Page 101 - Fever 1793

EPILOGUE December 11th, 1793
. . . [We] are devoutly to acknowledge that kind Providence... hath restored our city to its useful state of health and prosperity.
—Petition of Citizens to the Council of Philadelphia, 1793
I opened one eye. A scratching noise in the corner of the room had woken me, the scrambling feet of a desperate mouse about to become breakfast for a lumpy orange cat. I winced as Silas pounced. The squeaking stopped.
I rolled over to look out the window. It was dark still. The faint call of a watchman could be heard down Seventh Street, and a few stars hung still in the sky. I burrowed beneath the warm weight of my quilt. My toes curled at the thought of crossing the icy floorboards on a dark December morning.
Nothing gained by delay, I thought. No one else is going to get the house stirring. I snatched my stockings off the stool next to my bed and pulled them on under the covers, taking care not to disturb Nell, who slept beside me. Thank goodness she had learned not to wet the bed before the weather turned cold. I tucked the quilt around her and stood up, quickly changing into my clean day shift. I stepped into my woolen overskirts, laced my stays, and wrapped a heavy shawl over my bodice.
Mother rolled over and snored quietly. She had coughed late into the night. It was good for her to sleep peacefully. I nudged Silas with my toe. The cat daintily picked up his breakfast and made for the stairs.
I crossed the hall to the other bedchamber. Eliza stirred in her sleep, mumbling about ginger and nutmeg. Robert and William slept soundly, their arms wrapped around each other in their trundle bed, their chests rising and falling in unison. I crept down the stairs, careful to skip the squeaky ones.
I dug out the embers from the ashes of the kitchen fireplace and laid tinder on them. The dry wood caught quickly and the flames soon warmed my face and hands. I swung the kettle over the flames and looked into the fire while the water heated.
Eliza would want to send the twins to fetch the day’s newspapers. Mother would fuss, of course. She didn’t think they were old enough to do anything besides raise a ruckus in the garden. The sooner we could afford a pony and cart, the better. That way Mother could run errands together with the boys, and Eliza and I could get some work done in peace. It would be nice to finish putting by the mincemeat before the snow came for good. Nell still refused to leave my side, but I didn’t mind.
The water finally boiled. I made a coffee for myself, a mug for Eliza, and one for Mother. I cut a lump of sugar off the loaf and added it along with a healthy dollop of milk to my mug. Being the first one awake did bring some privileges, I thought with a smile.
Overhead, footsteps crossed the room. I hurried to set out the breakfast dishes before Eliza came downstairs. She didn’t begrudge me a few minutes of quiet, but the table-setting came first.
When the crockery was laid out, I carried my mug through the front room, past the polished tables and backgammon boards, past the beautiful new painting of a meadow full of flowers. I backed up to adjust the painting so it hung nice and straight. Nathaniel was coming along nicely, Mr. Peale said. Three years, maybe four, and he would be able to support himself. That wasn’t long to wait.
I opened the front door and sat on the step facing High Street. A lamplighter some blocks down reached up with his long pole to extinguish the street lamp. To the east, beyond the river, the stars faded before the promise of a new day.