The Noble Life

Eight

Dr Lovell's voice tailed off miserably. He did not need to finish his sentence; Catherine understood. In fact, she understood perfectly what this meant – and her face blanched as the wheezy cough she'd been trying to hold back throughout Dr Lovell's speech suddenly escaped her.

The effect on Dr Lovell was instantaneous. His eyebrows shot up in alarm as he leapt up from his seat, shepherding Catherine over to the other side of the room, away from Bessie's bed.

"My dear Catherine!" the doctor hissed urgently. "You are not unwell, are you?"

Catherine gulped apprehensively, throwing another glance over to her sleeping sister. She knew very well what would happen if she admitted the truth to Dr Lovell – he would surely insist that she leave the room at once and prevent her from visiting Bessie until she was fully recovered from the cold she had caught the other day. After finally being reunited with Bessie following several anxious days of waiting, Catherine was not sure she could stand being torn away again so soon.

"There was an – incident, a few days ago, in which I ended up walking a considerable distance in the rain," said Catherine delicately, choosing her words carefully, "and I confess I have been suffering with a very slight cold since then."

"Cold – Catherine!" spluttered Dr Lovell. "Why did you not tell me? Why did you venture into the room, knowing Bessie's vulnerable state? You are an intelligent woman, Catherine – I cannot think why you would do such a foolish thing!"

Catherine had heard enough. Clapping a hand to her mouth as if to stop further bacteria from leaking out, she stumbled out of the room with one final glance back at the limp, colourless form in the bed, just catching sight of the laboured rising and falling of Bessie's chest as she left with Dr Lovell following close behind.

"Dr Lovell – I – truly, I did not think my actions could be so dangerous to Bessie's health!" squeaked Catherine fearfully. "It has been a slight cold, nothing more. I just simply had to see her as soon as I arrived. Until I saw her, with my own eyes, I could not believe for certain that she was still with us."

By this point Catherine was sobbing freely, almost unable to speak.

"Will – will I have infected her?" she choked out between sobs.

Dr Lovell sighed wearily, patting Catherine's arm gently in a comforting way.

"Luckily you did not get close enough to Bessie to cause any real danger of having infected her," he told her. "But I must stress again the vulnerability of Bessie's immune system at present. It is imperative that you do not enter your sister's bedchamber again until your cold is gone. Am I understood?"

"Of course, doctor," whispered Catherine.

***

The next few days were an agony far surpassing anything Catherine had ever known. After receiving the terrifying warning from Dr Lovell, she had taken heed of his words and kept well away from Bessie's bedchamber – but not without great emotional cost. Having often been at Bessie's bedside day and night when she was unwell, it was complete torture for Catherine to be banished from her sister's bedchamber. She wanted to be the first person Bessie saw upon opening her eyes if she began to recover – or the last person to bid her farewell if God saw fit to claim her. Instead, Catherine was reduced to hovering around the house in a state of permanent agitation, living for Dr Lovell's visits which were the only opportunity for gaining an informed report of Bessie's current state. At first Catherine had been full of optimism, but as the days went by and Bessie showed no sign of improvement, her feelings of unease began to increase.