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“Crawford. The name is familiar.” I brushed my finger along my lower lip. “Oh yes—your brother introduced him to me last summer at an assembly in Buxton. He must be at least five-and-twenty years senior to Miss Talbot.”

My sister perked to an erect posture. “That is a surprise.”

For a moment, I debated whether to share the bit of gossip I had learnt from my abigail. For the sake of Georgiana’s amusement, I decided to enlighten her. “Stone heard about an incident at the Talbot estate from one of the maids whose sister is employed there. Last week, Miss Talbot and an elderly gentleman guest had taken a walk on the grounds. The under-steward and one of the grooms came upon the pair together behind a gardening shed in a state that necessitated an immediate marriage proposal. It seems that guest must have been Mr. Crawford.”

“My goodness!” Georgiana’s hand flew to her mouth to suppress the explosive force of her laughter.

“Well, this means young Mr. York is safe from Miss Talbot’s clutches.” I gave my sister an intent look.

To my surprise, she sat back and sobered. “I have not thought about him in weeks. In truth, his pathetic display in company with Miss Talbot greatly diminished my respect for him.”

“Yes, I can understand that. Still, he is a likeable, intelligent, and good-looking young man, and it would be a shame if fifteen minutes of imperfect conduct cost him the loss of your esteem forever.”

Her brows lowered. “When you put it that way, I sound a bit unreasonable. I suppose I might forgive him in time. We shall see.”

I gave her a smile and ingested another bite of my biscuit. In the next moment, though, my body’s temperature seemed to surge and light-headedness beset me, along with a sensation of tightness in my belly. I set the uneaten portion of my biscuit back on the plate. “I cannot swallow another morsel at present.” Before I finished speaking, a powerful belch shook my upper body. Oh no! It seemed what little I had eaten would be coming back out.

My sister peered at me, her facial muscles constricted. “Do you…um…need a chamber pot?”

I nodded, unwilling to tempt fate by talking.

Georgiana rushed from her chair. Thank goodness, she positioned the vessel just in time.

Saturday, 30 October

Elizabeth

I awoke and glanced around the room, blinking until the familiar objects around me focused into recognisable shapes. How odd, I am alone.

Although Fitzwilliam had departed my chamber for short periods over the past two days, he had always left Georgiana or Stone with me.

I shivered and gathered the bed-clothes higher around me—my earlier severe fever had been replaced with a decided chill. The worst pangs in my head had abated, but my body aches and lethargy persisted. How long had I been asleep? The mantle clock revealed the time to be half past noon, so perhaps two hours.

“Kraa, kraa. Good day!”

My gaze flitted to the outer windowsill, where my clever, feathered friend perched upon the ledge, flapping his wings before the partially open window. “Good day, Rollo!” Fie, despite my effort to call out the greeting, naught but a weak, almost inaudible sound came from me. How had he found my room? “How kind of you to come and see me.” I coughed, attempting to clear my throat to better enunciate my words. “Walking out of doors is beyond me at the moment.” Despite my best attempts, my voice would not go above a raspy whisper.

“Kraa, kraa!” Rollo cocked his head and peered at me.

“Yes, I sound awful—so feeble and hoarse.” I coughed again. “I hope Rachel is well.”

Rollo paced before the window, then settled into a seated position with his dark eyes steadfast in my direction.

Another wave of fatigue overtook me, and I could not prevent my eyes from shutting.

A piercing high-pitched shriek startled me from a nebulous dream. What in the world…? Near the side of my bed stood Millie, my sister’s abigail. She pointed a trembling finger at Rollo, gaping at him. “No, no! Begone, you wicked beast!” An ewer slipped from her hand and crashed to the floor, splintering into a multitude of glass shards upon the floor. I winced at this new clamour.

“Dear Lord, ’elp me!” Millie crossed herself and sneered at Rollo. “You’ll not take ’er, I tell you! I’ll kill you first!” She ran to the fireplace and grabbed a poker.

“No!” I struggled to rise upon my elbows to no avail. “Millie, I command you to stop!” My words came out in useless, faint croaks. Had she heard me? I waved at Rollo, willing him to fly away. He squalled and flapped his wings but stood his ground.

Millie advanced towards the window.

With every ounce of my might, I raised my upper body. “Stop! Leave the raven be.” This time, I managed a louder tone.

She halted several feet from the window with the poker raised over her shoulder and looked back at me. “But, ma’am, you don’t understand. That bird’s evil—an omen of death. ’E will ’urt you if I don’t stop ’im. You’ll grow weaker. You may…perish!”

“Millie, step away from the window at once.” At my husband’s commanding direction, she spun towards him and lowered the poker.