Chapter Seven
All through the short ride home, Lavinia was near tears, trying not to imagine the worst.
“But Dickie was perfectly fine this afternoon, Miles, I assure you,” she said in a strained voice. “I saw him directly after lunch and he was quite himself. What could it be that is troubling him?”
“Ease yourself, dear wife,” Miles replied, clutching her hand tightly. “I am certain Mrs. Wilson is only exercising an abundance of caution and we shall find our boy to be… not too badly off. Likely he only has the sniffles.” He gave her an encouraging smile which she was unable to return.
The carriage pulled up to Clayton House, and everyone exited and hurried inside.
Dickie’s anguished cries could clearly be heard.
Lavinia and Miles ran up the stairs to the nursery to find Mrs. Wilson and Becky Austin, the nursery maid, standing over the cradle, trying to ease the crying of the little boy.
“What happened?” Lavinia asked. “When did this all begin?”
“Not long after you departed for the assembly, ma’am,” Miss Austin replied.
“I noted he seemed a bit more fussy than usual, and his skin felt warm to the touch. Then, as the evening progressed, he went all red in the face and began wailing at the top of his voice. Nothing I have tried has eased him. Nor will he eat. At last, we decided it would be best to send for you.”
Lavinia picked up her child, who shrieked even louder upon being lifted from his bed. She felt the boy’s heat through the clothes. “Oh, he is excessively warm, Miles, just feel his forehead. Mrs. Wilson, what has been done for him?”
“We have tried barley water, of course, for the fever,” she answered. “And Becky and I have been bathing him in cool water.”
“We must send for our physician at once, Miles, at once!” Lavinia said. As she spoke, Dickie cried out, went rigid, and flung his body stiffly in her arms, his eyes rolling back in such a manner that Lavinia echoed his cry with one of her own as she tried to keep from dropping him.
“What is happening? Oh, Miles, what is wrong with my darling?” she cried with terror in her voice, as she tried to hold her son who was now jerking spasmodically. “Oh, dear Lord in Heaven, help him!”
Dickie suddenly went slack and was silent and still, his eyes closed. Lavinia screamed, “He is dead—my child is gone!” She began to wail, clutching the boy to her chest.
Frederick, who had followed the family into the nursery stepped forward and gently pried her grip from around Dickie, taking him to the day bed to examine him as Lavinia collapsed, weeping, into Miles’s arms. He bent close and listened a moment, before calling out to the grief-stricken woman, “No, he lives, he lives—your son is not dead, Lavinia. Mrs. Wilson, send a footman for Dr. Baker at once.”
She nodded and left the room, as Lavinia stumbled over to the bed and knelt by her son, who lay limp and unresponsive.
“Oh, my darling, my son—do not leave me, do not leave me.” She gently stroked his face, tears running down her face.
“Oh, Miles, God could not be so cruel as to take him from us, could He? We waited so long for him.”
“Dr. Baker will be here soon, and then we shall know more, dearest,” Miles said, kneeling beside his wife. “All will be well, I am certain.”
Everyone in the room could hear the doubt in his voice.
“It is an inflammation of the brain, Mr. Kendall,” Dr. Baker said grimly, wiping his spectacles with a handkerchief.
During his examination, Dickie had begun to wail once more and then had been seized again, sending Lavinia into a fresh bout of hysterical weeping.
“The fever which is wracking his poor little body is affecting his brain, causing the seizures.”
“What is to be done, doctor? Can anything at all help him? These fits are so terrifying,” Miles said. “Is there nothing you can give for his relief?”
“We can try bleeding, of course, or leeches. But foremost, we must reduce his fever. Have you any ice left?”
Miles turned a questioning face to Lavinia, who nodded.
“Very well, then chop it into small pieces, wrap it in sections of flannel and place those around his body and at the top of his head. We must cool him down. My hope is once his fever breaks or lessens, these fits will cease.”
“You stay here, Lavinia,” Charlotte said. “I shall go with Mrs. Wilson to fetch the ice and flannel. It shall be done as the doctor instructs.”
“Allow me to assist, Charlotte. I can lift the ice blocks and chop it for you,” Gilbert said, grateful to have some task with which to occupy himself. He and Charlotte exited the nursery along with the housekeeper.
“And… and will my Dickie be himself again once the fever has left him?” Lavinia asked. Her voice was muffled by the handkerchief she held to her trembling mouth. “Or will he continue to be seized in this manner?”
The doctor gave a long exhalation and shook his head.
“I cannot say for certain, Mrs. Kendall. It may be that he will be afflicted by these fits all his life. I have seen such cases before. But it may not be the situation with your baby, so pray, do not foretell vexation from that quarter.” He reached out and placed his hands on her shoulders, which were shaking again with weeping.
“We shall do what we can and put our hope in the providence of the Lord. I shall go now and return in the morning.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” Miles said, offering his hand to the physician. Dr. Baker shook it, then nodded his head to the rest of the family and left the room. Miles turned to his wife, “Come, dear, you must rest.”
Lavinia wrenched away, and went to sit beside her child, who continued to cry, though less violently than before.
“As if I could leave my baby! My feelings are in every way so agitated, repose would be absolutely impossible.” She turned a harsh face to Miles.
“If you think you could sleep at such a time, by all means, leave us and do so. But I shall remain here by my child’s side.
” She lifted one of Dickie’s hands and bent to kiss it.
Miles nodded and took a seat nearby. Frederick, who had been standing near the back of the nursery, along with Evan and Becky, moved closer and leaned over to speak softly to Lavinia.
“I understand your desire to remain, Lavinia. However, I would caution you to get some sleep tonight, as we do not wish for you to become ill, yourself. The doctor is right. Your boy is in God’s hands now.
Rather than stay here together, you and Miles should each take some small time to rest while the other watches over your child.
Is that agreeable?” After she nodded, he said, “Shall we pray together?”
Lavinia nodded mutely, and Frederick led the room in prayer, asking for God to heal Dickie of this sudden affliction and to bring the baby a swift recovery.
As he finished, Charlotte and Gilbert returned with the ice packets.
Dickie was carefully moved back from the small bed used by Miss Austin to his own cradle, and they carefully arranged the ice packs around the baby.
“Thank you,” Lavinia said softly. She turned sad eyes towards her family.
“I shall remain in the nursery with Becky to take watch over Dickie while Miles rests. Then he can replace me. However, there is no need for you all to simply stand around here in the nursery and it is now quite late. Please go to your own rooms. But, please, I beg you all to pray for my child tonight.” She directed her gaze at Gilbert.
“As a future man of the cloth, dear brother, I am certain God will take particular note of your prayers.”
Gilbert bent over to kiss his sister-in-law’s temple. He gently stroked his nephew’s cheek, then slipped out of the nursery and went to his own room.
Exhausted, he undressed and made ready for bed. The gaiety of that night’s assembly seemed a fading memory, or like a dream that vanishes upon awakening. He knelt, closed his eyes, and clasped his hands together, trying to think of some eloquent prayer to send heavenwards on behalf of his nephew.
But no fine words came. He finally muttered, “Please help our little Dickie, Lord,” got off his knees, and climbed into bed. As tired as he was, sleep did not come easily.