“Right,” Leonard said and rose, ringing the bell. A moment later, before she could say anything, Mary entered.
“Mary, have Mrs. Farnsworth bring up a cup of hot lemon water for Her Grace,” he ordered.
“Of course, Your Grace,” Mary said, flashing Sally a concerned glance before departing.
“Perhaps we ought to put off the visit today, we can call on Kenneth and Joanna another day. To tell you the truth, Peter wore me out yesterday,” he said, though he knew he was simply being kind.
“No, I want to see my sister. I am sure it is nothing. After the hot lemon water, I shall feel better, I am certain,” she said with a determined look, although she wasn’t as confident as she had sounded.
“Let me know if you change your mind,” Leonard said softly, his reticence evident as he opened the newspaper. Once again, his obvious show of concern made her heart swell with gratitude, reassured by Leonard’s caring gesture. She had to stop doubting it at every turn. So what if it took him a while to open up to her? There was no rush; they had their entire lives ahead of them.
* * *
Alas, it was as she had feared. The heaviness in her bones and the scratchy throat were preludes to an illness coming on. As the afternoon sun cast long shadows through the windows of Sally’s chamber, the air felt heavy and hot. She knew from the breeze and the way the maids were walking with shawls around them that it was cold out, and she ought not to be warm.
Sally sat at her vanity, her reflection a pale imitation of her usual vibrant self. She reached for a handkerchief to dab at her flushed cheeks, the cool cotton providing only momentary relief from the persistent warmth of her rising fever.
“Not now, please. I do not want to be confined to bed,” she mumbled when Mary entered with a tray.
“Your Grace, have tea. You might feel better,” she said, placing it before her.
The porcelain teapot, painted with dainty yellow flowers, steamed before her. As she watched it swirl through the air, her head seemed to twist and turn, engaged in a strange dance only she was witness to. She should pick up the pot to give herself a cup, but somehow her brain felt as if it were filled with all manner of fog she could not break through.
Mary had her back to her and bustled around the armoire, rehanging some dresses while bringing out others so Sally could choose one. She chattered as she worked, but Sally caught none of the words, only the melody of her maid’s speech. With each passing moment, Sally’s condition seemed to deteriorate further.
A dull ache settled in her bones, and her limbs felt fatigued. Every breath she took rattled in her chest. It wasn’t until she sneezed repeatedly with such force her head snapped back that Mary turned and gasped.
“Goodness, gracious. Your Grace, you look terrible. You really ought to rest,” Mary urged, her voice laced with concern as she rushed to Sally’s side, her worry carved into her face. Before Sally knew it, the woman had placed a hand on her head and let out a hiss.
“You’re burning up with fever, and your color is dreadful.”
Sally offered a feeble smile, attempting to downplay the severity of her illness.
“I’ll be fine, Mary, just a touch of the cold, nothing to worry about,” she reassured. “Maybe I will lay down for a little bit before I go to see my sister. Will you tell His Grace I’d like to leave an hour later than planned?”
“Your Grace, I think you are in no condition to go anywhere.”
“Nonsense, I am fine,” she insisted. However, Sally’s body betrayed her despite her best efforts to appear composed.
As she attempted to rise from her seat, a sudden wave of dizziness washed over her, causing the room to sway precariously.
“Oh!” she exclaimed and grabbed onto the back of her bed as Mary rushed to her side, her arms steadying Sally, who fought to regain her balance.
“You mustn’t overexert yourself,” Mary admonished gently.
“I am not. I am only a little weak, that is all. Some rest ...” The word trailed off as her body lost the battle against Sally’s will.
With Mary’s assistance, she made her way across the room, the journey feeling like an arduous trek through a thick fog of exhaustion. Each step seemed to sap little strength, leaving her trembling and breathless.
Sally placed her hands on the mattress, allowing herself to lean on the bed for support.
“Thank you, Mary. I’ll take a rest. Would you get my nightgown? I ought not to sleep in my clothing,” she said while Mary nodded and rushed away to get the garment.
Sally’s feet hurt in her half boots, and she slipped them off, using her toes to shove the shoes off her feet. She needed her slippers, for the floor was cold, and the chill ate right into her bones.
She turned sideways and squatted down. there, beneath the bed, where her slippers. They seemed impossibly far away through the fog that grew only denser by the moment. She let out a puff of air and reached forward when suddenly, the world shifted entirely out of focus and her head spun worse than before. Abandoning her quest for her slippers, she stood, grabbing the bed with her other hand but as she attempted to crawl onto it, something within her snapped and darkness grabbed hold of her, pulling her into an abyss. The last thing she heard was Mary calling out for her from somewhere far away and then a hard thud as her body landed on the ground.
A jolt went through her and for a split second, she wondered what had happened but then the darkness entirely overtook her - and the world faded away.
