Chapter 35
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CASSANDRA
“He sleeps so peacefully,” Cassandra murmured.
“They usually do, once they’ve fed,” whispered Morley, Lady Rosamund’s housekeeper. “And this little one’s got quite an appetite.”
“He does indeed.” Cassandra gently stroked the baby’s puffy cheek with the back of her hand, a smile sweeping her lips.
“He does love it when we all take turns holding him and singing to him, doesn’t he, Your Grace?”
“His little face lights up. He’s not frightened of us at all.”
“Been a joy to have him here with us.”
“A joy, indeed. Let us pray his beloved mother is recovering so that he may return home to her soon.” Cassandra and the housekeeper left the baby’s chamber, leaving the door ajar so that he could be heard when he awakened.
In the front hallway, Rosamund pulled on her gloves as another servant prepared her cloak for her. “How is the child, Cassandra?”
“Very well indeed. I cannot thank you enough for allowing him to stay until his mother recovers. I know I didn’t ask you before—”
“You did quite right, my love. I’m very glad to see that he settled quickly. Any news from Nancy?”
“Not yet. She should be back from Frederica’s at any moment.”
“I must attend a meeting in town. I shall be back shortly. Shall I bring us dragées from the confectioner’s?” Rosamund adjusted the cloak on her shoulders and straightened her hat. “A little marchpane would be lovely, wouldn’t it?”
“You must.” Cassandra followed her outside.
“Very well. I am off. à bient?t!”
“à bient?t, ma chère.”
Rosamund’s footman held open the door of the carriage for her. Cassandra waved goodbye. The carriage faded from view. Inhaling the fresh air, she closed her eyes for a moment, enjoying the wash of the sun over her.
“Your Grace!”
Cassandra flinched, her eyes flying open. Nancy rushed up the opposite lane, her lips pressed into a firm line.
“There you are.” Cassandra ushered her into the front drawing room and closed the door firmly. “What news?”
Nancy ripped off her cloak, her hat, her gloves. “I fear Mrs. Ashton is only getting worse. She sleeps, she wakens for brief periods, she aches with pains…”
“And the fever?”
“The midwife Your Grace hired has managed to lessen the fever some with herbs and compresses, but it never lasts long. Mrs. Ashton has taken some tea and broth, but she remains weak.”
“And the rashes? The redness?”
“They are still pronounced.”
“Have they spread?”
“They remain as you saw them.”
“What does the midwife say? She has much experience. Does she find it…unusual?”
“She has not said. She is quite busy and …”
“Oh, Nancy…” Cassandra spun to the window, as if the view of the flower garden would provide her with some kind of relief. She only crossed her arms against the careless beauty of the sight.
“Your Grace, if I may…” Nancy came up alongside her.
“What is it?”
“In my time, as you know, I have seen many a female suffer from many an illness.”
“Of course you have.”
“Such fever, skin ailments, such weakness are familiar to me. I’ve seen them come on women many times. Because of men.”
“Ah.”
“Yes,” Nancy whispered back.
Cassandra’s brow furrowed. “I do not think Mrs. Ashton is a candidate for such an ailment. She had confessed to me that she has had no contact with a man since the father of her child.”
“I see.” Nancy’s shoulders fell. “Ma’am, please know, I don’t mean anything by saying it, it’s only—”
Cassandra touched Nancy’s arm. “I appreciate your experienced observation, Nancy. I do. You were quite right to tell me. But I truly do not believe that is the case here. I do find it peculiar that all these violent symptoms occurred so suddenly and so very acutely.”
“Quite right, Ma’am. The other does come on gradually, not with such a sudden temper.”
“That is why in the beginning I thought that she felt poorly because of something she’d eaten.”
A knock came on the door, and Nancy stepped away quickly from her mistress as a young maid with rosy cheeks entered the room and bowed immediately. “Pardon, Your Grace. Sorry to disturb. Lady Rosamund likes her fresh flowers every day in the parlour by this hour, and these be freshly picked.”
“Of course.” Cassandra smiled at the girl.
The servant blushed as she laid the vase stuffed with Rosamund’s damask roses, along with bunches of Sweet William and a few sprigs of honeysuckle, on the tea table. Their sweet scent filled the room instantly.
“They’re lovely. Well done,” Cassandra remarked.
Smiling shyly at the Duchess, the girl curtsied and darted from the room.
“I must say, these are the prettiest roses I’ve ever seen.” Nancy touched the flowers. “This dark pink colour is enchanting. Do you not think so, ma’am?”
Cassandra stilled, her smile vanishing.
“Your Grace?”
“Nancy….the roses…” The room suddenly felt stifling with the heady scent of the flowers. No longer pleasant. Suffocating. “The perfume.”