“Why, Lizzy! What bringsyou so early?”
Maria Lucas was the only one in the drawing room, and I looked round as I let her take my hat and gloves. “Oh, nothing, I… I wanted to ask how Charlotte was this morning. She seemed rather worn last night.”
Maria frowned. “Why, I suppose she is well enough. But now that you mention it, she has been rather late to rise. Shall I call for her?”
“No, no, that will not be necessary. I will call again later.” I turned back for my gloves once more, but the memory of what no doubt awaited me at home gave me pause. “You don’t suppose I could look in on her myself, do you?”
“Oh, I don’t… why, she probably would not mind. Shall I…?” She gestured up the stairs, offering to lead me.
“Thank you. No, that is not necessary. I will show myself up.”
Charlotte was slow to answer my knock. Perhaps she had a little too much punch last night. I waited for a moment, then tried again. “Charlotte? It’s Lizzy.”
Her voice sounded rather thin when she called, “Come in, Lizzy.”Odd.
I pushed the door open and nearly gasped. Charlotte, usually so robust and cheerful, reclined on her bed, her nightgown rumpled and her face unnaturally pale. The sunlight filtering through the windows cast a warm glow on her, but it couldn’t mask the weary shadows beneath her eyes.
“Charlotte?” I moved to her bedside and brushed her forehead. “Are you ill? Was it something you ate last night?”
She managed a feeble smile, her hand gesturing for me to sit beside her. “I am just… not feeling well, Lizzy.”
I sat on the edge of the bed and took her hand into mine, feeling the coolness of her skin. “You are more than ‘not well,’ Charlotte. You look… positively ill.”
Charlotte sighed, her eyes drifting towards the window. “I’ve not been strong for some time now. I’ve tried to hide it, but I fear after last night, it’s caught up with me.”
“Some time now?” I repeated. “Why did you not say anything?”
She shrugged weakly. “What would it have done but worry my family? Besides, I did see Mr. Jones.”
“And?”
Her eyes met mine, and there was a depth of sadness there that I’d never seen before. “He was concerned. Very concerned.”
“Charlotte, no…” My voice was barely above a whisper.
“Headaches, stomachaches, dizziness,” she listed off, her voice oddly detached. “I often feel as though I can’t catch my breath. And there are some other things I’d… rather not mention.”
“But you’ll get better,” I insisted. “Surely, you only want rest. You must take care to eat properly and not overtax yourself.”
She shook her head and looked away. “It’s more than that. Mr. Jones thinks I have a wasting disease, Lizzy. There’s nothing he can do.”
The world seemed to tilt beneath me, and blood pounded in my ears. “No,” I whispered. “That can’t be right.”
Charlotte rested a hand on my arm. “I’m not afraid, Lizzy. Well, perhaps a little. It’s not as if I had grand prospects awaiting me.”
I couldn’t hold back the tears. “Charlotte!”
“I know it’s hard, Lizzy. I didn’t want to say anything. Please don’t tell Mama!”
“But she ought to know! And Jane and Maria… they should all know.”
“Oh, yes, do tell Jane. She could keep it to herself, but please, don’t tell my family. They don’t need that sort of burden.” She sighed, her eyes wistful. “Truly, Lizzy, it will be all right. I did wish for a bit of romance, though. Just a taste.”
My throat tightened. “Charlotte, you deserve so much more than just a ‘taste’.”
She chuckled. “I always said I did not care about such a thing, but after watching Jane with Mr. Bingley, I think it would be very fine indeed just to sample a little. That would be enough for me.”
I shook my head. “No, it isn’t. It’s not right, Charlotte.”
