Antoinette was starting to understand what her sister had told her. Marriage, men—it was all for their own interests, not for hers. What she wanted and needed was not considered. They would make no compromise. She was expected to give up some part of herself to make up for her future husband. She had to give up her family ties for Sir Dodge, or her independence for Duke Godwin. Nobody had said that these men would give up their selfishness, or their controlling manners. They were considered fine just as they were.

Arriving home, Antoinette felt hot in the face with anger. She would do no such thing. Whoever she married, they would have to make some sacrifices also, to adapt to her life and to help her family. It was one thing to ask a woman to wear a little less makeup or to walk more often. It was quite another to ask her to give up on her family's wellbeing, or to become a quiet housewife who never does anything outside the home. She wasn't sure how, but she would find a way to persuade one of these men to adapt to her.

Sitting down in a chair in the front room, she noticed she felt a little dizzy. Perhaps it was the sheer stress of realizing that the expectations placed on her were unfairly restrictive?

Lifting a hand to massage her temples, she pondered how she would persuade her suitors to adjust their selfishness enough to make her life and her family's lives happy. It should not be too difficult. After all, both men were infatuated with her. And yet... it felt wrong to be thinking of manipulating them with their own love. But was it any more wrong than taking away the core of her identity and personality?

Looking up, she hadn't noticed her mother walk into the room. Lady Byrd was approaching Antoinette with a concerned look on her face.

Antoinette attempted to stand to hug her mother. But her legs would not lift her off the ground, and remained stubbornly still. And her head felt so hot and sore...

“Are you alright?” Lady Byrd asked.

Antoinette shook her head. “I do not feel too well,” she admitted. She felt a bead of cold sweat glide down her forehead.

“You look very ill,” Lady Byrd replied, handing Antoinette a pocket mirror so she could see for herself. “I shall call for the doctor. Do not move until he gets here. Sit back in the chair.” Lady Byrd gently encouraged Antoinette to sit back and left her, holding the mirror, to wait for help.

Looking in the mirror, she saw, even through her makeup, she was ashy pale and her eyes looked tired. She could see the shine of fresh sweat on her forehead and cheeks, smearing the blush down her face. She sighed and shivered. How could she be so hot and yet shiver so badly at once? She groaned a little at the throbbing pain in her head. She knew full well that she had almost certainly caught the illness from Duke Godwin. Hopefully it would not be too serious and she would recover faster than he had...

But now, even though she was told not to move, she felt her body growing heavier and heavier. Keeping her eyes open was a battle, and her arms and legs felt heavy and sore. She dropped the mirror and it hit the carpet with a soft thud somewhere out of sight. It didn't matter. All she could think of was how much she hoped the doctor would have some pain relief, and how tired she was. She closed her eyes for a second, but was then unable to open them.

A little sleep would surely help...

* * *

Antoinette awoke feeling like death warmed over. At least she was in her own bed, in her nightdress. Wait, had all this been a dream?

“Hello?” she called out weakly. Now she knew why Duke Godwin's voice had been so badly affected by the illness. Her throat felt stiff and sore and dry. By her bed was a cup of tea. It was cold. But she sipped it anyway, wondering whether perhaps a little honey in it would soothe her throat.

“Hello?” she called out again.

She was awake, but barely conscious. Most of what had happened between visiting Duke Godwin that morning and ending up in her own bed was a haze. She could remember that Mary had returned. And she could remember coming home angry. But everything else was completely gone.

“Hello?” she repeated.

Finally, the door opened and a maid walked in. “Oh, thank goodness you are awake, mistress,” the maid said. “I shall find Lady Byrd, and bring you a hot tea immediately.”

“Thank you,” Antoinette replied, sinking back into the pillows. She knew they would normally feel quite nice, but her body was aching so badly that any time something touched it was agony.

Lady Byrd called for the doctor right away, apparently, as he was on his way back before she entered Antoinette's room. She sat by the side of her daughter's bed and stroked her hair. “My poor girl,” she said softly. “The doctor was here earlier. He said you would be well, but need much care to help you recover. He asked to be called back as soon as you awoke so that he could conduct some more tests.”

Antoinette had barely taken in any of the news. “Did he say what it was?” she asked.

“It seems you have contracted the sickness which had ailed Duke Godwin. Apparently, you were exposed to it too much, and now you are ill yourself. He is not sure how well you will heal without medicine, and so he wishes to assess how you are and advise us on how best to aid your recovery,” Lady Byrd said.

Antoinette felt another wave of tiredness fall over her and sank back deep into the pillows. “I do hope so,” she replied. “I have seen how unwell Duke Godwin was, and if that illness can do so much harm to a healthy, robust man such as Duke Godwin, then who knows what I may suffer?”

Lady Byrd raised a damp cloth to Antoinette's forehead and mopped the sweat away. “You are strong, you will recover and be healthy in no time,” she reassured her daughter.

The doctor was equally reassuring when he arrived. Antoinette normally felt very uncomfortable undergoing any sort of medical examination, but nothing too serious was required at this time. The doctor was more interested in the speed of her breathing, her ability to answer questions, and how much weight she could lift with each hand. She tried to discern what he was thinking as she performed each task, but the doctor had a perfect poker face.

As she lay back down in her bed, exhausted just from sitting upright and performing basic hand and arm movements, he made a few final notes on a sheet of paper.

“It appears you are still in the early stages,” he said, “which is at once both good and bad.”

“In what ways is it bad?”

“It is bad as you will continue to get worse, much as Duke Godwin did. You will still suffer through a period where you are bed-bound and very confused,” the doctor explained. “However, unlike Duke Godwin who concealed his illness until it was so much he could not bear it and collapsed, you have detected your condition early. This means that you can begin to repose and remain safe for the duration of your illness. You may even recover faster.”

“That is,” Antoinette yawned, “wonderful news.”

The doctor nodded in her direction. “I shall leave some medicines with your mother, but it is vital that we allow you to rest now,” he said.

Antoinette watched drearily as the doctor and her mother left the room, closing the door behind them. Yes, resting would be nice. A little peace and quiet. A little sleep.

* * *

Antoinette spent the next hours, or days, feeling delirious and tired. She would awaken not knowing what time of day it was, whether she was still ill or not, or indeed, on one occasion, where she was. Everything was a jumble, inside and outside her own mind. Her vision was distorted so that she could barely make sense of her own room behind the dancing lights. Her sense of hearing would completely vanish, then come back only with a high-pitched squeak in the background, or so low that everything sounded like whispers and grumbles.

At one point she tried to get out of bed, only to find her legs would not support her. The maids found her sitting on the floor, staring, defeated, at the wall, without the energy to move. They lifted her back into bed and covered her, upon which she fell asleep immediately again.

Eating was hard work as well. Food either tasted bland, or far too strong. Her medicines were unpleasant and coated her mouth, ruining her appetite. Water, however, was a blessing, and she had to be stopped from drinking it too fast, she was that thirsty. She had a vague recollection of being doused in water and was unsure whether she had been bathed, or had spilled her glass on the bed.

Her dreams began to blend with reality. She would see shadows of people in the corner of her eyes, only to turn her head and see nobody there at all. She would hear a crowd talking when there was nobody in the room. She would smell foods that were not present, and continue conversations from her dreams even as she awoke. She was no longer sure who she had seen and spoken to and who not. Let alone what day it was, or how long she had been in bed.

* * *

Awaking for the first time in a long time not feeling too ill to think, she suddenly felt a surge in appetite. Looking around the room, everything was still a bit distorted, but at least she knew it was her room, and could see where all the furniture was and that it was day. Focusing a moment on the clock she saw that it was only half past ten. Breakfast would have been ages ago, and there was still some time until lunch. She wanted to ask for something to eat, but she didn't dare get out of bed in case she fell again. She was genuinely worried that the same thing would happen to her and once more she would be bedridden for hours, or days.

So she sat and sipped water from the glass by her bed and waited. Of course there would be nobody there. Nobody knew she was conscious and decent. They would likely stop by to feed and wash her some time before or after lunch duties. She resented this a little. After all, she had been there for Duke Godwin. But, then again, he had been semi-conscious the entire time. How was someone expected to wait hand and foot on an unconscious person? She picked up a book to read, but found herself unable to discern the letters on the page.

Fortunately, a maid arrived with a basin of warm water, a jug of cold water, and a pile of flannels on a tray. She was so shocked to see Antoinette awake and sitting up that she nearly dropped everything she was carrying. Managing to stop before the floor was covered in water, she smiled politely, put the tray down on the table, and curtsied.

“Good morning mistress,” she said.

“Good morning,” replied Antoinette. “I would very much like a late breakfast, if you could bring me one.”

“I'll ask someone to get you something right away, mistress,” the maid replied. “Any preferences?”

“Something easy on the stomach,” Antoinette replied.

“Of course,” the maid said before leaving the room.

A few minutes passed before she returned, curtsying again. “It has been arranged and you will have your breakfast shortly, mistress. So perhaps now we ought to ensure that you have washed.”

Antoinette tentatively swung her legs over the side of the bed so she was sitting on the edge, as the maid prepared some hot soapy water for her to wash with. “I feel so weak and hungry,” Antoinette remarked.

“You had not eaten in four days, mistress.” The maid passed her a warm flannel.

“Four days? Goodness...”

No wonder she felt so tired and hungry. Her body was completely depleted. She would probably be feeling dizzy and exhausted even if she had completely recovered. She washed quickly, hoping the food would arrive soon so that she could eat as soon as she was clean. As luck would have it, the very second she began redressing a maid arrived with a tray of food.

It was nothing special or rich. Some porridge, a slice of bread and butter, a little dish of fruit preserve, and a pot of tea. But it smelled divine. She finished dressing as fast as she could and sat back in bed ready to eat. Despite still feeling slight nausea she surprised herself by finishing it all. She felt like she could eat even more, but she also knew that she ought to pace herself and give herself time to digest, so she lay back for another nap.

As she awoke feeling refreshed and energized, Antoinette realized she also felt very much alone. It had not been a problem for there to be nobody there when she was still delirious and sleeping most of the day. But she was a social person, who needed to make contact with others, to talk, to feel their warmth and presence. And she was becoming slowly aware of how little social contact she had had. Just because she had been barely conscious did not mean she had not felt the loneliness.

It was a great relief to her when her mother walked in through the door, breathing a sigh of relief. “Antoinette, how are you?” her mother asked, walking over to the bed and sitting on the edge of it, feeling Antoinette's forehead.

Antoinette smiled. “Much better than before,” she said.

“I am glad. You ought to be recovering now,” her mother replied. “Is there anything I can do? The maids have said you had some breakfast. Would you like more tea?”

Antoinette shook her head. “Mother, I would much prefer to enjoy your company. Please, read to me a while.”

Lady Byrd smiled. “Very well, let us select a book.”