POVERTY'S PRIDE

CHAPTER NINE (Part One)

                                                           CHAPTER NINE (Part One)

 Rosalind woke with a jolt, a sound disturbing her fitful sleep. For a moment she could not understand where she was, and then it came to her. It was early morning and she was at the cottage in the woods, nursing a sick man.

     The recollection brought a stab of guilt. Mr Jonathan! How could she have allowed herself to fall asleep when he might have need of her?

She threw the shawl from her and started to rise to go to him. It was then she realised how uncomfortable she had been sleeping on the sofa. Her spine ached and her legs felt numb, but she struggled to her feet and hurried to the bed.

The sleeping man was still, the bed covers hardly awry. She wondered then if he really was asleep or instead unconscious. She put her hand on his brow. His skin had a cold clamminess which frightened her. The doctor who had come the night before said he would return this morning. Rosalind prayed he would arrive soon.

The sound that had disturbed her earlier came again and she realised someone was gently tapping at the cottage door. The doctor!

Rosalind rushed to open the door to find George Dobbs standing there.

‘George!’

‘Mr Cedric sent me to see to Mr Jonathan’s...ablutions,’ he said awkwardly avoiding her gaze. ‘Before the doctor comes.’

‘When will he come?’ Rosalind asked anxiously as she let George into the cottage. ‘I’m very worried for Mr Jonathan. I’m afraid he may be sinking.’

‘The doctor stayed up at the house last night,’ George said nodding. ‘From the whispers I’ve heard below stairs he don’t hold out much hope for the gentleman.’

‘Oh, no!’

‘I’ll need hot water, miss,’ George said in a practical tone. ‘And a clean night shirt.’

Rosalind had stoked up the fire in the kitchen’s range the night before to last overnight. She went quickly to put on a large pan of water which was soon hot enough.

Rosalind was hovering anxiously at the bed when George pulled back the bedclothes.

‘You’d better make yourself scarce, miss,’ he said apologetically. ‘I must undress the gentleman.’

Rosalind started. ‘Of course! I’ll heat some water for myself.’

She took a bowl of hot water upstairs and sponged down from head to toe, feeling much more refreshed afterwards. She would have liked fresh linen too, but no one had thought to bring her any. She arranged her hair as best she could and then went down the narrow bare staircase.

‘All finished, miss,’ George said. There was a bundle of rumpled bed clothes near the door. ‘I’ve change the bed linen too,’ he said. ‘The poor gentleman is as light as a feather to lift.’

They looked at each other for a moment in grim understanding. Rosalind thought what a stalwart young man George was. Reliable and loyal.

‘Thank you, George,’ Rosalind said quietly. ‘Mr Jonathan would give you thanks too if he were aware.’

‘I’ll be off, miss.’

‘Oh, please ask Maggie to bring me some clean clothes,’ Rosalind said. She did not know how long she would be needed here but must be ready for anything.

Rosalind made some porridge as she waited for the doctor to arrive. Mr Jonathan hardly stirred and so she thought it unwise to try to rouse him to eat anything. He seemed to be in some deadly stupor.