Antoinette was not sure what to make of what had just taken place. Although, of course, now she understood why her mother and father had been so wary of getting her involved. Something was truly and deeply wrong with her sister. But if, like everyone said, the doctors had dismissed both physical and psychological causes, then it was highly likely that Cecilia's ailment was indeed spiritual.

This was far beyond Antoinette's ability to counsel. She may be bright, and good with people, and eager to help. But this... this was not something she had ever encountered. She had not even imagined it. This was the sort of thing which happened to peasants, alcoholics, people of little importance in society. This did not happen to a Lady.

And yet it had. And it made no sense to her.

They had both been taught, ever since they were little girls, to remain resilient in the face of challenges. That is they had faith and worked hard, everything would come together in the end. But Cecilia seemed to no longer believe in this, or in anything. Instead, she had retreated into the crude reality of her life, and then withdrawn from life itself.

“So... what did Cecilia say?” her father asked nervously as he spied her re-entering the front room.

Antoinette shook her head. “I shall do my best to help, but... I do not know if this is something I can handle.”

“You are going to try, though?” John asked.

Antoinette could hear the desperation in her brother in law's voice. She nodded. “I shall give it my all.”

He sighed and shook his head. “Thank you. Just... thank you. Come, I shall show you where you will be sleeping. It isn't what it used to be, but the fire is lit and the bedding is fresh.”

Antoinette nodded again. “Thank you very much,” she replied, following her brother in law to one of the several guest rooms in the West wing of the house.

“Your bags are here, the fire is burning, and shortly we shall have supper, if you care to join us,” John said, gesturing at the room.

Antoinette could tell he had made an effort. Whether he had got a maid in just for her room, or he had cleaned it himself, it stood out from the rest of the house for its cleanliness and order. The bedding was fresh, the floor was clear of mud or dirt, the ornaments had been dusted, and a nice bright fire roared, leaving the room comfortably warm.

“Actually, I haven't much of an appetite,” Antoinette replied. “You enjoy your supper, I shall retire for the night.”

John nodded. “And thank you for coming,” he said, as he exited the room, slowly closing the door behind me.

“It was nothing. The right thing to do for my sister and brother in law,” Antoinette replied.

“God bless you,” John said. She could tell he was choked up.

“And you. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

Despite all she had seen and heard, Antoinette was exhausted from her journey and, under the warm covers, soon fell asleep.

* * *

She did not wake with the break of dawn as she usually did. No light streamed in through her West-facing window until two hours after dawn broke. She found herself rousing slowly, staring at the ceiling, the previous day coming back to her in waves of shock. A part of her did not wish to get up and face the day ahead. But she knew she had to.

The plot was simple: Antoinette would spend as much time as possible with Cecilia and hopefully find out what was the root cause of her problems. Then they would be able to agree upon a solution together, as a family.

But as Antoinette walked into the room with Cecilia's breakfast that morning, she could tell it was going to be an uphill battle. Cecilia was sitting up in bed, reading a book. As soon as Antoinette walked in, her sister eyed her with suspicion.

“Good morning, I've brought you breakfast,” Antoinette said.

Cecilia sighed. “I have no appetite, though I suppose if I do not eat they shall claim I am mentally ill.” She put her book down beside her in the bed and accepted the tray.

“You ought to get up today,” Antoinette said, undoing a matt in her sister's hair.

“What is the point? I am not entertaining anyone, I am not even leaving the room. Who would I dress up for?” Cecilia asked before taking a sip of her tea.

“For yourself? Your own dignity?” Antoinette suggested.

“There is no dignity in whatever life I could lead here, Antoinette.” Cecilia sighed. “Do you know what our current circumstances are?”

Antoinette shook her head and fetched a brush with which to comb her sister's hair.

“John's business is going bad, he has invested more money than he ought into it. He says it is a long-term investment that will pay out in, I don't know... perhaps five years. Until then we cannot afford servants, or a nanny. I am expected to do the work of all the maids it would take to keep this place clean, as well as to maintain the standard of life we previously lived, including entertaining guests,” Cecilia explained in a low voice. “At first I was expected to care for the children amidst all this too, but thankfully John's aunt has taken them in and is providing them with a nanny. And, to be fair, I do not miss them one bit. They are better off with her.”

“I am sure our parents would be able to help if only you asked,” Antoinette suggested as she slowly combed out the tangles.

“They have tried, and now the bottomless pit that is John Campbell is driving them into debt also. His own parents want no more to do with him, so you are all the support we have right now,” she replied.

“I am sure that is not the case. I mean... we still have our servants, and our quality of life. All is well, I am sure they can help you some more,” Antoinette replied, beginning to feel a bit of doubt creeping into her voice.

“They are living off a loan, Antoinette. And a hefty one. I am not sure if they think they are doing it to protect you, or if they are merely thinking of their own social status, but our parents are most definitely in debt.” Cecilia paused and stared at her tea. “Antoinette, do you have any suitors right now?”

Antoinette nodded. “Yes, although one is head and shoulders above the rest. He is-”

“Do you not think it odd,” Cecilia interrupted, “that they are presenting you with suitors now, after so many years of considering you too rude and rebellious to marry?”

Antoinette hesitated. “Well, they said I was doing much better, and was getting old enough that I ought to marry soon...”

“No, they need you to marry. Preferably someone wealthy. So that they can demand support when the time comes for their debts to be called. Because my husband is never going to pay them back for what he owes them,” Cecilia spat.

Antoinette shook her head. “No... No, I trust our parents. They just want what is best for both of us, and you are ungrateful and obstinate.” She put the brush down and reached to do up Cecilia's hair.

Cecilia seized her sister's hand and stopped her. “Antoinette, my darling sister... do not trust our parents,” Cecilia whispered, clasping Antoinette's hand tightly between her own. “And do not trust marriage. Or men. It is all a farce. It is all designed to control us.”

Antoinette shook her head again. “But... it is what we do. We find a good man and we marry him. Then we know we shall be provided for life.”

“And look how well that plan is turning out,” Cecilia whispered.

“Mary is married, and very happy,” Antoinette insisted.

“For now. It has been two months. Talk to her in eight years and she will sound just as I do now. That... or she will be persevering, bearing up under pressure like mother, a soulless servant.” Cecilia's eyes met Antoinette's, full of despair.

“Do you have no hope whatsoever?” Antoinette asked.

“None at all.” Cecilia gazed out the window and sighed. “I am done with breakfast. Tell father and John that if they want to get on my nerves by sending you to pester me, they are succeeding.”

Antoinette wanted to say something in response, but nothing came to mind. Instead, she pursed her lips, stood up, took the tray, and left the room.

John was sitting in a great armchair by the fire, smoking a billowing pipe and chewing on it anxiously. “Well?” he asked, looking up at her.

“I fear there is nothing more I can do for her,” Antoinette replied with a sigh.

John's shoulders fell. “Please, do not be this way... I am sure you can get through to her. You are sisters, after all...”

Antoinette shook her head. “I believe it is simply the circumstances have got the better of her. Perhaps when things improve she will become her usual self once more?”

John looked at his feet and chewed his pipe some more. “It may take some time to return to how things were.”

“I have written you another cheque, just to get you by-” Lord Byrd said, entering the room. He laid eyes on Antoinette and smiled. “Done so soon? Did it go well?”

Antoinette shook her head. “I do not believe anything we do can change her mind.”

Her father's smile fell and he pursed his lips. “Nothing?”

“Nothing at all,” Antoinette replied. “It seems to be just that the change in lifestyle has affected her. She cannot feel happy in her marriage when she is going through such hardships.”

John chewed his pipe stem some more. “I figured her faith would keep her happy through the hard times, that is what we swore on our wedding day.”

Lord Byrd squeezed John's shoulder. “It ought to, but you cannot change human nature, especially not the fickle nature of women. Here... How about we hire a maid tomorrow, get Cecilia a nice dress, make things a little more like the old days?”

John nodded. “I would appreciate that. And Antoinette can find her the right dress.”

“I am sorry, but I must return home,” Antoinette replied.

“Are you sure?” John asked. “Your company has been a salve to our wounds.”

Antoinette nodded. “I am glad I was able to help somehow, but I long for the company of other women, and my sister has left me feeling most unwanted.”

Her father nodded back. “I understand. And I do not wish for her attitude to affect your own outlook. You are too innocent to adopt such a bitter view of life. I shall order your coach later today,” Lord Byrd concluded.

“Thank you, I shall pack my bags.” Antoinette curtsied and made her way to her room. Walking past Cecilia's room, she could hear sobbing within. She was briefly tempted to enter and ask what the matter was. But she knew there was nothing more she could do.

Packing her bags, Antoinette's heart was heavy. She was not sure why, but it felt like she was abandoning her sister. Of course, their father and John Campbell were more than capable of ensuring that Cecilia had the means to care for herself, and food. But... Cecilia did not want them.

And yet, Antoinette knew she would be of no further assistance. Cecilia did not want anyone. She wanted to be left alone with her worries and bitterness. Which was a tragic way to be, but nobody, not even Antoinette, could change how someone felt.

The coach was announced before lunch. Antoinette had spent the morning talking to her father and brother in law, joking, discussing Thomas's mission in India, and generally avoiding the one subject which had brought them together in the first place. But as Antoinette realized it was time for her to leave, she knew she had to at least say farewell to her sister.

“I shall see Cecilia one last time,” Antoinette said, standing and straightening her skirts.

Her father nodded. John just gazed into the fireplace. Neither said a word.

Antoinette walked up to Cecilia's door. The sobbing had stopped. She knocked.

“Leave me be.”

“I have just come to bid you goodbye,” Antoinette said.

“Oh, come in, in that case,” Cecilia responded.

Antoinette opened the door slowly and tentatively. Cecilia was back on the windowsill, looking out over her garden, damp with the remainder of the rain, glistening as the sun bounced off the droplets of water on every leaf.

It was obvious Cecilia had been crying from the redness in her eyes and the slight swelling of her face, but she was now as calm as she had been when Antoinette had first seen her.

“I did not mean to hurt you or scare you. But I meant every word I said about them, and about marriage,” Cecilia said.

“I understand,” Antoinette replied. “Not your ideas... but at least your motives, and your feelings.”

Cecilia drew a deep breath. “It is good to know someone does. The rest of them would rather I were mad. It would be less shameful to them, I suppose.”

Antoinette sat down again in the same chair as she had the day before, and reached to hold her sister's hand. “I... I want you to be happy, Cecilia.”

“And I want that too... to be happy and to see you happy,” Cecilia replied. “But what we want doesn't come into it.”

Antoinette sighed. “Is there nothing I can do to help?” she asked.

“Do not marry. That is all I ask of you. Perhaps not ever, but at the very least hold on until this has ended, or until our parents are honest with you,” Cecilia replied. “Do not marry into a lie.”

Antoinette looked out the window at the raindrops on the wilting vines.

“Please...” Cecilia insisted, “please promise me you will wait.”

“I promise,” Antoinette replied. “For your sake I shall wait a while.”

“I love you, my dearest little sister,” Cecilia said, suddenly wrapping her arms around Antoinette's shoulders and pulling her into a close hug, so that she was lifted from her chair and almost fell onto the windowsill with her sister. “I hope and pray that you never suffer what I am suffering now.”

As Antoinette bade her farewells to her father and brother in law, as her luggage was loaded onto the coach, and until the house was out of sight, Cecilia's words echoed in her mind. She could not marry. Not until she knew the truth.