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“Would you?”

Alice didn’t waver. She set the basket on the floor in the narrow entry and turned to Asher. “Show me where the lady is, lad.”

Asher scrambled up the stairs, with Alice right behind him. When they reached the top, they turned right and disappeared from view.

“This does not bode well, Jane,” Aunt Millward said.

“I agree.” She eyed the stairs once more. It would take her considerably longer to ascend them than it had taken Asher and Alice, but it could be done. It must be done. “I am going up,” she said. “Whatever the situation, I believe it best if we are fully aware of it.”

Aunt Millward nodded approvingly. “I agree. I shall be behind you.”

Pressing one hand against the wall and using her cane to steady her, Jane began her upward climb. She was halfway to the top when Alice appeared on the landing above. Jane paused, and three steps behind her, Aunt Millward did the same.

“Mrs. Stanley’s in a bad way, miss.” Alice’s hands were clasped tightly before her, and she seemed to be making a concerted effort not to wring them.

“Can you be more specific, Alice?” Aunt Millward said.

“She ’as the chills, my lady, but ’er skin is burnin’ ‘ot. And she’s doubled over in pain.” Alice wrung her hands once before clamping them together again. “She’s not sayin’ much, my lady.”

“But she is awake?” Jane asked.

“In a manner of speaking, miss.”

If Mrs. Stanley was awake, Jane would speak with her. “I am coming,” she said, and setting her hand against the wall, she continued upward.

She did not wait for her aunt to join her. When she reached the landing, she followed Alice to a small, dark room on the right. From the doorway, she could make out one large mattress separated from two small ones by a thin curtain suspended from the ceiling. Bedding and clothing lay scattered across the floor, and a putrid smell filled the air.

“It wouldn’t do to come any farther, miss,” Alice said. She was standing a few feet closer to the larger mattress, and at her voice, the sheets shifted, and Mrs. Stanley mumbled something.

“What do you think it is, Alice?” Aunt Millward had reached the landing and was standing behind her.

“It looks a lot like bloody flux, my lady.”

“Dysentery,” Aunt Millward muttered beneath the handkerchief she had placed over her mouth and nose. “Heaven help us.”

Jane attempted to quell her feeling of panic. “Asher,” she called, and from a dark corner beside the bed, she saw movement. “Asher, would you come here?” Slowly, the little boy crossed the room to stand before her, and Jane reached down to take his hand. “Mrs. Stanley is unable to care for you, so until she feels better, we shall find somewhere else for you to go.”

Downstairs, the door banged, and a clatter of footsteps pounded up the stairs. “Mrs. Potter ’as taken Adam.” It was a boy’s voice. “She says she’ll keep ’im till yer better.” Charlie bounded onto the landing and staggered to a halt in front of the ladies. “What’re you doing ’ere?” His voice was one part accusation, three parts fear. The bully Jane had witnessed a week before was no longer.

“Asher told us that your mother is ill,” Jane said. “We are here to help.”

“You can’t do nothin’ to help.” Charlie appeared close to tears. “Me dad has to work at the shop, so ’e told me to watch over me mother and the boys.”

“How long has she been like this?” Aunt Millward asked.

He shrugged. “It came on soon after she got back from visiting me aunt and uncle in Newford. At first, it weren’t nothing but a belly ache, but then ’er fever started, an’ she’s not been right since.”

Mrs. Stanley must have been suffering from the early symptoms when Jane last saw her. No wonder the woman had looked so wan.

“Has a doctor seen her?” Aunt Millward asked.

Charlie shook his head. “We can’t afford no doctor.”

“Fetch him,” Aunt Millward said firmly. “Send the bill to Lady Millward at Charwell Park.”

Charlie’s eyes widened. “Yes, m’lady.”

“What about the children?” Jane said, her hand still clasped around Asher’s.