All through that night, Eden was fine.
Just a minimal fever_ easily justifiable considering the switching of seasons and precariously volatile weather.
In the morning however, she began to have successive episodes of rapid seizures and a following high fever.
She fell adamantly unconscious.
No amount of summon or watering would waver her from her death sleep.
That certainly was not fine.
Lord Stephen, who had not been informed of this entire ordeal last night didn’t know about it in the morning either, until Mrs. Hopkins sent Bella for him.
He had just been seated for tea with a very gloomy Penfield and had just asked for Eden’s whereabouts from the footman when Bella entered and curtsied to him.
“Master, Mrs. Hopkins requests for your Lordship’s presence in Eden’s room.” The girl glanced at him tensely. “Immediately, my lord.”
Lord Adelwood frowned. A muscle of his smooth jaw ticked. “Everything is fine, I presume?”
Bella paused a moment, swallowed and then, edgily met his gaze. “No, my lord. I fear, not.”
***
Penfield went for the doctor while Stephen stayed by Eden, pacing her room, changing the wet towel from her forehead at intervals and glaring at prone Eden_ almost angrily. Grudgingly.
And a little bit_ only a tiny bit concernedly.
“I still do not recognize, Mrs. Hopkins, the reason why her predicament was kept from my knowledge last night. I am the utmost here and you have one job_ to keep me informed.” His resentment oozed from the razor-sharp edges of his voice. “This girl is impossible but you, Mrs. Hopkins, should have known better than that.”
Mrs. Hopkins grimaced at the wall opposite to her. “We thought not to disturb you after all that had happened.”
“Oh, you thought, didn’t you?” Lord Adelwood shook his head disapprovingly. “I am so_”
There, Mrs. Hopkins who was anxious enough lost the little composure she had built up through the morning. “Why, if I may inquire, did you not visit her last night, Stephen?”
Stephen stilled in his pacing. Steadily, he turned his slow, sharp gaze towards Mrs. Hopkins in a cold, vapid haughtier.
“I thought not to disturb her after all that had happened.”
“There, that’s it.” Mrs. Hopkins chastised. “Those exactly were her words too when I insisted on calling you.”
Scoffing, Lord Adelwood restarted pacing across the room.
***
“What is it, doctor?” Lord Adelwood demanded almost as soon as the doctor had completed his diagnosis and let Eden’s limp wrist fall back on her side.
“Convulsions, my lord.”
“Not so shortly, Doctor Chaffer.” His Lordship sighed exasperatedly. “Elucidate that.”
“Convulsions, my lord, are one of those great ambiguities of our medical investigations and researches that the more we delve into it, the more we lose out grip on its understanding. It is a clinical clause, my lord, where the subject undergoes episodes of spasm_ seizures as you may call it, the muscles of their limbs and faces twitch involuntarily and rapidly_ like the one on your jaw did just now and the tremors run in the whole body at short, quick intervals. This sort of paroxysm is majorly observed in infants but some very rare time in adults too_ though it may or may not cause any serious harm in either_”
“Dr. Chaffer…” His voice was growled out whisper when Stephen interrupted. “Will Eden be fine?”
“That…that is irresolvable, my lord.”
“Then make it resolvable and answer me.”
Dr. Chaffer’s bushy brows corrugated in a moment of thoughtfulness.
“It’s a cerebellar fever kind of circumstance, my lord.” He spoke solemnly. “The brain_ her brain, I mean_ has its enzymes gotten too sensitive, sir. Any recent shock might have done that.”
“And it’s curable?” His Lordship prompted tensely.
“Not for itself, my lord but yes.”
“Which means?”
“There is no underlying health issue with her. It’s just the unbalanced chemical consequences in her head.” The doctor sighed with finality. “We would have to bleed her to get her temperature down.”
Stephen’s eyes narrowed. “Bleed her? Her blood is already burning away, I suppose.”
“True.” The doctor nodded. “And I fear she is anemic as well, my lord. I would rather advise you to ask me not to bleed her.”
“Don’t bleed her, Dr. Chaffer.”
“Well. Alright. Dab her in wet wipes for today. That’s the only way.” The doctor heaved his breath. “Just don’t let her temperature get any higher than it already is.”
Lord Adelwood stared darkly into his eyes. “And if it does?”
“Combat it.” The doctor answered sinisterly. “Or it might end up grave.”
***
The instructions were quite clear.
Don’t. Let. The. Fever. Rise.
Lord Stephen was steadfast not to leave her side, not to let her temperature rise, not to let her settle down, not to let her follow the trail that Maggie had channeled behind.
All those six hours since morning, he had not been still for a single moment.
And yet…
And yet…
It was during the sunset,
The temperature did rise. The fever did heighten.
The spasms, that had been limited down to her hands and feet, worsened, started contouring her body all over, making her jerk as if by the conduit of some unholy forces.
He did his best…Stephen did his most for the next half an hour_ wiping her face and her body intensely, every inch by inch_ vigorously, with a wet towel dripping water, so that he could pull her degrees down.
But to no avail.
Her fever was a damn sight more stubborn than him.
By the end of those half hours, her palm and sole were prickling, skin burning and he saw it, when he traced his trembling fingertip from underside the seam of her mouth, her lips were chaffed. Abscessed by the extreme simmer of the blood that drained within those soft dermals.
Gritting his teeth together, he threw the hand towel away and picked Eden up, off the bed.
Carrying her to the adjoining washroom door, he kicked the door open with enough force that left them ajar and took Eden in.
It was the hour of nightfall.
The dusk light in the washroom was meager, from the vaporized window.
The bronze bathtub glowed golden in the dark hallow of the crimson warm light.
Stepping near to the brimming tub, Stephen lowered Eden into the wintry, chilled water such that, when he let her go, she was resting chin deep in crystal clear, glassy water.
He poured a carton full of coldwater over her head. Her lips parted slightly for breathing as her head rested on the periphery of the tub.
He was disappointed because he had expected from her at least one soft hiss of cold protest.
Not even a single eyelash on that wan cheek twitched.
This unfeeling was horrifying.
He reached for another hand towel from the side table and soaking it amply in the tub water, he started rubbing her hands and feet once again.
Hours following, her temperature rose and fell, like titanic waves in a tempest ocean.
Hours following, he did what he had done all day, persistently and yet he was being capered with cruelly.
But then, late that midnight, the temperature of her body dropped abruptly and remained down for significantly longer than before.
Stephen, who thought this was the end of her fever, sighed exhaustedly. His fingers limped, the wet, heavy, gruff towel fell off his clutch.
He was sweating all over. She, surprisingly, was not.
Leaning into the tub, he kissed Eden softly on her cold cheeks.
And then, he felt asleep with his head on the gilded edge of that bronze tub.
______
Now if we think practically,
Eden would be happy, both dead and alive.
Alive, she shall have Stephen.
Dead, she shall find her Magpie.