“What is it? What’s happening?” Mrs. Flannery asked.
“Is that you, Mrs. Sullivan?” Father Patrick’s calm voice called to me.
“It’s my husband. He’s dangerously ill,” I called up to them as they made their way cautiously down the stone stairs. “He needs a doctor right away. I know there’s a telephone somewhere here.”
They reached me. Father Patrick put his hand on my shoulder. “Don’t worry, my dear. I’m sure it will be all right. Now where is that telephone? I know I’ve seen it somewhere.”
“Don’t ask me,” Mary Flannery said. She had taken longer to reach me and was puffing with the exertion. “I agree with Mrs. McCreedy. I don’t hold with such contraptions myself.”
“Mrs. McCreedy would know,” I said. “Do you know where she sleeps? Or does she still go home for the night?”
“Go home for the night?” Mrs. Flannery sounded surprised. “As far as I know she stays on the property year round. I think her room must be up with the rest of the servants.”
“I have a feeling the telephone is in Brian’s study,” Father Patrick said. “Let’s go and look, shall we?” He led me down one of the halls and finally opened a door. “Ah, yes, I was right. Do you know how to use it?”
“I’m not sure,” I said. “I’ve tried a telephone before. You just wind the crank, don’t you?”
“Go on then. Give it a try,” he said.
I had just picked up the receiver when a voice behind us demanded, “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, what is going on here?”
And there was Mrs. McCreedy herself, breathing heavily as if she’d just been running.
“Mrs. Sullivan’s husband has taken a turn for the worse,” Father Patrick said quietly. “She needs to telephone for a doctor.”
“That won’t do much good,” Mrs. McCreedy said. “Dr. Wilkins is the old-fashioned kind. Hasn’t taken to the electricity yet, nor the telephone.”
“Then what am I going to do?” I demanded. “Daniel is running a dangerously high fever. He’s delirious.”
“We’ll have to send somebody for the doctor,” Mrs. McCreedy said. “Too bad the master didn’t bring his chauffeur this time. Can that footman boy drive the automobile?”
“I’ve no idea,” Father Patrick said. “But I have driven a vehicle a couple of times in my life. I expect I can manage it. Give me a minute to get dressed and I’ll go and fetch the doctor myself.”
“Thank you. Thank you.” I was on the verge of tears.
“You’ll find him on Spring Street,” Mrs. McCreedy said. “White clapboard house just up from Narragansett Street. You’ll see his brass plate outside.”
I watched him go back upstairs. “I must get back to Daniel,” I said. “But I don’t know what to do.”
Mrs. McCreedy patted my shoulder tentatively. “Don’t you worry, my dear,” she said. “I’ll come over to the cottage and stay with you until the doctor arrives.”
“Thank you.” I muttered again, feeling a tear now trickling down my cheek. Their kindness was almost too much to bear.
We helped open the gates, then went to the cottage. I heard the sound of cranking, then the pop-popping sound as the engine came to life The big vehicle jerked forward in a rather hesitant manner as if its driver was not the most skilled, but at this stage I didn’t care. Mrs. McCreedy followed me in through the cottage door. I picked up the lamp and carried it up the stairs. I could hear Daniel’s ragged breathing a mile away. So could Mrs. McCreedy.
“He sounds terrible,” she said. “I reckon it’s turned to pneumonia. That’s how my poor husband went, God rest his soul.” And she crossed herself.
I went over to Daniel and touched his burning forehead. He moaned again. All I could think was that I had made light of his illness when he had probably been rather sick for the past two days. It felt as if I had somehow brought this on myself.
“I’ll make you a cup of tea,” Mrs. McCreedy said, going down the stairs and leaving us alone.
It seemed an eternity before I heard the sounds of a motor again and the scrunch of tires on the gravel. Then I heard the front door open.
“Hello?” a voice called.
“Up here, doctor,” I called and heard footsteps coming up the stairs.
“Now what have we got here?” he asked. “I hope it’s serious. I’m getting too old to be dragged from my bed at three in the morning.”