satisfied that the wounds were superficial.
‘There’s one on her thigh that will bear keeping an eye on,’ Pridie said. ‘It’s deeper than the others and might fester.’
‘I’ll make her a poultice, just in case. Are you dizzy, girl?’
Miranda’s head thumped when she nodded, making her wince.
‘You’re concussed, which is why you’re having dizzy spells. Your skull seems intact, but I want you to stay in bed for a few days.’
‘How is my sister?’
‘We shall go and find out. You come with me in case she takes fright. How long has she had this fever?’
‘Two days.’
Lucy whimpered when she opened her eyes. ‘My head feels wobbly.’
Miranda took her hand. ‘It’s all right, dearest. Sir James is just going to take a look at you.’
He examined Lucy’s arms, legs and face quickly and efficiently. ‘Does she have blisters on her chest, stomach and back?’
Fear thrust at Miranda. ‘Yes … It’s not smallpox, is it?’
‘It looks to be more like chickenpox. Have you had it?’
‘Yes, when I was an infant.’
‘Miss Lucinda should feel more lively in a day or two when all the spots have appeared. You must tell her not to scratch the pustules, especially if they come out on her face; otherwise they’ll scar. I’ll find a soothing salve to help stop the itch.’ He gave a bit of a laugh. ‘I’ve got one I made for the dogs. It killed their fleas by suffocation and took the itch from their bites at the same time.’
‘I didn’t know fleas breathed.’
Giving her a quick glance, he chuckled. ‘Didn’t you?’
‘You made that up,’ she accused.
‘Yes … but nature is fascinating. If you’ve ever examined a flea through a microscope, you would know that there’s a strong probability that it takes air in through little openings in its side.’
That sounded more likely. ‘So they get stuck in the salve and can’t get air.’
His glance travelled over the shapeless swath of flannel she was wearing, and he grinned. ‘You’re a child – too young to know of such things, or have responsibility for yourself, let alone your sister.’
She didn’t bother to enlighten him – to tell him she was nearly nineteen and her sister three years younger. She needed all the help she could get at the moment, and he obviously liked children. He wouldn’t have allowed them inside if he was going to throw them out. He might fall back on convention if he knew she was of marriageable age.
Mrs Pridie said, ‘Cook has warmed some chicken broth, but I don’t think the younger girl will eat much. Nancy is upset about what she did to Miss Jarvis.’
‘Perhaps you would tell her I’m not badly hurt, and it wasn’t her fault; it was mine,’ Miranda said immediately, which earned her a look of approval from Sir James as well as Pridie.
‘I’ll help my sister to eat her broth.’
Lucy shook her head and whined, ‘I’m not hungry, just thirsty.’
‘Could you manage some milk?’
When Lucy nodded, Sir James said, ‘I’ll send a maid up with some. In the meantime, you can try a little of the broth, Miss Lucy, since you need to get your strength up. I insist.’
Lucy managed a couple of spoonfuls before pushing it away. When the milk arrived, she only sipped at it at first and then found enough energy to gulp the rest down. Miranda sighed, wiping away her sister’s creamy moustache when Lucy’s eyes began to close. She tucked the covers over her, wishing she could set aside her cares and responsibilities so easily. ‘Sleep, then, Lucy. Call me if you need me.’
Afterwards, Miranda wolfed down her own bowl of broth, though her head ached with every spoonful she swallowed. It was the most delicious soup she’d ever tasted.
‘Into bed with you now, young lady,’ Mrs Pridie said.
The bed was the softest she’d ever known, like lying in a cloud. The room was blissfully warm and the light from the flames sent shadows leaping and dancing across the room. She yawned. Now they