Clara smiled. “Bless you, Miss Betham. Bless you, Lady Helena.”
Tottering, she walked carefully into the other small room where her bed was, and Eugenia heard the rustle of clothing. Turning her attention to the woman in the bed, she sat gingerly on the edge of it on the far side of Lady Helena. Countess Whitington slept, a dark cloth on her brow. Lightly touching it, she found it warm and plucked it off to wet it again. The basin of water on the table held cool water, not cold, and Eugenia frowned.
“I should get more water,” she whispered.
Lady Helena shook her head, pressing the back of her hand to her mother’s temple. “No. Her fever is gone. Let us go into the antechamber and let her sleep.”
The Countess tossed in her bed, muttering something they could not understand, then relaxed into normal slumber. Tiptoeing, the two left her, turned down the wicks of the lamps, and collapsed into armchairs. “I want some wine,” Lady Helena declared.
“Are you sure that is a good idea?” Eugenia asked. “We both might fall asleep.”
“A little will not hurt. I am still shaking from the worry, and the wine will help. You have some, as well.”
Rising, Eugenia went to the sideboard and poured each of them a small glass of wine. After handing one to Lady Helena, Eugenia sat back down with her own. “This is the third time your mother has contracted this – dropsy,” she said.
Lady Helena nodded. “I know. I am terrified that during one of these times, she will not recover.” Tears leaked from her eyes as she sipped her wine, crying silently.
“Do not think that, Helena,” Eugenia said, her tone firm. “Do not tempt fate. Your mother will be fine and will live many years yet.”
Lady Helena nodded. “You are right of course. I must not tempt fate.” She sniffled and wiped her reddened cheeks with her hands. “She will be fine,” she repeated as though saying so made it a charm.
“She is a strong woman,” Eugenia went on. “We will see her through this.”
Lady Helena smiled. “I am so happy you are here with me. I do not know what I would do if I lost you.”
“What kind of talk is this? You are not going to lose me.”
“I am simply frightened that I will.”
Thus, they drank some wine and spoke of lighter, happier things, and continually checked on Countess Whitington. The older woman seemed to sleep more comfortably knowing her daughter was there beside her. Eugenia gathered up extra blankets and a pillow, then opened the door that led into the corridor. She smiled at Mr. Oldman, still standing at attention, his back to the wall.
“Here,” she said, setting the blankets on the floor. “The night will get chilly, especially on the stone floor.”
A small smile cracked his features. “Thank you, Miss Betham.”
“Sleep well, Mr. Oldman.”
* * *
The sunlight streamed through the windows when Eugenia woke with a start. She lay partially covered in a blanket on a couch, still in the clothes she had worn the previous day. Yawning, she sat up, stretching, and heard murmured voices coming from the bedchamber. Rising, she padded quietly in, finding the Countess awake and talking with Lady Helena. Clara tidied the room, walking stiffly, but managed a smile for Eugenia. Mother and daughter broke off their conversation at her entrance.
“Are you feeling better, My Lady?” Eugenia asked, curtseying.
“No, I am very tired, dear, so very tired. Will you be a dear and fetch me something cold to drink? Water? Milk?”
“Of course, My Lady.”
“And some broth, Eugenia,” Lady Helena added. “She needs nourishment.”
“Certainly. I will be right back.”
Outside, she discovered Mr. Oldman once again standing with his back to the wall, the blankets folded neatly. She smiled at him and found to her surprise that he followed her down the corridor. “Should you not stay with Lady Helena and the Countess?”
“I am to stay with you no matter what, Miss Betham.”
“Then you can help carry the trays.”
With his help, Eugenia brought back not just cold milk and hot broth, but breakfast for everyone, including Mr. Oldman. As he remained out in the corridor, eating his meal, Eugenia and Clara distributed the remaining food. Countess Whitington seemed brighter after drinking her cold milk and warm broth, but Lady Helena insisted she sleep again with the help of the chamomile.
