Page 75 of No Place in Time

Cecily’s stomach tightened. “Dealt with?”

“I shouldn’t have said anything. I don’t know if it was the same man.”

But the look on Isabel’s face said she knew. Or suspected.

“Do you ever think about before?” Cecily asked. “Before you were married?”

Isabel’s jaw tightened. “Every day.”

They sat in that shared understanding.

Cecily heard footsteps in the corridor. Heavy boots. Both women looked toward the door. The steps passed, but Isabel’s face tightened.

“I should go. Benedict will be looking for me.”

She stood quickly. Cecily, again overcome with a spell of dizziness, caught her hand and clung to her. “Isabel—”

“What is it, Cecily? You seem unwell.”

“I feel… so tired all the time. My head spins.”

Isabel set down her embroidery. “Cecily, you must rest more. Go to bed earlier. Let the steward handle things for a few days.” She looked at Cecily with concern. “Shall I send for a physician?”

“No. I’m sure it will pass.”

Isabel squeezed her hand once, then pulled away and left.

∞∞∞

Evening came. A servant brought wine. Cecily drank it because she was expected to, but it tasted bitter. Everything tasted off lately.

She thought about what Isabel had said. About Finn. About Julian and Benedict dealing with someone.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow she would go to Julian’s study. She had to know where the money came from, and she had to know what they had done to Finn.

She could not die here. She would not live in this prison forever. She would find a way out.

∞∞∞

Julian came to her chamber that night. She heard his steps in the corridor, knew them by the sound now. He entered without knocking.

“You’re still awake.”

“Yes.”

He moved toward the bed, then stopped. He assessed her from across the room.

“Tomorrow,” he said. “When you’re not so tired.”

“Of course.”

He studied her face for a moment, then nodded and left. She heard his footsteps retreat down the corridor.

Cecily lay in the dark.

Something was wrong. She could feel it deep in her bones, in the way her body had stopped feeling like hers, in the way thoughts slipped through her hands before she could hold onto them. A sickness, maybe, that the physicians could not name. Some weakness in her that had been there all along, perhaps.

She closed her eyes.