Quarantine: A Novel by John Smolens

cat; after a moment the
    girl turned and allowed the chambray fabric to be draped around
    her slender shoulders. “How in heavens did you get in the river?”
    The girl did not reply and her face became distrustful. Miranda
    turned to the boy, and said, “What is your name?”
    “Leander Hatch, Ma’am. I found her—she was adrift on a log.”
    Miranda smiled at the girl. “Perhaps you are a mermaid?”
    The girl appeared to not understand the word. “Even mermaids
    have names.”
    Samuel said something in French, causing the girl to glance
    at him impatiently.
    “Marie,” she said. “Marie de Monpellier.” Miranda laughed,
    causing Marie to glare at her. “You think I am the humorous?”
    she said. “But it is my name—this is not, how do you say, fonny?”
    “Please,” Miranda said. “Forgive me. I do not wish to insult
    you.”
    Marie pulled the wrap tightly about her.
    “You called my grandson a coward,” Miranda said. “Either you
    know him, or you are a very astute judge of character.”
    “He pays one of the crew and gets ashore, and I am left alone
    on that horrible sheep.”
    “You locked yourself in your quarters,” Samuel said. “I had
    barely seen you on deck since we left St. Barts. If I had known
    that you wished to come ashore, I assure you—”
    “Hush,” Miranda said. She studied the shivering girl once
    more. “My grandson is a coward—he has always been one. And
    I apologize for any inconvenience you may have suffered during
    your journey to Newburyport. Now, may I introduce myself?
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    q u a r a n t i n e
    I am Miranda Sumner, and that horrible ship you managed to
    escape from was named in my honor by my son, who is even more
    of a coward, if that is possible.”
    Marie managed the briefest smile.
    “We must not be inhospitable.” Miranda took the girl by the
    elbow. “Come with me, child—you must be famished.” Marie
    hesitated a moment, but then allowed herself to be guided toward the carriage.
    “Grandmother?” Samuel’s voice cracked, causing Miranda and the girl to stop and look around. His trouser buttons were still fastened improperly.
    “And Samuel,” Miranda said, “give this boy a coin.”
    Marie tensed, withdrawing her arm from Miranda’s grip. “All
    right,” Miranda said. “I see—he fished you out of the water. Yes, he can come, too. But he rides up top with the driver.”
    “Grandmother,” Samuel pleaded.
    “What, dear?” she said pleasantly.
    “Well, she might . . .”
    “Yes, yes, I understand,” Marie said. “This fever is a thing most horrible. I am ill with it the first winter I am in the Caribbean.”
    She began to shake uncontrollably. “But this river—the water is
    most cold.”
    “Indeed,” Miranda said, taking the girl’s arm again. “Let’s get
    you home and into dry clothes and a warm bed.”
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Part III
Salvation
    Nine
    Word had been sent that Giles was needed at the
    Sumner house. In order to leave the pest-house grounds, he had
    to follow the strict procedures established by Dr. Bradshaw and
    himself. First he removed his wax-coat and disrobed in a tent so that his garments could be boiled and laundered, and then he
    scrubbed himself raw with bristle brushes dipped in a hot solution of vinegar and camphor. After dressing in a change of clothes,
    including a much-patched frock coat he’d had since his duty at
    sea, he was let out through the gate, where townspeople accosted him, demanding information about their relatives who had been
    admitted to the pest-house. He told them he could make no offi-
    cial comment, that it was Dr. Bradshaw’s responsibility to keep
    the public informed. Slowly, he made his way through the crowd
    and toward the waiting carriage.
    “Is someone ill?” he asked the driver, old Mr. Penrose.
    “A house guest, Doctor, a French lady,” Mr. Penrose said.
    One of the footmen held the door open as Giles climbed
    into the carriage. There was a wicker basket on the bench. “My
    mother’s