Free The Bride Sale by Candice Hern Page B

kitchen.
    â€œI’ll do my best to help,” Verity said, watching the other pot as the liquid boiled down.
    â€œâ€™Tis our good fortune that you happen to be here just now,” Mrs. Tregelly said, “with the doctor away and all. And that you brought along all these herbs.”
    â€œYes,” Verity replied absently as she checked the steeping hyssop. “I tossed them in my trunk because I did not know—” She had been about to say that she had not known how long she and her husband would be away from home. “You never know when they will come in handy,” she muttered.
    â€œHow is it you know so much about healing, Mrs. Osborne?” the housekeeper asked.
    â€œOh, I’m not exactly a healer, Mrs. Tregelly. But Ido know my herbs, and some of them happen to have great healing properties.”
    â€œI’m afraid I know very little about herbs,” the older woman said. “Cook grows some for the kitchen, and I use lavender and sage and such throughout the house to sweeten the air and the linens. But that is the extent of my knowledge, I fear.”
    â€œPerhaps Cook has some of the best healing herbs right there in her kitchen garden.”
    â€œPerhaps she does,” Mrs. Tregelly replied. “But likely she don’t know it, else she would have made these concoctions herself to help her little boy.”
    â€œâ€™Ee could teach us.”
    Verity looked up from her reduction into the anxious eyes of young Gonetta, who had just entered the kitchen. Verity shook her head. “Here,” she said ladling the hyssop infusion into a teacup. “Take this to your brother. Be sure he drinks as much as he can. He will not like the taste, but see that he drinks a good portion.”
    Gonetta dashed away to her brother’s sickroom, her hand covering the teacup to keep it from sloshing.
    While Verity began to mix the reduced horehound liquid with honey, Mrs. Tregelly watched in interest. “It is almost as strong-smelling as the infusion, is it not?” Verity said. “But the honey makes it go down easier. After drinking the hyssop, Davey will no doubt be glad to swallow something sweeter.”
    â€œNetta was right.”
    â€œAbout what?”
    â€œYou could teach us some of your skills. We’d be that grateful. There be no telling when Dr. Trefusis will return.”
    Verity shook her head and continued to stir the honey. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I will not be staying long.”
    Mrs. Tregelly clucked her disappointment but did not press the matter. A few minutes later, Gonetta bounded back into the kitchen. “He do be takin’ it!” she exclaimed. “He don’t like it, but Ma be gettin’ it down him.”
    â€œThat’s good,” Verity said. “Now find me a jar or a crock to hold this syrup. We’ll see what else we can get down him.”
    When they returned to the sickroom, Mrs. Chenhalls smiled up at Verity, her eyes moist with emotion. “Thank ’ee, ma’am, fer helpin’ my boy,” she said. “See here? His breathin’ do be better already. No more wheezin’. He goin’ to be all right now, in’t he?”
    Verity leaned over the bed and touched the boy’s cheek. He’d been bathed and wrapped up warmly. It was much too soon to know if the fever would break. Simply inhaling the steam of the infusion, with its heavy camphor aroma, would momentarily ease the child’s breathing. But it was a temporary relief at best.
    â€œI cannot promise anything, Mrs. Chenhalls. These remedies should make him more comfortable, allow him to breathe easier for a time. But please do not get your hopes up too soon. I cannot guarantee a cure. He is a very sick little boy. We will just have to wait. Now, see if you can get him to swallow a spoonful of this syrup. Then give him more infusion every hour. Be sure it is warm. And give him a teaspoon