Chapter Thirteen #4
The doctor shook his head. “When she awakens, she can have some broth. I’m certain Mrs. Larson has prepared a feast to help her.”
“I thought she had already returned to Ballaloch,” David said, meeting Amelia’s gaze.
His wife ventured a slight smile. “No one could stop her from remaining here while her ‘wee lamb’ is ill. It would be like trying to stop a thunderstorm.”
“And what of Mrs. Menford? Have you dismissed her?”
“No. Mrs. Larson is helping her get accustomed to my methods, and I have every faith that she’ll come around.” Amelia softened a moment. “She even made a pot of chocolate for Christine when I asked her to.”
It sounded as if the housekeeper was starting to accept Amelia, but David hardly cared what happened with the staff anymore. His mind was entirely focused upon his daughter, praying she could survive this illness.
When she opened her eyes, Christine seemed relieved to find both of them at her bedside. “Papa, can you help me to sit up?”
He leaned over, and Amelia helped him to lift her into a seated position. She arranged the pillows around Christine and asked, “How are you feeling, now?”
His daughter let out a sigh. “The same. I can’t move my arms or legs.” Her face colored, and she admitted, “I feel rather like a baby again.”
“It will get better,” she reassured the girl. “And I’ve asked Mrs. Larson to come and bring you a good supper to help you get your strength back.”
David said nothing while Amelia chattered at Christine, realizing that she was trying to bring back his daughter’s good spirits. Once or twice, he saw his little girl smile, and it struck him in the heart with fear of never seeing her smile again.
But when Mrs. Larson arrived at last, Mrs. Menford was with her.
The housekeeper carried a tray of food, while Mrs. Larson held a bucket of water in one hand.
The Scotswoman gestured for Mrs. Menford to put the food down upon a table before she strode forward.
“Now then, my lamb, I ken the good doctor will do all he can for ye, but I’ve come to help in my own way. ”
David wasn’t exactly sure this was a good idea. “What you do mean, you plan to ‘help?’”
The housekeeper brightened. “Oh, ’tis just a prayer that will help keep the evil spirits away. It’s naught but a wee bit of water.”
Before he could protest, the housekeeper barreled her way to the bedside and handed him the bucket. She scooped up some water and let it drip over Christine’s head. Then she poured two more handfuls of water as she quoted:
“Tri baslaichean na Trianaid Naoimh,
Ga d’dhion ’s ga d’shabhaladh
Bho bheum sul.”
His wife murmured, “Amen,” while Christine blinked at both of them. “What was that for?” she asked the housekeeper.
“’Tis a prayer for you, dear one.” She took a towel and dried off the girl’s brow. “When a new bairn is washed by her nurse, we give this blessing against the evil eye. ’Twill keep death away.”
“Superstitious rot,” Mrs. Menford muttered. “You’ve done nothing but get the girl wet.”
“Is that like a baptism?” Amelia countered. “I say, there’s no harm in prayer, no matter how it’s done.” To Mrs. Larson, she said, “Thank you for bringing Christine her supper. You and Mrs. Menford may go now.”
But before either of them did, Mrs. Menford stopped a moment. “Lady Castledon, I am sorry for the way we started out. You can be certain that I’ll do all I can to help you.”
Amelia saw that the woman’s contrition was genuine, and she nodded. “Thank you.”
Once the servants had gone, she turned back to Christine. “Mrs. Larson is most definitely a superstitious woman, but she means well.”
A bead of water dripped down the girl’s cheek, and a smirk crossed her face. “I’m soaked, and I can’t even dry myself off.”
Amelia answered the smile, and Christine began to laugh. It was the first time David had heard her laugh in a long time.
He glanced over at his wife, who was biting her lip. “I don’t think it was Mrs. Larson’s intention to drown you, Christine.”
His daughter began to giggle, and a moment later, Amelia joined her in laughing. “She is a strange housekeeper, but I do love her. She used to put nails in my toast to keep the fairies away.”
Christine was laughing so hard now, tears were escaping her eyes. “Did you ever eat one by mistake?”
“No, but her toast was as hard as a nail, sometimes. She didn’t like waste, and we had to finish the loaf of bread, whether it was stale or not.” Amelia pushed back on Christine’s arms, trying to move them. “David, why don’t you help me with her other arm?”
He complied, but it bothered him to see his daughter’s limbs so frail and useless. Amelia continued talking and manipulating her arms, and he caught himself staring at them.
“You look tired,” she said. “Why don’t you go and have something to eat, and I’ll look after Christine. The food may make you feel better.”
“I’ll bring it back here,” David said. He didn’t recall seeing Amelia eat, either.
She shrugged and pulled back the coverlet, reaching for Christine’s feet. “We’ll be just fine, won’t we?”
His daughter’s laughter had abated, and she lifted her gray eyes to his. “I’m glad Papa married you, Amelia. You’re much more interesting than Miss Grant.”
“I’ve an idea,” she said. “Since none of us has had our supper, why don’t we have a picnic in the gardens before it gets dark?”
Christine’s expression turned hopeful, and though he was tempted to refuse, David realized that she’d been confined in this room for nearly a week. For all he knew, these could be her last moments outside.
“Your mother has a moonlight garden, doesn’t she?” Amelia said, pulling the covers all the way down. “It’s full of white flowers. She has hydrangeas, lilies, and roses, from what I’ve seen. Have you ever been there at night?”
Christine shook her head. “No.”
“Then we’ll have to go, won’t we?” Amelia glanced at him, and in her green eyes, he saw that she was clinging to hope as hard as he was. “Your father and I will form a chair with our arms and bring you downstairs and outside.”
She reached under Christine’s knees and behind her shoulders. “David, will you help me?”
He shook his head. “I’ll carry her myself.” When he lifted Christine into his arms, he realized how very long her legs and arms had grown in the past year. She was nearing the end of childhood, and if she lived, she would be as tall as Amelia one day.
His wife appeared slightly disappointed that he hadn’t allowed her to help, but she opened the door and picked up the supper tray Mrs. Larson had left. “I’ll tell Mrs. Menford that we’ll want our supper in the moonlight garden. Then I’ll join the two of you there.”