CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
“The clock gives the signal for rest.”
Private Education: A Practical Plan for the Studies of Young Ladies.
Elizabeth Appleton. 1815.
Birdsong trilled.
Vague warmth stole over her skin.
The first milkmaid shouted of her wares.
Yet Amelia was so afraid to open her eyes.
Hugh was motionless.
She’d drifted in and out of a restless sleep all the darkness through and now a tepid dawn light touched her closed lids.
Amelia still held onto his hand.
Held it tight.
But it was limp and…cold.
So cold.
The fever could have left him or…
Bravery was a curious concept, for it was not just to be found in facing battle with fortitude. It was also to keep the light of hope within your heart when it seemed all hope was lost. It wasto face each moment anew and carry that light of hope into the dark. Bravery was recognising one’s emotions, telling someone you loved them, wherever it led, whatever the risk to one’s heart.
Amelia’s moment to be brave was now.
So, her lashes lifted.
Shafts of daybreak shimmered through the window and she squinted, shifted her head to…
Cerulean-blue eyes met hers from the pillow.
Watchful.
She was almost afraid to move.
“Hugh?”
His lips parted, naught emerged.
“You’re thirsty, I’ll–”
He shook his head, then winced. Closed his eyes.
She waited.
They reopened. “Amelia…” His voice was a whisper, lids heavy but eyes lucid. “You…you never let go… Never let go of me.”
A tear seeped. “No.” She shook her head, clenching his hand yet tighter. “I did not.”
His lips curved. “I feel…”
