“How are you?” he asked, his voice sweet like honey from a honeycomb in the darkness.
“I am cold, then hot. Right now… so warm,” she said, feeling like a wave of hot smoke might pour out of her ears at any moment.
“Would you like me to cool your head?” he asked and sat up.
Sally nodded weakly, her head throbbing with each movement. He moved off the bed then, the mattress shifting as he did so. Instinctively, she reached her hand out and placed it on the spot where he had laid, the sheets still warm from his body. Somewhere in the dark, she heard water trickling into a bowl. Then, footsteps neared again, and she felt Leonard’s gentle touch as he laid her back down. The coolness of the damp cloth he’d fetched against her forehead offered a momentary reprieve from the fever’s relentless grip. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to drift; the boundary between reality and dreams blurred.
“Rest now, Sally,” he said from somewhere far away, though she felt his hand on her head as he placed the cloth down again after rubbing her heated face.
In that fleeting moment of respite, Sally surrendered to the comfort of Leonard’s presence, finding solace in the knowledge that she was not alone in her ordeal. As she slipped further into the depths of sleep, she clung to the fleeting sense of peace that enveloped her, grateful for the warmth of Leonard’s embrace.
* * *
As Sally’s eyes fluttered open to the gentle caress of sunlight, she felt a wave of exhaustion wash over her, her nightgown clinging uncomfortably to her skin from the night’s feverish sweats. Blinking away the remnants of sleep, she turned her gaze to her side and was met with a heartwarming sight. Leonard was still there.
His form relaxed in slumber; however, he no longer had one arm draped protectively over her body. Instead, he was on his side, legs pulled up to his chest as if to protect himself from some unseen force.
Sally’s heart skipped a beat as she took in the peaceful expression on his face, softened by the morning light filtering through the curtains. For a moment, she simply savored the feeling of having him so close, her husband by her side at last.
Beside him was the basin from which he’d got the water, along with a wash cloth. A bottle of laudanum stood there, the reason for her confused state, no doubt. Smaller tincture bottles were also there, along with a plate of uneaten sweetmeats and a slice of bread with cheese, a bite taken out of it. She spotted his shoes and a bottle of wine on the floor, the cork discarded beside the wingchair. How had that gotten to this side of the room? Didn’t it always stay on the opposite side by the fireplace?
She recalled hearing a dragging sound. Had Leonard done it?
He’d told her he would be with her until he was better. The words hadn’t penetrated the thick fog of illness the night before, but now that she felt a little better, she could remember it.
Memories of the previous night flooded her—how Leonard had looked after her with such care, the concern etched in his features as he tended to her needs. Despite her illness, Sally couldn’t help but feel a sense of contentment, knowing that Leonard was here because he cared for her.
A surge of emotion welled inside her as she entertained the possibility that his actions were more than mere obligation—that perhaps, just perhaps, he also harbored feelings for her. The thought filled her with hope, igniting a flicker of warmth in her chest.
Leonard stirred beside her as she was lost in her reverie, his movements slow and languid. Sally’s heart raced as she pretended to remain asleep, not wanting to make him uncomfortable, for he certainly would be if he noticed her staring at him.
Her breath caught in anticipation of his next move. Would he draw her closer, or would he retreat, unaware of their intimate proximity?
With bated breath, Sally kept her eyes closed, her senses heightened as she waited for Leonard’s next move. Sally felt him move, the mattress sinking slightly as he rose to his feet, the same way it had the night before. How odd it was that it already felt so natural. Blinking her eyes, she met his gaze, finding a hint of worry drawn onto his features.
“Hello,” she murmured, husky from sleep and illness.
“Good morning,” Leonard replied, his words clouded with sleep. “How are you feeling?”
Sally offered a weak smile. “A little better,” she admitted, though the fatigue still weighed heavily upon her.
“Good. I was worried for you last night. I must have changed the cool cloth at least twice. Mrs. Farnsworth came in the night to change your poultice, do you remember?”
Sally looked down at her leg. Poultice? She gingerly lifted her right leg, felt a weight, and smelled the telltale scent of oats and vinegar.
“I don’t remember it at all,” she admitted. She attempted to push herself up, but Leonard moved quickly, propping up a pillow behind her. With Leonard’s help, she managed to sit up, feeling the cool air brush against her skin as she adjusted the blanket around her shoulders.
“Well, now that you are a little better, I think you ought to eat. I’ll ring for the bell,” he announced and made his way to the bell by the door.
As Leonard rang the bell for breakfast, Sally confessed, “I’m not very hungry.”
“You need to eat,” Leonard insisted gently, his tone firm yet caring.
Sally chuckled softly, teasing, “Are you always this demanding?”
His reaction was unexpected—Leonard froze, blinking rapidly as if caught off guard by her words. His hand, which he’d raised to pull the cord on the bell. Sensing his discomfort, Sally quickly apologized, but Leonard beat her. “No, I should apologize,” he finally said. “I didn’t mean to push you into anything you don’t want to do. I just know it’s important to eat when you are sick, that is all.”
There was a shift in the air, a palpable tension between them. Sally couldn’t help but wonder what demons Leonard wrestled that made him so changeable.
