Chapter 14
Caroline’s eyes were heavy as she shoveled eggs into her mouth. Sleep had been elusive as she tossed and turned for most of the night, keeping an ear open in case Valeria slipped into her room again. She wasn’t sure if relief or disappointment flooded her when she made it through the night alone.
“Good morning,” Lucy said as she walked in with a basket of fresh laundry, closing the door behind her with a swing of her hip.
Caroline grunted a greeting. Lucy had attempted to make conversation when she brought her breakfast, but she was even less inclined to speak then. The eggs made it possible for her to respond at all.
“Mrs. Thomas told me how late Madame Gavreau left last night, and I can’t believe the fitting lasted as long as it did.”
Lucy had been there for the first hour, but Caroline sent her off on errands when it was clear her chattering was driving the dressmaker mad.
She was so used to Lucy’s constant talking that she barely noticed it anymore, but it did come in handy when she didn’t wish to speak because the lack of a conversation partner would never deter her lady’s maid.
“It was so good of Miss Evans to come by for support. You would have said you can manage, but I know it would have been disappointing to go through the fitting all alone,” Lucy continued as she placed a stack of blouses in her bureau before turning around and shooting her a glare.
“Though I can’t believe you didn’t tell me everything that happened. ”
The color drained from her face as she stared at Lucy; the eggs on her fork fell back to her plate as her hand gently shook. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
She didn’t have the faintest idea who could have told her what happened with Valeria. Madame Gavreau certainly heard, but she didn’t think the dressmaker would have gossiped with the servants, as she didn’t seem interested in speaking, but maybe she just didn’t wish to speak with her.
Worse, what if one of her servants was in the hallway with her or cleaning an adjacent room and heard her and Valeria? She didn’t know how she would ever survive the humiliation of the gossip following her around the house.
“You know precisely what I mean since you sent me out so quickly I didn’t even get a chance to see the dress,” Lucy huffed. “You didn’t tell me your dress was made of Spitalfields silk.”
She could have collapsed in absolute relief at Lucy’s scowl. She couldn’t help the snort of laughter that escaped as she thought about Lucy’s reaction if she truly knew everything about the fitting and was rewarded with an even deeper frown.
“It’s not funny! I’ve read all about Spitalfields in the society papers, and to know the finest silk in the country was in this very room without me knowing is a betrayal.”
“I told you Mr. Andrews was sparing no expense.”
“Yes, but knowing that and then seeing it is something completely different.”
Frankly, she was also shocked when she mentioned both the silk and the price to Edgar, and he told her to get it.
It was nearly enough money to replace the hearth, but she couldn’t even think of that now as there was no way for her to recover that money even if she wanted to.
Her one comfort was that if Edgar could afford her dress, then he wouldn’t have a problem repairing everything the house needed.
“Once the dress is back, I’ll let you hold it and caress it to your heart’s content.”
“Then I will die a happy woman,” she said as she returned to organizing Caroline’s wardrobe. “Mr. Andrews is good to you. Mostly, you know I don’t think he’s written you nearly enough since he’s been away.”
“Lucy, you’re supposed to gossip with me, not about me.”
She had taken to many of her duties as a lady’s maid fairly well, but Caroline believed she would never be broken of her gossiping. Even when she used her most admonishing tone, Lucy didn’t even look sheepish and just barreled on instead.
“I know he’s working, but even a quick note letting you know he was alive would be better than nothing.”
Now that she thought about it, it had been some time since Edgar’s last peculiar letter, but she hadn’t noticed. They weren’t even married, and she already felt like a bad wife.
“Oh!” Lucy exclaimed, reaching into her pocket. “I nearly forgot; a letter came for you early this morning.”
Caroline took the letter from her and frowned at Dr. Murnau’s looping script.
His handwriting was always difficult to read, but she could tell this letter was written in a hurry.
There weren’t many details, but he asked her to get there at her first opportunity.
It was still early, but she felt guilty that she wasn’t there.
Especially since she hadn’t gone in the previous day either.
“Is something wrong?” Lucy asked softly.
“Get out my work dress. Dr. Murnau needs me at the hospital.”
Caroline said a little prayer that there hadn’t been much carnage while she was away.
* * *
Caroline held her cloak around herself like a shield as she stepped from the carriage onto the rainy street. The stone steps were slick, and she fought to keep her balance as she rushed up the stairs into the hospital.
Last time she was at the hospital, the ward was quiet because the patients were healing, but today the quiet was malignant.
Something was wrong; she knew it in her bones as her heeled boots echoed on the tile floor.
A quiet this deep was due to primal fear.
Something that humans thought they vanquished with the creation of fire and living in structures instead of caves.
Humans had only built the illusion of safety. Monsters could still get to them.
When she asked why the floors were tile, she was told it was because it was easier to clean. The drain in the middle of the room supported the idea of frequent cleaning. She didn’t want to think about what could have inspired that choice.
Of the dozen or so cots in the ward, only two were occupied. A nurse was spooning broth into one of their mouths as the other was so still on his cot he looked dead to the world. Neither man was Mr. Palmer.
“Miss Blythe, you’re dripping on the floor.”
Caroline turned to see the doctor. He looked like hell. His greasy hair was pushed back from his sweaty face. His jacket and vest were removed, and his once white shirt had been yellowed with sweat and dried blood splattered all over him. The blood was even evident on his black trousers.
Deep purple bags were beneath his eyes, and new lines had formed around his eyes and forehead. It had been less than forty-eight hours since she last saw him, but he looked as if he had aged at least a decade.
“My apologies,” Caroline said as she unlatched her cloak, looking around for a hook to hang it, but she didn’t see one nearby.
“Don’t worry about it.” Dr. Murnau waved a hand, and she left the cloak on. “In fact, I think you may be helping to clean the floor.”
Looking back at the floor, Caroline noticed the drops of water from her cloak diluting blood stains. “Would you like me to mop the floor?”
“No, the nurses will take care of it. I would like to see you in my office so we can discuss what’s happened these past few days.”
Caroline silently followed him with a knot in her stomach. She felt guilty that she spent yesterday in her wedding dress fitting while people here suffered and died. Even in the best of times, the doctor was frequently stretched too thin.
“Would you like a cup of tea, Miss Blythe?” The doctor asked as he walked to the kettle on the wooden stove in his office.
“No, thank you.” Her stomach was too sour to hold anything. She sat in her usual chair with her hands clasped on her lap. The man moved so slowly she wouldn’t be surprised if he hadn’t slept in days.
“I’m sorry to have sent for you so early, but I needed you here to be a witness in favor of my sanity,” he said, easing himself behind his desk.
She blinked a few times as his words sank in. They were possibly the very last words she ever expected to hear from him, and she wasn’t sure if the doctor had cracked after all.
“How am I supposed to vouch for your sanity?”
“You’re here to convince me,” a soft male voice said from behind her with a rich timbre.
Caroline turned to see a tall, well-dressed man standing in the doorway.
He had a willowy frame that was obscured by a dark overcoat.
His wavy brown hair was a little longer than the current style, with an errant curl flopped over his left eye.
Beside him was a woman his height whose brown hair was pulled into a loose bun at her nape and glowed red in the light.
She wore a black dress with a white apron over it that was clean, but had clearly seen some use.
She scowled while the man beside her looked on with a small smile.
“Gardner, I’ve never been so happy to see you in my life,” Dr. Murnau said, his lips turning up slightly before he crossed the room and violently shook the new man’s hand.
It was the first time Caroline had ever seen the doctor smile, and she found the expression unnatural.
“Your letter sounded urgent, so my research assistant and I didn’t want to waste a moment.”
“I hope I didn’t pull you away from anything important.”
“Nothing that couldn’t be paused. You actually caught us at a great time because we just returned from abroad.”
“Have you returned to teaching?”
“No,” he said, ducking his head, but she could see his cheeks redden. “I think the only person I’ll be teaching for a long while is my research assistant.”
“It’s a shame for medicine on the whole, but a boon to your assistant.”
“Perhaps.” The man shifted in place uncomfortably before the woman elbowed him. “Oh yes, please pardon my manners. This is my research assistant, Mrs. Jane Montgomery.”
“I’m pleased to meet you, Mrs. Montgomery. I am glad to have more hands to help.” Dr. Murnau turned to her and motioned for her to join them at the door. “I am Dr. Murnau, the only practicing physician in the area, and this is Miss Blythe, one of my volunteers.”
“It’s nice to make your acquaintance, Miss Blythe; I only wish it was under better circumstances. I’m Dr. Gardner. I went to medical school with Dr. Murnau.”
“He’s being modest. He was the youngest student in our class and taught there for several years while he conducted research. For the past few years, he’s been studying infectious diseases, never afraid to get right to the frontlines of an epidemic.”
“You’re making me sound far greater than I am.”
“The moment this illness presented itself, I knew I needed to bring you in.”
“Do you need our help with a diagnosis?” Mrs. Montgomery asked.
“No, I have a diagnosis. What I need is for you to disprove it.”
Dr. Gardner frowned. “Do you think it might be plague? It pops up occasionally in remote villages, and while it can sometimes be difficult to treat, it has never been as deadly as it was in the fourteenth century.”
“If I told you my diagnosis, even with Miss Blythe here as witness, I fear you would laugh at me. No, it is for the best if I show you.”
“What if we disagree with your findings?” Mrs. Montgomery asked, arching an eyebrow.
“I hope you do. I hope you have a rational explanation for what we’ve been dealing with. The only thing I ask in return is that you open your mind to what I’m about to show you.”
“Then, please lead the way, old friend,” said Dr. Gardner.
Dr. Murnau led them back to the main ward. The shades were drawn, and their four sets of footsteps echoed through the room. The patients were mostly silent, except for the occasional rattling breath that told her they were still alive.
“This is the patient I’ve had here longest; he’s been here for three days, but was sick at home for one additional day before coming here.”
“Four days.” Dr. Gardner’s eyebrows shot up. “What’s the sickness like?”
“Anemia, lethargy, a decreased temperature, and an absence of an appetite. They sleep most of the day away, but this is the most curious of all the symptoms.” Dr. Murnau walked to the curtains and threw them open, letting a beam of sunlight fill the room.
The light shocked Caroline; she threw up a hand to block her eyes at the sudden intrusion.
However, Caroline wasn’t the only one disturbed by the sudden sunshine.
The young man they crowded around violently seized, his eyes opening as he let out a piercing shriek.
It was an awful sound that made her soul cringe.
She wanted to run from this room and not stop until she had as much distance as possible from that awful, awful sound.
What kept her frozen was the smoke that came from his skin. She had never seen anything like it in her life and prayed she never would again. It was like the man was being burned alive, yet there were no flames. The smoke seemed to be coming from him.
“Tristan,” Mrs. Montgomery said, “Have you ever seen anything like this?”
“I have not.” Dr. Gardner looked at Dr. Murnau. “What do you think this is?”