Page 2 of For a Scot's Heart Only
Mary rushed forward. “I don’t understand.”
Reed thin, Dr. Ross towered over her, his bony fingers flexing on the case’s handle.
“The air in here is tainted. You, too, should leave. Take your sister and find lodgings elsewhere.”
“But my mother—”
“Will soon be dead.”
She dropped her scented kerchief, its weight too much.
No... this couldn’t be. Not her mother.
“Surely, there’s something you can do,” she said, frantic.
“There isn’t.”
From the bed, a coughing fit seized her mother. Mary grabbed the physic’s sleeve, her fingernails scoring pressed wool.
“I cannot leave her.”
“What about little Margaret?” he hissed. “Do you care naught for her? Because we both know no one will look after her should you die.”
Arguments were building, another plea to convince the good doctor to stay, but his demeanor flattened. A soulless withdrawal. She let go of him, truth knifing her. For too long, Dr. Ross had carried the burden of Fletcher family secrets. Her mother’s peccadilloes, her father’s indifference, the minute burns on her fingers—the ordered chaos of her life.
She didn’t know any different. But that life, her life, was crashing into pieces.
Shadows carving his cheeks, Dr. Ross collected his hat. “I must alert the Royal Infirmary. And we all must pray this plague does not leave this room.”
A plague?
She slumped against the bedpost, trying to breathe. Dr. Ross exited the room, plush carpet muffling his footsteps. Her throat clogged. The room spun. Dark paneled walls loomed, heavy and stifling in the windowless chamber.
This nightmare was real.
A small body folding into her petticoats stopped her collapse. She looked down.
Blue eyes, saucer big, beseeched her.“I’m frightened.”
Mary dropped on shaky knees and drew her sister into a desperate hug.
“Shhhh. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.”
Confident words, yet a tear wanted out. She squeezed it back and inhaled Margaret’s sweet, soapy cleanness. Sapped to the bone, Mary held on. Childish exhales touching her ear began to unwind the tightness inside her. The two souls she loved most in this world were in this room. Shewouldsave them.
“Be a dear,” she said, pulling away. “And go dress your doll in that pretty blue gown we made together.”
Small, trusting hands cupped her cheeks.
“May I show Mama my stitchwork?”
“Yes.” She kissed Margaret’s forehead. “Off with you now.”
Her little sister scampered away, taking the last scrap of joy with her. Mary tucked a messy lock behind her ear. She pushed off the floor, her mind reeling. How could she save her motherandher sister? Another doctor, perhaps. There was talk of a promising new physic on Drummond Street.
“I know... what you’re... thinking,” her mother rasped. “It’s... useless.”
Mary faced the bed, resolve firming her joints.
