17

THE STILLNESS OF THE HOUSE was Maggie’s first indication that something was amiss. No sound of baby Ivy fussing for her morning bottle, no constant chatter from Delia as she prepared for school, no humming from Colleen as she cooked the family’s breakfast.

Instead, the kitchen lay in cold, gray silence. A sense of foreboding sent shivers chasing up her spine.

After lighting the stove, Maggie moved to the parlor to start a fire there, in case Rylan hadn’t yet done so. Disappointment weighted her steps. She’d hoped to speak with Rylan and Gabe this morning before they started their chores. It had been a few days since the incident with Neill at the orphanage, and Maggie wanted to find out what her brothers had decided. She hoped that Colleen had had a chance to make them listen to reason and decide that rushing to buy an early passage home would not be in anyone’s best interest.

Not that it mattered what they decided, because Maggie was not going home. They’d have to hogtie her and haul her bodily onto the ship before she’d leave.

The faint glow from the parlor fireplace broke the darkness of the room. Maggie squinted in the dim light, vaguely making out a figure seated in the corner.

“Colleen? Is everything all right?”

Colleen shifted the baby from her shoulder, seeming to come out of a daze. “Oh, Maggie. I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you.”

“Where is everyone?”

With the stiffness of a much older woman, Colleen rose from her seat and placed Ivy in the basket at her feet. She brushed her hand over her wrinkled dress, which looked as though she’d slept in it. “Rylan’s at the orphanage with Dr. Reardon and Aurora. There’s a possibility that some of the children have contracted typhoid fever.”

“Typhoid? That’s terrible.” Maggie had seen such an outbreak once before near their village. “Which children are sick?”

“Greta, Johnnie, and Felicia. Possibly a few others.”

“What about Delia?”

“Not so far, thank the Lord. But I’m keeping her home for now. She’s still sleeping. Unlike Ivy, who’s had me up most of the night.” Colleen added a log to the fire and stirred the embers with a poker.

Maggie attempted to pull her thoughts together. “Don’t worry about breakfast. I’ll take care of it. You should catch some sleep while Ivy naps.”

Colleen smiled. “Thank you. I think I will.”

Maggie returned to the kitchen, took out the large frying pan, and set the tea kettle on to boil. She would keep it simple with bacon and toast, not sure when anyone would be ready to eat.

The bacon was almost ready when Gabe entered the kitchen. He came up behind her and kissed her cheek. “Good morning, love. Where is everyone?”

Maggie handed Gabe a mug of tea and quickly filled her brother in on the grim news.

A concerned frown marred his forehead. “When will they know if it’s typhoid?”

She scooped out some bacon and biscuits and set them on the table for Gabe. “I’m not sure. Dr. Reardon and Aurora have been there all night.”

Gabe’s eyebrows shot up. “Aurora’s there?”

“Yes. She’s assisting the doctor.”

Gabe set down his mug with a thump. “I’m going over to see what’s happening.”

Maggie frowned. “I don’t think that’s wise. Not until they’re certain what they’re facing.”

Gabe plucked his cap off the hook on the wall. “I’ve likely been exposed anyway since I’ve been over there almost every day. Besides, I reckon Rylan could use my support.”

Before she could protest again, Gabe strode out of the room, his breakfast untouched on the table.

Maggie wasn’t sure what worried her more—the potential typhoid epidemic or Gabe’s extreme reaction to Aurora’s possible peril.

Aurora wiped the brow of five-year-old Greta and set the wet cloth in a bowl on the bedside stand. The girl’s cheeks, red from fever, stood out like bright flags against the stark whiteness of the rest of her face. Her frame barely created a ripple under the quilt. Four other children slept in the spare room on the third floor, cramped quarters to be sure, but it was the only space they had available to care for the sick children away from the still-healthy ones.

Fighting waves of exhaustion, Aurora slumped onto the side of the bed and bowed her head. “Dear God, send Your healing graces to these precious children. Use me as Your instrument to help them recover. In Your name I pray.”

“Amen.”

Sudden realization broke through her haze of weariness, propelling her up from the thin mattress. “Gabe, you shouldn’t be here.”

He stood at the foot of the bed like a guardian angel. The concern shining from his eyes made Aurora want to break down and weep.

She tried to grab his arm and move him toward the door, but he wouldn’t budge.

“I’m not going anywhere, Aurora. Put me to work. I’m sure I can do something to help.”

The relief that spilled through Aurora shamed her. Surely she should be made of sterner stuff if she were to work the long hours required to become a nurse. During the night, Aurora hadn’t allowed any weariness or fear to show, but now the toll hit her full force.

She must have swayed, for Gabe wrapped an arm around her waist. “Easy now. Are you feeling okay?”

“I’m just tired.”

He swiped the wisps of hair from her forehead and laid his hand there. “You don’t have a fever, do you? We can’t have you getting sick.”

She could only shake her head, her throat had become so tight.

As if sensing her fragile emotions, Gabe squeezed her hand. “I’ll go check in with Rylan while you find me a job to do.”

He flashed her a smile that stole the air from her lungs.

“Thank you, Gabe.”

“My pleasure, cailín alainn.” He winked and set off down the hall.

She had no idea what it meant, but his endearing tone warmed her heart.

When Dr. Reardon came in several minutes later, Aurora still had not recovered her equilibrium.

“Miss Hastings, are you well? You look . . .” He halted, as though realizing there was no good way to finish.

Aurora had to pull herself together. She might be a pampered rich girl, but she was determined to prove she could handle her duties. “I’m fine. Let’s check on the children.”

Gabe returned just as the doctor was finishing with Johnnie.

Dr. Reardon removed his stethoscope, a scowl on his face. “What is he doing here?”

“Gabe came to help however he can,” Aurora explained hastily.

The grim set to Dr. Reardon’s mouth gave evidence of his displeasure. “May I speak with you both in the hall?”

“Of course.”

He moved outside the room, likely so the children wouldn’t hear his diagnosis. From his serious expression, Aurora feared the news would not be good. She and Gabe followed him out and closed the door.

Dr. Reardon didn’t waste any time. “I’m afraid this has all the appearance of typhoid fever. I’m going to take some more blood and urine samples to have analyzed. We’ll need stool samples, as well. In the meantime, we need to determine a possible cause. The likely sources of typhoid are a contaminated water supply or food tainted by a carrier.” He tapped a finger on his hand as he spoke. “I’ll need the water supply here tested. Until it is ruled out as a cause, water must be boiled before use. Proper hand-washing is of utmost importance. And all waste must be handled as per my instructions.” He glanced at Gabe. “Until the outbreak is identified and contained, I am recommending a quarantine.”

Aurora knew her dismay must show on her face. “What is the incubation period, Doctor?”

“It averages from seven to fourteen days.” Dr. Reardon folded his stethoscope and stuffed it in the pocket of his white coat. “I’ll need a list of everyone who has been in the building over the past two weeks. In particular, anyone who may have eaten the food prepared here during that time.”

Fatigue made Aurora’s knees tremble. “I’ll ask Rylan for help with that.”

“Who is the cook here?”

Aurora shook her head. “I don’t know.”

Gabe stepped forward. “Mrs. Norton is the head cook. Miss Mary Brown was recently hired as an assistant. But apparently she left during the night,” he said. “I stopped in the kitchen earlier, and unfortunately I believe Mrs. Norton has taken ill herself.”

“Oh, dear.” Aurora swiped the back of her hand across her forehead and attempted to pull her thoughts together. The situation seemed to be rapidly spinning out of control.

Gabe put a hand to her back, its warmth steadying her. “I’ll help Rylan compile a list of any people who might have been exposed,” he said.

Dr. Reardon nodded. “Good. Miss Hastings, I’d appreciate your assistance to take further blood samples.”

“Of course.” Aurora straightened her shoulders, but Gabe kept his arm about her.

He stared at the doctor. “Don’t forget to check on Mrs. Norton, as well.”

Dr. Reardon stiffened, and for a brief moment, Aurora sensed a strange tension between the two men.

After several seconds, Dr. Reardon took a step back. “Thank you, Mr. Montgomery. After you, Miss Hastings.”

As Aurora followed the doctor into the sickroom, she wearily wondered if she’d be required to cook the meals now, as well.