When Afton did not appear for breakfast the next morning, a concerned but also somewhat impatient Esther sent her maid to look in on her. A few minutes later, Kit returned looking very pale.

“Excuse me, Miss, but I fear Miss Green is unwell.”

“Well, that is hardly a revelation, Kit. She was unwell last evening when she went to bed. See to it tea is sent up, and porridge, and ask whether she thinks she’ll be improved enough to drive into town this afternoon, for I’ve a mind to introduce her to Reverend Hays.”

“Forgive me, Miss, but I don’t think Miss Green will be able to—that is, I was unable to rouse her. I think she really is very unwell.”

Esther blinked at this. Straightened. Kit stared back at her, lips white.

“Shall I…send for Dr. Alcorn?”

“Yes, Miss. I think so.”

It was now a few days after Christmas and most of the staff at Holland House had returned, so there was little difficulty in fetching Dr. Alcorn, who came promptly to look at Mr. Holland’s new ward. Mr. Aubrey also was summoned, and was overcome by guilt by the sight of the girl, so small and feverish in the large lavender guest bed, struggling for breath.

I can’t understand it, he thought as the doctor performed his examination. She had seemed perfectly well just a few days ago. A little pale perhaps and withdrawn, dazed somewhat, confused; but he’d put it all down to the newness of her circumstances coupled with a naturally reticent disposition. Certainly he never would have supposed her small fever last evening could take such a dramatic turn in such a short period of time.

Dr. Alcorn rose from the examination of his patient then, a severe look on his heavily jowled features.

“The young lady is suffering from an inflammation of the lungs. She has a considerable fever, and her breathing is much oppressed.”

“I can’t understand it.” This time, Aubrey spoke the words aloud. “That is, we knew she was unwell, but how could it have escalated so quickly?”

“Such conditions do not always announce themselves plainly, Mr. Aubrey. I understand she’s been under considerable strain recently. Losing her father, moving so far from home, and all the excitement which comes with that would have severely weakened her constitution, and left her peculiarly vulnerable.”

“Is it serious, Doctor? Will she recover?” Esther stood at Afton’s bedside, wringing her hands and bursting out in tears at intervals. She could not help feeling she was in part to blame for her friend’s condition. If not for her selfish eagerness to show off her new companion, pulling her into town and hosting parties in her honor when the poor girl needed rest, perhaps she would not have become so ill.

“I shall do my utmost to preserve the girl’s life, Miss Holland, rest assured of that. But I will not understate the seriousness of her condition. She must be kept perfectly quiet and warm, and left to rest. As to her treatment, I shall prescribe a medicine, and apply a blistering plaster to her chest.”

“A blister, oh!” Esther was crying again. “Will it hurt?”

This question, Dr. Alcorn pretended not to hear. “It will draw the bad humors away from her lungs. If that offers no relief, then tomorrow, I shall bleed her.”

Mr. Aubrey, for his part, was opposed to such cruel medical practices, but Dr. Alcorn was the best physician money could buy within one hundred miles, so he deferred to his experience. He felt especially responsible for the girl, blaming himself for not summoning help for her sooner. That his employer, Mr. Holland, who was not entirely a miserly man but nevertheless a shrewd businessman who did not like to spend money where money might be saved, would be sure to exact a detailed account of her illness, and deduct a portion of Dr. Alcorn’s fee from his salary hardly mattered to him at this point. He thought he’d pay any price at all, if it meant he would not have this girl’s death on his conscience.

So he stayed while the doctor warmed the plaster and applied it to Miss Green’s chest, and listened to her soft whimpers as the Spanish fly burnt her pale skin, feeling more and more responsible and sorry to her with each minute that passed.

“This is antimonial wine,” said the doctor, taking a vial from his bag and holding it out to him. “It is prescribed for the inflammation of the lungs and will encourage the necessary perspiration. It is to be given in a little water, according to the directions I have written here. Do not omit the doses, Mr. Aubrey. Regularity is important.”

“Antimony?” Aubrey did not accept the vial, but watched it with concerned skepticism. “But—this is poison.”

Somewhat indignantly, Dr. Alcorn replied, “In excessive quantities, sir. In properly measured doses, it is a valuable medicine. I should hardly prescribe it otherwise.”

“Forgive me, Doctor, but will it not make her dreadfully ill? My mother was treated with antimony once and—”

“Do you object to my treatment, Mr. Aubrey?”

“I just don’t want to see the young lady’s condition deteriorate any further.”

“And what medical school did you attend, Mr. Aubrey?” Dr. Alcorn’s voice was sharp with rebuke while Esther looked on, wide-eyed. “Which authorities have you studied that qualify you to question my treatment?”

Aubrey stared at the old man, hardly knowing how to answer. 

“Have you read Dr. Rasori’s work on the use of tartar emetic to treat inflammatory diseases, the inflammation of the lungs?”

“I have not.”

“Then, sir, you are hardly in a position to stand in the way of the girl’s treatment,” Dr. Alcorn huffed, fairly thrusting the vial into Aubrey’s hand. “Here is her medicine. Have the housekeeper give particular care to the dosage instructions. Antimony is, as you have pointed out, a dangerous drug, administered in the wrong quantities.”

“Yes, sir,” Aubrey murmured.

Dr. Alcorn gave the young man a long look, then exhaled through his nostrils, finally offering Aubrey a reassuring pat on the shoulder. In a more civil tone, he addressed him. “We are on the same side in this, sir. I want to see my patient well as much as you do.”

Presently, Dr. Alcorn left with reassurances to the young mistress of the house that he’d be back to check on her friend in the evening. Esther, being consumed by guilt and unable to bear the emotional strain of seeing Afton so ill, had fled to her room, weeping. Meanwhile Aubrey passed the antimony along with the doctor’s instructions on to Mrs. Pace, the housekeeper. After she had dosed the girl and coaxed down a little gruel, she left them, and Aubrey found himself alone with the unconscious Afton and his own tumultuous thoughts.

It was midmorning, and the cold, watery light of winter filtered through the second story window, playing across her sallow, sickly features. Having nothing pressing to do this morning, he found himself pulling up a chair to sit at her bedside. As he watched her sleep fitfully, he could not help but recall Mr. Holland’s last words to him before he left for London.

“I’m sure of it now. I couldn’t be sure until I saw her with my own eyes, but now that I have, I am indeed in earnest. Yes, I am quite sure she is the girl for you, Aubrey.”

How his stomach had churned at the words, and for a moment he’d thought—hoped, rather—that perhaps he’d heard the old man wrong.

“Sir?”

“You are a plain, good man. I like the idea of you settled down with a plain, good girl. Yes, Thomas Green’s daughter will make you an excellent wife.”

A wife? This girl?

But she was a child, no older than his youngest sister, and he told Mr. Holland as much.

“It is no matter. I am her legal guardian now, and she is of age. If I consent, then who is to stop you?”

It was outrageous. That Mr. Holland should presume to choose a wife for him, and utterly without his input or consent. Aubrey had done his best to convey that to his master, as delicately as possible, so as to avoid angering the stubborn old man.

“And so, sir, on the subject of my future wife, while I have every intention of giving your recommendation due consideration, I must be allowed to choose for myself. When I feel the time is suitable.”

Of this protest, Mr. Holland heard only as much as he wished to hear.

“Yes, I suppose it is sensible. Give you time to establish yourself financially, allow the girl to finish her education and become a proper lady—though, not one to put on airs above her station, mind you—yes, you will be a better man for waiting a few years before starting a family.”

This pleased Mr. Holland, and so Aubrey had deigned to leave the matter at that, fully aware that at best he’d been able to stall his master’s plans, not dissuade them. Mr. Holland was, after all, a renowned breeder, and always keen to couple this or that mare with such and such a stallion. To him, Aubrey was certain, this matter was no different.

Love? Mr. Holland would have scoffed at the word. What had love to do with the business of breeding? He saw in his secretary an excellent bookkeeper and manager of all his business affairs. Marriage to a well-behaved, sensible girl was bound to produce offspring of a similar type. Just like the race horses he’d painstakingly bred to have four white hooves, in Mr. Holland’s mind, the marriage of his secretary to his ward was no different. But to Mr. Aubrey…

He looked up then, startled to find Miss Holland had entered the room while he’d been musing.

“Poor Afton.”

The girl in question was alternating between coughing from her ailment and heaving weakly from the nauseating medicine Dr. Alcorn had prescribed.

“I put too much strain on her. It was foolish of me to host a party before she’d had time to settle in. Even more foolish not to see her illness for what it was. I should have sent for Dr. Alcorn last night. If only I’d acted sooner...”

Aubrey considered her words, her feelings of guilt. Then, after considerable reflection, he answered. “The fault was mine. Miss Green was left in my care; it was my duty to send for the doctor and I failed to execute it.”

Esther turned her gaze to him, and he sat very still, watching her from his seat.

She is beautiful, he thought. Arguably, her features were more handsomely situated than that of any girl in England, with hair the color of a golden sunset, and emerald eyes that shone like the most brilliant jewel.

“Your fault?” she pressed him.

“Entirely.”

“Ha,” she surprised him by scoffing. “It seems the great Maxim Aubrey is not so perfect after all,” she said haughtily, feeling very smug in spite of the circumstance.

“Whoever said I was?” he replied, still watching her. Indeed, the longer his serious dark eyes lingered upon her, the more Esther felt a delicious warmth spreading through her breast and out through to her every extremity, from her toes to the tips of her burning ears. But that was not all.

With this stare of his she began to feel as though he were challenging her somehow, daring her to look away. But she would not, could not lose to this man. A mere secretary in her father’s employment. An individual of no fortune and even less consequence, so utterly beneath her…

She could not lose to him…

For what felt like fully half a minute, they continued to watch one another, until the silence became to Esther so wholly unbearable she wasn’t sure how much longer she could stand it.

Forget winning. Make up some excuse! Say you are going to Mattie’s, or into town. Say you will make a trip to the stables, and spend the afternoon riding, and that the stablemaster is waiting for you this very moment! Only do not linger in his gaze!

If I stay, she thought, feeling her knees growing weaker by the second, if he keeps looking at me like this…

Just then, by chance their silence was broken when a wayward blackbird flew into the window with a tremendous thud. Startled, Aubrey rose from his seat while Esther jumped at the opportunity to turn and run from the room before any more words or dangerous looks could be exchanged.

For Aubrey’s part, he watched the ends of Esther’s strawberry curls disappear through the door with a most peculiar feeling. He was still thinking of Mr. Holland’s bold suggestion, spoken only a few days before.

He could appreciate the sense in his employer’s words. He was a plain, good sort of man, and it made sense for him to settle with a plain, good sort of girl. And besides this, thus far he’d found nothing particularly disagreeable about Miss Green, and thought he could very easily imagine, in a few years’ time, starting a simple life with her.

And yet, he wondered if it truly was a plain, good girl that he wanted. Whether it was not indeed, an extraordinarily beautiful, wholly obstinate and utterly unattainable girl…

…that he desired…