William Monk 06 - Cain His Brother

been down in Limehouse, with the typhoid outbreak there,” Hester replied, leading the way to the bed. “I’m sorry, I’m not being very clear.”
    Genevieve swallowed, her throat tight as if she would choke.
    “Limehouse?”
    “Yes. There is a very bad outbreak there at the moment. We have converted a disused warehouse into a temporary hospital.”
    “Oh. That is very good of you. I believe it is not a pleasant area at all. Not that I know it, of course,” she added hastily.
    “No,” Hester agreed. She could not imagine how any relative of Lord Ravensbrook would know Limehouse, or anywhere else in the East End. “Before I go, we should change the bed linen. It will be much easier with two of us. Dingle will take the soiled sheets and attend to them.”
    Together they changed the bed. Hester had said good night and was almost at the dressing room door when Genevieve’s voice stopped her.
    “Miss Latterly! What—what can you do for them in Limehouse? It isn’t like this, is it? And won’t there be—well—lots of them ill?”
    “Yes. And no, it isn’t like this.” Genevieve, with her charming face and well-cut gowns, could not have any conception of the makeshift fever hospital in Limehouse, the stench of it, the suffering, the stupid unnecessary dirt, the overflowing middens, the hunger and the hopelessness. There was no point in trying to tell her, and no kindness. “We do what we can,” she said briefly. “It does help. Even someone there to try to keep you cool and clean and feed you a little gruel is better than nothing.”
    “Yes. Of course.” She seemed to want to discuss the subject, but as if she regretted asking. “Good night.”
    “Good night, Mrs. Stonefield.”
    It was only when Hester was washing her face in the bowl of water which had been left for her that she suddenly remembered the name. Stonefield. It was the name of the man Monk was searching for in Limehouse! He had said he was a respectable man who had suddenly disappeared, for no apparent reason other than to visit his brother in the East End. And his wife feared him dead.
    Surely Enid would have said something, if she had overheard Monk? But Enid had not been in the room, only Monk, Callandra and herself. She was too tired now to turn it over in her mind any further. All she wished was to wash the grit out of her eyes, feel the warm clean water on her skin, and then lie down and at last stop fighting exhaustion and allow it to overcome her.
    She was wakened by a persistent rocking and a voice in her ear whispering her name over and over. She struggled to consciousness to find a gray light seeping into the room and Genevieve Stonefield’s white and anxious face only a foot from hers.
    “Yes?” she mumbled, fighting to clear her mind and free herself from the shreds of sleep. Surely it couldn’t be morning already? It seemed she had just lain down.
    “Miss Latterly! Aunt Enid seems—worse. I dare not leave calling you any longer. I know how tired you must be—but …”
    Hester hauled herself up, reaching out blindly for her robe, then remembered she did not have one. Even her nightgown was Dingle’s. Ignoring the cold—there was no fire in the dressing room, although there was a fireplace—she went past Genevieve into the bedroom.
    Enid was tossing and turning and crying out with pain in a soft, almost childlike whimpering, as if she were completely unaware of her surroundings. She seemed completely delirious. The perspiration stood out on her skin, even though the jug of water and a cloth were on the bedside table and the cloth was still cool and damp when Hester picked it up. A good deal of the sugar water was gone.
    “What can we do?” Genevieve asked desperately from just behind her.
    There was little enough, but Hester heard the fear and the grief in her voice, and felt a quick pity for her. If she was indeed Monk’s client, then she had enough tragedy to contend with, without this bereavement added to it.
    “Just try to bring the fever down,” she replied. “Ring for some more water, at least two jugs of it, and cool, no more than hand heat at the most. And perhaps we’d better have clean cloths and towels as well.”
    Genevieve went to obey, glad to have something specific to do. The relief was naked in her face.
    When the water and towels came Hester put them on thetable and pulled back the bedcovers, ready to begin. Enid’s nightgown was soaked with perspiration and clung to her