Chapter 2: A Mild Case of Quinsy

"Mother was upset today," Victoria said to Victor.

"Your mother is always upset," he replied. "I'd be greatly concerned if she wasn't."

"Don't be funny, Victor. She had every right to be, with her own grandchild having that accident at the docks today."

"It was only a dunking. Nothing that a good bath wouldn't fix," Victor said.

"Emily could have been drowned. Or worse," his wife fretted.

"Well, she didn't, and that should be the end of it."

"Victor - promise me that you won't take her to that horrid place again." Victoria pleaded.

"I can't do that to her - she loves the docks. And looking at the boats," he answered.

"It was looking at those boats that got her into trouble to begin with."

"We'll continue this discussion later, Victoria. Good night." And with that Victor went off to bed. Without the usual good-night kiss...

It was hours before Victoria calmed down enough to finally get to sleep.

"What's the matter, Pumpkin?" Victor asked his daughter the next morning.

"Papa, my throat hurts," she complained.

"Come here," he said. "Let me feel your forehead…"

"Oh! You're burning up. You'd better go back to bed."

"Okay, Papa," she said meekly, and she turned and trudged back up the stairs to her bedroom.

That confirmed for him that the girl really was sick - Emily hated to spend any time in bed when she could be doing something fun.

By suppertime her throat was definitely swollen, so Victor summoned the doctor. He looked at her, then came back downstairs with his diagnosis.

"She has a mild case of quinsy," the doctor said. "An inflammation of the throat."

"Is it serious?" Victoria asked him.

"Not usually. Keep the child in bed. A poultice for her throat or liniment of ammonia if you have it."

Victor recalled the previous day's events and asked the doctor if his daughter's soaking could have been the cause of her illness.

"I wouldn't be surprised," he answered. "That water's pretty foul, and God only knows what you could catch swimming around in there."

Victoria shot her husband one of her 'I told you so' looks. He looked away and addressed the doctor. "Thank you for coming. I'll see you out."

When he returned, Victoria was gone.

That night neither one of them got much sleep. Despite their best efforts at nursing her, their daughter's condition worsened as her throat continued to swell. In the early hours of the morning Victor left to fetch the doctor again.

The doctor had them wait downstairs while he took another look at the child. When he returned, the grim expression on his face frightened them.

"We'll need to lance the infection immediately. Mr. Van Dort, come with me."

Victoria moved to follow them, but the doctor waved her back. "It would be best if you stayed down here, Mrs. Van Dort."

"But - that's my baby up there! ..." She cried.

He gave her a stern look. "This will not be pleasant work, madam. I insist that you remain down here."

"But ..."

Victor looked at his wife. "Victoria. Please ..."

Reluctantly she obeyed and sat down listlessly on the couch.

"Quickly, Mr. Van Dort." The two men hurried upstairs.

The sounds of moaning and the occasional cry came from the upstairs. Victoria covered her ears and wept. And she prayed. And then she prayed some more.

After what seemed to be forever, her husband and the doctor came back downstairs.

Victoria sprang to her feet and rushed at them.

"How is Emily?" she gasped.

"I expect she'll get better now," the doctor answered. "She's running a temperature so you will need to watch her closely, but the fever should break within the next few hours."

"But - what if it doesn't?" she asked.

Another grim expression crossed the doctor's tired face. "Let's not worry about that just yet, Mrs. Van Dort." He looked over at her husband. "Do call if there is any change. I'll see myself out." Without another word he picked up his coat and left.

Victor walked over to his wife and took her in his arms. "Go to bed, darling. I'll look after her until the morning."

"But my place is with her."

He looked down wearily at her and then kissed her. "Your place will be with her once you've gotten some sleep. Then I'll rest and we'll take turns until we get her through this."

"Let me take the first shift," she insisted. "I won't be able to sleep anyway."

"Well, as long as somebody's with her it doesn't matter who's first," he conceded. "I'll go to bed, then."

Midway through the next morning she was awakened by her husband.

"Oh, I must have dozed off," she said to him. "How is she?"

"No better, I'm afraid."

Throughout the day Victor watched and prayed for an improvement in his daughter's condition, but she continued to sink.

Finally, he could take it no longer and he roused Victoria so that he could leave and get the doctor.

When he arrived the doctor ignored Victoria and went directly up the stairs. A minute or two later he summoned Victor. "We'll need to drain that throat again," the doctor told him.

Victor sprinted upstairs and once again the awful sounds came from the child's bedroom as the men redid their work.

Eventually they returned downstairs and she could tell by looking at their faces that the news was not going to be good.

Victor escorted the doctor to the front door and then he staggered back to where she was standing.

She waited for him to speak.

He cleared his throat, then put his hands on her shoulders and pulled her close to him. "There's still hope," he whispered, but the tears in his eyes betrayed his true feelings.

"Let me sit with her," Victoria said. "You need to get some sleep. I'll wake you if there is a change."

He could only look at her and slowly nod. Then he shuffled wearily off to bed.

That night was the longest of Victoria's life. Her daughter fought for breath as the swelling continued to cut off her air.

Victoria could only watch and pray until, finally, in sheer exhaustion, she fell asleep.

She was awakened by the sound of Emily's voice.

"But I don't want to," the young girl murmured. "I'm too tired."

There was silence for a few seconds and then she spoke again. "But only if you stay with me," she mumbled.

She carried on the one-sided conversation for about another half-minute, then fell silent.

Her heart pounding, Victoria reached over to check the child's pulse. It was weak, but still there.

Gradually Victoria drifted off again, and then was wakened once more by the sound of her daughter's voice.

"Are you sure?" she asked her unseen companion. "I don't see it."

The next words chilled her mother's heart.

"Please … I wanna quit. It's too far … I'm so tired," she muttered.

After a long pause the child spoke again. "Okay," she said very softly. "I will."

A long ten or twenty seconds later, Emily spoke yet again. "I'm so glad you're with me," she whispered, and then she smiled.

With great effort Victoria stayed awake for another half-hour but eventually the tiredness overtook her and she fell asleep one more time.

'Mama?"

Victoria jolted awake.

"Yes, baby?"

"I'm thirsty."

Victoria reached for the pitcher of water on the night table and poured a glass, then held it carefully to Emily's lips and watched as the girl took a sip.

"How are you feeling?" Victoria asked her.

"I'm tired," was the sleepy answer.

Victoria paused, then bent down close to the girl's face.

"Who were you talking to, honey?" she asked quietly.

"My friend."

"Which friend?" her mother asked.

"The one from my dreams."

Victoria's heart pounded. "Who is she, sweetheart?"

"I don't know," Emily mumbled. "She never told me her name."

"What does she look like?" Victoria asked.

"I'm tired, Mama ... wanna sleep."

"Please, honey, it's important. What does she look like?"

Emily stirred. "She's taller than you … and very pretty."

"And?" prompted Victoria.

"She's got long dark hair."

"And?"

"She has a white dress … a nice one with pearls - like a wedding dress. She looks like a bride, a beautiful bride."

For a few seconds the room spun around her and Victoria felt like she was going to faint.

The dizzy feeling passed and, little by little, she regained her composure.

"Is there anything else?" Victoria asked further.

Then Emily opened her eyes a little and looked sleepily at her mother. "Mama, I'm tired. Can I go to sleep now?"

Victoria laid a hand on her child's brow. "Yes, sweetheart, go back to sleep."

Emily murmured something and closed her eyes. A few seconds later she was fast asleep.

It took Victoria a while to realize that there had been something different about the sick girl. Very gently, she touched her daughter's forehead again with the back of her hand and, to her great surprise, it felt cool.

Her heart jumped and a wave of joy swept through her. She ran from the room and called out to her husband. "Victor! Wake up! Wake up!"

It took a few seconds for Victor to comprehend that his wife was bringing good news. He sprinted to Emily's room to see for himself and then ran back to Victoria.

"I'm going to fetch the doctor," he said. "Don't leave her alone." She reassured him and he left for the doctor's on the run. A half-hour later he returned with the doctor in tow.

"Wait down here," they were told, and then he went upstairs to check on his young patient.

"It's a miracle," Victor whispered.

Victoria shook her head. "No, it was her."

"What? Who are you talking about?"

"It was her," she repeated. "It was the Bride that saved her."

Victor shook his head. "You're not making any sense … I don't think so - she's been gone for years."

"Somebody's been coming to our daughter in her dreams. And Emily described her perfectly. I heard her talk to this person."

Victor shook his head again. "No," he insisted. "It was a figment of a sick child's imagination ... nothing more. The other Emily is gone … and she's not coming back."

"I hope you're right," Victoria said quietly.

The sound of footsteps broke the conversation as the doctor reappeared at the top of the stairs. "Mr. Van Dort?"

"Yes?"

"May I have a word with you?"

Victor excused himself and trudged up the stairs. The doctor put an arm around his shoulders and ushered him out of sight.

The doctor returned downstairs with Victor. The guarded look that he had worn on the way in was gone, replaced by a slight smile. He leaned over and said something to Victor, who laughed in response.

But Victoria still had to hear the good news for herself. "How is Emily?" she asked, wringing her hands.

The doctor walked over to her and patted her shoulder. "Your daughter's going to be fine," he said. "I don't know what you did, but whatever it was, it worked. Just keep her resting in bed for a couple of days - if you can."

Then he smiled broadly and tipped his hat to her. "Good day to you, Mrs. Van Dort."

Then Victor saw him out.

A few minutes later her husband came back into the room. "How are you doing?" he asked.

"I'm tired," she said. "It's been a long night."

"Maybe you should get some rest," he suggested. "The market can do without me today."

"Isn't it funny," she said. "I'm tired, but I know I won't be able to sleep just yet. Would you mind terribly if I went out for some air while you sit with her?"

"I can do that, darling," her husband replied. "Maybe you can manage to get some sleep later."

She smiled, then leaned forward to give him a kiss. "You're a good man, Victor Van Dort."

A few minutes later she was on her way, walking a route she had taken many times before. The road that led out of town passed over the old stone bridge and then continued onward past the woods. That wooded ground was Victoria's goal.

She walked along the road, savoring the sunshine and enjoying the clean morning air. About a hundred paces past the beginning of the woods was a lightly worn path. Victoria turned to follow it and it took her into the heart of the forest.

Fifty more paces inwards she reached her destination. In a small clearing was a plot of carefully tended ground covered with soft grass and wildflowers.

This was where, so long ago on that moonlight night, her Victor had first encountered the Bride. For many years this spot had been the Bride's resting place, abandoned and forgotten. Then she had come out of the ground and into their lives.

Immediately after the wedding Victoria had asked Victor to bring her here and, after asking him to leave her alone at the grave, she had made the Bride a promise. "I will live the life you never had and I will have the children you never did. Please rest in peace knowing that we will never forget you."

Then she had added under her breath, "But please … don't come back..."

Over the years since, Victoria had returned to this hallowed place, clearing away the weeds and bushes that had overgrown the grave. She had placed the ring of little white stones around it and had added the wildflowers - bright blue blossoms that reminded her of the butterflies she had seen that night.

Many times since, she had returned to 'visit' and to talk to that patch of ground - to let the unseen spirit know that she hadn't been forgotten.

Victoria unfolded a small blanket and laid it out in front of the grave. She made herself comfortable upon it and began to think about the past few years.

Her marriage to Victor had been a good one and, to this day, she was grateful that the Bride had willingly given up her claim on him. She had often asked herself if she would have been willing to make the same sacrifice if she had been in the Bride's place. And, each and every one of those times - she was ashamed to admit - the answer had always been the same...

When their daughter was born, Victor had suggested a number of names - both from his side of the family and from hers. But she had rejected them all, until he finally asked her what name she had in mind.

"I should like it if we named her 'Emily' " she had told him. It was the last name he would have imagined, and he had half-heartedly tried to talk her out of it. But Victoria had had her reasons - and it was a pretty name...

So 'Emily' their daughter was named.

Victoria took a deep breath and, in a low soft voice, started speaking to the Bride.

"Wherever you are ... I know you can hear me ... so listen to me."

"You've been visiting my daughter in her dreams. I should be thankful that you saved her life ... and I am. But your place is not with us. You gave him up and I'm asking you to stay away from my family."

Victoria paused. Except for the sound of the soft grass rustling in the breeze, she heard nothing.

So she let her thoughts drift again - back to those years gone past.

Victor had been surprised when she had forced him to make that promise so long ago.

"But why?" he had asked.

"We've been through enough," she had told him. "The past should stay in the past, where it belongs."

"It's not your fault you had to get married to him," he said, guessing her reason. "It was your parents' idea, not yours."

"I could have said no," Victoria had answered. "And the less said about it, the better."

And so she had extracted the promise from him to not talk about the Bride or 'that other marriage' of hers to the children, and they themselves had spoken of neither since.

She'd often wondered since, though, what she had actually gained from that forced promise. There were times when she'd catch Victor staring off into the distance and, when asked, he couldn't - or wouldn't - tell her why.

Competing with another flesh-and-blood woman would have been hard enough, but how could she possibly contend with a phantom - the ghost of a girl who had been in life everything that she herself wasn't - and never could be?

Try as she might, she could never master the piano, and as for dancing - or singing...

Victoria sighed. It was past time to go. Victor already had enough on his mind without having to worry about her, too.

She got up, folded her blanket, and turned to go. But there was something - one more thing - that she had to say to her unseen rival before she left.

"Whatever it is you want ... leave my husband and daughter out of it. If you have business with my family, you can haunt my dreams, but leave them alone ..."

Victoria sighed again. She could never find the right words when she needed them, but she hoped that the Bride had gotten the message. At least she felt better now...

Victor was coming down the stairs when he heard the knock on the door. When he opened it the Solicitor was standing there, carpetbag in hand.

"Good morning, Mr. Van Dort," he said. "I came by earlier, but there was no answer."

Then Victor remembered. "Oh, I'm sorry... We had an appointment for this morning."

"Indeed, we did, sir," the Solicitor replied.

"I'm sorry," Victor said. "It's been a busy couple of days. Let me get the papers."

"I can come back another time," his visitor said.

"No, wait here," Victor replied, then closed the door.

He emerged a minute or two later. "Here you are. They're already signed."

The Solicitor was mildly surprised. "Oh?" he said. "In that case ..."

He pulled out his pen and quickly added his signature to the paperwork, handing one of the copies back to Victor. Opening the carpetbag, he placed his copy inside, then pulled out an envelope. "Your cheque, sir."

Victor stuffed it into his pocket with barely a glance. "Thank you. Now ... if you don't mind ... I'll let you get on your way." Then he shut the door again, leaving the Solicitor standing alone on the doorstep.

The Solicitor smiled. This business had worked out better than he had planned. The fish had taken the bait … he needed only to wait for the right time to set the hook and then pull in the line. Then the Van Dort canning business, along with the contents of its office safe, would be his.

The Solicitor smiled again. It was turning out to be a very good day...