Page 15 of A Castaway in Cornwall
In the hearth, Mary burned a combination of herbs harvested from hedgerows and her own garden: comfrey, peppermint, and eucalyptus.
Later, she spread a plaster of her own making over the man’s chest—aromatic and potent.
At Mary’s instruction, Laura made the man sip liquids as often as he’d take them—tea, water, broth, and elderberry syrup.
They tended the patient all that day and the next. Eventually, his breathing eased and both his fever and chills subsided.
“You’ve done it, Miss Chegwin,” Laura exclaimed. “His fever has broken. Now, do go home and get some sleep. You’ve worked yourself ragged, and we don’t want you falling ill as well. We need you.”
She patted Laura’s hand. “Feels good to be needed again.”
The woman did as Laura bid, adding, “But send for me if he worsens.”
“I shall.”
After Mary left, Laura sat at the man’s bedside, gently pressing a cup of water to his lips at regular intervals. She recalled doing the same for one of her father’s patients longago. Mamma had been out somewhere that day when the summons came, and Laura had asked Papa if she might go along. He had hesitated, but soon gave in to her request, as he often did, and the two set out together. After he’d examined the elderly woman, he’d asked Laura to sit with the patient while Papa went to tell her husband the melancholy news—his wife was gravely ill and hadn’t long to live. Even with Laura’s small experience of sickness, she saw how much restless fever there was in the woman’s speech, and some instinct prompted her to tell a long story to distract the old dear, describing their recent visit to the seaside, her new frock for the trip, her baby brother’s antics—all in an easy flow of talk that proved very soothing to the patient, giving her something to think about beyond her immediate suffering.
The woman had liked her and asked Dr. Callaway if Laura could come again. Papa agreed, pride evident in his expression. After that, she had visited the woman daily, helping as much as she could, explaining the finer directions of her treatment and diet to the rotating nurses, and talking to the patient about everything and nothing until she passed peacefully in her sleep.
As Laura again leaned near to help the man sip from the cup, Mrs. Bray came in but remained near the door.
“How is he?” she asked. “I do hope you don’t catch something, Laura. Really, you should leave the nursing to Miss Chegwin.”
Hope flared. Was that maternal concern in the woman’s voice? But Laura guessed Mrs. Bray was more concerned about her passing on some infection to Eseld.
Defensiveness rose. “Mary can’t remain awake round the clock.”
“She must have done, when she worked for Dr. Dawe.”
“But she is over seventy now, remember.”
“Yes, well. I am as charitable as the next person, but I will want our guest room restored to us soon. There must be ... institutions for shipwrecked souls like him.”
“None near here.”
“Very well. Just ... do all you can to move him along.”
“I shall do everything in my power to help him recover, rest assured.”
Eseld’s bright, inquisitive face appeared in the doorway beside her mother. “What is going on?”
“Stay out, Eseld. I won’t have you falling ill.”
“Of course not, Mamm. But Laura here is perfectly expendable.” She winked.
“I did not say that.” Lamorna Bray lifted her chin. “It is her choice to risk her health. I am not her mother to command her. But I am yours, so take care.”
“Yes, Mamm. I’ll just stand here and keep Laura company for a time.”
“If you must, but be careful not to take a chill.”
When Mrs. Bray had gone, Eseld looked mischievously down the passage to be sure they were alone, then tiptoed into the room, closer to the bed, though not too close.
“How old is he, do you think?”
Laura shrugged. “I would guess thirty, or a bit more.”
“Too old for me, but just right for you.”
