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Thank goodness! My breath escaped in a huff, and I collapsed against the pillow.

“Yes…um…yes sir.” Millie’s hand rose to her chest. “I…I was trying to ’elp.”

When Fitzwilliam faced me, his expression softened. “I am sorry. I ought to have returned sooner.”

“Nay, your timing is impeccable.”

He confronted Millie, who shrank under his glare. “If you wish to keep your position, you will give me your solemn word to never harm or harass any raven from this day forward.”

Her head bobbed franticly. “Yes, sir. You ’ave my promise.”

“I left my sister here with Mrs. Darcy. Where did she go?”

“Miss Darcy went to receive a caller and sent me ’ere.”

“Put the poker back and clear away this glass.”

“At once, sir.” She tucked her chin and set to the task.

Fitzwilliam strode to me. He sat at the side of the bed and stroked my temple. “You feel hot again.”

“Yes, a bit.”

He grimaced. “Thus far, my men have been unable to find any healthy white willow trees.”

“No doubt they will find some soon.” I glanced at Rollo. “Is it not remarkable that our friend sought me out?”

“It is indeed.” He raised his sight to the window and waved. “Greetings, Rollo.” The raven nodded and flew away. “And good-bye.”

“I wonder…” My head tilted to meet Fitzwilliam’s gaze. “Do you suppose he stayed to watch over me until you returned?”

His lips quirked upwards. “That is a fanciful notion.”

I grasped his sleeve. “Will you ensure the servants are instructed never to harm or bother the ravens in any way?”

“Yes, my love. I shall have Mrs. Reynolds and Rutley take care of that tonight. Tomorrow, I shall have our tenants admonished as well.”

“Thank you.” With this welcome reassurance, my respiration calmed, and I allowed my heavy lids to close.

Sunday, 31 October

Elizabeth

My eyes fluttered open, and my arm brushed against a prone figure—Fitzwilliam lay beside me atop the bedclothes. Based upon the slow, steady rhythm of his respiration, he had fallen asleep at last. Until now, he had disregarded my pleas for him to rest. The dear man must have succumbed to exhaustion.

Mrs. Reynolds sat in the chair my husband had occupied so often these past two days. She looked my way, set aside the garment she had been sewing, and slid her feet forwards. “Madam, shall you eat now—perhaps a biscuit or slice of apple cake?”

“No, I think not.” At the mere suggestion of food, a discomfiting gurgle stirred my belly.

Her features tightened. “Very well, but you must have sustenance soon.”

“Kraa, kraa, kraa!”

I espied my adroit Corvine friend perched upon the windowsill and raised my hand to him. “Rollo, you have returned.” I placed my finger to my lips. “Pray be quiet. My husband needs to sleep.”

The vociferous croaks ceased, but rather than settle into a roosting spot, Rollo bustled to and fro—he alternated between pounding his beak upon the glass and pecking at an area near his feet. What vexed him?

Mrs. Reynolds glanced at Rollo, pursing her lips. “The servants have been admonished to leave the ravens be, madam, and I am certain they will obey the order. Nevertheless, Millie and one or two others persist in blaming them for your sickness.” She shook her head.