Mad Alice Lane

Chapter Six

Alice

I relished my life at Lawrence Street; how could I not? I had a friend in Lucy, the nursemaid; the conditions were far better than those I was used to, I was treated well, the work itself could be tiring, but apart from posh folk, who could boast of more? Moreover, I was bettering myself. My evenings with Mr Tuke - Samuel, as I now called him in my head - were bread and butter to me.

Four years had passed since joining the household and much had changed. Mrs Tuke had delivered one child successfully - a son, James; a little girl, Esther, had followed the next year and she was by then a bonny little lass of two. As fair as her mother and siblings are dark, she was doted upon by all, not least Samuel. He always tried to make a trip to the nursery and schoolroom each day to see his children, but little Esther reserved a special place, I warranted.

But one day, as it is wont to do, disaster came to the house. Young Master Henry, heir to the Tukes, was struck down by scarlet fever - with a headache, restless and fretful, he was hard to manage. No one could rightly say how he came by it, but we were all quickly plunged into quarantine. Much good it did us.

One by one, each of the children, apart from Little James and Eliza, were infected. I waited for a sore throat, shivering, fever and rash to appear, but being brought up in Bedern had its advantages, it seemed. When spirit of nitre failed, the windows were thrown open for fresh air and buckets of coal carted back and forth to stoke up raging fires. Mrs Murray prepared great vats of beef tea, while the patients were bathed with cold water and vinegar, and strips of flannel rinsed in cool water and placed upon the brow.

After a few days, the fever abated with the sore throat lessening soon after, while the rash took several more days to fade resulting in peeling skin, causing loud squeals to emanate from Mistress Hannah and Maria's room.

Soiled linens were burnt in the furnace below stairs and appetites restored, the house at Lawrence Street returned to order. Until, that was, one of the new nursemaids appointed to help with James and Eliza came running. Being isolated in the nursery had shielded them from infection, but only for a time. The doctor was called and the fires stoked once more.

James, a hearty little lad of almost four, recovered in a matter of days, but Esther took a turn for the worse. Never a thriving baby, as soon as she sickened, the doctor warned Samuel and Mrs Tuke to prepare for the worst. With a raging fever that no amount of linen strips could quench, and a rash that inflamed her whole body, she passed from this life a week after taking ill.

Lord knows I was never a seamstress but after Ruth was dispatched to the drapers for some black fabric, I spent a good few hours making armbands for the servants, while Rachel looked out and aired the family's mourning clothes.

Mrs Tuke, who proved an inadequate nurse, paid the first respects to the tiny coffin before the undertaker arrived. The sight of it would have brought tears to anyone's eyes, and although plenty of my brothers and sisters didn't make it past a year and were buried swaddled in the best that we could find, the sight of Miss Esther broke my heart; and I knew that Samuel's would be breaking too. He had doted on her, his fair-haired angel. I longed to go to him, to comfort him, but not only was that impossible, I respected his need to grieve with his family. Instead I simply bade my time until the hours passed when I might enter the library, even though I suspected it would lie empty.

I was wrong. He was there, slumped in the armchair and had let the fire burn down to smouldering ashes. He didn't look up when I entered, and I saw that the whisky decanter had joined its brandy counterpart. Both were far from full, and the crystal glass in Samuel's hands was askew.

I closed the door softly behind me, and for the first time ever, turned the key in the lock and pocketed it. Making sure my black armband was firmly in place, I drew my usual footstool to the armchair, and sat. I said nothing, and let the silence sit comfortably between us.