She shook her head slowly. “We were talking to the physician. He said that Noah was going to be all right.”
“I let go of you to shake his hand, and you collapsed.” His gaze was glued to her face. “The physician seems to think it was just the exertion of your worry about Noah. How do you feel now?”
“I’m all right,” she said, struggling toward her feet.
He reached over and put a hand on her shoulder, keeping her down. “Georgina is with Noah,” he said. “She’ll come for us if he needs us, but his fever is coming down thanks to the medicine. I think he’s going to be all right now. And I want you to relax, Violet. I want you to rest. Will you let me have some tea brought in for you?”
“I should be with him…”
“Not until you’ve rested,” he told her firmly. “Then you can go back, and I’ll go with you. But we need to make sure you’re healthy too. It doesn’t do him any good if you push yourself too far.”
He went to the door, spoke to someone just outside, then came back and sat beside her. “Tea is on the way,” he said. “And I want you to drink all of it, all right? The physician said it was important that you have something to drink.”
She nodded. The truth was that tea did sound good. Though her head was clearer than it had been, she still felt tired and shaky,as if she had been awake for longer than was good for her. It made sense to say that all this stemmed from an abundance of worry about Noah. That was exactly what it felt like.
The tea was delivered, and they sat together quietly, each drinking, neither speaking. It felt like the quiet that comes after a storm, the peace of knowing that the worst has passed. And in that moment, Violet could believe that somehow everything would work out for the best.
“How is he doing?” Jonathan asked.
Violet looked up from the rocking chair beside Noah’s bed. After resting up a bit herself, she had come right back here. She’d been sitting in this chair for about five hours now, and her back was starting to ache, so she rose to her feet and stretched her arms overhead.
“He’s all right,” she told Jonathan. “The fever is all but gone. He hasn’t woken up yet, but I suppose that’s probably to be expected, right? He went through a lot, and of course he’s tired out by it.”
“Yes,” Jonathan said. “As long as he’s sleeping restfully, we don’t have anything to worry about now. That’s what the physician said.” He regarded her for a moment. “You ought to go to bed too, Violet.”
“No, I couldn’t,” she said.
“He’s fine. He doesn’t need you to stay by his side now.”
“I know that,” she said. “It’s not…I’m not saying that I couldn’t bear to leave him. I do think that will be hard, after what’s happened, but I know that I can’t stay here with him forever. It’s just that I’m so energized. I don’t think I could possibly sleep.”
He looked at her for a moment. “Let’s walk, then,” he suggested.
“Walk?”
“If you have so much excess energy, it might be a good idea to let some of it go,” he explained. “You might be well served by doing something a little active, so that you at least have a chance at feeling tired later.”
Violet looked at Noah, lying in the bed. Her heart ached at the mere thought of walking away from him.
“He’s all right,” Jonathan said again, very quietly. “He’s going to be fine.”
She nodded. “You’re right,” she said. “I can walk away for a few minutes. That will be fine.”
He turned and opened the door to usher her out, and Violet walked through. She had to steel herself to do so—it did feelwrong to leave Noah—but the moment the door closed behind her, she felt a release of tension that she hadn’t anticipated, as if something that had been weighing her down had been released.
“Better?” Jonathan asked quietly.
So he’d noticed. “I shouldn’t be relieved to be away from him.”
“You know that’s not what this is,” Jonathan told her. “It’s not that you’re away from him. You’re feeling this way because you don’t have to worry right now. That’s a good thing. And it’s also the truth. Youdon’tneed to be worried right now. You can let it go. You can put it down, at least for a little while.”
He led her down the hall to his study. Once inside, he went to his desk to pour himself a drink. “Do you want one?”
But Violet’s attention had been caught by something else. “This painting. It wasn’t here the last time I was in here.”
He gave a low hum. “I’d asked the staff to hang it for me. I guess they got around to it.”
She examined it. “Is that…it’s notthishouse?”
