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CHAPTER24
“Good morning, my sweet friend,” Lady Clay’s voice startled Eleanor out of her sleep. She had been having the most splendid dream. In it, she and Henry were out by the pond, sitting side-by-side, simply watching the ducks swim. For most people, that sort of mundane activity wouldn’t be much to dream about, but for Eleanor, the thought was blissful. She was rather reluctant to open her eyes and face the day, even if Rosalin was unexpectedly at her side.
“Your Grace… Eleanor… you have slept long enough. It is time to open your eyes and greet this brand-new day,” Rosalin’s voice was uncharacteristically chipper. That wasn’t to say Rosalin was usually in a bad mood, but she didn’t normally sound this happy, either. Eleanor liked to think of Rosalin as more of a realist than a romantic, and so she always carried herself in a way that fell in line with being logical and sensible.
Eleanor groaned slightly as she rolled over. “What are you doing here so early in the morning, Rosalin? Was I expecting you today?” Eleanor asked groggily, as she finally opened her eyes.
Next to Eleanor’s bedside, there was a small night table. There were three tiny bottles on it. Eleanor did not recognize any of them, as she was not prone to taking medication or even sleeping draughts. She wrinkled her eyebrows as she stared at the array of multi-colored bottles. “What’s all this?”
Rosalin huffed. “You’ve been very sick, my dear.” Eleanor propped herself up on her elbows and tried to focus on Rosalin. Slowly, her friend’s lovely face came into view. Rosalin was practically glowing. Her red hair was piled high atop her head and her blue eyes sparkled. She was wearing a simple white dress that cut very low in the front, leaving Rosalin’s ample bosom on display.
“If I’m sick, why are you dressed as though you are going to a party?” Eleanor asked, trying to bring herself up into a full sitting position. The task was proving to be more challenging than it ought to be as Eleanor felt unbelievably weak.
Rosalin giggled girlishly. Eleanor’s face twisted into disgust at once. “What is wrong with you? I’ve never heard you titter that way before.”
Rosalin laughed now, in her normal way, but it still sounded off to Eleanor. She didn’t think she’d said anything particularly funny.
“You really are something,” Rosalin said softly as she stilled her own laughter.
Eleanor took a deep breath, trying to steady her thoughts. “What’s wrong with me? I feel like I was in a carriage accident.” She glanced around her room. “And where’s Henry? Last I knew, he was right there.” She lifted her hand, expending much more effort than she would have thought necessary to do so, and pointing at the vacant air near the doorway.
“His Grace has been in and out of your room quite regularly,” Rosalin replied. “He and Dr. Wexler come in as often as possible.”
“The physician has been in?” Eleanor asked, searching her memory.
I cannot recall seeing Dr. Wexler.
“Oh yes,” Rosalin replied.
“How many days have I been in this bed? How long have I been ill?” Eleanor questioned. She glanced around the room again, searching for signs of the passage of time. The heavy draperies were drawn over the windows, but a small stream of light was peeking around one of them, casting a beam on the wooden floor.
Rosalin giggled once more, and Eleanor eyed her suspiciously until she stopped. “You’ve only been asleep for a few hours,” Rosalin said.
“But then why has the physician been here? Shouldn’t he only be called in if the situation is serious?” Eleanor asked.
“His Grace did think the situation merited the physician’s attention,” Rosalin replied, shifting her weight in her chair. She had pulled the ornate chair that usually sat next to the vanity over to Eleanor’s bedside.
Eleanor sighed deeply.
Poor Henry. He must be worried about the cat scratch.
Her hand went to the place where Sir Whiskers had scratched her just yesterday afternoon. There was a clean bandage covering the wound. Eleanor touched the area lightly but felt very little pain.
“I’m sorry I’ve been so much trouble for everyone, but I must confess, I feel much better. I don’t know what came over me last night,” Eleanor completed her thought, but then the memory of the previous evening flooded in. She did recall exactly what made her feel ill. Her mother admitted that she did not like Eleanor. She was ashamed of her and found her to be an embarrassment. Eleanor’s cheeks heated at the thought.
“I’m glad you are feeling better,” Rosalin said, reaching forward to adjust the pillow behind Eleanor’s back.
“Thank you,” Eleanor whispered. “You really are too kind. And I’m sorry if Henry startled you last night by calling you in. You must have been terrified thinking something was very wrong with me.”
“His Grace did not call for me,” Rosalin replied, sitting back in her chair, her posture perfectly straight.
Eleanor scoffed. “But if Henry did not call for you, what are you doing here? I don’t recall us arranging to have tea together today.”
“You have remembered correctly. We did not have any engagements today.” Rosalin paused and inhaled deeply. She closed her eyes, as she seemed to be savoring a deep breath.
“Rosalin—areyoufeeling unwell?” Eleanor asked.
Rosalin’s eyes sprung open, and they were clear and a vibrant blue. “I am very well, my friend. I must tell you, as I can keep the secret no longer.”
