Princess of the Midnight Ball - Jessica Day George [14]
Rose stalked into her room and slammed the door.
Jonquil was brushing her hair in front of the big looking glass above their dressing table. “Can I borrow your blue shawl? Violet and Iris say that the new under-gardener is handsome and I want to go see for myself.”
Rose threw her sopping shawl at Jonquil and climbed into bed, wet clothes and all.
Ill
By the time the dinner gong struck, Rose was running a temperature. She lay in her bed, miserable, and coughed into a handkerchief. Lily had seen Rose’s wet hair and gown sticking out of the covers, summoned a maid, and forcibly gotten her older sister dried off and into a nightgown. Rose barely noticed.
The shoemaker had brought new dancing slippers, since he knew all their sizes by heart, but she hadn’t tried hers on or even looked at them. The poor man was anxious to please—the princesses were his best customers, after all—so Lily assured him on Rose’s behalf that the workmanship was once more unsurpassed.
Jonquil, having readily forgiven her older sister for the wet shawl incident, described the slippers to Rose in detail and then picked out a yellow gown for her to wear to supper. “This will match perfectly,” she said, holding up the gown where Rose could see it.
Rose hardly bothered to glance at it. Then she sneezed three times in quick succession and pulled the covers over her head.
“I wish I were dead,” she moaned.
Petunia came twirling into the room. “Are you sick?” She danced up to Rose’s bedside and peered at her. “You look sick. I’m not sick. I’m never sick.” She twirled away.
Lily came over and felt Rose’s forehead. “I’ll send for Dr. Kelling,” she said in a worried voice. “You’re burning up.”
“I can’t be sick,” Rose said, struggling to get free of the covers. “I can’t.” But she couldn’t even move the heavy comforter off her legs, and fell back against the pillows with a groan. “I wish I were dead,” she said again.
Lily sent a message for the royal physician, and Jonquil put Rose’s new dancing slippers and the yellow gown away. Her brow was furrowed with anxiety, as was Lily’s. They stood on either side of their eldest sister’s bed, exchanging looks and restlessly adjusting the covers.
The other girls were gathered in the doorway that connected Rose, Jonquil, and Lily’s room to the room shared by Hyacinth, Violet, and the twins. Petunia kept breaking free of Daisy’s restraining hands to dance around Rose’s bed and sing for her. Hyacinth was praying, and Poppy said something under her breath that made Iris gasp.
“What’s all this?” Dr. Kelling arrived and looked around at the gathered sisters in bemusement. “Is this supposed to help?” A wave of his hand took in the dancing Petunia, the hovering older set, and the noise coming from Hyacinth and Poppy. “Is this a sickroom or a zoo? All of you, out!” He made a shooing gesture at the sisters. “Oh, and Poppy? Mind your language!”
Daisy gathered up the younger set, while Poppy took Hyacinth by the arm with surprising gentleness and led her away. Jonquil and Lily refused to go, however, standing adamantly by Rose’s bed.
“Very well,” Dr. Kelling grunted. He had been the royal physician for over twenty years and had delivered all twelve of the princesses. “What happened?” As he said this, he took Rose’s pulse, then felt her forehead and looked in her mouth.
“She fell into a fountain in the garden,” Lily answered, since Rose was busy saying “ah” for the doctor.
“It’s much too cold to go swimming, don’t you know that?” Dr. Kelling joked. “Looks like you’ve caught a nasty chill, liebchen. Ague, to be certain. We can only pray that it does not turn to pneumonia.”
“I believe that Hyacinth is already doing that,” Jonquil said, smiling weakly. Through the closed door, they could still hear their sister’s murmured prayers, occasionally punctuated by Poppy’s shouts for quiet.
“You are not to leave this bed without my permission,” Dr. Kelling said with a