‘You were unconscious.’
I saw the flicker of fear in her eyes, and pulled her against me. ‘It’s going to be all right, Ella. Everything is going to be all right. Doctor Ross will take care of you.’
She hesitated—then nodded. Gently, I let go and let her sink back onto the pillow.
‘Emanuel Ross, MD.’ Doctor Ross made a curt bow. ‘May I ask your name, Miss?’
‘E-Ella. Ella Linton.’
‘A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Linton, even in these disagreeable circumstances. Do you feel well enough to answer a couple of questions? There are some things about your condition I must know before I can make my diagnosis.’
Again, that flicker of fear flashed in Ella’s eyes. She clearly wasn’t too eager to find out what was wrong with her. But while she had always been a little timid, a coward she was not. Raising her chin, she nodded. ‘Go ahead, doctor. Ask all you need.’
The nosy side of me – the one that took up ninety per cent of the available surface – wanted to join the maid outside the door and listen. It wasn’t as if this would be the first time I listened in on my little sister. But somehow, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Not here. Not now. Not when she might have to bare things that she wouldn’t want anyone, not even me, to know about. So I left the room and shooed the maid away with orders to prepare a good, hot, strong broth for Ella. Let the doctor do his doctoring. I’d help in any other way I could.
Anxiously, I paced up and down in front of the door. From inside, I heard nothing but low murmurs. Again and again, I was tempted to press my ear against the door and find out what the heck was happening—but I resisted. Somehow. Miraculously. The wait dragged on endlessly. I felt as if I had already worn grooves into floor from all my marching up and down—and yet, it couldn’t have been more than ten minutes since I left them alone. It felt like ages.
What’s taking them so long? What’s bloody happening in there? What’s wrong with her?
Finally, the murmurs stopped. A moment later, the door opened and the doctor stepped out, a serious expression on his face.
‘And?’ I demanded. ‘What is it?’
‘Under normal circumstances,’ the doctor told me, ‘my Hippocratic oath would forbid me from sharing that information with you. But since you are the main caregiver and have a hulking giant with a big sabre at your command who would cut my head off if you told him to, I think I will make an exception in this case.’
Well, well. What a wise man.
‘I’m not a hundred percent certain yet what your sister’s sickness is. It may just be a stomach bug. The symptoms would fit. It could all be over soon.’
His words didn’t make me feel any better. His face was still as grim as death.
‘Could?’ I demanded, picking up on the key word. ‘What do you mean, could? What else could it be?’
The doctor hesitated.
Please don’t let him say it! Please!
‘What else? Tell me!’
His face hard, he met my eyes. ‘Cholera.’
The word nearly knocked my legs out from under me.
‘Y-you’re not serious.’
‘I’m afraid I am. But at the present moment, it is only a possibility. I might be wrong in my suspicions.’
‘Might?’ Disregarding every rule of proper manners Aunt Brank had ever drilled into my head, I grabbed him by the lapels. ‘What do you mean, might? How likely is it? Tell me!’
He didn’t answer. Gently freeing himself from my hold, he pulled a card out of his tailcoat pocket and handed it to me.
‘Call me if she begins to exhibit symptoms of diarrhoea.’
I grabbed the card.
‘And then? What should I do then?’
He looked at me with so much kindness in his old eyes that it was almost too hard to bear. ‘Pray.’