“I think his fever has broken.”

Lady Dunstable jumped up from her chair, her hands at her mouth as Josephine came into the room. Francine’s eyes filled with tears as she moved towards Josephine, putting out her hand to take hers.

“Is it true?” Francine whispered, breathlessly. “You think he will recover?”

“I am sure of it,” Josephine replied, softly. “Let me change the bedsheets and ensure that he is comfortable and then you will be able to see him.”

Lady Dunstable and Francine both broke down in tears at this news, hugging one another as Josephine left the room, their relief matching her own. She had been by Lord Dunstable’s side for a good many days, going between fear and hope, only to see his fever disappear as his body finally broke into a sweat. Then his eyes had opened and he had looked at her, his voice rasping as he had tried to say her name. There had been no confusion there, no tossing of his head or twisting of his body as the fever ravaged him. Instead, there was understanding and clarity shining in his eyes, his hand reaching for hers.

Closing her eyes, Josephine steadied herself against the wall for a moment. She’d taken his hand for a moment and smiled at him, leaving Gillian to feed him broth whilst she went to speak to Lady Dunstable and Francine. The deep emotion she felt running through her had been enough to overwhelm her but she’d had no other choice but to keep those feelings at bay. With a great effort, she’d set her shoulders and spoken calmly to Lady Dunstable, revealing none of her own relief and heartbreak.

It was time for her to depart.

Pushing herself away from the wall, Josephine walked the length of the hallway and into Lord Dunstable’s bedchamber, seeing him already sitting up as Gillian finished fluffing up his pillows. Jones was folding a stack of sheets by the end of the bed and Josephine realized that, in her absence, the butler had organized some of the staff in order to change the bedsheets already.

“Thank you, Jones,” she said, softly. “Lady Dunstable and Francine will be along in a moment or two. Might you send for a tea tray for them both? I think they could both do with a little fortifying!”

He smiled at her, relief etched into his expression. “Of course, Josephine. Thank you.” Putting his hand on her shoulder, he blinked back tears that came into his eyes, his smile growing steadily. “You have saved the Dunstable estate,” he finished, pressing her shoulder gently. “You are a marvel, my dear.”

She smiled back at him, feeling tears prick at her own eyes such was the relief in knowing that the fever was gone from the house entirely. Here, at least, it was over.

“Josephine?”

Looking over at Lord Dunstable, she made her way to his bed and sat down carefully, taking his hand as he held it out to her.

“You must rest,” she said, gently. “You ought not to be sitting up so soon.”

He snorted. “I have done enough lying down,” he replied, although his face twisted with pain as he put one hand to his throat. “Thank you, Josephine. Whenever I looked for you, whenever I lost my way in that dreadful fever, you were always there, waiting. I could hear your voice speaking to me, soothing me, guiding me back to where I needed to go.”

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Josephine tried to smile but felt tears trickling down her cheeks.

“You were concerned for me?” he asked, his voice barely louder than a whisper, as she reached for the glass of water by his bed. Holding it to his lips, she gave him a small smile through her tears.

“A little,” she replied, truthfully. “But now you are recovered, Lord Dunstable, and my happiness is complete. I – I must –”

He coughed violently, his expression wracked with pain and she helped him to sit up a little more, waiting for it to pass. Then she helped him to drink a little more, settling him back against his pillows. She could stay here for a few more days without any difficulty, of course, but she knew that the sooner she left the estate, the better. Lady Dunstable, Francine, Gillian, and Jones could take care of him just as well as she could.

“I have not forgotten what I said to you,” Lord Dunstable whispered, his eyes slowly beginning to close. “I pray you have not forgotten it either, Josephine.”

Pressing her lips together for a moment, Josephine made to answer, only to see that he had fallen asleep. She wanted to tell him that she had not forgotten what he had said, that she would carry those words with her always, wanted to beg him to forgive her for leaving so quickly and without saying a proper goodbye, but he would not hear her now. He would not remember what she said to him.

Closing her eyes, Josephine wiped away her tears, feeling a ball of misery sit heavily in her chest. It was time for her to leave and yet she did not want to step away from Lord Dunstable’s side. Carefully, she leaned forward and, after a moment of hesitation, pressed her lips gently to his. Lightning shot through her and she caught her breath, sitting back up to see Lord Dunstable’s eyes still tightly closed. He neither moved nor spoke. What she had done would go entirely unnoticed.

“Why do I love you?” she whispered, her wretchedness becoming entirely unbearable. If only she had never allowed herself to feel such a depth of affection then this moment would not be as painful as it was!

Rising to her feet, she kept her hand on his for a moment or two longer, finding the thought of separating from him for good to be more than she could bear. Her chest rose and fell with deep, gut-wrenching sobs as she slowly let her fingers pull away from his, unable to so much as turn her head to give him one final glance before she left the room. If she did so, she might lose her resolve and stay with him, prolonging the inevitable separation that would one day come.

“My dear Josephine!”

Wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, Josephine tried to stop crying but found she could not. Francine, who appeared astonished to see Josephine in such deep distress, did nothing for a moment, then embraced Josephine in a warm hug – and Josephine felt herself break down all the more.

“You are to leave us, I think,” Francine whispered, softly. “Is that the cause of your distress?”

Josephine sniffed and nodded, stepping out of Francine’s embrace. “I must. The Devil’s basement needs me. Your brother will respond to your care. All he needs to do is rebuild his strength.” Her misery grew all the more as she dropped her gaze to the floor, feeling her heart linger behind her, safe in Lord Dunstable’s arms.

“You have no family,” Francine said softly, her eyes searching Josephine’s. “Where will you go?”

A small shrug lifted Josephine’s shoulders. “Doctor Thomas says that he will find me a position somewhere, when – and if – the fever lifts from the city. He is a good man, I think.”

Francine nodded, her expression troubled. “Will you write to me when you can?” she asked, her eyes filling with tears. “You have been so very good to us Josephine and I cannot think of never seeing you again. We owe you a great debt.”

Lifting her eyes to Francine and remembering just how unsure the lady had been of her the very first day she arrived, Josephine let out a quiet laugh. “You are very kind, Francine, but you owe me nothing. I am just glad to have your trust and your friendship. That is all that I require. To know that someone cares for me enough to ask me to write to them has brought a great peace to my heart.”

Stepping closer, Francine caught Josephine’s hand. “I am not the only one who cares, Josephine.”

A strangled sob escaped Josephine’s throat. “Please, Francine, I –”

“Will you not stay?” Francine interrupted, softly. “Will you not stay to talk to him? I can see just how much he has come to appreciate you, Josephine.”

It was a moment of indecision. Josephine felt herself sway on her feet, her desire to return to Lord Dunstable’s bedchamber and continue with her nursing pulling at her. And then, unbidden, came the memory of working in the Devil’s basement. Those people needed her more than Lord Dunstable. He would be quite safe here, able to make a swift recovery surrounded by those who loved him. She was not called to stay here but to go and look after those who had no-one else. People just like her.

“No,” she said, giving Francine a small smile. “I must go. Doctor Thomas needs me. I will write to you though, I promise.”

This did not bring a smile to Francine’s face, although she did nod her understanding. A tear slipped down her cheek and she pressed Josephine’s hand. “Then I will let you go. Thank you, Josephine, for all you have done. You are an angel sent from heaven, I am quite sure of it. You have given us all life back again and for that, I will forever be grateful. Goodbye, my dear friend.”

Josephine swallowed her tears and tried to smile despite the pain that racked her very soul. “Goodbye, Francine. I wish you all the best of health in the years to come.”

The Devil’s basement was just as it always had been. There was the same stench of illness, the same cloying smell of death and decay and yet, as Josephine surveyed the scene, she thought that the room was a little less crowded.

“It is good to have you back,” Sam muttered, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Those ladies who came to help us, they’ve been working as hard as they can, but we can always do with another. I know Doctor Thomas is glad to see you.”

Josephine managed a smile. “I know. I spoke to him as I came in.” Doctor Thomas had been hard at work but had stopped long enough to greet her and say just how glad he was to see her returned. He had asked after the Dunstable family and it had brought her a good deal of happiness to say that they had all made a good recovery.

“There are not as many as there was once,” Sam said, slowly, as though able to see into her thoughts. “But they come from all over now. It don’t matter whether they be from the streets or from the townhouses, they all come here now. Or anywhere they can go, really. The fever wards are full, the doctors are all either busy or sick themselves and there ain’t enough beds for everyone.”

“Do you think it will pass soon?” Josephine asked, glancing at the older man. “Do you think the fever will lift from the city?”

Sam shrugged. “I can’t say. I hope so but that’s as much as I can do. The doctor seems to think so but how long that will take, none of us can tell.”

Josephine sighed and nodded, readying herself to step into the fray once more. “Then I had best go to help Doctor Thomas,” she murmured, trying to find the strength to keep going despite the pain in her heart over leaving Lord Dunstable so far behind. “Excuse me, Sam.”

Wandering through the basement, her eyes taking in everything, Josephine saw that what Sam had said was quite right. There were ladies lying in their rickety beds wearing gowns that were of the highest fashion, or gentlemen whose once fine coat was now being used as a pillow for their head. They came from all over, it seemed, and still Doctor Thomas was bringing in new patients almost every hour.

“Here,” Doctor Thomas muttered, gesturing for Josephine to come closer. “This is a new patient, a lady of the ton. I’ve only got her name but very little else. It seems her servants and her companion all became ill with the fever, and then she herself. It was just as well one of the footmen came to find us, otherwise we might never have found them all.”

Josephine shook her head, her eyes drifting over the form of the sick lady. She had flushed cheeks, a paleness about her lips and a red spotting over her neck. “The fever claims everyone,” she murmured, picking up her bowl and cloth. “Has she had any of your medicines, Doctor Thomas?”

“Yes,” he replied, with a grave nod. “Some. She will need more in an hour or two. Can you use your mixture to try and bring down her fever?”

“Of course.” Bending down, Josephine began to dab lightly at the lady’s forehead, seeing her so young and beautiful and growing angry at this terrible disease that seemed to claim so many lives. “What did you say her name was, Doctor Thomas?”

“A Miss Georgina Wells,” the doctor replied, a little distracted. “Her companion is next to her, although she appears to be doing a little better.”

Josephine froze in place, her mind scrambling to recall where she heard such a name before.

And then it came to her. Miss Georgina Wells was Lord Dunstable’s betrothed.

Looking down at the lady, taking in her fine clothes, her blonde curls and trim figure, Josephine could easily understand why Lord Dunstable was taken with her. She was every bit the lady and Josephine was quite sure that she had the manners, etiquette and good breeding to go with it. Shaking her head, she dabbed at the lady’s forehead again, feeling her heart sink to her toes all over again.

Lord Dunstable appeared back in her thoughts yet again, her mind going over all she had seen of him, all she had said and all they had shared. Her heart turned over with guilt as she thought of how close she and Lord Dunstable had become – not that she had known that he was engaged.

“He was never to be mine anyway,” she whispered to herself, as she got to her feet to add more vinegar and feverfew to the bowl. “He was always to be yours.”

There was no resentment in her voice, no anger in her heart. This was just the way of things and, despite the fact that Lord Dunstable had declared his love for her, Josephine had to believe that it was simply because of the fever. Perhaps everything he had said at the lake had simply been the start of his delirium. She had to forget him entirely, she had to let her heart let go of him. There could be no more affection for him growing within her. It had to all come to an end. She had known that and yet, even as she turned back to help Miss Wells again, she knew just how difficult that was to be.

Lifting her chin, Josephine resolved to stay by Miss Wells side as much as she could. She knew how important the lady was to Lord Dunstable and she would do all she could to help her recover. That would help her heart to forget Lord Dunstable, surely, for in helping his betrothed to recover, she would have to continually face the fact that he was never to be hers. As painful as that was to be, Josephine knew it to be for the best.

“Sam,” she called, as she picked up her vinegar and feverfew. “Might you be able to find me a piece of paper? I need to write a note.”

Sam lifted his brows. “A note?”

“A letter,” she confirmed, nodding. “I know who this lady is. She’s betrothed to Lord Dunstable.”

An astonished expression caught Sam’s brow. “The gentleman whose house you’ve just come back from?”

“The very same,” she replied, quickly. “Might you help me, Sam? I need to write to him so that he knows what has become of her.”

Sam nodded and shuffled off, leaving Josephine to return to Miss Wells. She bathed her forehead, cheeks, and neck, seeing the red rash spreading across the lady’s décolletage.

“Where am I?”

The lady’s eyes fluttered open, gazing around her in confusion. Josephine put one gentle hand to Miss Wells’ forehead, feeling just how hot she was. “You’re being looked after,” she said, not wanting to mention the words of ‘the Devil’s basement’. “You have the fever. I’m here to look after you.”

Miss Wells groaned, her throat obviously paining her. “I have the fever?”

“But you’re going to be quite well,” Josephine reassured her, putting the damp cloth on her forehead. “I’m here to look after you and Lord Dunstable will be on his way to see you very soon.”

Miss Wells closed her eyes again. “Gideon,” she breathed, fading back into her delirium. “Yes, send for Gideon.”

“I will,” Josephine replied, firmly. “You need not worry, Miss Wells. Rest now. I’ll be here by your side when you waken.”

The lady did not stir again but seemed to fall into a fitful sleep. A little relieved by this, Josephine left the cloth on the lady’s forehead and, seeing Sam coming towards her, walked over to him to collect the paper and pencil. She would write to Lord Dunstable this very night, in the hope that soon, he would be at his betrothed’s side....no matter how painful that would be for her.