Chapter twenty-five - Beatrice

Beatrice eyed her new husband with concern. He sat beside her on their shared blanket, the plate of food between them barely touched. Occasionally he rubbed the heel of one hand against his eyes and tugged at his shirt. She knew he was feverish. She could feel the heat coming off of him from here. Probably had a headache and even more aches and pains that he was trying his best to ignore. She worried he was developing the same malady he had nursed her through.

Everyone else sat around the graveyard, laughing and talking. The elderly musician had rosined up his bow and was playing a jaunty tune. His music had more than a few toes tapping with delight. Children danced and cavorted about while the adults sat and watched. Fortunately, the newlyweds were seated far enough away no one else seemed to notice that the groom was unwell. For the most part they were left alone. Beatrice thought this was a good thing.

Now, if only she could convince her big strong husband that he was ill and needed care. She had a sneaking suspicion that the man would cut off his right arm rather than admit he wasn't feeling well. Glancing about their quiet little corner of the graveyard, an idea formed. She eased herself over to the large headstone nearest them and settled herself comfortably in its shadow.

"The sun is certainly warm today." She commented, wiping her brow with the back of her hand.

Gilbert nodded his agreement, mimicking the gesture.

"It's much cooler over here in the shade." She patted her lap in invitation.

Gilbert smiled weakly as he gingerly eased himself down until his head rested in her lap. Most of him was still in the sun but his head and shoulders benefitted from the shade. Beatrice was pleased to hear him sigh in relief as he settled and relaxed. Gently, she untied the fastenings at his nape and loosened his hair, working her fingers through the thick, dark mass. His eyes closed in bliss, lips curving up in amusement as she played with his hair. Then he captured her hand and kissed her fingers before folding it between his hands over his chest. Beatrice smiled down at him. His gallantry amused and enchanted her. He yawned widely and in moments was fast asleep.

A group of giggling children raced by with Martine hurrying along in their wake. She caught sight of her aunt and veered off. Beatrice smiled in welcome as the little girl stopped beside the gravestone she rested against. The child glanced down at the man sleeping there, tilting her head in bird-like fascination.

"Why is my new uncle sleeping again?" She whispered softly.

"He isn't feeling very well, I'm afraid." Beatrice replied.

"Is he sick like Teddy was?" She asked, her little brow furrowed with concern.

"I think so."

Martine looked from Gilbert to the doll in her arms, then back again.

"Miss Prissy makes me feel better when I'm not feeling well." The little girl gently laid her doll in the crook of Gilbert's arm. "Uncle Bear can hold her until he feels better."

The sweet gesture brought tears to her eyes, even as she suppressed a giggle at the child’s choice of nickname. Before Beatrice could utter a word of praise, Martine rushed off to catch up with her new friends. She couldn't help but admire the child's innocent generosity. Martine was rarely without that doll. She carried it almost everywhere. To leave it with another, let alone someone who was virtually a stranger, was a supreme sacrifice.

Beatrice continued to watch the festivities around them as she sat there in the deepening shadows. The warmth of the day, the delightful music and muted amusement of the crowd all worked together to lull her into a mid-day stupor.

It seemed like only moments later that she was startled awake by sudden movement against her legs.

She opened her eyes to find Gilbert twisting and thrashing in his sleep, caught up in some horrible nightmare. He mouthed something, over and over, throwing himself back and forth but the only sound he made was a deep rasping, guttural bark. She couldn't make out exactly what he was trying to shout, but it seemed like he was desperately calling someone's name.

Automatically, she shushed him, laying her hands on his forehead as she tried to soothe away whatever demons tormented him. The heat coming off him was enough to burn her fingers. His hair and his shirt were plastered to him, soaked with sweat. The fever was full upon him. Beatrice continued to stroke his brow and shush him. Eventually, he seemed to quiet and then as she ran her fingers down his cheeks, she discovered them wet with tears. He was weeping silently, his face twisted into a mask of pure misery. He slowly rolled to his side, curling himself into a ball around the tiny doll he held crushed to his chest. His shoulders heaved with silent sobs. Her heart ached to see him in such torment.

"Glory be. Not another one." A familiar voice exclaimed.

Beatrice looked up to see Miss Mabel standing at Gilbert's feet, hands on her hips, scowling down at the sick man.

"No help for it." The older woman heaved an aggrieved sigh as she turned and motioned to another as she called out. "Gladys, get the boys to bring us some water and come over here and give me a hand." Abruptly, she bent and grabbed one huge foot. "Best to get him stripped down and cooled off."

An older woman Beatrice assumed was Gladys hurried up to her side as Miss Mabel yanked off his boot and tossed it aside.

"Mercy me but he's a big, strapping fellow." The woman commented as she watched Miss Mabel peel off his knit sock. "Would you look at those feet?"

"He certainly is big all over." Miss Mabel chuckled, then blushed and cleared her throat as her gaze met with Beatrice's. "Beg pardon, My Lady." Tossing the second boot after the first, she motioned to the other woman. "This is my sister-in-law, Gladys."

"My Lady." Gladys dipped a hasty curtsey and Beatrice nodded in greeting.

"You get his shirt, Gladys. I'll get his pants."

"Oh, but..." Beatrice began to protest as she struggled to slide out from under the now quiet Gilbert.

"No, no My Lady. You just stay there and keep wiping his brow. We'll take care of the rest." Miss Mabel interrupted as she waved her back. "Where are those boys with the water?"

"They're just coming now." Gladys answered as she knelt and worked the ties on Gilbert's shirt.

"Good. We are going to need their help to get these clothes off." Miss Mabel finished unbuttoning the flap of Gilbert's pants but left the material in place. "We will have to leave his smalls. Too many little ones running about for that."

Two burly young men approached, each carrying two heavy water buckets. Beatrice thought they looked rather different and couldn't figure out exactly why until they bent to set the buckets down. Neither man wore a shirt. They both had coat and jacket but no shirt.  Then she glanced again at the two women and saw that the skirts they wore were actually men's shirts, modified to accommodate their feminine curves.

Both men doffed their caps in deference.

"Beg pardon, My Lady. Please excuse the way we're dressed." The first young man tugged self-consciously at his jacket, trying to cover his bare chest a bit better.

"You've worked the field many a time without a shirt." Gladys gruffly pointed out.

"Yes, but never in the presence of a Lady." The other man said, nervously mangling his cap between work-hardened hands.

"It was My Lady who suggested using our skirts in the first place." Miss Mabel explained and Beatrice was surprised by the note of pride in the older woman's tone.

"Besides, it was only fair for you men to loan us girls some decent covering. After all we sacrificed our modesty as well as our skirts to fight the flames." Gladys proclaimed logically.

"A brilliant solution, Madame." Beatrice hid an amused smile as she nodded her approval.

"Pay them no mind, My Lady." Miss Mabel advised dismissively. "These are Gladys' sons. George and Samuel."

Beatrice smiled gratefully at the two young men.

"I thank you for your assistance, gentlemen."

"Pleased to be of service, My Lady." The first lad proclaimed.

"It's an honor, My Lady." The second added earnestly. "We all saw him carry that ingrate shopkeeper through the smoke."

"The least we could do is help him recover his strength." Said the first.

"Now, don't you worry about a thing, My Lady. We'll have your young man back on his feet again before long." Gladys reassured her earnestly.

"Once the fever passes, he'll be right as rain." Miss Mabel added. "Now, George, you get on that side and Sam can take this one. We need you to help support him while we get these clothes off."

The two young men moved quickly to obey and soon Gilbert was stripped to his small clothes. Miss Mabel dismissed the men and she, Gladys and Beatrice each took turns bathing Gilbert and feeding him sips of water. He remained quiet for the most part and Gladys excused herself to tend to her family as she wasn't really needed any longer. The sun was setting by then and the party had wound down as everyone split off into their own little family groups.

"How did you know my husband was taken ill?" Beatrice asked as she tucked her cloak around a now shivering Gilbert.

She had dispensed with her makeshift skirt to use as a cover for their patient. Following the other women's example, she now wore his shirt around her waist. It was huge and hung on her despite her ample curves, swinging around her calves.

"That sweet little niece of yours mentioned it." Miss Mabel answered softly.

"Martine." Beatrice replied with a nod and a fond smile as her gaze was drawn to Miss Prissy tucked up under the big man's chin. "She is very sweet. She even left her favorite doll here for Uncle to hold. She said she hoped it would make him feel better."

"Precious." Miss Mabel agreed with a soft sigh.

"She and Felicia are the only ones in the family who haven't suffered with this malady as of yet." Beatrice suddenly realized. “They really shouldn't be around Gilbert while he is ill.”

"No need to worry on their account. I'll take them over to stay with us for the night." Miss Mabel assured her.

"Oh, but you've done so much already." Beatrice protested.

"Pish-posh." The older woman waved off her concerns. "Those two little nieces of yours are already thick with my brood. They won't mind in the least staying the night together."

Beatrice smiled gratefully at the woman.

"Thank you, Miss Mabel. I don't know what we would have done without all your help."

"I could say the same, My Lady. You and your husband were a godsend to us all in our time of need." Miss Mabel's eyes glistened suspiciously but the genuine happiness on her face never wavered.

"Aunt Bea!" Beatrice turned to see Teddy hurrying toward her, grinning widely, his face alight with excitement.

"Teddy, dear." Beatrice leaped to her feet as he ran up to her, still chattering excitedly.

"Aunt Bea, you won't believe it! You really won't believe it." He gulped a breath. "Did you know Uncle Gilbert lives in a castle?"

“Yes, I did know that, but we can discuss that some other time.” Beatrice told him, taking hold of his shoulders in an attempt to quiet the lad.

“It’s massive. And Mr. Sumter says…” Teddy’s excited babble stumbled to a halt and his smile faded when he caught sight of the big man laying on the ground. "What happened?" The boy’s face twisted into a concerned frown.

"Uncle Gilbert is very ill.” She answered solemnly. “I need you to look after your sisters for me. I don't want them to become sick."

"Certainly, Aunt Bea." Teddy answered quietly. "But where will we go?"

"You will come with me, Young Master Teddy." Miss Mabel interrupted decisively.

"I surely appreciate your assistance, Madame." Beatrice assured her.

"Now, I'll just escort this young man to our little parcel of the yard and get the little ones all settled in for the night."

"But, Aunt Bea..." Teddy tried to object.

"Don't fret, yourself. Your Aunt has had a long day and needs whatever rest she can get. Come along now and we'll try and locate your sisters." She rested her hand on Teddy's back and turned him with her as she began walking away.

Teddy tossed a half-hearted wave over his shoulder at her but she saw the concern in his expression. Not that she could blame him. Once again, his world was tilting around him and there seemed no clear path. He had already lost both his father and mother. If Gilbert didn't recover... Well, she just didn't care to think too much about that. She refused to worry. After all, Gilbert was ill but he already seemed to be recovering. He was trembling with fever chills but no longer did he thrash and throw himself about. Surely that was a good sign.

With a tired sigh, Beatrice slid in under the cloak and curled up to her husband's side. She was gratified when his shivering eased as their shared warmth filled their little makeshift bed. A huge yawn took her by surprise. She really was tired. A nice nap would surely be appreciated.