The Experimental Murders (Elysium #2)

The Squeamish One

 Booker spent a good two months free from the drudgeries of hired help when he suddenly took ill. It wasn't often that he got sick, and it always irked him when he did, as it usually meant allowing another doctor to treat him. Other doctors tended to annoy him, so he only called upon them when it became absolutely necessary. And unfortunately, this illness was getting to that point. In fact, it was getting so bad that Gin was stopping by to check on him daily.

"Booker, you need a doctor," she insisted as she followed him into the parlour where he had been spending his days and nights.

"I am a doctor," he said between coughs.

"You need a doctor doctor, then." She sat beside him on the settee. "Seriously, you look really bad. Isn't there anything you can do?"

"It's a cold, there's nothing to be done but to wait."

Another coughing fit took hold of him, and he leaned forward to take up his tea. However, he immediately regretted this action when a wave of dizziness came over him. He slumped back on the settee with a groan and closed his eyes.

"People die from colds, Booker," Gin said.

He opened one eye and watched as she retrieved the cup for him. "I'm not going to die," he said as she pushed it into his hands. "Although sometimes it feels like I am."

Gin gazed at him for a long moment before letting out a heavy sigh. "If you won't call for a doctor, then there's really only one other option."

He furrowed his brow suspiciously. "And that option would be?"

"A maid."

Another groan escaped his lips as he rolled his head back. After staring up at the ceiling for a spell, he turned to Gin. "You wouldn't be willing to stay and take care of me?"

"I don't have the know-how to take care of sick adults. And I can barely use the kettle, never mind cook. I think a maid is your best bet."

He heaved a sigh and took a sip of his tea. "Fine. But I'm relying on you to find one who won't rob me or judge me or try to break into my laboratory."

She nodded. "You can count on me. I can get you a maid by the end of the week. In the meantime, I'll keep stopping by to make sure you're still alive."

"Much obliged."

The urchin rose to her feet. "Do you need more tea? Or blankets? Maybe I can sneak some stew out of the Clocktower for you."

Even with how wretched he felt, he couldn't keep a warm smile from his face. "Thank you, Gin, but your company has been the best medicine I could hope for."

She grinned and tipped her hat at him. "I'm gonna find you a decent maid, Booker. Just you wait."

As she dashed out the door, he chuckled softly to himself and took another sip of tea. Despite his absolute trust in the young urchin, he couldn't ignore the gnawing unease in his stomach brought on by the thought of a servant in his home. Or maybe it was from eating nothing but burnt toast for the past few days. Whatever it was from, he had a bad feeling brewing in his gut.

~

True to her word, Gin, with the assistance of Grace, found Booker a new maid only three days later: a young blonde woman named Ferne Danaher. She was quiet, never speaking unless called upon. And she certainly knew her way around invalids. As soon as Gin brought her to the house, Ferne quickly got to work whipping up a special tea to treat his cold. It tasted a little like grass and vinegar, but his taste buds were so off from being sick that it didn't really matter. However, he couldn't help but notice how lukewarm the tea was. Nevertheless, he gave her a grateful smile and drank it down, hoping it would speed up his recovery so that he could get back to making his own tea.