periwig was askew, tilted down over his left ear. One of the girls was lying on her back on the divan, her legs kicking in the air, so that her skirts had fallen below the tops of her stockings. Her thighs were creamy white, her pantaloons pink satin.
53
j o h n s m o l e n s
But it was another girl at the harpsichord, her cheeks dimpled with the effort, and she was so intent on playing that she didn’t notice Miranda as she crossed the parlor.
“Enough.” Miranda slammed the lid down on the keyboard—
and the girl just managed to get her fingers out of the way. She looked up at Miranda, petrified.
Miranda turned away and started back toward the vestibule.
Jonathan made an attempt to intercept her, but he must have seen something in her expression because he stepped out of the way and let her pass. She rushed down the hall and yanked open the library door. A girl was bent over the top of the wing-backed chair, her skirts thrown up on to her back. Enoch stood behind her, his pants bunched about his feet, and he gazed at his mother with a pained, helpless expression as he continued to thrust away, moaning woefully.
“They are not to touch that instrument,” Miranda said. “Do you hear me?”
A long strand of spittle descended from Enoch’s gaping lower
lip and the girl was gasping in some apparent agony.
“Do you hearme?” Miranda repeated, louder.
She didn’t wait for a reply but stepped out into the hall, pulling the door shut so hard that the framed paintings clattered against the plaster wall.
R
It was after dark when there came a knock on Giles’s door. He
descended the narrow stairs and found Caleb Hatch standing in
the alley.
“The missus wants me to fetch you. It’s Sarah. She’s taken some
vile fever. Came on all of a sudden at supper, and it only seems to be getting worse.”
“All right,” Giles said. “I’ll just get my bag.” He turned to
go back up the stairs, but paused and looked back at Caleb. “I’m surprised you didn’t send Leander for me at Wolfe Tavern.”
54
q u a r a n t i n e
“I was headed there, when I saw the light in your window,”
Caleb said. “Besides, Amanda says I’m to bring a block of ice back from Mulgrew’s.”
During the afternoon meeting, as the discussion about imposing
the quarantine became heated, Caleb had seemed robust and asser-
tive, as usual, but now he appeared startled, frightened, and even humbled. He was a man with a sick child, taking orders from his
wife, and Giles almost envied him that. “Yes,” he said. “Get some ice. Sarah may need it.”
Caleb went up the alley toward Market Square, and Giles
returned to his rooms, where he gathered up his coat and leather bag. He had been sorting through his supply of medicine, confirming what he had already known: it was insufficient.
R
When Amanda opened the front door and looked out at Giles, her
brow was pinched with anxiety and dread. Yet she was still fair, if weary. As always when he saw her, Giles had to steel himself
against an overwhelming sense of regret.
“Thank you for coming out at this hour,” she said, her voice
barely a whisper.
“I came as quickly as I could, of course.” He stepped inside, and for the briefest moment he couldn’t resist placing his hand on hers before she pushed the door closed. “May I have a look at Sarah?”
Amanda’s eyes had always been large, dark, and expressive.
They used to baffle him. Now they sought from him some hope,
some assurance. She led him into the kitchen, where the girl
was lying under blankets on a ticking-covered mattress by the
fireplace. Her face was deeply flushed, though she was shivering uncontrollably. Giles knelt down and placed his leather bag beside him on the floor. “Sarah,” he said. “It’s only Doctor Wiggins.”
The girl’s eyes were wide open and they moved toward the
sound of his voice. She gave off a powerful odor.
55
j o h n s m o l e n s
“Has she issued blood?” he
53
j o h n s m o l e n s
But it was another girl at the harpsichord, her cheeks dimpled with the effort, and she was so intent on playing that she didn’t notice Miranda as she crossed the parlor.
“Enough.” Miranda slammed the lid down on the keyboard—
and the girl just managed to get her fingers out of the way. She looked up at Miranda, petrified.
Miranda turned away and started back toward the vestibule.
Jonathan made an attempt to intercept her, but he must have seen something in her expression because he stepped out of the way and let her pass. She rushed down the hall and yanked open the library door. A girl was bent over the top of the wing-backed chair, her skirts thrown up on to her back. Enoch stood behind her, his pants bunched about his feet, and he gazed at his mother with a pained, helpless expression as he continued to thrust away, moaning woefully.
“They are not to touch that instrument,” Miranda said. “Do you hear me?”
A long strand of spittle descended from Enoch’s gaping lower
lip and the girl was gasping in some apparent agony.
“Do you hearme?” Miranda repeated, louder.
She didn’t wait for a reply but stepped out into the hall, pulling the door shut so hard that the framed paintings clattered against the plaster wall.
R
It was after dark when there came a knock on Giles’s door. He
descended the narrow stairs and found Caleb Hatch standing in
the alley.
“The missus wants me to fetch you. It’s Sarah. She’s taken some
vile fever. Came on all of a sudden at supper, and it only seems to be getting worse.”
“All right,” Giles said. “I’ll just get my bag.” He turned to
go back up the stairs, but paused and looked back at Caleb. “I’m surprised you didn’t send Leander for me at Wolfe Tavern.”
54
q u a r a n t i n e
“I was headed there, when I saw the light in your window,”
Caleb said. “Besides, Amanda says I’m to bring a block of ice back from Mulgrew’s.”
During the afternoon meeting, as the discussion about imposing
the quarantine became heated, Caleb had seemed robust and asser-
tive, as usual, but now he appeared startled, frightened, and even humbled. He was a man with a sick child, taking orders from his
wife, and Giles almost envied him that. “Yes,” he said. “Get some ice. Sarah may need it.”
Caleb went up the alley toward Market Square, and Giles
returned to his rooms, where he gathered up his coat and leather bag. He had been sorting through his supply of medicine, confirming what he had already known: it was insufficient.
R
When Amanda opened the front door and looked out at Giles, her
brow was pinched with anxiety and dread. Yet she was still fair, if weary. As always when he saw her, Giles had to steel himself
against an overwhelming sense of regret.
“Thank you for coming out at this hour,” she said, her voice
barely a whisper.
“I came as quickly as I could, of course.” He stepped inside, and for the briefest moment he couldn’t resist placing his hand on hers before she pushed the door closed. “May I have a look at Sarah?”
Amanda’s eyes had always been large, dark, and expressive.
They used to baffle him. Now they sought from him some hope,
some assurance. She led him into the kitchen, where the girl
was lying under blankets on a ticking-covered mattress by the
fireplace. Her face was deeply flushed, though she was shivering uncontrollably. Giles knelt down and placed his leather bag beside him on the floor. “Sarah,” he said. “It’s only Doctor Wiggins.”
The girl’s eyes were wide open and they moved toward the
sound of his voice. She gave off a powerful odor.
55
j o h n s m o l e n s
“Has she issued blood?” he
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