When a deadly yellow fever rips through the U.S. capital of Philadelphia in 1793, the lives of the 40,000 residents come to a grinding halt. For one girl, 14-year-old Matilda Cook, the journey through the three-month epidemic is both empowering and tragic.
Matilda lives with her mother, Lucille, and paternal grandfather, Grandpa William, over their popular family-owned coffeehouse. Business is good, with mostly politicians, gentlemen, and businessmen dropping by for a bite to eat and the latest gossip. So when one of their serving girls is late for work, Lucille is livid to be left short-handed. She forces Matilda to pick up the slack, something Matilda’s had to do more of since getting older.
Matilda feels more like a servant than a daughter and can’t wait to get away from her mother’s strict discipline. But all of Matilda’s plans of escape vanish when she learns the serving girl died the night before from a strange fever.
Although the number of people dying from fever continues to grow, many in the city believe it’s just a normal autumnal illness and no big deal. But over the next few weeks, as proof of yellow fever becomes impossible to ignore, nearly half the citizens flee the city for the country. Businesses shut down, food markets close, and yellow ribbons are tied to doors and windows to signify the sick.
Lucille was one of the first to worry about the fever and wanted to send Matilda away, but both Grandpa and Matilda didn’t listen. However, they wish they had when they come home to find Lucille sick with the fever. Grandpa agrees to take Matilda to a family friend’s farm in the country to keep her safe. Matilda says goodbye to her ailing mother and leaves her in the care of their black cook, Eliza. She hopes she will get to see her mother again.
Along the road to the farm, Matilda and Grandpa are kicked off the carriage they hired because Grandpa coughs, and a doctor checking people passing through town for the fever declares Grandpa too sick.. Matilda and Grandpa are left in the middle of nowhere with no supplies. Grandpa falls ill, and Matilda tries to protect him from the scorching heat. But without food and water, neither has enough strength to make it back home. She ventures out to find help but falls to the ground along the way.
Matilda wakes up in a mansion-turned hospital with yellow fever. The doctors are able to help, and she makes a full recovery. Fortunately, Grandpa didn’t have the fever, just summer grippe and a weak heart.
When it’s time for them to leave the hospital, the doctors suggest Matilda go to the orphanage for safety. But Matilda won’t leave Grandpa and is eager for news of her mother. She and Grandpa return to the coffeehouse to find both Lucille and Eliza gone and the place destroyed by thieves.
That night, Matilda tries to figure out how to find food in the abandoned city. It’s not safe to venture outside with the thieves lurking around and the dead lying in the streets. She decides to sleep on it and opens the windows to cool the stuffy coffeehouse down, a decision she’d regret forever.
That night, two men enter through the window and search the house for anything valuable. They find Matilda and try to beat the information out of her. But Grandpa comes downstairs with a rifle and threatens the men. A fight ensues, and one of the men ends up killing Grandpa, leaving Matilda alone and broken-hearted.
After taking Grandpa’s body to the mass grave in the town square, Matilda wanders the city lost and bereft. She seeks help from some of her family’s acquaintances, but everyone is either gone or too distraught to assist her. She finds herself in a bad part of town and is about to return home when she hears a whimper from the shadows. Matilda finds a little girl whose mother has died. She takes the girl, hoping to find a neighbor who will care for her. What she finds instead is Eliza walking along the wharf, alive and well.
Eliza has been caring for her sick brother and his family, as well as others in the community. She tells Matilda that Lucille recovered from the fever and went to find her in the country. If they can all make it till the first frost, when the fever will be over, they can reunite.
Eliza and Matilda agree to raise the orphan girl themselves alongside Eliza’s twin nephews. Then all three children catch the fever. Matilda and Eliza fight for days to keep the children alive, finally catching a break when the first frost of the year hits the city. The children recover and the fever disappears.
Matilda decides to reopen the coffeehouse with Eliza as her partner. For months, business booms again now that everyone has returned from the country. Everything seems to be going great, but Matilda can’t find joy in it. She misses Grandpa, and Lucille has not come home.
One day, President Washington returns to Philadelphia. Enough time has passed for the fever to truly die out. Many have been waiting for his return as a sign that it is safe to come home. One of those people is Lucille. She’s grown weak from worry and a failed search and rescue mission for Matilda that left her near death by the side of the road. Lucille can no longer run the business, but she is home. Matilda becomes the new head of the household, and the city moves on, leaving only the ghosts as a reminder of what happened.
Fourteen-year-old Matilda Cook and her mother, Lucille, shared a cramped bedroom in an apartment above their coffeehouse in Philadelphia. There were only two beds, a wash station, and a large wooden trunk. Across the hall lived Grandpa William, Matilda’s paternal grandfather.
It was a hot day in August, another in a series of long, hot days, and Matilda was dreading it. She wanted to slip down to the docks later, where she hoped to see Nathanial Benson, a young man who understood her desire to break free from the ties that bound her. Those ties belonged to her mother.
Matilda’s mother was the daughter of wealthy parents. She’d been a good child. She never complained, always did what she was told, and never spoke unless spoken to—the way she believed children should be. Despite her status, she was well-versed in working-class trades, like quilting, sewing, and spinning wool. Matilda was the antithesis of those qualities.
But the docks would have to wait. Their serving girl, Polly, was late, which meant Matilda had to help her mother open the coffeehouse. Matilda was annoyed. She assumed Polly was late because she was flirting with Matthew, the blacksmith’s son. This wasn’t unusual behavior, but Polly’s tardiness always sent Lucille into a tirade. She’d been screaming for Matilda to wake up for almost an hour.
Matilda’s father, a carpenter by trade, had built the building following the Revolutionary War. It was on the corner of Seventh and High Streets, two blocks from President Washington’s house. This location kept business busy with politicians, merchants, and gentlemen, who traded news and gossip over coffee and cakes.
Matilda’s father never got to see the business take off. Two months after the coffeehouse opened, he fell off a ladder and died. Lucille’s parents had disowned her after she married below her class and offered no support following her husband’s death. If it wasn’t for Grandpa William moving in and the culinary skills of Eliza, a free black woman who worked for the family, Matilda and her mother would be homeless.
The sounds of city life—horses, carriages, dogs chasing pigs, and gossip from Mrs. Henning next door—filtered up while Matilda got ready. She skipped washing off in the basin. The water was filmy and putrid. Everything seemed to be filthy these days, the result of a six-week drought that left enough dust in the air to obscure the surrounding landscape.
Downstairs, Matilda found Eliza in the large kitchen preparing gingerbread for the day. Matilda loved Eliza for more than her cooking abilities. Eliza was kind and often slipped a sugar cube in the bottom of her bowl of oatmeal. Eliza was born into slavery in Virginia. When she married, her husband used his savings to buy her freedom. Eliza had been saving up to buy his, but he was killed by a wild horse. Eliza stopped speaking and went into a deep mourning, something Lucille knew well. The two women became connected through their sorrow. After a few years, Eliza’s light finally turned back on inside, but Lucille’s never did.
The kitchen was the smaller of the two downstairs rooms. The largest was the serving room for their customers. That morning, Grandpa was also nowhere to be found. Matilda offered to search for him and Polly, but her mother ordered her to tend to the dying garden.
Matilda hated taking orders. Now that she was getting older, Lucille treated her more like a servant than a daughter. Matilda couldn’t wait until she could leave home. She wanted to move to Paris and bring back French fineries, like cloth and jewelry, to sell to Philadelphia’s elite. She wanted to buy a city block and open a restaurant, a pharmacy, a school, or maybe a hatter’s shop. She had big dreams and believed she would reach them.
But for now, she was a daughter stuck in the house. She begrudgingly went to water the scorched garden, which is where her mother found her when she returned from searching for Polly. Lucille told Matilda that Polly fell ill the night before and collapsed. She was dead.
Matilda couldn’t believe the news about Polly’s death. The two were close friends before Polly became their servant. They’d played with dolls and made up songs while churning butter. Matilda closed her eyes and tried to conjure the memory.
Matilda, Lucille, and Eliza sat at the kitchen table, letting the news sink in. Polly hadn’t suffered. She came down with a fever, and an hour later, she died. There’d been no time for a doctor. Eliza worried about the other seven children in the house and thought Matilda should take some food over to ease their suffering. But Lucille wouldn't hear of it. She forbade Matilda from going anywhere near the house or to the funeral.
Matilda was livid. She accused her mother of being cruel but immediately regretted it. Her mother had once been gentle and full of laughter and smiles. But since her husband’s death, Lucille had become a worn captain in the battle for their lives. Matilda was merely a soldier required to obey. She apologized at once.
By mid-afternoon, word of other sick people had spread throughout the city. The coffeehouse was crammed full of men. Raucous laughter and arguing filled the air, and everyone had a theory about what was making people sick. Matilda passed out gingerbread, coffee, and tea to the patrons. She delivered some to Grandpa’s table, where he was joined by a lawyer, two government men, and a businessman named Mr. Carris.
Grandpa was once Captain William Farnsworth Cook, an army officer in the Pennsylvania Fifth Regiment who’d served under General Washington. He was well-liked and had the best stories and gossip. When Matilda delivered the gingerbread, she overheard part of his conversation.
Mr. Carris blamed the fever on the rotting pile of coffee beans by Ball’s wharf. He said they released toxins in the air. One of the government men said he heard the refugees living near the wharf were sick with fever. A doctor at the next table interjected, saying it wasn’t just the refugees who were sick. A reputable woman died yesterday after catching a fever. He said it’s possible the culprit is yellow fever. The lawyer balked at this, accusing the doctor of inciting hysterics to make more money. Yellow fever vanished 30 years ago, the lawyer reminded them all.
Grandpa didn’t want to hear any more cockamamie theories. People died of fever during the summer months all the time, especially people who lived by the filthy river. He turned the subject to politics, and the room picked up again with boisterous arguments.
After everyone was gone, Matilda helped Lucille with the accounts and cleaned up the serving room. When she asked her mother if she could help put the dishes away, Lucille said Polly would do it in the morning. Both fell silent. Lucille quickly recovered and said she would take care of the dishes herself. Matilda could hear the sound of Matthew’s hammer on anvil down the block. She wondered if he knew about Polly.
Within a week’s time, 64 more people had died. But no one knew whether it was from fever or something else. Rumors of the fever by the docks sent the community flooding toward the center of the city. The fear was a boon for the coffeehouse, and they were busier than ever.
Matilda continued to take over Polly’s duties, leaving her no time to mourn her dead friend. She was so tired each night that she once fell asleep in the bathroom. Lucille continued to keep Matilda close and restricted her contact with customers. But their supplies were dwindling, and someone had to go to market. Matilda jumped at the chance.
Lucille dismissed the idea immediately, but Grandpa reasoned with her. She was exhausted and needed the break, he said. Lucille had to admit she felt unseasonably warm and tired. She finally agreed to let Matilda go as long as she came straight home and didn’t go past the lower-numbered streets by the river. This news was music to Matilda’s ears. She was tired of being cooped up in the house. Lucille had even started talking about sending Matilda to live with family friends, the Ludingtons, in the country. The only thing Matilda knew about the Ludingtons was that they had filthy pigs and mean dogs. She wanted to prove she was responsible enough to stay in the city.
At the market, Matilda wandered the stalls. West Indian women sold stew from pepper pots. Chickens and hens filled the air with squawks. People bartered with shopkeepers, and children played all around. At the egg stand, Mrs. Elpers, a German farm woman, said the fever was punishment from God for those who didn’t attend church. If you went to church, she said, you had nothing to fear.
Matilda finished her shopping and was about to leave when someone grabbed her basket from behind. When she turned to see who it was, she gasped. Nathaniel Benson stood before her, more manly and taller than she’d remembered. Her insides quivered, and she tried not to stare, but his chestnut hair was so beautiful.
Nathaniel and Matilda had known each other since they were babies. He worked as an apprentice for the famous painter Charles Peale. He also thought going to Paris sounded like a great idea. He often walked by the coffeehouse, and Matilda often walked by the Peale’s house. But they rarely spoke to each other. Lucille didn’t approve of Nathaniel. She thought he was a deadbeat or worse.
Nathaniel was going fishing and asked Matilda to join him. Despite her mother’s warnings, she was tempted. She hadn’t done anything recreational since Polly’s death. Plus, unlike with her mother, she could be herself with Nathaniel. She could even roll her shirt sleeves above her elbows. But when he smiled at her, Matilda figured she better leave her sleeves down. You had to be careful with boys and elbows. She decided she would fish like a proper lady.
Their conversation was cut short by the sound of church bells ringing. It was an odd sound because it wasn’t the top of the hour. A man nearby said the bells rang every time another person died now—one gong for each year of life. Matilda and Nathaniel listened. The bells rang twenty-one times. Matilda grew emotional, thinking about her dead friend. Nathaniel touched her shoulder to comfort her. After the bells, Matilda decided to return home. She said goodbye and walked away. She could still feel Nathaniel’s warm hand on her body.
Despite the rising number of deaths, things didn’t change much around the coffeehouse. Seven days later, Matilda and Grandpa were out in the backyard joking around like any other day. He relaxed in the shade while she pushed clean linens through the mangler in the scorching heat. They talked about the weather. Matilda longed for winter days and skating on the frozen river. Grandpa liked the heat; the cold made his bones ache.
At lunch time, the family sat around the table discussing what they should do with their new windfall. Grandpa and Matilda thought they should expand the coffeehouse. Matilda wanted to buy the lot next door, get another coffee urn, open up a dry goods store, and start selling proper dinners. If they had proper dinners, Thomas Jefferson and President Washington might decide to dine there.
Lucille had different ideas. She said the windfall was temporary. As soon as people stopped being afraid of the wharf, business would return to normal. She thought they should save the money for when they really needed it. She pushed more food on Matilda’s plate and told her to eat so she wouldn’t get sick.
Grandpa scoffed at the fever panic. August fevers were normal, he said. He blamed the refugees and suggested they be quarantined on an island until the fever passed. Lucille again brought up going to the Ludingtons’ until the fever blew over. Grandpa was about to argue, but he was interrupted when a note arrived at the door. Pernilla Ogilvie, the matriarch of a prominent family, was inviting Matilda and Lucille for tea that afternoon. The Ogilvies had five sons, and Lucille had her eye on the youngest, Edward, as Matilda’s future husband.
Matilda protested. She refused to go until Grandpa reminded her that her choices were either tea or chores. Lucille jumped into action to find them something to wear. They didn’t have tea-drinking clothes, and Matilda had grown out of the one nice dress she had. Lucille only had an outdated banquet dress from after the war. With such short notice, they had to make do with what they had. Eliza combed the knots from Matilda’s hair, a chunk of which was stuck together with jam.
When they were finished primping, Matilda looked like a doll. She was mortified. She said she would be polite, but she wasn’t going to talk to Edward. She didn’t need a husband to run the coffeehouse. Her mother was proof of that.
Lucille said she’d be lucky if an upstanding gentleman like Edward agreed to marry an ill-mannered girl like her. With four older brothers, Edward’s prospects were small enough that Matilda would barely be acceptable as the daughter of a successful business owner. She would get married and be happy. The last thing they all needed was another spinster in the house.
Matilda was stuffed into her bodice and petticoat so tightly, she could barely breathe. Lucille promised they wouldn’t stay long after knocking on the Ogilvies’ door. They had to get back before Grandpa gave the shop away. Then, she turned to Matilda, and with uncharacteristic gentleness, she said that Matilda was going to grow into a beautiful woman. She wanted the best life for Matilda that she could have. Matilda was taken aback by Lucille’s intimacy and compassion. But as quickly as it appeared, it vanished. The door opened, and they were let in.
The inside of the Ogilvie home was enormous and extravagant—crystal chandeliers, a large mahogany table, and Chippendale chairs. Pernilla Ogilvie waltzed out in a lavish gown and dusted hair. The two daughters, Colette and Jeannine, were summoned with a bell. They appeared dressed identically in pink and yellow gowns. Both Matilda and Lucille felt naked in their old clothes.
Colette, the oldest, was pale and had dark circles under her eyes. Jeannine, on the other hand, was a vision of health and mischief. It didn’t take long before her snobbery revealed itself during tea. She stuck her tongue out at Matilda behind a silk fan. She moved the plate of pastries out of Matilda’s reach.
Pernilla was no better. As soon as she was introduced to Matilda, she commented on how sad it was that Matilda’s handsome father had died. If he’d only been educated, he could have made something of himself. The Cook women bristled, but Lucille was determined not to spoil the conversation.
Pernilla lamented about the fever, too. She complained that all of her society friends had fled to the country. She was bored and distraught that her gala to celebrate Colette’s recent engagement was canceled. What an injustice, she said. The filthy refugees and river rats were always sick with something. And now they were interfering in her social life. She looked to Lucille for agreement, but Lucille changed the subject.
Lucille inquired about the Ogilvie boys. She asked whether any of them were engaged or had considered a career in business. Pernilla feigned ignorance about the motivation behind the question, but Jeannine was happy to jump in and explain. She said Mrs. Cook was trying to marry Matilda off to one of her brothers, and their dirty tavern was part of the deal.
Both Matilda and Lucille jumped to defend their respectable business. However, the conversation halted when Colette stood from the table shaking and sweating. She’d become weaker over the course of tea, spilling cakes on the floor and tea on her dress. The last thing she said before she collapsed was that she was burning. Lucille placed a hand to her forehead. Colette had the fever.
The events at the Ogilvie house seemed to mark the beginning of something serious in the city, and panic spread quickly. For two days following Colette’s collapse, the church bells didn’t stop ringing. Cannons were shot in the main square to cleanse the air of impurities. Flies, bees, and mosquitoes buzzed incessantly, adding to the frenzied cacophony and disturbance in the community. The heat was still intense. Not even a brief rainstorm brought much relief.
The Cooks didn’t know what had happened to Colette after the tea. The Ogilvies, like every other wealthy family in the city, fled the city shortly after. The coffeehouse went from overflowing with customers to only a handful trickling in throughout the day. Less business meant less work for Eliza, so Eliza started attending meetings of the Free African Society to discuss the fever. Matilda had less to do, as well, and started accompanying Grandpa to the newspaper office to get the latest reports.
At the printing shop, Matilda and Grandpa found Andrew Brown, the owner, and Mr. Carris discussing the latest decree from the mayor. The decree would soon be hot off the presses. The men seemed surprised that the Cook family hadn’t retreated to the country. Grandpa said he hadn’t run from the British, and he wasn’t about to run from a little sickness. What was wrong with people? They’ve suffered disease in the past without losing their heads, he said.
In response, Mr. Carris read the decree from the mayor aloud:
Mr. Carris told them that a building uptown had been turned into a shelter for the poor. The workers carried bodies out daily. Matilda was shocked by this news. She had no idea so many people were dying on a daily basis. When she asked what the death toll was, Mr. Brown said it was believed to be in the several hundreds. But the doctors warned it could turn into thousands before it was all over.
Grandpa brushed this news aside. It was just hysterical exaggeration. But Mr. Carris said even the government was running to the country, including men who’d fought on the frontlines during the war. He was scared for the city and all the people. He was scared for himself. Everyone grew quiet.
Matilda and Grandpa walked silently back home. She counted the number of days until the first frost, which would destroy the fever: 28 at the minimum. Suddenly, going to the Ludington’s didn’t seem like such a bad idea.
A dirty man pushed a wheelbarrow past them on the sidewalk. A human arm dangled over the side. Grandpa was livid that this man was carting bodies in the good part of town during the day. But when the man stopped in front of the coffeehouse, Matilda felt her throat tighten. She ran toward the man, arriving just as he dumped a woman’s body on the sidewalk. It was Lucille.
The affluent townspeople point the finger at refugees for starting the fever. Yet, no evidence supports this theory.
Why do you think the society men and Mrs. Ogilvie were so quick to blame the wharf residents for the fever?
Is it fair to place the blame on a few when many are experiencing the same illness? Why or why not?
What is one example of this type of scapegoating in current society?
Why do you think people need someone to blame?
What are the possible repercussions of blaming a certain population for something that affects an entire society?
Matilda’s life was about to change in ways she never could have imagined. Grandpa checked Lucille’s pulse. She was alive but unconscious. He and Matilda carried her inside and up to the bedroom. Eliza screamed at the sight of Mrs. Cook unwell.
Grandpa assured the ladies that Lucille had merely passed out from the heat and exhaustion. A good rest should do the trick, but Matilda wasn’t so sure. Lucille opened her eyes briefly. Matilda waited for her to jump up and start ordering everyone around, but she didn’t. Instead, she told Matilda to take care of things downstairs while she rested. Her body shook with chills.
The day was a disaster. Matilda spilled coffee and tea everywhere, Eliza lost focus and burned food, and the patrons were tense and rowdy. When the day was finally over, only Grandpa and another man remained. His name was Mr. Rowley, and Grandpa told him about Lucille’s condition. Although he wasn’t a real doctor, Mr. Rowley did have some medical knowledge and offered to help. The real doctors were all down at the waterfront, where Eliza heard bodies were piling up like wood.
Matilda didn’t like Mr. Rowley. His hands and face were grimy, and he smelled like booze. Rowley examined Lucille and said it wasn’t yellow fever, just a normal autumnal fever. There was nothing to worry about. Eliza protested. The great Dr. Rush said that yellow fever was spreading through the city, she told him. But Rowley cautioned against such claims. He said one family had thrown the elderly matriarch out on the street when another doctor diagnosed her with yellow fever. She died, and it turned out to be a false diagnosis. Rowley collected his fee and was on his way. Grandpa William was triumphant at the news. He knew he’d been right about the misguided hysteria all along.
Despite Rowley’s claims, Lucille was very ill. She needed round the clock care to get better. Eliza and Matilda bathed her every four hours and changed the bedding each time. Matilda was mortified at having to bathe her mother, but Eliza couldn’t do it alone. They also gave her different teas that Rowley had prescribed, but nothing seemed to work.
Lucille deteriorated quickly. The fever grew and warped her mind, causing her to weep and call out for her husband. The chills were so bad, her teeth chattered. Her blue eyes showed streaks of red and yellow. Grandpa stayed with Mr. Carris to avoid catching something, and Eliza had to tend to her brother’s family in the evening. Matilda was on her own.
At night, Matilda sat vigil by her mother’s side. She looked into Lucille’s contorted face and wondered if her mother had ever been happy. Maybe death was a way she could be released from all the struggles she’d faced. Matilda grew emotional thinking of all the things her mother had tried to teach her that she always ignored. She prayed, read Psalms, and drifted to sleep.
Matilda woke suddenly to the sound of her mother getting sick. Lucille was vomiting blood, and her eyes rolled back in their sockets. Matilda screamed for help, then remembered she was alone. Lucille opened her eyes and looked at her daughter. She could barely form the words to tell Matilda to leave the room. A pungent black substance spewed from her mouth. Matilda tried to clean the mess. She wanted to be there for her mother, but Lucille screamed for her to leave. She didn’t want her daughter infected with whatever was trying to kill her.
Four days later, the Cooks received an unpleasant surprise that would force them apart. Lucille was alive but pallid and weak. Eliza and Grandpa had tracked down a real doctor, Dr. Kerr, to examine Lucille. He was a small Scottish man who carried a little black medical bag. While he examined Lucille, he asked about her condition during the night. Matilda rushed to explain that she’d continued to bathe her every four hours and give her the teas from Rowley. She thought a simple case of autumnal fever would have cleared up by now.
When Dr. Kerr learned about Rowley’s diagnosis, he called him a charlatan and said there was no question in his mind that Lucille had yellow fever. Matilda couldn’t breathe. How could her mother be dying of a stupid fever? Her mother had cooked a feast for the whole family hours after giving birth and fended off British soldiers while her husband was fighting in the war. This woman couldn’t die so easily. She wouldn’t.
Dr. Kerr cut a vein on Lucille’s arm and collected the blood in a basin. When it was full, he filled up a second one. He took 10 ounces that day and would be back to take 10 more tomorrow. He prescribed medications to evacuate her stomach and bowels. He said Lucille was strong and could make it through with proper care.
After the bloodletting, Lucille roused and ordered Matilda out. Dr. Kerr escorted Matilda downstairs and gave Grandpa and Eliza the unhappy news that she should be sent to the country. People were panicking, he said. It wasn’t safe for a young girl to be in the city right now. Matilda threw a fit and refused to leave, but everyone thought it was best. A plan was made, and Grandpa left to secure a carriage for the journey.
After things settled down, Eliza remembered a package that had come for Matilda. It was a painting of flowers in a vase on a wooden board. The card attached was from Nathaniel Benson. He was locked in the Peale’s house with the family for protection. He wished Matilda safety and good health and promised they’d reunite when the plague was over.
The next morning, Grandpa packed their trunks and food pantry into a carriage belonging to a local farmer. He would accompany her on her journey to the country. When it was time to leave, he put on his regiment uniform and saluted Matilda. He clicked his heels together to bring some levity to the situation. Eliza and Matilda said an emotional goodbye, promising to see each other soon. Matilda climbed into the carriage next to her grandfather. The carriage pulled away. Her journey into an unknown future began.
Matilda and Grandpa’s journey would end before it could begin after an encounter on the road. The farmer who owned the carriage sat up front with his wife and baby. Only one horse pulled the cart. The horse was so slow and starved, it took an hour just to get out of the city. The road was grooved from the mass exodus of carriages before them, and the carriage bounced around. The heat and insects were intense.
Matilda joked that the baby’s messed diaper was attracting the insects, which made Grandpa laugh. But his laughter turned into a coughing fit, raising alarm for Matilda and the farmer. Grandpa settled back and said they should enjoy the ride. He told Matilda it was time for her soldiering training.
Since she was little, Grandpa had trained her in the military tactics of both the American and British armies. Today, he quizzed her about the three most important things a soldier needed. She responded with good boots, a full stomach, and plenty of sleep. Grandpa clomped his boots and patted his belly. He had the first two. Now it was time for the third. He leaned back and drifted to sleep, and Matilda leaned against him to do the same.
Matilda jerked awake when the carriage came to a stop. Up ahead, four men with guns on horses blocked the road. Everyone assumed they were robbers, and the farmer reached for his knife. Matilda tried to rouse Grandpa, but he didn’t budge.
One of the men rode over and said they were checking all carriages passing through their town for the fever. They had a doctor who would examine everyone. The farmer and his family jumped down and passed the test. But Matilda couldn’t wake Grandpa up. She shook him hard, but he still didn’t move. The doctor forced his eyes open, which finally brought Grandpa back. When he woke up, he was confused and started coughing immediately.
The doctor covered his mouth and declared Grandpa too sick to pass through town. They’d have to go back. Grandpa said it was just summer grippe, but they didn’t listen. The farmer asked why his family should be held up when he’d only picked these two up off the side of the road a few minutes before? Matilda called him a liar, but it did no good. The farmer was allowed to ride away, taking the Cooks’ supplies and luggage with him. The men on the horses left, and Matilda and Grandpa were left to walk home.
All of Matilda’s soldiering training was about to come in handy as she and Grandpa made their way down the road. They hadn’t walked far before Grandpa was taken by the chills. They found a chestnut tree and sat beneath it. Grandpa was out as soon as he hit the ground.
Matilda was scared, but she tried to keep her head. She told herself it was just summer grippe. It had to be. She couldn’t take care of Grandpa if it was something worse. They needed food and water, so she grabbed his canteen and kissed him goodbye on his hot and clammy forehead.
At the top of the hill, she spotted a line of willow trees. Her training told her that willow trees meant a nearby water source. She ran toward them and found a stream. She also found a raspberry bush, which she knew meant rabbits were in the area. It was much cooler by the water than where she’d left Grandpa, so she made a plan. She and Grandpa would walk to the stream and stay as long as they needed to for him to get better. They’d snare rabbits and cook them over a fire. With fresh water and food, he would get enough strength to make the 10-mile journey back to the city.
When she returned to the chestnut tree, she woke up Grandpa and gave him the water. She checked his eyes—red but no yellow. A good sign. While he ate raspberries, she told him about her plan. She said they’d get him home to his own bed soon.
Grandpa asked her to come closer so he could see her face. He said he’d been a fool for not listening to Lucille’s fears and warnings. The sun set, and the stars came out. Grandpa told Matilda he was concerned for her future. They needed a strategy now and for the rest of the war. She waited for his orders, but he didn’t give any. Fear took her when she realized he was waiting for hers. She decided they’d move camp in the morning.
Two days passed, and things for Matilda and Grandpa went from bad to worse. Grandpa was still alive, and his eyes weren’t yellow. But he was weak without food and water. The morning sun burned brighter each second. Soon, it would be scorching. Matilda took the canteen back to the stream.
On the way, her mind flip-flopped between strategies to help her grandfather and her mother. She wondered if Eliza and her mother would send help when Grandpa didn’t return from the country. When she thought of her mother, she was filled with shame. She should have been stronger, like Eliza. Her mother was disgusted with her and had always been.
Matilda shook the bad thoughts from her mind. She would focus on the positives. Her mother would heal at home. A carriage would find her and Grandpa and take them to the Ludingtons’ farm. A letter from her mother would be waiting for them that said Matilda could come home. Her mind strayed to the lost pantry and all the food Eliza had packed: cinnamon rolls, cheese, ham, and preserves. Her stomach rumbled.
At the stream, Matilda took off her petticoat and bathed in the cold water. She couldn’t help wondering what Nathaniel would say if he saw her bathing. Would he like it? The sound of fish jumping brought her back. She grabbed her petticoat and tried to use it as a net, but a bird scared the fish away. There was no time to try again. She had to get back to Grandpa.
When Matilda returned, Grandpa could barely sit up to drink the water. He shivered and said he was cold, which was remarkable considering the sweltering heat. He handed her a pouch of coins and sent her to find food and blankets at a nearby farm. Matilda didn’t want to leave him, but she feared he wouldn’t make it another night. She set out in hopes of stumbling across some sign of life.
She came across a farmer working in his field. When he saw Matilda, he ran to the farmhouse and locked the door. He turned her away, saying he couldn’t help anyone with the fever. She wanted to keep going, but something told her to get back to Grandpa.
On the road back, she stepped on a piece of rotten fruit. She looked up and saw the source—a pear tree full of dangling fruit. She collected as many as she could in her skirt and headed back to the chestnut tree.
After a while, the tree came into view, but the pears grew incredibly heavy. The tree looked like it was getting farther away, rather than closer. The sun turned from a fireball into an iceball. Her teeth chattered and she grew disoriented. Where was she? Where was her mother? Eliza? Why was she carrying rocks? The last thought she had was sleep, and then everything went dark.
Two days later, Matilda regained consciousness and found that everything had changed. She was no longer on the side of the road but in a bed. She heard a man’s voice ask if she was dead. She could make out carpentry sounds in the distance and moans closer by.
She drifted to sleep, and nightmares plagued her fever dreams. She choked on dirt and dust billowing from carriages in the road. There were too many of them, and their horses fought for space as people fled the city. A group of soldiers appeared and yelled at her in French. Grandpa was with them and ordered them to fire their guns at her. She woke with a jolt. The room was dark except for a streak of moonlight coming through a window.
She was laying in a mess of wet sheets covered in blood and black goo, the same type of mess her mother had made. There was only one explanation—yellow fever. To her left slept a young woman with braids. To her right was a corpse covered by a sheet. Her heart thumped. Was it her mother? Grandpa? She lifted the sheet and saw the smooth hand of a young woman.
The next time she woke up, the shutters were closed against the blazing sun. She could make out her surroundings better. It was a large room like the Ogilvie’s drawing room, but bigger and missing the adorned furniture. The ceilings were high, and a chandelier hung in the middle. A large woman appeared with a bowl of steaming broth. Her name was Bridget Flagg, and she was relieved to see that Matilda had made it through the night.
Bridget told Matilda that Grandpa was waiting to see her. He didn’t have yellow fever, just a cough and heatstroke. She also commented on how handsome and charming he was, not to mention brave and strong for carrying Matilda all the way there. Matilda relaxed. If Grandpa was flirting and telling tall tales, he was just fine.
Just then, Grandpa came into the room. He teased Matilda about being lazy in bed when there was work to be done. Then, he and Bridget started to flirt. Matilda had to interrupt to find out where they were and how they’d gotten there. Her relief turned to panic when Bridget said she was at Bush Hill Mansion, a large property outside the city limits.
The city of Philadelphia had turned Bush Hill into a hospital for those with fever when the disease first spread. Rumors of criminals preying on the sick and bodies piling up were heard all over the city. Bush Hill was a dangerous place, and Matilda wanted to get herself and Grandpa out of there. She tried to stand, but Bridget helped her back down.
Bush Hill had changed, Bridget said. A wealthy French businessman named Stephen Girard had purchased the place and cleared out the riff raff and disreputable employees. He fixed the place up and brought in a real team of French doctors, nurses, medicine, and food. It was a proper hospital now. Both Matilda and Grandpa knew of Mr. Girard from the coffeehouse, and Grandpa greatly admired him. He was an astute businessman, with a hand in many ventures around Philadelphia.
Bridget said they were lucky to be there. The French doctors knew how to treat the fever, not like Dr. Rush, whose bloodletting strategy was believed to make people worse. The mention of bloodletting reminded Matilda of Dr. Kerr’s treatment of her mother. She became agitated. What had happened to her mother?
Grandpa went to the house after arriving at Bush Hill, but it was boarded up. They’d been gone for five days, and he assumed Lucille had traveled to the country to meet them. He sent a letter to the Ludingtons and expected to hear back anytime now. At this news, Matilda relaxed and fell back to sleep. She would be at Bush Hill for eight more days.
Bush Hill was both a blessing and a curse for Matilda. She was hospitalized for 10 days before she made a turn for the better. Each day, stories of terror swirled around her. People spoke of a small child found clinging to his mother’s dead body; a dying man begging for water from his bedroom window; thieves who stole from the sick and dead; and angels who helped out of the goodness of their hearts. People spoke of patients losing their minds, and within her own ward, people screamed in agony.
Matilda tried to block it all out. She listened just enough to hear news of her mother, Eliza, or Nathaniel, but that news never came. Once recovered, Matilda was moved out of the ward and into the barn. The barn smelled like horses and manure, but it was pristine inside and cool from the stone walls. Matilda was grateful to be away from the sick and suffering.
Grandpa came to visit often. He was camping in the back yard and helping with the efforts however he could. He delivered food, burned mattresses, and raised money. The work made him feel useful and important, like he’d felt during the war.
Matilda was sleeping through the night again, but each morning she wondered about her mother, who still hadn’t written back. Matilda was sure that her recovery meant her mother had also recovered. But where was she? Matilda also wondered about Eliza, but she had no idea how to find her.
Each day brought more strength and questions about Matilda’s future. On Day 6 in the barn, a man came to answer that question. He was transferring her to the city orphanage. Matilda flipped at this news, and Bridget ran to get Grandpa.
The man seemed upset that Matilda had family. He tried to talk Grandpa into sending Matilda to the orphanage, saying that she’d be safe there, but Grandpa wouldn’t budge. He told the man to get out before he reported him to the president. After the man left, Grandpa fell into a coughing spell. Both Matilda and Bridget watched with horror, but he laughed it off. He said they couldn’t get rid of him that easily.
Sixteen days after leaving for the farm, Matilda and Grandpa left for Philadelphia, a city they would no longer recognize. Bridget stood next to the carriage taking them and five sick children to the orphanage with tears in her eyes. She waved goodbye, and Grandpa waved back, saying he hoped they would meet again when times were better. The carriage moved on, and Bush Hill faded in the distance.
Matilda sat in the back of the carriage next to an older woman named Mrs. Bowles. She was kind and worked at the orphanage. She asked Matilda what her plan was to help, but Matilda didn’t know what there was for her to do. She was just a girl after all. As soon as she said these words, Matilda regretted them. Someone was finally treating her as an adult, and she acted like a baby.
Mrs. Bowles said they needed a lot of help at the orphanage, and a young woman like Matilda could be of great service. Another girl in the carriage, Susannah, was going to the orphanage to do just that. At the orphanage, Matilda would be fed, kept safe, and given a small stipend. But Matilda said no. Her grandpa wouldn’t hear of it and needed her help, too.
Mrs. Bowles understood but cautioned her to stay home once they arrived. The city was dangerous now, with the sick and dead everywhere and men and criminals lurking in the streets. Just then, the carriage rolled through the outskirts of the city. Ceased construction projects left skeletons of new houses and businesses littering the landscape.
When Grandpa learned that there was no food in the city, he suggested writing another letter to the farm to see if they could come stay. But the driver told him mail delivery was no longer in service. Again, Mrs. Bowels offered for Matilda to stay with them, which prompted Matilda to ask what would happen to her and Susannah once the fever was over. Susannah’s parents’ house would be sold, and the money would become her dowry. She would likely work as a scuttle maid or servant until a husband was found.
This was not the fate Matilda imagined for herself. She daydreamed about her mother returning to find the coffeehouse in top shape. She’d marvel at the amazing job Matilda did running it and at the new dry goods store Matilda and Grandpa would open next door. Matilda would accept her accolades wearing a French dress. All would be right again. She’d even hire Susannah to work for them.
Matilda was brought back to reality when they entered the city center. It was daytime, but everything was cast in gray. The stores were closed, and there were no pedestrians on the streets. Houses flew yellow flags to signify the sick inside or had barricaded doors to keep out intruders. A 17-year-old boy in a stained tailored suit lay dead on a stoop. His yellow eyes stared into nothing. His shoes still held their upper-class sheen.
Everywhere she looked, Matilda saw her ravished city. The wagon stopped for a line of men carrying dead bodies in wheelbarrows. A trench was dug next to the central square, and mounds of dirt covered piles of bodies.
When they finally reached the orphanage, Mrs. Bowels and the children exited the carriage. She reminded Matilda of her offer and wished her and Grandpa safety and good health in whatever they decided to do.
Although Grandpa had visited the coffeehouse a few days earlier, everything was different when they arrived. When the carriage pulled up, Matilda noticed the front door cracked. She jumped down and ran up the stairs, hoping to find her mother waiting. Instead, she found the coffeehouse completely ransacked by robbers. Chairs and tables were broken, cookware and crockery smashed on the floor, and the pantry stripped clean. Even the coffee and tea canisters were empty.
The thieves hadn’t gone upstairs, and their rooms were as they left them. At least the strongbox with their money was still hidden below a hollow stair. Grandpa couldn’t believe his eyes. His face grew red, and he held his left arm. Matilda turned on her captain’s voice and ordered him to bed at once. She was also tired, still healing, and needed rest, but someone had to fetch water and find food.
Matilda scoured the dry and brittle garden and managed to find a few beans, some squash, and a few cherries. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing. She thanked God for keeping them alive and prayed for her mother and Eliza. She also told God to punish those who’d ruined their home, but not too much. They were probably just hungry, too.
The next day, Matilda woke to her cat, Silas, purring in her face. Grandpa was still asleep. She tiptoed down the stairs. In the light of day, she saw how filthy she was. Sweat and dirt covered her skin, and she itched. She hauled and boiled water for a bath, then scrubbed the blood and dirt from every inch of her body and hair.
With her body clean again, she needed clean clothes to wear. But everything she owned was in the trunk the farmer who’d abandoned them stole. The only option was her mother’s clothes, which she was not supposed to wear. She spoke a promise to the memory of her mother not to climb trees or roughhouse in her clean shift and blue-striped skirt. The clothes fit better than she’d thought, and she felt almost regal in them. She twirled so the skirt wooshed around her.
Grandpa was still asleep, and his breaths rattled. His face was pale and yellowed. She wanted to let him rest more, but there was work to be done. She woke him up, and in good Grandpa fashion, he immediately ordered a large breakfast of eggs, bread, and plums.
While Grandpa bathed, Matilda cleaned up the mess and cooked a meager soup. She suggested they look for meat or bread in the community, but Grandpa thought it best to stay indoors. They’d wait the fever out and wait for Lucille to come home.
Matilda doused the garden with water until the ground loosened and a few plants came back to life. She was able to dig out a few potatoes and celebrated like she’d found gold. The potatoes weren’t much, but they satiated them for the night. Between caring for Grandpa and seeing to their survival, Matilda felt herself becoming the woman of the house. She dreamed of the day she would run her own store and be rich enough to buy anything she needed. She tucked Grandpa in, took her blanket downstairs. She opened the shutters for fresh air, then read a Bible verse before bed. It’d been a good day considering. She’d gotten them through one day.
Matilda was deep in dreams of food when she woke up to the sound of two men outside the window. In the glow of the moonlight, she could make out the silhouette of a tall, thin man. The tall man looked around the room but couldn’t see Matilda hidden in the dark corner.
The tall men climbed through the window, followed by a shorter man. The short man seemed nervous and swore he’d seen smoke coming from the chimney earlier. But the tall one assured him no one was there. He instructed the short man to look for silver and pewter or anything else of value. He was going to look for the money.
Matilda held her breath as they dug through cupboards and drawers. The short man moved toward a chest next to where she slept. When he stopped to complain about the lack of light, she slid out of bed and stood against the wall in the shadows.
She didn’t know what to do. She didn’t want to wake Grandpa, knowing the men could overtake them both. She thought about slipping out a window and running for help. But who would she run to, and who would care about a small burglary when the dead were everywhere? She thought she might try to scare them off from outside, but the window was between her hiding spot and the chest the short man was now rummaging through. There was nothing to do, so she froze.
The tall man took Grandpa’s sword down from the wall and play-acted a gentleman's duel. He lunged and swung the sword, moving closer to Matilda’s hiding spot. Suddenly, the blade just barely missed her throat, and she couldn’t help but scream. She knocked the tall man down and ran through the kitchen. She struggled with the door until the bolt came loose. She sprinted across the yard for the gate but stepped on a sharp stone and yelped loudly. The tall man grabbed her and dragged her into the house.
The short man wasn’t comfortable with the situation, especially after the tall man slapped Matilda across the face. He bound her hands and demanded to know where the money was. She said they were too late, that they’d already been robbed. The tall man was about to punch her when a noise from upstairs stopped him. Matilda tried to convince them the noise was only the cat. Everyone else had died of yellow fever, she said, which made the short man even more anxious. The tall man didn’t believe her and punched her in the face.
Just then, Grandpa appeared at the bottom of the stairs in his nightshirt, his rifle aimed at the tall man’s heart. The short man jumped out the window and ran, but the tall man laughed. This old man wasn’t going to shoot him. Grandpa said he was counting to three. Matilda knew from experience that when Grandpa counted to three, he meant business. She was right. At three, Grandpa fired, but the tall man was able to jump out of the way in time.
The force of the blow knocked Grandpa back, and the tall man pounced on him. He punched Grandpa repeatedly. Matilda tried to pull him off, but the man shoved her to the ground. He choked Grandpa, then beat his head against the floor. Matilda saw the sword laying on the floor nearby. She knew how to handle a sword from her soldiering lessons. She raised it and slashed the man in the arm. She chased him halfway down the block before she remembered that Grandpa was hurt.
He was sitting up when she got back. In the hazy moonlight, he apologized to Matilda. His time had come too early. He was leaving her alone. Matilda wouldn’t believe it, couldn’t. After all he’d lived through, it wasn’t possible this was how he would die. She prayed for God to save him, but it was too late. Grandpa smiled and told her he knew she was a fighter. She was strong, and he loved her.
After he died, Matilda stared at the face of one of the best people she’d known, the face always filled with joy, the face that had loved her. She took the sword and demolished a chair until it was in bits. What was she supposed to do now? She pulled some clean linens from the cupboard. A package fell to her feet, but she ignored it and moved toward Grandpa’s body. She placed the sheet around him but didn’t cover his face. She stayed next to his body the whole night, praying that the sun would never rise.
Matilda had hoped the night before was a nightmare, but the sight of Grandpa’s body in the morning told her it wasn’t. Through the window, she heard a man calling for people to bring out their dead. She didn’t want to give Grandpa away, but she knew she couldn’t keep him there. She caught up to the man, and the two put Grandpa on top of a child’s and young woman’s bodies. Before they left, she placed a picture of her grandmother underneath Grandpa’s arm. If he couldn’t be buried next to her at the church, he could at least take her with him.
Matilda helped the man push the cart to the square. She thought about the grand procession Grandpa would have had, with a crowd of friends lining the streets, a white horse pulling the casket. A hero’s farewell for a true hero. Thinking about it was too much, and she started to cry.
At the square, 30 to 40 men were hard at work digging trenches and burying the dead. Two of the men sewed Grandpa into a canvas shroud and prepared to toss him in, but Matilda screamed for them to stop. They couldn’t just toss him in without a prayer. Everyone had to be prayed over before they were buried. The men explained that a preacher would come later and pray over everyone, but she wouldn’t hear it. Her grandfather was a captain and a war hero. He deserved a prayer. The cart man agreed and pulled out a book of Psalms, worn from overuse.
The two men and the rest of the grave diggers stopped working, took off their hats, and bowed their heads. As Matilda read the Lord’s Prayer, the men spoke it with her, some becoming emotional. When it was over, she thanked the men and walked away. There was nothing more she could do for Grandpa now.
Matilda wandered the streets. The houses of people she used to know were boarded up and abandoned. She thought about going to the orphanage, maybe back to Bridget at Bush Hill. But she couldn’t do either. She would take care of herself and wait for her mother to return.
She went to the market to buy food, but there was no one there. She wandered past the printing office and found Mr. Brown distraught at his desk. She asked if she could print an ad for her mother, but he said he couldn’t. He was the only paper of five still in business, and he was running out of paper. He seemed to get lost inside his head, rambling about the loss of life.
At the beginning of August, there were 40,000 people in Philadelphia, the most of any U.S. city. Now, half had fled, nearly three thousand had died, and those who remained were starving to death. Matilda thought about telling him about Grandpa, but there was no use. Telling him wouldn't bring Grandpa back.
Matilda stopped in front of the hatters and tried to peer inside. But an old woman with a cane got suspicious and struck her in the back. Matilda ran away, but she soon realized she was lost. She could see the boat masts in the distance and headed for the wharf. Her mind was haunted by dark thoughts. Grandpa’s body, thousands of others dead, her mother ordering her out of the house. She wondered what death would feel like.
She shook off the thought. Her grandfather would be so disappointed at the weakness she was showing. She needed to get home and figure things out. She turned to go but was stopped by a whimper coming from an open doorway. Inside, she found a small girl with blonde hair cowering in the corner of a small room, her mother dead from fever on the bed.
The girl’s name was Nell. Matilda picked her up and comforted her. She didn’t know what to do with the girl. She couldn’t leave her there, but she couldn’t take care of her. She could barely take care of herself. She knocked on the neighbor’s doors to find someone to take Nell, but they all turned her away. A woman told her to try the Free African Society, which still met at the black church. The walk was long, especially carrying Nell, but it was closer than the orphanage or home. She picked up the girl and set off.
Matilda entered the part of the wharf with taverns. Drunk men and sailors lazed about outside. She picked up the pace, wanting to get out of this part of town quickly. Up ahead, she saw the backs of two black women carrying baskets walking away from her. Something about the outline of one of the women was familiar. Then it hit her: Eliza.
Matilda screamed Eliza’s name and tried to catch up, but a drunk man grabbed her and tried to dance. By the time she freed herself and Nell from his grip, the women were gone. She asked a woman hanging her laundry if she’d seen the women. She asked a man caring for his sick wife if he'd seen them. Both had seen them walking but didn’t know where they’d gone.
Losing hope and feeling Nell’s weight increasing in her arms, there was only one thing to do. She put Nell down and screamed for Eliza as loud as she could. Suddenly, a figure appeared in a doorway. Matilda didn’t wait to be recognized. She flung herself into Eliza’s arms and hugged her tight. Eliza looked at her, shocked to see her. She was even more shocked to see the little girl in tow.
Seeing Eliza opened something up inside of Matilda. All the emotion she’d been holding inside since leaving for the farm came spilling out. She cried in front of Eliza until she released all her pain. Eliza’s first question was why Matilda wasn’t at the farm with her mother. When she found out Matilda and Grandpa had never made it there, she took Matilda and Nell home with her.
Eliza lived in an apartment with her brother, Joseph, and his two twin boys. Joseph was recovering from the fever, but his wife had not been so lucky. She’d died a few days before. The boys were close to Nell’s age, and the three played while Eliza and Matilda talked about everything that had happened since they’d last seen each other. Matilda tried to hide the bleak parts from her, but Eliza could always tell when she was lying. She forced Matilda to tell her the truth.
After Matilda told Eliza about the abandonment by the farmer, her stay at Bush Hill, and the intruders who’d killed Grandpa, she cried again. She felt responsible for everything that had happened and like a failure. Eliza pushed the notion away and shared her own story.
Lucille had recovered from the fever and headed to the farm to meet up with Matilda and Grandpa. After Lucille left, Eliza started helping the Free African Society to care for the sick. The doctors said black people couldn’t get the fever. The society’s leader, Reverend Allen, said it would be a good opportunity for black folks to prove their worth in society. Unfortunately, the doctors were wrong, and many of their members caught the fever and died. Those who hadn’t still went out every day to deliver food and care for inflicted families. She told Matilda they just had to make it until the first frost, when the whole thing would be over.
The next morning, Eliza left to perform her care duties, and an old woman named Mother Smith came to watch the children and care for Joseph. She reminded Matilda of her mother. Mother Smith followed her around all day tapping her cane and complaining about Matilda’s poor cleaning habits.
When dinner was over and the twins had been tucked into bed, Mother Smith saw Matilda coddling Nell. She warned Matilda not to fall in love with Nell. Nell didn’t belong to her, and it wasn’t right for her to keep her. Mothering the child and then giving her away to the orphanage would be cruel. Matilda didn’t want to believe her, but when she mentioned it to Eliza and received a similar response, she knew she had to do the right thing.
The next morning, Eliza and Matilda took Nell to the orphanage. A desperate woman surrounded by screaming children answered the door. She said they were full to the brim with children and hardly had any room left. If the women could find another home for Nell, it would be best. At that, Eliza and Matilda agreed to take Nell home. Matilda was overjoyed. Turns out she needed Nell’s love as much as Nell needed hers.
On their way back to Eliza’s, they walked past two houses they recognized. One was the Ogilvie house. Eliza told Matilda that the family had moved to Delaware to stay with relatives. The sick daughter, Colette, had recovered, but during the fever, it came out that she’d eloped with her French tutor. The family went into an uproar, more concerned about the damage to their status than the fever. Matilda couldn’t stop laughing.
The next house got their attention because daisies were falling from the sky. When Matilda looked up, she saw that someone was throwing them out a second-story window. She realized the house belonged to Mr. Peale. Eliza rushed them forward, but Matilda was thrilled that Nathaniel was alive and still giving her flowers.
Joseph was recovering well and was able to get out of bed. He and Eliza decided that Matilda and Nell would stay with them for the foreseeable future. After the fever ended, they’d decide what to do then. Matilda was grateful and agreed to help the society in their mission to care for the sick.
Matilda couldn’t have imagined how hard it would be to work with Eliza, both physically and emotionally. She’d witnessed the sick and dying at Bush Hill, but it was different being in people’s homes. Helping to console those losing family members to the fever broke her heart.
She and Eliza left at dawn each day and didn’t return until dark. Joseph cared for the children during the day and had supper waiting for them when they came home. The heat had subsided for a few days, but today it was blazing again. Outside, it felt more like July than October.
Rumors abounded in the city: the fever was over, the fever was back, ships full of the sick were coming to the docks, a cure was found, there was no cure, the water was contaminated, and the redcoats were returning. Round and round these stories ran, but Eliza ignored them. Whether they were true or not had no bearing on the work of the moment.
From house to house, Eliza and Matilda cleaned and fed the sick. Matilda wore a vinegar-soaked rag around her face, but it couldn’t keep out the stench of the dying. They went to the apothecary, where Grandpa used to take Matilda to buy supplies and candy. She used to love this store and dreamt of having one just like it one day. Now, it was covered in dust and dead insects. Eliza was livid with the owner, who she felt was monopolizing on the misfortune of others by raising his prices.
When the two returned home that night, Joseph was sitting in candlelight in tears. The children, especially the boys, had fallen ill. Eliza was beside herself. She prayed for God to spare the children. Matilda suggested they take them to Bush Hill, but the journey was far, and there would likely not be room.
Matilda wanted to help but didn’t know how. Then it hit her. It was cooler near the city center. They could take them to the coffeehouse to recover. The plan was decided and preparations made.
Mother Smith secured a mule cart and brought it to Eliza’s house to transport the children to the coffeehouse. They packed all the medicine and food they could procure and put a mattress in the back. Joseph carried the boys to the mattress and was overcome with grief when he said goodbye. He was staying behind so he wouldn’t infect the children even more than he feared he had. Mother Smith promised the Society would look after him.
The trip to the coffeehouse was through a bleak city. Matilda had never seen the city so dark. There was no moonlight, no lanterns lit on the street, and hardly any candles flickered in the many windows.
At the coffeehouse, they pulled the mattress with the children on top into the front room. Matilda was worried about opening the windows again because of intruders. But Eliza pulled out a knife from her waistband and said she’d protect them.
The first floor looked the same as it had the night Grandpa died. The memories of that night and all the death and decay since weighed on Matilda. So much had happened in such a short amount of time.
The package from the linen cupboard was still on the floor. Matilda picked it up and found Nathaniel’s painting. She hoped he was staying inside and safe and not throwing flowers to every girl he saw passing by. She also wondered about her mother. Where was she? Was she still alive? There was so much she wanted to talk to her mother about.
But there was no time for sorrow. The boys’ eyes were bloodshot and yellow, and Nell wasn’t far behind. Eliza struggled with her emotions. She’d promised her sister-in-law that she’d keep the boys safe, but she knew they were losing the battle. Matilda told her not to worry. They were going to keep that promise.
For days, the two cared for the children. Matilda never worked so hard before in her life. When one child slept, the others cried. Nell started to lose her mind. She didn’t recognize Matilda and cried for her mother. Nights turned into days and back again. Matilda carried bucket after bucket of water from the well until her hands blistered and bled. Their supplies were low and the children weren’t improving. They were wasting away from the fever ravishing their tiny bodies.
Eliza wanted to call a doctor and have them bled, but Matilda warned her about what Bridget had said at Bush Hill. People died more frequently after being bled, and the French doctors with more experience said it was a dangerous practice. Eliza was adamant, but Matilda pleaded for Eliza to trust her. Bleeding would cause more harm than good. Finally, Eliza relented.
Late that night, Matilda went to fetch more water. She could barely crank the bucket back to the top of the well. She didn’t remember the last time she ate or slept. The candles from inside cast shadows across the dead garden. How long ago it felt that Matilda had planted the seeds or tossed the dead mouse out the window. How far away Grandpa’s laughter at the cat chasing the squirrel seemed now. Overcome with fatigue and memories, Matilda laid among the dried rows and fell asleep.
Matilda woke up in the garden. She was slow to sit up and open her eyes, but once she did, she couldn’t believe what she saw. A layer of crystals covered the ground and plants. The first frost had finally come. The fever was over.
Matilda called to Eliza, and the two hugged and danced. They’d made it through alive. They brought a mattress outside and laid the children on top to help them cool down. The hot stench of death was gone, replaced by cool, crisp, and clean air.
A few days later, a messenger came with a basket of food from Joseph. The farmers were back in the city selling at the market again. Food never tasted so good to Matilda. By now, the children’s fevers had broken, and they were recovering well. When Joseph finally came to visit, he was overwhelmed with gratitude. Joseph hugged all three children and thanked the women for keeping them alive.
Joseph asked if Matilda had any news about her mother, but she hadn’t heard a word. He assured her that word would come soon and suggested she go to the market to find out the latest news. Matilda asked Eliza if she could go, but they both realized the days where Matilda needed permission were over. She had grown during the crisis and could make her own choices now.
The market was teeming with people. The air was thick with laughter and merriment, and gossip and news fell from everyone’s mouths. Most talked about those who’d died and those still unknown. It would be weeks before reports of the people who’d fled returned.
The German chicken farmer almost fell over when she saw Matilda. She was so happy to see Matilda alive and so shocked at how thin she was, she gave her two hens and eggs for free. Matilda told her about Grandpa and Lucille and asked that she spread the word that Lucille was missing. The farmer was a notorious gossip. Matilda knew word would spread quickly.
Matilda finished her shopping quickly, but she couldn’t bring herself to leave the market. She honestly didn’t know what to do. Maybe she should go to the farm to find her mother? Maybe she should wait a few more days? And what if her worst fear came true? She’d have to sell the coffeehouse and move to the orphanage. She’d have to work as a servant for the rest of her life.
Just then, Matilda caught sight of her reflection in a window. With her face so thin and pale, she resembled her mother more than ever before. She realized she didn’t have to do what anyone told her. She was from a line of resourceful and strong people. She would make it on her own if she had to.
Matilda was about to leave when a hand landed on her arm. She turned to find Nathaniel Benson smiling ear to ear. Just like before, her stomach flipped. But as the two walked back to the coffeehouse together, she realized she wasn’t that silly girl anymore and relaxed. They discussed war stories and how strange it was for life to simply pick back up.
As they rounded the corner to her home, Matilda saw her neighbor pop out of a carriage like she’d just returned from a holiday. Nathaniel saw her face drop and assured her Lucille would be home soon. Matilda wanted to believe him, but doubt haunted her.
The city seemed to be thriving even more than before the fever. Every day brought hundreds more back from the country. They were all fat and happy, and they were eager to carouse like nothing had happened. Matilda resented their lack of awareness of the hardships and death the people who’d stayed had endured. The ones left behind were still thin and ghostly, forever changed by the epidemic.
There was still no news from Lucille, but Matilda continued to hang on to hope. Nathaniel was there to help her. After that first day back at the market, Nathaniel came by the coffeehouse daily. He stopped by around sundown, just when Matilda was finishing cleaning up for the day and putting the children to bed. At first, their walks were short ones around the block. Then, they started to venture farther out, often ending up at the square where Grandpa was buried. The mounds were now flat, and grass had sprouted through the dirt. Matilda thought Grandpa would be happy to be somewhere crowded.
To celebrate their health and survival, Eliza suggested a thanksgiving feast. Mother Smith, Joseph, and Nathaniel joined Eliza, Matilda, and children at the coffeehouse. Before they ate, Mother Smith blessed the food. She thanked God for their good fortune and asked that he watch over those he took. Joseph said a special prayer for his wife. The fever was gone, but his grief was far from over.
During the meal, Joseph asked about Lucille, and Eliza gave him a stern look. Mother Smith said she could feel it in her bones that Lucille was still alive, and her bones were always right. The subject was dropped until dessert, when Joseph asked how much Matilda was going to ask for the coffeehouse. He said it was good property, and she’d get a large amount to be used as her dowry.
Everyone at the table started to quibble about what Matilda should do. She felt like she was a child again, listening to Grandpa and Lucille discuss her future in front of her. Those days were over for Matilda. She’d decided what she would do that day in the market, and no one would stop her.
When she announced that she was reopening the coffeehouse the next morning, the arguments started again. There was no way she could run the place on her own. That’s when Matilda asked Eliza to become her partner. She said Eliza and the boys could live there with her and Nell. She expected Eliza to jump with joy, but Eliza refused. She couldn’t buy in, and it wasn’t proper to take the offer as a gift.
Mother Smith stepped in and said Eliza would take it. It was a good opportunity, and she could pay what she owed out of her earnings. After that, Eliza had no choice but to accept. A messenger came to the door just then to deliver a bag of coffee beans. His employer would be at full stock again soon and wanted to confirm the Cook’s business. Matilda surprised everyone, even herself, with her grace and professionalism. She was ready to take over the family business.
Three days after opening the coffeehouse, the place was packed. Familiar sounds and aromas filled the air. Matilda had taken to handing out free samples. She learned that people could never have just one bite of something. They inevitably ordered more to eat, and they were selling food almost faster than Eliza could make it.
Nathaniel was a regular fixture at the coffeehouse. He helped run errands, and he’d hung some of his paintings on the walls to brighten the place. He’d sold two already.
Matilda had more big plans for the shop. When they could afford it, she would buy the lot next door and expand. She also wanted to send sample cakes to the state house to generate high-profile business. Everything was going great. The coffeehouse was thriving. Her relationship with Nathaniel grew stronger each day. And she had Eliza and the children. But she was empty inside. The fever had stained her life. Grandpa and her mother were gone, and the ghosts of the fever days gripped her heart. Still, she was alive.
Suddenly, Nathaniel rushed into the coffeehouse from outside. President Washington was back from Virginia and riding through town on the way to the capital. The patrons ran to the street and vied for a spot to watch the procession. Washington rode a white horse and waved to the onlookers. Matilda watched, thinking about how happy Grandpa would have been.
Once the president’s procession was gone, a caravan of carriages and wagons moved down the road. They were filled with people finally returning now that the president had returned. If Washington was back, the fever was really over. One carriage stopped in front of the coffeehouse. A frail old woman stepped out supported by another woman. When the old woman raised her head, Matilda saw the face of her mother.
Matilda ran to Lucille and enveloped her in a long embrace. Lucille was light as a feather. She introduced Mrs. Ludington to Matilda and seemed to struggle to get the words out. Nathaniel stepped forward and greeted Lucille with respect. He suggested they get her inside, where she could sit and rest. Lucille agreed. Matilda waited for her mother’s disapproval of Nathaniel, but it never came.
When they entered the coffeehouse, the room fell silent. Then, one by one, each man stood to honor Lucille’s return. Matilda and Mrs. Ludington half-walked, half-carried Lucille into the kitchen. Eliza burst into tears when she saw Lucille and quickly helped her get settled in a chair with a cup of coffee.
Matilda was filled with questions. She couldn’t believe Lucille was at the Ludingtons’ farm the whole time. Mrs. Ludington took the liberty of filling her in on her mother’s journey.
Lucille had traveled to the farm three days after Matilda and Grandpa left. But when she arrived and discovered they never showed, she became frantic with worry. They reached out to various towns along the path from Philadelphia, but no one had seen the girl and her grandfather. One night, Lucille took one of the farm horses and searched the countryside alone. She was still recovering from the fever, and she was close to death on the side of the road when they found her two days later. It took Lucille weeks to recover, but her heart was damaged. They didn’t feel it was safe to come back until President Washington returned.
After Mrs. Ludington left, Lucille looked around at the new coffeehouse and asked who was responsible for it. Matilda proudly said she’d decided to open the shop despite advice to sell. Matilda then launched into her own saga, starting with the moment Lucille was dumped on the sidewalk the day she fell ill. She told her mother about Grandpa’s death, but she left out the part about the intruders and how he’d died.
Lucille cried for her daughter’s struggles, and Matilda held her until there were no more tears to shed. She noticed how still her mother’s once busy hands now were. A feeling of sorrow passed through her. She feared what this meant about Lucille’s future. Matilda fought back tears and helped her mother upstairs.
Matilda awoke in her dark room. Nell slept beside her, and Lucille snored peacefully in the next bed. The mornings had become increasingly cold, and Matilda didn’t want to leave her cozy blanket. But no one else was going to get the house in order for the day. She climbed out and dressed, then tiptoed down the stairs. In the room across the hall, Eliza and the twins were still dreaming.
In the kitchen, Matilda stoked the fire and set water to boil. She made coffee for herself and the others, adding a hunk of sugar to her cup—one of the perks of being the first one awake. As she set the table for breakfast, she thought about how the morning would go. Eliza would wake up and send the boys to fetch the newspaper. Lucille would complain that the twins were too young to run errands. And Nell would stick to Matilda’s hip all day, but Matilda didn’t mind. And once they could afford a cart and pony, her mother could venture out with the boys, leaving her and Eliza a few moments of peace to work.
Matilda took her coffee to the front step. She’d grown accustomed to watching the stars get erased by the first light. She enjoyed these few moments when the world was hers alone. It was peaceful in the city at that hour. The calm made the calamity of the fever seem far away. The city had reclaimed its vibrance and moved on from the fever, but Matilda would not forget.
In those silent morning moments, she could almost hear Polly laughing or Grandpa calling her name. She felt close to them, but the moments only lasted an instant. The sun always rose in the sky, as it was starting to do that morning. A new day filled with new hopes was starting. It was time to get to work.
Fever 1793 is about a terrifying epidemic that kills thousands of people in just a few months, but there is more to the story. What else can you take away from Laurie Halse Anderson’s novel?
What is one characteristic you would use to describe Matilda at both the beginning and the end of the book? How does she demonstrate this characteristic?
How does Matilda’s character change over the course of the story? What are two events that cause this shift in character? Why do they affect her so much?
What is one moment in your life in which you had to adapt and grow?
How did you change, and how did it affect your life?
Matilda was lucky to survive the fever and ensuing hardships, but many around her were not so lucky. Are there things you can learn about survival from Matilda’s experience?
What are two strategies Matilda used to persevere during the fever months?
Would you be able to persevere in the same way if you had to face a similar situation? Why or why not?
The next time you face a difficult situation, what lessons from Matilda’s journey could help you get through it?