Chapter Twenty-Two #2
Was that such a bad thing? At the moment, the heaviness under her skin made sinking beneath the covers of her bed for days sound like an incredible prospect.
A hibernation of sorts, and then when she awoke perhaps she would find that things were very different, and she could feel something different.
“...hear me?”
Her surroundings returned to her with sharp clarity. A presence stood behind her chair, and it was talking to her. Sebastian. Who let him in here? Or had she forgotten to tell the staff not to permit him?
“Augusta,” came his insistent voice, a desperation in his tone that was barely concealed.
“Hm?” she grunted, turning her head slightly to acknowledge him, though not enough to see him in her peripheral.
There was a short silence, during which time she dared to hope that he would turn and leave. No such luck for her.
“I was hoping you might join me for breakfast.”
Augusta looked down at the parchment in front of her, devoid of any words. Not even a ‘no.’
“I can give you some time, as well, if you’d prefer,” Sebastian said, less confident this time. “Perhaps we could meet tonight in my study. Before dinner.”
Dinner - ah, yes, she would have to dine with him. If she did not feel so tired, she might be able to feel deep fear at the prospect. Maybe if she respected him more, she would find it within her to cower a bit.
Alas, she did not, and she had nary a thought in the whole world that she wished to convey to him.
“Augusta, we will need to speak eventually.”
She was no longer certain that that was true. If words remained lost on her, then by all accounts this could go on forever. Likely, that would be preferable to him. A silent wife who left him alone.
Distantly, she was aware of his retreat. The door slammed upon his exit.
Then a few days went by, and she did not note them, and she did not feel them. She was vaguely aware of speaking to Milly, but nothing that either of them said stuck with her. Ginny called one day, and Augusta refused her to stay in bed.
At one point, she thought she felt a depression in the bed, a heavy weight next to her and someone stroking her hair. When she awoke, however, there was no one.
In past spells, Augusta had always felt moments of reprieve from the oppressive wall that seemed to fall upon her. But this spell felt different. It so wholly consumed her every waking thought that, in some of her worst moments, she wondered if she was even real.
On the fifth day of this, she awoke with clearer vision. The worst of the fog appeared to have lifted, leaving only aching joints and a dry mouth in its place.
Her bedroom door opened. Milly stepped into the room and cleared her throat. Augusta nearly missed the sound, as it was so hesitant and light, but finally it reached her ears. She lifted her throbbing head.
“Dr. Pinkton is here to see you,” Milly said.
Oh, heavens. Surely he was here to ask her on another visit, which she would have to refuse. Then she would have to relay the embarrassment of being found out.
“I shall be down in a moment,” she said. An over-confident statement, seeing as how she was still in her dressing gown.
“Of course, ma’am,” Milly said with a small curtsy, before retreating back into the hallway.
With a groan that was most unflattering, Augusta swung her legs over the side of her bed and planted her feet upon the cold floor. The pressure in her head peaked, then dissipated slightly. Slowly, the room around her came into sharper focus.
When she felt ready, she stood with a wobble and dressed in the nearest clean frock.
She did not bother to put her hair up - she was certain Dr. Pinkton had seen more scandalous things, and she could not imagine putting in the effort to change her hair when she knew, deep down, that she would only be returning to bed as soon as he left.
The drawing room door was already open as she approached.
Dr. Pinkton sat in the chair nearest the tea table, pouring himself a cup.
He looked up when she entered, but did not stand.
That particular formality was not unknown to him, but she knew that he did not see her as a superior worth standing for.
In a way, the inaction bolstered her spirits, and she recalled that feeling she had had when he’d called her his colleague.
“Lady Brightwater,” he said with a polite nod as she sat in the chair next to him. “I know you have told me to write before I call, but you did not answer my letter the other day. I figured a direct attack was required in order to get your atten-”
He cut himself off, eyeing her with a furrowed brow.
“You are ill,” he said with absolute confidence.
“No,” she said quickly, though it came out in a rasp, as she had not spoken at all today. She cleared her throat and attempted a smile, which felt wholly unnatural. “No, I am quite well.”
“You are not. What is it? Are you in another spell?”
“No, no, nothing like that. You said you were here to discuss something?” Her change of subject was transparent as could be, but it had the desired effect. Dr. Pinkton gave her one final look of suspicion before returning to the initial purpose of his visit.
“Yes, well, we have work to-”
“We have been found out.” Just like that, it slipped from her.
Whatever words the doctor had been about to express, they died in his throat. His eyes widened as he stared at her, searching her face for some hint of a joke.
“How?” he finally asked.
“A gentleman saw me on the way out of Lord Wallingford’s home. He told Sebastian and…well, I believe it is safe to say that my time is up.”
Doctor Pinkton looked as though he had been absolutely run over by the news. “But you…you have far too much talent to throw away. Is there nothing that can be done? Perhaps I could speak to-”
“No!” she said, far too loudly. She cleared her throat. “I apologize. No, I do not believe that they would take it well if you spoke to them. My brother is quite traditional, and my husband…”
How could she ever explain the new, unforgiving dynamic that she shared with the man who had conned her? “My husband has no long-term interest in my happiness.”
The doctor offered a sympathetic look. “Are you so certain of that?”
“Quite certain, unfortunately.”
“I see,” he said. He did not ask for further details. “Is there no hope of lying low for a time and then returning in secrecy?”
The idea was enticing, in a way. After all, now that all was out in the open, surely she and Sebastian would begin to live quite separate lives from one another. Depending on how much anger he harbored toward her for her lies, it might be a simple thing to pull the wool over his eyes once more.
But where would that get her? Someone would see her again, eventually. This whole drama would play out a second time. It would be too agonizing.
“No, I do not believe that would be a good idea,” she said, hardly able to bring herself to say the words. “I think, perhaps, that our time has run its course. It was great fun while it lasted.”
Dr. Pinkton looked down at his hands, his fingers fiddling with each other. “It was, was it not?”
The air of finality between them was thick. Augusta did not know what to say to him now, with the connection of their secret severed. In the end, it was he who made the call to finish their conversation, which they both knew might end up being their last.
“I shall miss your company. I will go before I cause you any further troubles.” He stood, grabbing his hat from a nearby table.
Augusta stood as well. “I shall see you to the door.”
They walked out together in silence. In the foyer, he paused only to give her a nod and a small smile. Then, he turned to go. As she watched him leave, a wellspring of emotion burst within her and she knew that she had to say something.
“Dr. Pinkton?” she called, surprised by the sound of her own voice.
The man turned, an eyebrow raised.
“Thank you,” she said, perhaps more intimately than she had intended. “You are the very best man that I have ever met and…I just thought you ought to know how much I appreciate everything you have done for me.”
He gave her nothing in response but another nod. Then, he took his leave.
The front doors shut, leaving her alone in the foyer. At least, she believed herself to be alone. When she turned, however, she found her husband standing at the stairs, his nostrils flaring.
“You had a gentleman caller and did not ask for my attendance?”
Not this. Augusta could not stomach righteous indignation from the likes of him right now. With a roll of her eyes, she brushed past him and started up the stairs toward her room.
Sebastian remained hot on her heels.
“You will not come out of your room for my request, but you will for this Pinkton fellow?”
He was incorrigible. The man had ruined her before she’d even known what was occurring, and now he had the gall to demand answers of how she spent her time.
She stopped then, her neck hot and her lips pursed, and turned on her heel to face him. “Evidently so, my lord.”
“What is he to you?”
Lord, she could strangle him right now. “An excellent friend in a time of need.”
His eyes assessed her with the same concerned gaze that she so often gave her patients. He was, she knew, looking at her coloring for signs of ill health. She also knew that melancholics often did not appear to be in ill health, because she had trained to be a damned alienist, and he had not.
Once he found whatever information he was so clearly seeking, his face hardened again. “We need to speak.”
Indeed, they did. And truly, she did not know when next she would feel well enough to leave her bed and face him. Now was as good a time as any.
“Fine. You may speak.”
“I’d prefer if it was in my study.”
Augusta sighed, already exhausted by this exchange. “Then let us go to your study.”
“I…alright, then.”