Caroline awoke slowly, her mind rising through layer after layer of heavy, dreamless sleep. For several moments she lay without moving, aware only of the warmth of the bed and the strange stiffness in every part of her body. Her cheek was pressed into the pillow, one arm trapped awkwardly beneath her and her mouth felt as though it had been stuffed with wool. A narrow blade of sunlight had found its way between the curtains and lay across the carpet. Caroline stared at it without understanding. The light was too strong for early morning and fell at the wrong angle across the room. She lifted her head, immediately regretted the movement and sank back against the pillows as a dull ache spread behind her eyes.
Then memory returned. Jane’s fever and long hours beside the bed before sleeping in an uncomfortable chair, her neck at an awkward angle. Thomas standing over Jane with his sleeves turned back, his dark hair falling across his forehead as heworked. The last few days had been like living a strange sort of half-life, fear for Jane mingling with lack of sleep so that while she was achingly aware of Thomas' every movement she did not have the strength or focus to resolve anything between them. She had barely spoken to him. What if he thought that she did not care for him?
Caroline pushed herself upright, the last heaviness of sleep vanishing as fear seized her. She threw back the covers and swung her legs from the bed before the thought had fully formed. Thomas may have already gone.
The clock on the mantel showed twenty minutes past four. She stared at it. That could not be correct. She remembered leaving Jane’s room sometime after the sun had risen. Martha had been waiting in her chamber, insisting that Caroline could not remain upright another moment. She remembered protesting as her gown was removed and thinking she would rest for only an hour before going downstairs to find Thomas. She had slept through nearly the entire day.
Caroline stood too quickly and her legs trembled beneath her. She was forced to grip the bedpost until they remembered how to support her. A robe had been laid over the chair beside the fire, but she ignored it and crossed to the bell.
Nothing happened quickly enough. The servants might take several minutes to answer. Martha might be somewhere belowstairs enjoying a meal. Caroline had no intention of standing in her chamber while Thomas was slipping out of her life for a second time.
She pulled open the wardrobe and seized the first gown she touched, a dark blue wool she ordinarily wore only in the mornings. The buttons at the back were impossible without assistance, but she dragged the gown over her shift and fastened those she could reach before throwing a shawl around her shoulders. Her hair had worked itself almost entirely free of its braid during her sleep and hung in tangled waves around her face. She attempted to gather it, lost patience, and left it as it was.
By the time Martha entered through the dressing-room door, Caroline had one slipper on and was searching beneath the bed for its companion.
"What in heaven’s name are you doing?"
"I have slept all day."
"Yes," Martha said, showing no proper alarm at this catastrophe. "You had been awake for the better part of two days, it seemed sensible to let you rest."
Caroline found the missing slipper and pushed her foot into it. "Why did you not wake me?"
"Because Dr Parodi said you were to be allowed to sleep until you woke naturally."
Caroline went still. "Thomas said that?"
Martha’s expression altered slightly, but Caroline had already seized upon the more important point.
"Where is he?"
"I could not say, miss. He was with Miss Bennet for much of the morning."
"And now?"
"I could not say."
Caroline dragged the shawl more tightly around herself and made for the door.
"Miss Caroline, your gown is not properly fastened and your hair is… there are no words for your hair."
"No one will expire from the shock," Caroline said over her shoulder.
She heard Martha call after her, but did not slow. The house was unnervingly peaceful after the fear and confusion of the previous days. A maid crossed the upper landing carrying fresh linen. Somewhere below, china clinked and a door closed softly. There was no hurried tread of servants carrying hot water or the low murmur of anxious voices outside Jane’s room.
The crisis had passed while Caroline slept. Life had resumed, and Thomas might have gone with it. She descended the stairs too quickly, one hand sliding along the banister to steady herself. The entrance hall was empty. No physician’s case stood beside the door. Thomas' dark greatcoat was not hanging among the others.
Caroline stopped at the foot of the stairs. The absence of the coat seemed to hollow out her chest. Perhaps he had left hours ago. Jane no longer required him, and Thomas surely had other patients and an entire life into which Caroline had no place.
Caroline turned sharply and almost collided with a footman carrying a tray. "Where is my brother?"
The young man took a hurried step backwards. "The small drawing room, miss."
She left him staring after her and ran back up the stairs and across the hall. The door stood partly open, and she entered hurriedly. Charles occupied a chair beside the fire in the upstairs sitting room, though he was fidgeting restlessly. His body remained angled towards the passage and every few moments his gaze returned to the door, listening for the smallest sound from Jane’s room. A tray stood untouched beside him.
"Charles."
He looked up and his whole face brightened. "Caro. You are awake."
