morning. And say Harriet’s sneezing and — ’ Her lips quivered suddenly and Ben looked at her sharply.

‘And what?’ he demanded his voice rough with fear, but Beth shook her head helplessly, unable to utter the dread words. ‘Not … ?’ Ben’s face paled.

Beth, with a glance towards the children, nodded. Beneath Harriet’s fair skin a scattering of faint blotches were already visible. The dark tokens indicated the later stages of the most virulent form of the disease.

Ben drew in a deep breath then slowly let it out. Then with a forced smile he turned to the children.

‘Let’s be on our way then!’ he said, and Nat and Beth watched in silence as the small cavalcade passed through the yard and out of sight.

Nat whistled. ‘I’ve seen folk fit as a fiddle at sunrise and dead by nightfall!’ he said with more truth than tact, and then cursed himself for a fool as Beth burst into loud, ugly sobs and made her way back to the house, her large body shaking with fear and grief.

*

Harriet’s skin burned as her temperature soared. She could bear no covering over her and was only soothed when Maria bathed her with tepid water, but as soon as the water had dried off she would once more pucker her face in discomfort and moan for water. Her lips had cracked and her dry tongue licked them ineffectually. Maria applied butter and goose grease but they, too, gave only temporary relief. The all important bubo did not appear and the scattering of dark spots increased almost hourly. The physician called later in the afternoon and could offer no hope to the despairing Maria.

‘But there must be something else we can try,’ she pleaded fearfully. ‘I beg you tell me some other hint, no matter how foolish it may sound. I must try everything. Everything. Poor Allan — they have been wed so short a time. Only three months — ’

‘I know it,’ he said, ‘but death takes no account of such reckonings. If ’tis God’s will you must resign yourself. We have tried everything — ’ he shrugged hopelessly, ‘and we have failed. I sympathize with you but now only your prayers could save her. Turn away God’s wrath and mayhap he will be — ’

Maria’s tired eyes blazed suddenly. ‘Wrath? What cause has God to feel wrath for this poor child? I’ll warrant she has never harboured an unkind thought in that sweet head of hers! Oh sweet heaven, Allan will be beside himself if she dies. They are so much in love.’

The physician shrugged again and began to close his bag. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘To lose a loved one is never easy. We are surrounded by death yet never learn how best to deal with it. I must go — ’

‘No! I beg you,’ cried Maria, putting a hand to his arm. ‘One moment more, Master Phillips. Help me, I beg you. There must be some way, some trick. You saved Beatrice. You cannot let Harriet die.’

‘Forgive me,’ he said gently. ‘Beatrice was fortunate. It was a mild case, as I told you. This is a most virulent form and — ’

At that moment Harriet cried out in sudden pain and flung up both hands to clutch at her head. Maria looked at her aghast as the girl began to mutter feverishly, tearing at her head, pulling out her hair.

‘Oh my dearest child,’ cried Maria, kneeling beside her and trying in vain to stay the girl’s hands. Master Phillips shook his head and turned to go.

‘You cannot leave us!’ cried Maria. ‘Help me, I say.’

‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I have told you there is no hope. I am needed elsewhere. God willing, I may be able to save a life. You must be strong, mistress, for she is going to die and her husband will need your support. Now I must go. There is no need to shut up the house. You are isolated here.’ He paused at the door and looked back. The leather hood hid his expression but his tone was gentle. ‘Someone else must share the burden with you,’ he said. ‘You will exhaust your energies.’

Maria shook her head. ‘No, no,’ she protested wearily. ‘The infection — ’

‘You have sent for her husband?’

‘Aye.’

The physician nodded and withdrew. A scream from Harriet made him hesitate but then, shaking his head, he made his way downstairs and let himself out of the house. The outbreak had lasted nearly two months and he had seen a great deal of sickness, misery and death. His emotions were mercifully blunted but so young a woman, and so pretty! He sighed as he walked towards his horse, which Ben held for him.

‘Will she get better?’ asked Ben.

Master Phillips put one foot in the stirrups and half turned. ‘She will soon be at peace,’ he said, but the euphemism did nothing to soften the news.

*

In the garden beside the river eleven-year-old Ellie crouched in the grass, her two hands cupped and waiting. In the long grass a toad blinked in alarm as she bent forward and her head cast a shadow over him. Before he could move, her hands were round him as, with a squeal of disgust, the little girl held her wriggling captive at arm’s length.

‘Keep still!’ she hissed. ‘Ugh! Stop wriggling, you stupid creature.’ She dared not close her hands for fear of harming him. A dead toad would be useless. The charm would never work. Slowly, awkwardly, she stood up and set off towards the house. She hated the feel of the toad’s cold body, but at least he had stopped trying to escape and sat passively in his small prison, and she tried not to visualize the ugly body with its thin angular legs and alien head. She shuddered, nevertheless, and quickened her steps. Ellie was Minnie’s daughter, a faithful copy of her mother but taller and less moody. She lived at Heron and attended Harriet and Maria as personal maid. Minnie, maid to Melissa, tried hard not to show her envy. Her own long-cherished dream was to return to Heron, but she was happy enough at Ladyford and willing to bide her time until the Lord saw fit to answer her prayers. A smile played around Ellie’s lips as she reached the kitchen door, kicked it sharply and shouted out to Beth.

‘Let me in at once, Beth. ‘Tis most urgent, I swear it.’

Taken aback by such impudence, Beth sent Ben to admit her and they both looked at her in astonishment as she held out her cupped hands.

‘’Tis for Harriet,’ she told them, her small dark eyes glittering with ill-suppressed excitement. ‘’Tis a toad to cure Harriet. I’ve — ’

Another piercing scream reached them and Beth crossed herself hurriedly.

Ellie glanced upward. ‘Is that Harriet?’

‘Aye,’ said Beth. ‘Screaming her agony and her wits quite gone, Maria says. The master is with her, too, trying to hold her down, for she’s that wild — Oh, I can’t bear to think on it!’

Ellie’s face had paled a little but she made to pass Beth, who spread her arms wide.

‘And where d’you think you’re going?’ she demanded.

‘To take this toad to the mistress. ’Twill save Harriet from the plague. My ma told me.’

Beth snorted. ‘Toad indeed. Well, you’re not taking it a step further. If a toad would cure her then Master Phillips would have prescribed it.’