Phoebe stared, feeling all the tiny hairs across the backs of her arms and neck start to strain.
Hadn’t she suspected as much? Her guilt intensified, tenfold.
‘It has poisoned her?’ she whispered, her thoughts woolly and dazed.
‘I believe so,’ Dr Kapoor nodded, ‘but it doesn’t explain this lung spasm, which could have been caused by anything, of course.’
He looked at her, his midnight eyes meeting her frank blue ones, acknowledging they both knewexactlywhat had caused this latest attack.
Phoebe took her sister’s hand, icy fear trickling down her spine as she thought back to the evening before, when she’d given Josephine her letters and begged her confidence until the agreed hour. She’d had given it readily, eager to please, and now Phoebe’s foolish thoughtlessness had cost her dearly. How would she ever forgive herself? Nothing was worth the loss of such a beloved sister.
‘Jo … I’m here now,’ she whispered hoarsely. ‘I’m so … sorry,’ she added, her words turning to stones in her throat, ‘but I’m here now.’
She looked down at Josephine’s pinched, unconscious face, and felt each wracking breath as though it were her own. She couldn’t die, not at sixteen, with her whole life ahead of her. She would take a thousand unwelcome betrothals before that.
‘We’ll gohome, Jo!’ Phoebe whispered, her voice catching. ‘Home to Knightswood and the moor. I’ll speak to Thomas and make it happen, I promise. I’m here now, and never going away again… Please Jo … just stay.’
ChapterTwenty-Eight
Knightswood Manor, four weeks later
Tufts of cotton grass danced in the breeze, their ivory blooms swaying above the moorland gorse as Phoebe leaned forward to pat Misty’s dappled neck.
‘You’re right,’ she whispered as Misty whinnied impatiently, ‘it’s far too long since we’ve been to the woods. You watch the path and I’ll listen for warblers, it’ll be just like old times.’
Phoebe urged her forward, letting her choose her path through the prickly gorse and marshy soil, while she filled her lungs with the heather-sweet air.
‘You’ll always be the lady of us,’ she murmured.
The day hadn’t yet arrived, and shadows of night lingered over the hills, creating the sleepy, misted world she’d missed so much.
‘How about we take our old trail, so we’re back in time for breakfast?’ she suggested, as they reached the edge of the trees. ‘We’ll keep a close eye on the sun,’ she added, ‘you know how fractious Sophie gets if we’re late.’
Misty whinnied while she exhaled. Sophie had only just begun talking to her again, and she’d no desire to upset her further.
Quietly, they followed the glistening river into the woods, Misty’s hooves treading the mossy trail with practised ease until they reached the river stepping stones, where Phoebe drew to a standstill. She paused, letting echoes of her childhood reach out from the rippling, moorland water. They were carefree, sunlit days, unlike the journey home four weeks before, when a coldness had entered her heart. And day by day, hour by hour, ever since, it had been thawing.
They’d come so close to losing Josephine. If she closed her eyes, she could still see her sister’s blue lips, still feel the cost of each laboured, wracking breath – yet somehow, they’d made it home, and the moment they turned into Knightswood’s gates, Josephine seemed to breathe more easily.
Then, armed only with Dr Kapoor’s medicinal brew, and fresh moorland air, she and Sophie had nursed their sister through the worst of her delirium. It was different this time. She didn’t regain consciousness for days, and at one point seemed to lack the strength to return at all. But they refused to give up and slowly the midnight fevers and choking fits lessened, until finally, she opened her eyes.
‘There, Misty, all is well now, she is recovered,’ Phoebe whispered, as much to reassure herself as anything else.
If only the same could be said of her own heart.
She swallowed, thinking of the long nights Sophie had remained silent, refusing to talk to her at all, before her inevitable fury.
‘Of all the gentlemen in Bath, you had to choose the one I cared about, and make me feel a complete fool… It doesn’t matter that you aren’t married now, you were going to be, and that changes everything… You aren’t the sister I thought you were!’
The words were etched into Phoebe’s heart, and even though gossip about her intended elopement had helped to quell the rumours about the captain, there had been plenty more about herself. Approval of the family rested on a knife edge, and it had been deemed best they all withdrew, the captain went abroad, and Dr Kapoor continued with his research at Oxford. All of which had left a strange wariness between the sisters that had eased gradually into a sombre acceptance.
‘Careful, Misty, the ground is a little uneven here,’ she murmured, as her pony stepped into the fresh spring river.
It hadn’t taken long for news of her scandalous race, and intended elopement, to reach the earl’s ears, and his rebuke echoed as Misty leaned low to take a drink.
‘I’d rather write off Fairfax’s debt altogether than marry a hoydenish miss without a shred of propriety or family honour!’
Which had given rise to the first unexpected thing. Thomas hadn’t banished her to one of Knightswood’s leaky turrets.
