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She said nothing. Her throat had closed.

“If you find out what it is,” he went on, “will you tell me? I do not ask out of curiosity. I only want to help. I am a great deal too fond of him to sit idle while he breaks himself on something, and I do not think he will let me in unless he is made to.”

“I will,” she said. “If I find out.”

“Thank you.” He got to his feet, brushing the grass from his knee, and put on his hat. Then he bent once more, gravely, and shook Theodore’s small, leaf-filled hand. “Good day to you, sir. Look after your mother.”

He went away across the lawn. Phillipa watched him go. When the garden door had shut behind him, she sat for a long time without moving, with her hands folded in her lap and her back very straight, the way she had been taught.

Theodore crawled across the blanket and climbed into her lap, and laid his head against her, with his fist full of leaves.

If I find out, she thought.

Augusta had somehow understood that her friend needed more support than usual, and appeared that evening with a basket of freshly baked bread.

“I think you’ll like it with some butter over breakfast,” she said in a cheery tone and then the smile dropped from her face when she saw the state that Phillipa was in.

It looked as though she had forgotten how to smile entirely. “Are you well?”

“It hardly matters,” Phillipa said in a dismissive tone. “Thank you for the little gift though, I appreciate it.”

“Oh, don’t do that,” Augusta snapped, appearing annoyed. “You’re speaking to me as though I’m some stranger, and that you need to keep up with the niceties. The truth is, I didn’t come here only to give you the bread. That was only an excuse, yes. But you should know better than that.”

Phillipa looked at her.

“What did you come here for?”

She hated that her heart hoped for a moment that she had arrived with some news of Gregory, but that was her delusion talking.

“You know what I am here for,” she stressed and then took a seat. “I am worried about you. You’re… you’re barely smiling and you seem like you’re under a great deal of duress.”

“Am I?” Phillipa replied, and began to tinker with the bread that had just been delivered to her. She felt it between her fingers.

“You look like you haven’t slept in days.”

“Do I look horrible?” Phillipa smiled. What does it matter? My husband doesn’t want to see me, so what does it matter?

“No…” Augusta detracked, “You are as pretty as always, but there is just… you are lacking the life that you usually carry inside of you.”

“There is only one change I can think of that has occurred,” Phillipa looked up with a smile. “Do you wish to know what it is?”

Maybe it was the tiredness, but she was able to express herself honestly.

“Is that even a question?” Augusta said, narrowing her eyes. “I wish to know everything. You know that.”

“Well…” Phillipa looked down at her nails, and then bit down on her lip. “I think…. Well the only real change that I can think of…that I know of… is a change in my mental state.”

“Besides the terrible depression that you have been carrying?”

“Oh, that might be a symptom of the larger feeling…” Phillipa smiled. “Shall I tell you now?”

“You are keeping suspense,” Augusta replied, observing her. “Then I should think that it is something very dramatic and when it comes to women, there is only one dramatic thing that I can think of that can happen after they wed. But you make sound rather terrible.”

Phillipa couldn’t help but laugh at that.

“I suppose you have arrived at the answer on your own.”

“I would have rather have you say it.”