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He could no longer see her face behind the bright spot, but he managed to follow her down the marble hallway. He was grateful to step onto the luxurious carpet in the music room; the sound of their footsteps on the tile had been like a mallet striking the back of his neck. He was even more thankful to set down his satchels.
Nausea welled uncontrollably when he bent, however, and he stood up slowly, unable to open his tool bags as usual.No! he thought helplessly.
The symptoms were progressing so rapidly that he knew there would be no return to health without passing through much worse first. Stumbling to the settee, he sat down and held his head. Even relieved of the weight of his satchels, his collar and jacket pressed unbearably on his neck and shoulders.
If he were at home, he’d retreat to his chamber, draw the curtains to welcome darkness, disrobe entirely, and succumb to sleep. Unconsciousness was the only way to find release from the pain and pass the time until his vision and senses returned to normal.
“Frederick?”
The velvet cushion dipped next to him as she sat down, and though the movement was slight, it provoked a fresh wave of nausea and dizziness. He pressed his fingers into his closed eyes.
“Tell me what it is so that I might help you!”
This episode was severe; speech was not only difficult, it was excruciating. After some time, he forced out the hated word, the one that carried with it fear and shame. “Megrim.”
The settee shifted again; her shoes moved rapidly over the carpet and onto the tile. Frederick breathed shallowly through the shooting pain the movement and noise had caused. When the throb against his skull lessened in the blessed quiet, he sank further into his own world.
After an untold time, Molly returned, her skirts swishing, and he braced himself against more noise. Without speaking, she pressed cold moisture against his forehead. His hands moved instantly to position the cool cloth across from one temple to another, then he sighed and leaned heavily into it.
“Come.” Molly gently took his arm and urged him to stand.
“Can’t.”Can’t go. Impossible to travel in this state.He tried and failed to utter the words.
“You can’t stay in here. I’m taking you upstairs to a quiet, dark chamber.”
Quiet. Dark.
He stood.
“Yes, keep your eyes closed. I’ll help you.”
The weight of her hand on his arm was at once agonizing and glorious. The journey took them through the ground floor, down to the basement, across a hallway to the back stairway, and up an interminable number of stairs. He climbed slowly, the staccato throb in his brains as powerful as any he’d experienced.
He paused when he couldn’t continue without being ill.
“A basin.” She pressed a ceramic vessel into his hands.
Leaning heavily against the stairwell wall, he hung his head over the basin for long minutes. The apparitions that had appeared some time back now filled his vision—shimmering, wild streaks of bright colors that wouldn’t go away whether his eyes were open or closed.
Mercifully, he didn’t retch, but it was close.
They continued to the top floor and down the hall. A door creaked open, and she led him into a small, dim space that smelled faintly of lavender—like Molly. The scent was calming, astringent almost. Her brisk hands removed his coat, and, fully immersed in the daze of agony, he let her guide him down onto the bed. When he bent and reached blindly toward his shoes, her hands brushed his away.
Humiliation swirled in the distance, but he was too far gone to heed it. He relinquished the task to her, grateful when he could at last lie down. He reclined gradually, knowing from experience that if he changed position in anything more than tiny increments, he’d vomit.
“The basin is next to the bed,” she whispered. “Rest now. You’re safe here—for as long as you need.”
The door was creaking shut when he managed to utter a single, garbled word of thanks. Once the door closed, he gave himself up fully to the sea of suffering. It carried him away until the mercy of oblivion claimed him.
********
The first thing that Frederick registered upon waking was the euphoric realization that the piercing pain was gone.
The second was that he’d spent the night in Molly Hawkins’s bed—clothed and alone.
Oh, mercy!
Chuckling to himself in the dark, the absurdity struck him. His first serious courtship in his thirty-five years had all but ended before it even began. He rolled to his side and inhaled deeply.
