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“No. Never. Or at least, not that I know.”
Rebecca got closer. “The ambulance is coming.”
“Pull the bell. Get me a wet cloth,” Ian issued orders to her, then to me. “Darling, go grab a pillow and that throw from the couch.”
Like Rebecca, I rushed to do what he said.
When I came back, again on my knees, helpless to do anything else, I kept flicking her robe over her legs as she kicked it off, doing this so she remained decent. It was unimportant, but I had to do something.
It didn’t take long for the seizure to start to subside.
Immediately, and with great care, Ian lifted her head and put the pillow under it.
Equally immediately, I moved to lay on my belly on the floor beside her.
I grabbed her hand and felt it covered when Ian tossed the throw to cover her.
Her head fell to the side toward me.
It was a little death to see she was unfocused and so out of it, she was drooling.
Ian tucked the throw around her while I squeezed her hand and whispered, “I’m here, Lou. We’re here. We’ve got you.”
Gently, Ian reached in and wiped the spittle from her mouth with a wet cloth.
“I brought the tray up from the kitchen. Nibbles and wine from Bonnie. Something to tide her over until we brought her dinner. We were chatting,” Rebecca babbled. “She was totally normal. Smiling. Joking about how Bonnie was trying to fatten her up. Then she got this faraway look on her face. It was terrifying. She was standing there, but she wasn’t in the room at all. After that, she just went down.”
“You need some fattening up, Lou,” I told her, my voice trembling. “Bonnie’s doing God’s work.”
My world righted when, weakly, her fingers tensed around mine.
“There you are, lovely,” I whispered, close to tears as her gaze, still very hazy, started to focus on mine. “I’ll pop the cork in a second. We’ll hang down here.”
“I feel weird,” she mumbled.
“That’s what happens when you thrash around on the floor, beautiful,” I quipped, but it fell flat, mostly because my voice was still trembling, and nothing was funny about this. “Just hang tight. Help is on the way.”
“Have Jack bring my car ’round,” I heard Ian demand, and I didn’t move, just angled my gaze to see he was talking to Brittany, who was standing at the door, eyes wide and staring at Lou and me. “Tell Stevenson an ambulance is coming. And gather Miss Ryan’s coat and purse.”
Brittany didn’t move, and I was too in my emotions to process how there seemed to be something strange, both chagrined and morbidly curious, written on her face as she stared down at Lou.
“Brittany!” Ian clipped impatiently. “Now!”
She jerked then took off.
I went back to Lou. “Ian’s being bossy. It’s very sexy.”
“Has he kissed you yet?” she whispered.
Ah.
There was my girl.
“We have a date for that. Tonight, in the Conservatory. I guess it’s a thing in gothic mansions, the tortured viscount making his long-suffering heroine wait for his embrace. After that, we’re going to murder Colonel Mustard in the Ruby Room with a pipe then go meet Professor Plum for a pint. I’m psyched.”
I was relieved to feel her fingers close more firmly around mine as she muttered, “Always the card.”
“Honey, has this happened to you before?” I asked carefully.
