the dismay of Pa, who spent hours at her door in an attempt to coax her out, as he needed help with both the children and Ma. For those two days, Nanna Ellen went unseen; she finally emerged on the third day without a single word about the episode, and simply returned to her household duties. Pa would have sacked her had he a replacement, but there was none.
In those first three days, my condition only worsened, and Pa feared I would not live another night. My breathing came in short gasps and became choked with fluid. I had yet to cry, and my eyes were unresponsive to any stimuli surrounding me. I would not take the breast. I would not eat at all. Ellen moved my cradle into her own room and remained with me for all waking moments, forbidding the others from seeing me—she insisted I needed rest. They reluctantly obliged, and on my fifth day, around two in the morning, my cries rose through the house for the first time, cries loud enough to wake Matilda and Thornley, who also joined in with cries of their own. Pa helped Ma to Ellen’s door, and when she opened it with my little form swaddled in her arms, everyone knew the danger had passed and I would live. Ma said Ellen looked far older than her years at that moment, worse than she had after my birth, worse than she had ever appeared since. After handing me to Ma, Ellen Crone continued down the stairs and out the front door into the dead of night. She did not return for two full days.
When she did return, she was her youthful self again, cheeks flushed with color, eyes radiant blue, and with a smile on her lips for the ages. Pa didn’t scold her for leaving this time, for my condition had worsened while she was gone, and somehow he knew she could help me as she had on both occasions prior. He returned my cradle to her bedroom, and there it remained as Ellen locked the door with the two of us secured inside. She would emerge with my health waxing and hers waning. This pattern would repeat dozens of times in those early years—she would nurse me back to health, then vanish for a few days only to return in good health and take charge again. What transpired behind her closed door was never revealed, and Ma and Pa did not ask, but her eyes told the tale—the deepest blue when her health proved strongest, pale gray shortly before she would take leave.
* * *
? ? ?
I STARED UP into those now gray eyes, knowing she would be leaving again soon.
“Perhaps you should focus on your own health and not these imaginary shadings in my eyes, which are no doubt just reflecting my clothing. Perhaps if I don a red dress, they will flame as red as Mr. Nesbitt’s down the way after a night at the pub?”
“You’ll be leaving again soon, won’t you?”
At this, Matilda perked up. “No, Nanna. You mustn’t! You promised to sit for me so I can draw your portrait!”
“But you have dozens already—”
“You promised.” She sulked.
Ellen went to her and ran a finger over her cheek. “I will be gone only a day or two, at most. Don’t I always return? And then I will sit for you for yet another portrait. While I’m away, I need you to look after your brother and help your mother. She has her hands full right now with Baby Richard. Do you think you can keep house in my absence?”
Matilda nodded reluctantly.
“Okay, then. I best return downstairs and begin preparations for dinner.” She placed her chilly hand upon my forehead again. “If you don’t improve, I will have to call upon your Uncle Edward.”
At this, my stomach twisted into a knot, but I said nothing.
* * *
? ? ?
MATILDA WATCHED Nanna Ellen leave, then scuttled to my side. “I need to show you something.”
“What?”
Her eyes drifted to the open door, then to her sketchbook, which she had left on the dresser when she first entered. Crossing the room, she closed the door, holding the knob