“I have little sway over what his lordship does, my lady.”
“I urge you to try,” Marjorie Lockwood said.
“I will do my best, my lady.”
Lady Lockwood turned on her heel and walked away, leaving Alys to return to the sickroom. Alys perched on the side of the bed with the bowl of porridge she’d brought.
“I’m not hungry,” Jeremy said. His face wasn’t as flushed, but his eyes looked sunken and his lips were dry.
“Ye must eat,” Alys said, and held out a spoonful of porridge to him.
Jeremy obediently ate it but swallowed with difficulty. “My throat is awfully sore,” he said. He appeared to have trouble breathing and made a wheezing sound.
So not the ague, then, as Dr. Williams had surmised, Alys thought as she continued to spoon porridge into Jeremy’s mouth. This looked to her like bronchial catarrh. Not that she was an expert on medical matters, but living so close to other people, one couldn’t help but learn something. The ague didn’t usually present with a sore throat or congestion in the lungs. Her father had had a severe case of the catarrh years ago, and Alys recalled her mother treating him with a mixture of vinegar and water. She’d said it cleared the airways.
“I can’t anymore,” Jeremy rasped after eating very little of the porridge.
Alys held a cup of ale to his lips. “Ye need to drink.” He took a few sips and leaned back against the pillows. “I’ll be back,” she said.
Returning to the kitchen, she filled a pitcher with water from the barrel and poured some vinegar into a cup.
“What’s that for, then?” Mistress Helmsley asked.
“For the master’s cararrh.”
The woman stared at her in disbelief. “Dr. Williams said it’s the ague.”
“I don’t believe he’s right.”
“Are ye daft, Alys?” Mistress Helmsley demanded. “Ye are going to argue with a respected physician?”
“I’m not arguing with anyone, but a mixture of water and vinegar will hardly do any harm, even if I’m wrong. His lordship has a sore throat, congestion in the lungs, and he can hardly breathe through his nose.”
Mistress Helmsley nodded. “Well, I suggest ye keep yer meddling from the mistress or she’ll have ye whipped for insolence.”
“Then ye’d better not tell her,” Alys replied, and returned to Jeremy’s bedchamber.
She poured water into the vinegar and held out the cup to him. “Ye must drink this.”
Jeremy took the cup and instantly held it away from his face. “It smells awful.”
“Nevertheless,” Alys said. “Drink up.”
Jeremy took a deep breath and drank the mixture, returning the empty cup to her. “Indescribably disgusting,” he said, giving her a watery smile.
“We’ll do this again in a few hours, and then again. It should help with the sore throat and breathing. Does yer head still hurt?”
He nodded miserably.
“Try to sleep. I think the fever is climbing again.”
Jeremy looked alarmed. “Please, don’t plunge me in cold water again.”
“I will if I have to.”
Too weak to argue, Jeremy lay back and closed his eyes.
Chapter 35
Alys continued to nurse Jeremy for the next several days, but by the third day of his illness, the improvement was marked. He was still fevered, but not like that first night, and his breathing was easier. She had less success in feeding him, though. He had no appetite, and his throat hurt too much to eat anything solid. He woke up feeling stronger on the fourth day and swallowed experimentally.
“Better?” Alys asked.
He nodded and smiled, then ran a hand over his face. “Will you help me shave?”
“Of course.”
“Alys, I want to thank you for what you’ve done for me,” Jeremy said once his face was smooth once again.
“Ye needn’t thank me.”
“But I do. My wife hasn’t visited me once, has she?” he asked bitterly.
“No.”
“Can you bring me that box on the mantelpiece?” he asked.
Alys obediently brought the box. It was heavy and ornate, made of polished wood and wrought silver. It looked like the reliquary at St. Botolph’s, only smaller. There was a keyhole, and Alys thought Jeremy would open the box with a key, but he simply lifted the lid, withdrawing a small leather pouch that he pressed into her hand. Alys opened the pouch to find an exquisite hummingbird pin, the eyes and wings studded with colored gems. She stared at it, stunned.
“It’s a cloak pin,” Jeremy explained.
I don’t own a cloak, Alys thought dazedly, transfixed by the gorgeous little bird. Finally tearing her gaze away, she held the pin out to Jeremy.
“I can’t accept this,” Alys said, amazed by his generosity.
“It was my mother’s. I’d like you to have it.”
“What would I do with something so fine?” Alys asked. “If I wore it, everyone would think I stole it.”
“Then keep it safely hidden,” Jeremy said. “One day you might find yourself in need, and this pin might be the difference between life and death. Please, take it,” he pleaded.
“Thank ye, Jeremy,” she said, forcing herself to speak his name. It still felt too intimate, too forbidden.
“You’re most welcome,” Jeremy said, laying his hand over hers. It was cool for the first time in days.
Alys pushed the pouch into the pocket of her skirt and felt its reassuring weight against her thigh. She’d have to figure out where to hide it once she returned to her room. She wouldn’t want Millie to see it.
Jeremy sniffed experimentally at his nightshirt. “I think I need a bath,” he said. “A warm one this time,” he added playfully. “Do you think I can leave my bed now?”
“Tomorrow,” Alys said. “Ye mustn’t rush it. And ye must eat. Ye’re skin and bones.”
“Hardly,” Jeremy said, touching his smooth cheek. His face looked gaunt, and his eyes lacked their usual luster, but he was definitely
