Hush Now, Don't You Cry (Molly Murphy, #11)

Before I could answer he looked at Daniel and shook his head. “My, my. That doesn’t sound good, does it?”


His manner changed and he was all business. He undid Daniel’s nightshirt, brought out his stethoscope, and listened to Daniel’s chest. He took Daniel’s temperature, making little tut-tutting noises. Then he looked up at me. “I’m afraid I’ve no good news,” he said. “As you may have gathered, your husband has developed an inflammation on the chest. To put it shortly, pneumonia. There’s not much we can do for him but make him comfortable and hope for the best. In my early days in medicine we’d have tried a purge or even a bloodletting, but both those are pooh-poohed in these days of modern medicine. All I can suggest is to keep the windows closed. Keep him bundled up and try to sweat it out of him. If he can drink give him water.”

“That’s all? Would something like aspirin help?”

He gave me a cold stare. “I’m still suspicious of these newfangled medicines, young lady. From all I’ve heard, aspirin is helpful for headaches,” he said. “I’ve no doubt he’s got a whale of a headache at this moment but it’s the least of his problems. No, I’m afraid all you can do is make him comfortable, let him ride it out, and pray.”

He gathered up his things and stuffed the stethoscope into the black bag. “I’ll return in the morning,” he said. “And in the meantime—” he put a hand on my arm. “I’m afraid you should prepare yourself for the worst. The chances of survival are not ever the best with pneumonia.”

“Would he be better off in a hospital?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady. “Would they be able to do more for him there?”

“There’s nothing they could do for him in our small hospital,” he said, “and the ride to Providence over bumpy roads could well finish him off. But he looks like a fit and active fellow. So we won’t give up hope, will we?” He attempted a positive nod that didn’t exactly come off as sincere. Then he patted my arm and left.





Eighteen

“You’ll be all right alone with him, will you?” Mrs. McCreedy asked, setting a tea cup down beside me. “I should be getting back to the big house. I don’t like to—I mean it will soon be dawn and I need to make sure those girls are up to light the fires in the bedrooms.”

She gave me a sympathetic smile.

“Thank you. There’s nothing you could do anyway,” I said, “except say a prayer for him.”

“I’ll do that, my dear. I’ll say a rosary. We’ll put him in the hands of Our Lady. She’ll take good care of him.”

I nodded, wishing I had her faith. Presumably she’d said a rosary when her husband was dying of pneumonia and it hadn’t helped. She got as far as the door, then turned back. “Look, I’m sorry I was short with you the other evening,” she said. “When you came about the chicken. I had no idea your man was so poorly. You startled me, you see. I wasn’t expecting to see anyone.”

“I understand,” I said. “You gave me a turn too when I opened that door and saw your face on the other side.”

“I’ve been a bit jumpy these last few days,” she said. “This whole visit didn’t seem natural from the beginning, and then you and your man turning up like that.”

I nodded again, wishing she would go. Frankly I had no desire to sit chatting with her while my husband tossed and turned in his fever.

“And now that the master has been taken from us—well, I’m all of a tizzy. I don’t know what’s going to happen to us.”

“I’m sure it will all turn out just fine.” I put a tentative hand on her shoulder. “Whoever inherits the house will want you to stay on.”

She nodded. “Ah, well,” she said at last. “I’d best be going. I’ll send one of the local girls round in the morning to look after you. You’ll not be wanting to cook and clean with your man lying in this state.”

“Thank you,” I said. “I’m sorry to have disturbed your sleep.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’m often awake during the night.” She went quietly down the stairs as if trying not to wake a sleeping child and I got the impression that this was a woman whose nerves had been on edge for some time—long before Brian Hannan had announced that he was bringing his family to the cottage for an October stay.