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“This is not a matter of expense or lack thereof. This morning, I sent my assistant to search the southern counties where the trees are known to thrive. I hope he will return within a day or so.”

Fitzwilliam’s steps slowed to a halt. He pressed his knuckles to his mouth. “I shall send several men out to look for the bark as well.”

With a nod, Mr. Hunt released a heavy breath. “Very well. It would not hurt to search in the east, west, and north. White willows are most often found along rivers and streams.”

Thenceforth, their voices faded as weariness overcame me, and I fell asleep again.

I awoke to the sight of a tall, moving figure—Fitzwilliam walked around the bed, smoothing the coverlet. As he progressed, the lit bedside candle cast dancing shadows upon the wall.

Mercy, every inch of me ached, and a throbbing pain in my head brought tears to my eyes.

Fitzwilliam caught my gaze with a start. “Elizabeth.” He abandoned his task and rushed to my side. “You are awake. How do you feel?” His hand curled around mine.

I managed a weak smile. “I am not at my best, but I am certain to recover soon.”

His jaw twitched, his finger tracing my cheek. “You are flushed again.” He retrieved a damp cloth from the side table and placed it across my forehead. “You must drink the tincture Mr. Hunt left for you.”

“Very well.” He arranged the pillows to elevate my head and shoulders and fed me spoonfuls of the elixir. Thankfully, it lacked a strong flavour, though pain seared my throat with each swallow. I made an attempt to affect a stern expression. “I hope you have not remained here the entire day.”

He mumbled an unintelligible response.

“There is no point in you watching me sleep. One of the maids can stay with me.” Indeed, Stone, may have felt slighted for having been denied the duty.

“I prefer to remain.” He held me in an intent look. “Unless you do not want me here.”

“No, I am grateful for your tender care.” I raised my forefinger. “But if it becomes evident that you have failed to attend to your own well-being, I will send you away.”

“I understand.”

His image blurred, and my eyelids grew heavy. When he brought the spoon to me again, I blocked the liquid with my hand. “No more.”

“As you wish.” He set the medicinal potion aside. “Perhaps you will take a little of Mrs. Reynolds’ brew instead.”

My nose crinkled at the mere mention of the foul-tasting mixture. “Not now, if you please. I am too weary.”

Fitzwilliam leaned forwards, placing a kiss upon my forehead. “Then you must rest, my love.”

“Hmm.” Again, I drifted away to the Land of Nod.

Friday, 29 October

Elizabeth

Georgiana held the plate of biscuits towards me. “I know you favour these, Lizzy. Will you not eat a few of them?”

Although I lacked an appetite, the queasiness that had plagued me earlier had subsided. Maybe I could consume one or two. “Yes, thank you.” I selected one of the confections, took a small bite, and chewed slowly.

Twenty minutes earlier, Fitzwilliam had quitted the chamber to confer with the grooms and direct their continued search for white willow bark. Our sister had come here in his stead, although I had disputed the need—after all I could always ring for a servant if necessary.

Georgiana inspected the small stack of books on the nearby bureau. “Shall I read to you from one of these?”

“No, thank you. I should prefer to hear how you have spent the day.”

“Very well.” She sat beside the bed. “As a matter of fact, I have interesting news to share. Mrs. Talbot called this morning. She was distressed to hear you are ill and asked me to pass on her best wishes for your swift recovery.”

“How kind of her.” Based on what Stone had revealed to me this morning, I could guess what Mrs. Talbot had to say. But I held my tongue and waited for Georgiana to proceed.

My sister stretched closer, and a prominent glint lit her cerulean irises. “She imparted the felicitous news of Miss Talbot’s engagement to a baronet from Bakewell, a Mr. Crawford. She described him as a wealthy widow with a large estate.”