Depravity, A Beauty and the Beast Novel(48)

The chairs stood in good repair, and a new table had taken the place of the damaged one. I dragged half of the broken table outside and tugged the mattresses out, one by one, for an airing. I even scoured the floor in the room and washed the window.

When I finished, I changed and wandered back into the kitchen to find food on the new table along with my bag filled with berries wrapped in two layers of soft cloth. No doubt, many would be crushed before I returned to the Water.

I ate my fill of bread, quail, and squash, then shouldered my bag. As soon as I moved toward the door, the beast returned in his shrouding mists.

“Will you stay?” he asked.

“I cannot.”

He left in a fit of anger, and I found my own way to the gate. As I predicted, some of the berries did not survive the journey. Crushed by the weight of other berries, they bled through the cloth, my bag, and into my dress near the hip.

When I reached the bridge, a cooler wind gusted from the north and clouds drifted over the sun. The berries I carried would need either to be dried or eaten before they spoiled. Without the sun to help, drying would prove too difficult. I wandered to the market district and traded oats for berries.

Bryn was within the cottage, cooking dinner when I returned with the remaining berries and the small portion of oats. I let her know they were for Father when I set them down. She nodded and coughed lightly into her apron before telling me dinner had another twenty minutes.

Sitting in Father’s chair, I perused a book, listening to the scrape of the spoon on the pan and the occasional light cough while thinking about the beast.

Perhaps tomorrow I should bargain my time for answers instead of food.



The next morning, Father remained near Bryn’s bedside instead of leaving for the Whispering Sisters. During the night, her light cough had turned into a deep, grating whoop of air. None of us slept well from dusk to light, and nothing Father tried worked.

Dressing quickly in my stained dress, I took the coins I’d saved and ran to the business district to knock on the doors of anyone boasting knowledge of medicine. I finally found a learned doctor who claimed knowledge of the illness as well as a remedy. It took all of the coins I had to convince him to follow me home.

Bryn still lay in bed, rasping for breath when we arrived. The doctor asked Father to leave the room while he examined her. He cautioned Blye, who was already dressed for work, to remain until he concluded his exam. Several minutes later, he exited the bedroom.

“You should all remain in quarantine until this passes. Here is the medicine you will need once you start to cough. Take one dose a day. If you run out, I have more for purchase.”

He and Father spoke quietly for several minutes before the doctor took his leave.

Father sat heavily in the chair before the fire.

“Blye, there is only enough medicine for three, should we all become sick. Do you have coin for another bottle?”

“I purchased cloth with the coin I had and am making my own dresses for the shop to sell. I have nothing until I finish them,” she said with a worried quaver.

“Benella?”

I shook my head.

“I gave the doctor everything I had to get him here.”

“He is going to tell the Head, and they will place us under mandatory quarantine. Take your bag and leave. Forage for what you can to trade should we need it. Go,” he said sharply.

Grabbing my bag, I flew out the door, not arguing with the fault in his logic. If we were to be quarantined, no one would want to trade with me for anything I found. The whole point was not to spread the sickness.

Dark, heavy clouds hung damp in the sky, casting gloom over the town. I raced lightly to the Whispering Sisters and called to the guard that Bryn was ill and Father would not return until she recovered. I asked him to discreetly let Blye’s seamstress know, too.

He nodded, and I spun away in a hurry to leave the Water behind me.





Ten


On the outskirts of the estate, the sky rumbled and let loose a torrent of cold, spring rain to pound the ground. I sloshed the remaining distance to the gate, disheartened to see it raining inside, too. I’d hoped the magic would keep it out and let me dry.

No mist waited for me, so I found my own way to the manor, shivering as I let myself into the kitchen. A small fire crackled in the hearth, and I eagerly closed the door on the poor weather. Disregarding the trail of water I left, I crossed the room to warm myself. The heat from the flames barely heated my fingers and did nothing to reduce my trembling. Only dry clothes would warm me.

My boots made squishing noises as I walked to the servant’s quarters. I closed the door, then struggled to remove my dress. Peeling off the wet mass wasn’t easy. Shivering, I dug in my sodden bag for my shirt and trousers. The pants were soaked, but the shirt had escaped most of the water and only felt damp. I removed my wet binding, laid it over the footboard of the bed, and tugged on the shirt.