London, England, 1876
I lived my life in the shadows of those around me at Kingsley's School for Proper Deportment, and in the gray mists of an unjust world, never feeling at home or at ease. I would have liked to blame Mistress Blackburn, the fire and brimstone headmistress, but that would be a lie. I had lived the first seven years of my life that way as well, before my mother's murder--though then I'd lived in the shadow of her operatic voice, unaware of the injustices the illegitimate suffered, and with no home, just a series of hotels.
Though the shadows and the mists darkened my life, they weren't my enemies either—not like the night. At seven I learned that death stalked in the darkest hours in one form or another, be it a man with a knife or a disease with no cure. And tonight, I could hear its relentless march in the weakening echoes of little Penny Marshall's cough.
Pacing across the infirmary, I glanced frequently at Dr. Orson's grim, rheumy-eyed expression.
“I should have been called a week ago,” he said, pressing his stethoscope to Penny's back. Feverish, she moved restlessly with every rasping breath, as if in pain. She was seven and new to Kingsley's School, just as I had been fourteen years ago. And she was alone in the world as well.
I clenched my fists, knowing deep in my heart I should have defied Mistress Blackburn and called the doctor. I'd had this uneasy feeling about Penny ever since she'd become ill, but I'd honestly thought she'd been improving this week. She'd started eating better and had even been up several times during the day to read with the other students.
There were two halls within Kingsley's School, one well-heated and fit for the princesses of those families who had money and generously gave to the school, and the other, cold and damp and dreary, for Mistress Blackburn's charity projects—like Penny Marshall...like me. Pious woman that Mistress Blackburn was, acts of charity were essential for her salvation, but her good works didn't include the cost of a physician for what she considered minor ailments.
Tonight I'd summoned one for Penny anyway, leaving the headmistress to sleep. I'd pay a price in the morning, but I'd had no choice. I paced across the infirmary and back, waiting for the doctor to finish his examination. When he was done, I placed a cool cloth on Penny's forehead and tucked the blankets around her shivering body.
Doctor Orson closed his bag and motioned me toward the door. Once in the corridor, he sighed heavily.
“Well, miss….?”
“Bryson. Miss Elizabeth Bryson.”
“Miss Bryson, I am sorry to say, but I don't think there is much chance that child will live through the night. I've a vial of laudanum for you to administer, to make this easier on you both.” He slipped the medicine from his bag.
My fingers were numb as I took the bottle. I could barely see him through the tears filling my eyes. Guilt and sorrow ripped across my heart and clawed their way into my throat. All I could do was nod.
He sighed again and started to walk away. “Wait,” I called out, almost shouting at him in my grief. “Isn't there anything else that can be done?”
He shook his head. “It's too late.”
“No. Maybe not. She was just up yesterday.” I set my hand on his arm, begging him to understand. “What if she were your child? What would you do? Surely there is something that I can do! There has to be.”
“Not in the winter cold, the damp room, or in London's filth. Perhaps if this were summer in the country and the child could be taken out into the humid heat of the day, or if she lived in a warmer climate, she might have a chance.” He pulled another vial from his bag. “This is a mixture of oils. Boil a small amount in water and fill the room with the odor. I must warn you that it is extremely foul smelling. I have noted some improvement in patients with lung ailments, but never with one as ill as this child.”
Grasping the bottle, I wrapped my tingling fingers around it, feeling as if every whispered prayer and every hope lay within the dark fluid. “Please. Come again in the morning. She will be better and maybe there will be something more you could do then.”
He looked at me strangely, as if insanity had taken hold of my mind. But I couldn't believe anything else. I had to fight, for I knew that if I didn't, insanity might then truly gain purchase of my soul.
Without waiting for his answer, I went back to Penny, my mind searching for a way to save the child. The hottest place in all of Kingsley's school was the huge hearth in the kitchens. I wrapped Penny in the blankets with the medicine tucked into my pocket and ran. Already her color was bluer than when the doctor examined her, and I could barely hear her cough anymore. Anger at myself, the world, and years of pent up frustrations fueled me.
At first my efforts to build a fire failed, and in desperation I jerked off my one and only shawl to stuff under the wood and set it on fire. Putting on nearly ten large logs, I soon had a blaze worthy of Hades. I poured half the bottle of the acrid oil into an iron cauldron of water. Then, holding Penny close with a blanket around us both, I sat so near the fire that I felt my lashes curl and my eyes dry. Using a fan, I wafted the rising awful smelling steam under her nose with one hand, as I rhythmically squeezed her ribs and then released them a moment. I lost track of time, my mind blurred beneath the assaulting effects of the fire and the constant prayers that whispered from my heart. Many times I thought I would faint, but I clung to my hope that somehow I could save Penny, even if I lost myself in the doing.
But I feared my efforts had failed, for long toward morning, Penny started coughing again, painfully wrenching coughs that left her weak and crying. I piled on more wood, poured more water and oil into the cauldron and started the process over again.
“Who is in my kitchens and what in the devil are you doing?”
Snapping my head up above the blanket, I blinked at Miss Croft, the head cook for Kingsley School, unable to bring her face into focus.
“Miss Bryson! Good God, you have burned yourself. Your lovely hair, your face! Have you lost your mind?”
I looked down at Penny, pressed against my bosom. Her face was red. The brown hair around her face kinked as it had been held over the flame of a candle. And her eyes were closed, but I could feel the rise and fall of her breaths against my heart. She wasn't exactly breathing easily, but she wasn't struggling to breathe either, and it was morning. Smiling at the thankfulness bursting inside me, I returned my gaze to the cook. “No, Miss Croft. I believe I have found my mind for the first time ever.”
Her eyes boggled as I stood up with Penny in my arms. “If you wouldn't mind fixing Penny and me some hot tea, and warm broth, if we have it and send it up to the infirmary—no, make that the sitting room upstairs--I would be very appreciative.”
She gasped. “But you know that is against the rules. And Penny isn't permitted in the privileged rooms.”
“Penny and I will be staying in the sitting room until Miss Blackburn sees fit to give her a warmer place to recuperate. Last night, the doctor said she would be dead by morning. As you see, she isn't, so unless you want to undo God's miracle this day, I suggest you get the tea to us immediately. I will take all blame, thank you.”
I didn't wait for a response, on shaky knees I carried the sleeping Penny up the stairs to the sunniest room at Kingsley's School for Proper Deportment, and settled Penny upon a luxurious satin settee, propping her up with the rich damask pillows and waited for Miss Blackburn to descend. I didn't have long to wait.
She flew into the room squawking like an angry crow. “Have you lost every sensibility and bit of intelligence that I've spent years of my life giving to you? What is the meaning of this outrage?”
“This outrage?” I asked, standing though I felt as if I would fall. “I call it an outrage that this child would have died had I not used my intelligence and sensibilities. I don't know how it would have appeared to your Christian Women's League for the Aide of the Unfortunate that your rules and lack of true charity would have murdered an innocent child, but I shouldn't think it would have been good. And had Penny died, I would have made sure that every Christian Organization across London would know of your stingy treatment. They might look the other way now as long as no one speaks of it, but once the words are heard, everyone will be gasping in horror.”
Miss Blackburn grabbed her chest gasping. “How….how…dare you speak to me so, after all that I have done for you?”
“What you've done is produce a woman who won't allow a child to die because you refused to incur the expense of a doctor. I've asked four times over the past three weeks. I know there were the funds to afford one. Mrs. Hamilton Fullbrighton mentioned during her visit to Penny last month that the church was providing funds for her care.”
Miss Blackburn turned purple. “I told my sister the day you were born that you were nothing but the spawn of the devil who sired you, and she should have dumped you on the street or sent you packing to your father. I'm through sacrificing for you. You can go to your heathen father or starve. Either way, I want you gone today.”
“I'm not leaving Penny,” I said as my knees gave out. Thankfully, I caught the edge of the chair behind me before I landed on the floor. Then the words of her tirade penetrated my bleary mind and my entire life swirled before me with dizzying speed. This harsh woman was my mother's sister? “You're my aunt?” I'd been told all of my life that my entire family including my father was dead. It was all too much to take. “What did you say?”
“You heard me. Your father is known as the Bastard of Berwick in Scotland.”
A male clearing his throat snapped Miss Blackburn's gaze toward the door, I followed with mine. The doctor stood there, bag in hand.
“Excuse me,” Miss Blackburn flustered. “I wasn't expecting you this morning Dr. Orson.”
“Obviously. I'm here to see about child this morning.”
I motioned to the settee and his eyes widened with surprise. “Well, it would seem today was made for miracles.” He entered the room, but before he went to Penny, who'd thankfully slept through the shattering of my life, he peered down at me. “I guess you found that hot summer I spoke of, maybe even got a little to close to the sun, it seems.”
I nodded, emotion clogging my throat at the kindness in his voice.
“I've the perfect salve for sunburns, and at no charge, either.” He smiled at me and then sent Miss Blackburn a sharp look. She inhaled stiffly. I couldn't think of her as my aunt. It defied all reason and I wasn't sure if I should believe her tirade or not. But why would she lie? Then again, why had she lied for the past fourteen years?
What will Elizabeth do next? GO TO www.romancejunkies AND VOTE
