Jessica rushed inside to find Gideon’s housekeeper slumped over the kitchen table. She went to the woman and pressed her fingers to Mrs. Harrow’s brow, noting the perspiration damping her hot skin, and then her wrist. “We should take her to her room.”
Together, they half-carried the wilting housekeeper into her chambers and onto her narrow bed. The room was dim and cool, much better than the stifling kitchens, where the ovens were warming the air. “Mrs. Mills, you may leave her in my care. Please make sure Mr. Whitfield’s guests have refreshments outside.”
“You shouldn’t trouble yourself over me, my lady,” Mrs. Harrow insisted, trying to rise. “I’ll be better in a moment.”
“You’ve never been sick a day in your life, Mrs. Harrow,” Jessica murmured, pressing a damp cloth to her brow that Natalia had thought to bring. “Just lie there and let me take care of you.”
“Should we send for help?” Natalia asked as she fluttered a book about to create a breeze.
“No, not the doctor,” Mrs. Harrow begged in fear, clutching at Jessica’s hand.
“Shh,” Jessica murmured, knowing many servants were terrified by men of medicine. “I think it is just the heat of the day, but it might be wise to have a second opinion.”
“I was just too warm all of a sudden. I couldn’t catch my breath.”
She thought a moment, and then turned to Natalia. “Could you find one of the older female servants from Stapleton and send them to me? There are a few here today. They will know what needs to be done for Mrs. Harrow.”
From outside, the crowd cheered loudly and Jessica looked toward the window. “Is that the race ending already?”
“It might be,” Natalia suggested. “Shall I go and see?”
Jessica glanced at her timepiece, noting only fifteen minutes seemed to have passed. “Please do. If Mr. Whitfield has returned, send him to me.”
When Natalia was gone, Jessica touched the older lady’s cheeks and then refreshed the cloth with cool water. She perched on the edge of the bed and smiled down at the housekeeper. “I think you’re looking much better now, but you are not to move a muscle when Mr. Whitfield comes in.”
Mrs. Harrow plucked at the blanket beneath her. “Never thought I’d live to see the day when a Westfall lady would tend a servant of Quigley Hill.”
“It is no trouble,” Jessica promised. “May I ask you a personal question, about the late Mrs. Whitfield?”
“The master’s mother?”
Jessica nodded. “Was she ever frightened of her husband?”
Mrs. Harrow’s gaze darted away but then she nodded. “She never complained.”
“Did Gideon know what was going on?”
“Of course he did. Tried to stop his father, too, when he were young, only ended up getting more of the same. He was such a sweet little lad. His father tried to beat that goodness out of him.” Mrs. Harrow suddenly caught her hand, eyes wide with fright. “You won’t tell him I told you, will you?”
“Never, and thank you,” Jessica murmured but her mind raced. Gideon had always been extremely protective of women, and now she knew why.
Jessica put her finger to her lips and made a shushing noise as heavy footsteps raced toward the room.
“What the devil is going on?” Gideon asked as he burst into the room, eyes a little wild as he stared at Mrs. Harrow.
“I am sorry, sir.”
Jessica pressed the housekeeper back down when she tried to rise and turned toward Gideon. “Could we speak outside?”
He gulped and nodded, eyes a little wild still.
Jessica reminded Mrs. Harrow to rest and stepped outside, drawing the door closed behind them. “I think it is just a faint brought on by the heat of the day. I’ve sent Miss Hawthorne to fetch a second opinion from an older Stapleton servant, though.”
He raked a hand through his hair. “She’s never sick.”
“It happens.” There were matters that affected women later in life, not that she could discuss them with Gideon. “I am confident one of the women I’ve sent for will offer the best advice for Mrs. Harrow.”
He nodded. “Thank you.”