It is just the cold air,he told himself as fear sent an icy prickle down the back of his neck, suggesting otherwise.
Deciding that he needed water or something warm, he climbed back down the tree and, on shaky legs, made his hasty retreat back to the now-silent manor. All the while, he thought of his father, and how the sickness had begun in him. If he remembered rightly, coughing fits had been one of the first signs… or one of the later signs. His memory was hazy when it came to the details.
It is just one attack.
Daniel touched a hand to his brow. He did not feel feverish, but then it was always difficult to feel one’s own temperature.
Do not begin to worry over one attack. It was likely nothing.
He repeated the mantra in his mind until he began to feel calmer, timing it with his arrival at the kitchen door.
The cook yelped as he swept in, dropping a tray on the workbench she had just lifted it from.
“My Lord, you didn’t half give me a fright!” she cried, clasping a hand to her chest. “Almost dropped the buns I was about to bake for breakfast!”
Daniel sat down on one of the high stools that bordered the workbench. “Apologies. I did not mean to scare you.”
“I know you can do as you please in your own house, My Lord, but what are you doing, coming in the servants’ way?” The cook paled at the sight of him, clearly realizing this was no accidental visit.
Daniel shrugged. “I did not want to disturb anyone by coming in through the main entrance.” He peered up at her. “I do not suppose I could trouble you for a cup of tea or something equally warm, could I?”
He heard the rasp in his voice, his heart still racing from the panic of not being able to breathe.
“Of course, My Lord.”
The cook hurried off to tend to his request.
Meanwhile, he sat staring blankly ahead, remembering all of the times he would sit in that very spot as a boy, asking for milk or a secret tart or a sandwich of some kind to take on one of his childhood adventures. He wondered if back then he had felt this grim clock ticking over his head, chiming out his mortality. He doubted it, wishing he could have that obliviousness back, wishing he had never heard of the curse at all.
I would fear nothing.I would allow myself to live however I saw fit if I had never investigated.
Most of all, he could have married whoever his heart desired, unafraid to love and be loved.
Just then, the interior door swung open, and his mother breezed inside with her usual air of purpose. She did not notice him as she called out, “Mrs. Horsfall, I hope it is not too late, but do not make those honey rolls that Miss Wilson loves so much!”
“Is that you, M’Lady?” The cook appeared from around the corner, where all of the tea preparations were made.
“Indeed,” Amelia replied. “I asked if you might not make those honey rolls for Miss Wilson, for only she eats them, and she will not be joining us for breakfast.”
Daniel sat up straighter.
Which Miss Wilson?
He could not remember any of the Wilson sisters eating honey rolls, but then he rarely paid attention to the breakfast habits of others. That was his mother’s arena.
The cook came back with a tea tray. “I was just about to put them in the oven, but I can set them aside. They’ll stay for a day or two as they are if you want me to bake them for tomorrow or the day after?”
“I do not know when—” Amelia fell silent, her eyes falling on her son. “Daniel? What the devil are you doing down here?”
“I had a sore throat,” he replied. “What were you saying about Miss Wilson? Why is she not joining us for breakfast?”
Amelia fidgeted with her ruffled collar. “All three sisters left early this morning. Phoebe received a letter from their father, summoning them home at once. I do not know what has happened, but it must have been urgent for Phoebe to leave without so much as a farewell.” She sighed. “I do hope she will write to explain, for I shall miss the dear girl. And I supposeyouwill be wanting to hear from Joanna.”
There was a note of doubt in her voice as she mumbled the last part.
“How do you know that? Were you there when the letter arrived?” Suspicion gnawed away at the back of Daniel’s mind. Something did not add up.
Amelia furrowed her brow, as though she did not understand the question. “Goodness, no. It was Olivia who informed me. She was waiting in my study when I went in to take my tea this morning. The poor thing looked terrified—it must have been truly awful news, but I thought it best not to pry. It is business between Phoebe, her sisters, and their father, not me.”
