“Whatever for, Mr. Harris?”
Faith strained to hear, curious why he would need to return home because of her.
“Only because she is under the care of my household—which makes seeing to her needs my responsibility,” he said with some hesitation. “She should have all the comforts I can provide to aid in her recovery.” When Grace didn’t answer right away, he added hastily, “So that she might leave as soon as possible.”
Faith’s frown deepened, confused by his tone.
“Of course, Mr. Harris. But might we continue this conversation outside of her room? I should hate for her to wake up.”
“Very well. Jaco?” he called, and to Faith’s surprise, the dog whimpered instead of obeying Logan instantly. “Jaco. Come.”
“I’m afraid your dog hasn’t left her side since the sickness came over her,” Grace said as Jaco remained on the bed.
“She doesn’t like dogs,” he said matter-of-factly.
“Well, she doesn’t mind this one,” Grace said. “Now, please. I don’t want to wake her.”
Without another word, Faith heard them leave as the door latch clicked behind them. Turning over, she stared at the door as her betraying, erratic heartbeat returned to a reasonable pace. He had wanted to check on her? To see that she had everything she needed?
Well, that was undoubtedly kind of him, though she was sure he’d meant the last words he said. He didn’t want her in Harris House any more than she liked being there, but for some reason, that night, she slept as soundly as any of her sickness.
When Faith awoke the following day, she was surprised to find that her limbs were no longer heavy and that the painful, scratchy throat had subsided to a mild irritation. She hungrily ate her breakfast for the first time in days, though it was mostlysickbed fare of bone broth and mint tea, coupled with some plain toast.
“Can’t I have more?” she asked Grace, who took the empty tray from her lap, to place it outside Faith’s room. “I’m still hungry.”
“You haven’t had much to eat in a week. If you overdo it, you’ll make yourself sick.”
“I should think you’d want my appetite to return.”
“I do, but overindulging it will only hinder your recovery.”
“But I am recovered. And hungry.”
“And luncheon will be served in a few hours.”
Faith folded her arms across her chest and leaned back against the wooden headboard.
“I’ve come through a sickness only to be starved to death,” she pouted as Grace rolled her eyes.
“I see you’re feeling close to your old, churlish self.”
Faith made a face before looking out the window. The skies were once again a dreary grayish white, and though it wasn’t raining, she was sure it would eventually. It seemed she had been sick during a dry spell, only to recover just as the rains returned.
“This must be the wettest part of the world,” she said as her hands came together over her lap. She glanced at her sister. “May I take a walk around the grounds?”
“Certainly not,” Grace said as she sat at the bird’s-eye maple table beneath the window. She opened a small leather booklet and picked up a writing utensil before marking a page. It had become a custom for Grace to record the family’s health issues in detail, from onset to recovery. “You’ll remain off your feet for at least today. Then tomorrow, you may have something more substantial to eat, and the following day you may try to walk.”
“What a fearful doctor you are,” Faith said teasingly, causing Grace to scowl as she wrote. “And I don’t see why I can’t walktoday. I’ve been stuck in the bed for over a week and I’m sure to go mad if I can’t at least dress.”
Grace put her pen down and turned toward her.
“You really must regain your strength before you can leave.”
“I won’t leave the room then. Help me dress and I can walk in circles before the fireplace.”
Grace shook her head in exasperation but stood up to help when she saw that Faith wouldn’t be deterred. She had brought with her one of Faith’s least restrictive gowns, a pale-blue-and-white gingham dress with buttons down the bodice. She pulled it out of the wardrobe, but Faith couldn’t see any undergarments.
“Have you forgotten my corset?”
