It must have been half an hour after the boys went to bed when Mrs. Ascot first heard the noise – a quiet, unmistakable sound of a child's rattling cough. Her first instinct was to worry as she hurriedly headed up the stairs to check on her son, Randall. The poor boy always seemed sickly with this or that, but she supposed she should be thankful it was rarely with anything actually dangerous. Although…her husband's poor attitude never helped. Mr. Ascot's reaction to learn his son was sick once again she feared almost as much as Randall's health, but her boys always mattered more than anything he said. She brushed off the feeling as she went to go investigate. At the very least, he was currently away on a business trip. She could tend to Randall all she wanted without being nagged she 'babied' him too often. The boy was barely over the age of seven, for goodness sake.
Creeping up the stairs, the woman carefully pushed open the door to her son's room. She didn't wake him just yet, instead waiting for a telltale sign he really was sick. Randall rolled over, but he looked fast asleep after a hard day of playing. Come to think of it, it was always pretty obvious when he felt miserable and unwell. Could she have imagined it…? As she shut the door quietly, Mrs. Ascot was snapped out of her thoughts at that sound once again…but it came from another floor up, in the attic. Henry.
She headed up another set of stairs and very slowly opened the door, trying to mind the door creaked easily due to the poor state of the attic. Once the door was cracked wide enough, she peeked in and saw what she was afraid to see. Henry's shaking, sorry form was softly illuminated by the moonlight as he tossed and turned in his flimsy bed. It was impossible to tell if the awkward boy had actually fallen asleep or not, but if he had, there was no rest to be gained in such a state. After another hard cough, Mrs. Ascot decided enough was enough and fully entered the room and creeped over to his bedside.
"Henry?" She breathed, gently shaking his thin shoulder.
"H-huh…?" Henry sluggishly roused from his shallow sleep, big blue eyes heavy with exhaustion as he cracked them open. Suddenly, he realized what was happening. Mrs. Ascot was right there-! "A-Ah! Mrs. Ascot!" He shot up from the bed so fast his head was reeling, but he tried to keep his composure in front of the mistress of the house. "I-is there somefin' you n-need…?" His normally-delicate voice sounded terribly hoarse and raspy.
"Oh, no, dear, it's not that….I was actually going to ask you the same thing." She hesitantly took a seat on the bedside. "Do you feel sick…?"
"S-sick…? N-No, Mrs. Ascot, I'm fine, really! I-I j-just-" With a small wheeze, the little boy was cut short, doubling over and holding a hand to his mouth as he was overcome by another coughing fit.
It was harsher than the one in his sleep, tiny chest heaving with thick, congested coughs. Alarmed, Mrs. Ascot scooted forward, patting him on the back until the terrible fit passed. Her hand could feel his heart hammering in his chest, ill trembling starting anew as he struggled to breathe once more. Her hand then snaked around to his forehead, and she frowned at how hot and clammy he felt as her suspicions were confirmed.
"Poor thing, you're burning up…" Her choice of words struck something odd within Henry. Why would she say something like that? No one rarely paid him any mind, so he doubted he deserved this attention.
"I…I guess I 'aven't been feelin' too good today…b-but, I told one of the maids a-and she said I was fine…! But…but I don't feel fine…" He whimpered in between short gasps for breath, unable to help himself from leaning into Mrs. Ascot's warm touch.
Oh. Of course, one of the maids. They likely didn't want to deal with him or his complaints, so they brushed him off and now everything was worse. The poor dear, he couldn't help the situation he was born into…why did they hold that against him? It hurt her to consider, but she was perhaps one of the only ones who saw him as a member of the family (other than Randall, but he was far too young to understand why Henry was considered 'different'). Even as the master of the house's wife, that's all she really was – a wife. At least, she supposed, she had the rare moment now to be with Henry when he needed her the most.
"Why don't I get you some medicine? You'll feel much better then." Henry peered up curiously as she spoke, unused to such tender attention, and gave a little nod of his head in response. "I promise I'll be right back." Mrs. Ascot stood once again and left the room.
Henry watched her leave and fell back onto the bed with a rough cough, wincing at the burning pain in the back of his throat. He really did feel awful, his head throbbed, his chest ached, everything was cold, he couldn't breathe….but how he hated to be such a bother. He was undeserving of all of this attention, he knew it. If he could just get to sleep…surely he'd feel better. Still, he had to admit, Mrs. Ascot's presence comforted him greatly. She was almost like…like…
"Alright dear, sit up." Mrs. Ascot murmured, snapping the boy out of his sleepy haze and back to attention.
He struggled to push himself up this time, and he shook with fever and embarrassment when the woman had to quickly set her things down and help. Henry opened his mouth to spill out an apology but croaked out a startled sound instead. This only earned a kind shush from the mistress of the house, and he automatically relaxed when he found his back against a stack of two large, plush pillows. They were nicer than Henry's own pillow by far.
"Now, that should help you breathe a bit better when you go to sleep." She said, answering the question Henry was too weak to voice. "But I need you to stay with me just a little longer, okay?" She turned and retrieved a medicine bottle off of the shabby bedside table, carefully pouring out a dose onto a spoon. "Open up – I promise you'll feel better." Of course, Henry wasn't Randall, and Mrs. Ascot didn't need to ask twice. He swallowed it without even making a face, only gently coughing and blinking with tired confusion. "There there, such a good boy…" She ran a comforting hand through his hair, and finally Henry closed his eyes. The woman placed a wet towel on his forehead before pulling away, which did cause him to twitch and groan slightly, but otherwise, the young boy was almost entirely out of it.
Mrs. Ascot decided it would be best if she stayed until Henry fell asleep. It was the least she could do for Henry, let alone Ms. Ledore…She almost felt a sense of de ja vu from taking care of Henry. Her mind began to wander about the deceased maid, absently waiting for the medicine to take affect and the worst of the shivers and the coughing to subside long enough for Henry to rest. But several minutes had passed, and he continued to shiver and drew himself up miserably.
"Henry…?" She called softly, hesitant to touch him. At least his coughing stopped.
"S-sorry…just c-cold…" A harsh shudder tore through him, making his teeth chatter together. Henry felt like he might cry, he couldn't remember the last time he was so tired and yet sleep wouldn't come. Sure, his room was usually chilly on cold winter nights and more or less learned to tolerate it. He still never felt this unbearably cold.
The mistress of the house knew, of course, it was simply his fever bringing these terrible chills. She shifted off the side of the bed and slowly pulled the covers back with a soft sigh. Henry dazedly watched, too tired to feel alarmed anymore but still curious as to what she was doing. She carefully slid down into the flimsy bed, thankfully plenty big enough for the two even if it was an uncomfortable place to sleep. It was a good thing she had brought the large, extra pillows now, using them to lay her back up against them before inviting the child next to her into her arms.
Henry already instinctively pulled himself towards the welcoming warmth and shakily curled up to it. Mrs. Ascot wrapped her arms around the shivering form in her lap and softly starting to rock and hum and stroke his hair like she had done with Randall several times before. The little boy nuzzled tighter against her chest, desperate for the comforting body heat, too sick and too tired to comprehend what was happening anymore. Mrs. Ascot felt his shivers subside minutes later, and she knew sleep would follow not long after.
"Sleep well, Henry…" She breathed in the darkness, absently running her hand through his blonde hair.
"Mmm…" Henry blearily acknowledged. "G'night mum…"
Mrs. Ascot froze, sitting in the silence listening until his slightly labored breathing slowed and deepened as he succumbed to exhaustion.
"…" With a sad smile, she gently kissed his forehead. "Goodnight."