Chorus of the Dead

Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Alas! for the rarity

Of Christian charity

As Ainsley, Elizabeth and Mary reached the second floor landing, Elizabeth held her hand out to Mary as if expecting something to be placed in it. "The key, Mary," she commanded. The servant swiftly obliged and placed the black iron key into her mistress's hand and Elizabeth quickly used it to unlock the door to Lillian's room. Ainsley stood puzzled for a moment. The room had not been locked before. He wondered why the family chose to lock the sick girl in her room.

Upon entering the room they were struck by a pungent, putrid smell reminiscent of the one which had surrounded Dr. Bennett's own death bed. Lillian was writhing in her bed, the quilt and sheets twisted around her as she moaned in agony. Clutching her stomach she rolled to the side of the bed, throwing up in the chamber pot.

Elizabeth stood back, content to watch her sister in pain from a distance, while Ainsley charged for the bed side. Sitting behind her, Ainsley pulled Lillian's copious blonde tresses, matted and frizzy from too many days in bed, and finding a clip at her bedside, fastened them behind her head. Lillian leaned back then, allowing her head and shoulders to rest on his legs. Her eyes were but slits of the bright blue oceans that gazed up at him inquisitively the day before.

"Mary, take her pot and bring a fresh one. We need water and some rags if you have them," Ainsley ordered. Mary was away from the room instantly while Elizabeth only came close enough to lean on the bedpost at the foot of Lillian's bed.

Ainsley felt for and counted Lillian's pulse all the while feeling Lillian's strength seeping from her body. "Her heart is weak," Ainsley said. "Has she eaten anything today?" he asked turning around sharply to look at Elizabeth.

Elizabeth shrugged. "The servants bring her food but I can't say whether she eats it."

Ainsley looked around the room. "Where is her service tray? Her dishes? What was she served?"

"I'd have to ask Cook," Elizabeth answered in near panic. Ainsley could not decide if she was concerned for her sister or if she felt she would be blamed. "I can't rightly say. She'd been on a strict diet of beef tea, though she has not had an attack of late so perhaps we have become a bit lax."

Mary returned with a fresh chamber pot, while another servant arrived with towels and jugs of both warm and cold water.

Ainsley spent the next hour at Lillian's bedside, administering a cold compress and assisting her during her bouts of vomiting. With each passing episode Lillian grew more and more weak. Ainsley found himself in utter agony watching her life slowly slip away from him but he knew of nothing he could do to save her. As a surgeon he didn't know about treating illnesses, only the details of what caused them. What he performed while caring for Lillian was merely a replay of what he had seen his mother do when his siblings were sick. He knew, even as a child, that there was no miracle potion or tonic that cured him of whatever ailed him. He knew it was simply her presence that gave him strength enough to recover and that was precisely what he intended to give Lillian.

After nearly two hours the bouts seemed to have completely passed and Lillian's heart beat became a little bit stronger. Her head lay on her pillow now, no longer cradled in Ainsley's arms, though he remained close to her side. When her sickness left her and she could open her eyes she looked up at him as he leaned over her. She raised her hand to his face and smiled. "I knew you'd come," she whispered, before being lulled into a restful and deserved sleep.

After giving the maids instructions on how to help Lillian should her illness return, Ainsley washed his hands in the basin next to the bed. He was weary though relieved to see her on the mend. While drying his hands he noticed the two bottles of tonic from the day before. Lillian must have taken some of these, he thought, eyeing the liquids inside each container. Something must have caused her recurrence. He slipped the bottles into his jacket pocket and turned to leave.