She shook her head. "Ellie. I need to speak with Ellie."
"Very well. I will see if she is up to a visit. But if she is not, you will have to wait until morning. No arguments."
Claire blinked and nodded as Charles put his hand on the doorknob and turned.
* * *
Ellie opened her eyes and then shut them again, hoping that would stem the dizzy sensation that overtook her the instant she blinked herself awake. It didn't help, however, so she opened her eyes again and looked for her husband.
"Charles?"
No answer.
Ellie felt an unfamiliar disappointment settle in her throat. He had said he wouldn't leave her side. It was the only thing that had kept her calm as she'd fallen asleep. Then she heard the door creak, and she looked up to see him silhouetted in the doorway.
"Charles." She had meant to whisper, but her words came out more like a croak.
He rushed to her side. "You're awake."
She nodded. "I'm thirsty."
"Of course." He turned and said over his shoulder, "Claire, ring for tea."
Ellie craned her neck as best as she was able to look behind him. She hadn't realized Claire was also in the room. It was surprising, that. Claire had never shown any interest in her well-being before.
When Ellie looked back to Charles, he was holding a porcelain cup to her lips. "In the meantime," he said, "if you want to moisten your throat, I have a bit of tepid tea here. I've already drunk from it, but it is better than nothing."
Ellie nodded and took a sip, wondering why, after so many kisses, it seemed so intimate to drink from his teacup.
"How are your hands?" he asked.
"They are quite painful," she said honestly, "but not as terribly as before."
"That is the laudanum. It can have very powerful effects."
"I have never used it before."
He leaned forward and kissed her gently. "And I pray you never will again."
Ellie sipped at her tea, trying, unsuccessfully, not to relive the jam accident in her mind. She kept seeing the pot as it dropped to the ground and remembering that one horrific moment when she knew with absolute certainty that she was going to be burned and realized that there was nothing she could do to prevent it. And then, when her hands were in the bucket of icy water, and she could feel everyone's eyes upon her—oh, it was horrible, just horrible. She hated making a spectacle of herself, hated doing anything foolish. It didn't much matter that the accident had been just that—an accident—and it wasn't her fault. She couldn't bear the pity in everyone's eyes. Even Judith had—
"Oh, God," she blurted out, practically choking on her tea. "Judith. Is she all right?"
Charles looked confused. "She wasn't in the kitchen when you dropped the pot, Ellie."
"I know, I know. But she saw me when I—Oh, you must know what I mean. She saw me when I was crying and whimpering and in so much pain, and it must have confused her terribly. I hate to think how she must feel."
Charles placed a gentle finger on her lips. "Shhh. You're going to exhaust yourself if you keep talking at such speeds."
"But Judith—"
This time he actually grasped her lips and held them together. "Judith is fine. Helen has already explained to her what happened. She was very upset but is taking it in her usual, six-year-old stride."
"I should like to speak with her."
"You can do that tomorrow. I believe she is having supper with her nanny just now and plans to spend the rest of the evening working on her watercolors. She said she wanted to paint you a special picture to inspire you through your recovery."
For a moment Ellie felt so content she didn't even feel the pain in her hands. "That is the sweetest thing," she murmured.
"In the meantime," Charles said, "Claire has asked to speak with you. I told her she may do so only if you feel up to it."
"Of course," Ellie murmured. It was very odd that Claire, who had never bothered to hide her resentment of Ellie, should want to comfort her while she recuperated. But Ellie was still hopeful that they might have a more friendly and familial relationship, so she moved her head a little to the side, made eye contact with her, and said, "Good evening, Claire."
Claire dropped into a bob of a curtsy and said, "I do hope you're feeling improved."
"I am beginning to," Ellie replied. "I expect it will take some time. It is lovely to have people to keep me company, however. It keeps my mind off of my hands."
Ellie wasn't positive, but she rather thought Claire paled when she mentioned her hands. There was a long and awkward silence, and then finally Claire gulped loudly, turned to Charles, and said, "Could I have a private moment with Ellie?"
"I really don't think—"
''Please."
Ellie was startled to hear a touch of desperation in Claire's voice, and she turned to Charles and said, "It will be all right. I'm not sleepy."
"But I had planned to give you more laudanum."
"The laudanum can wait five minutes."
"I won't have you suffering any more pain than is necessary—"
"I will be fine, Charles. I would like a few more moments of lucidity in any case. Perhaps you could go out to the staircase and await the tea."
"Very well." He left the room, but he didn't look happy about it.
Ellie turned back to Claire with a weary smile. "He can be very stubborn, can't he?"
"Yes." Claire chewed on her lower lip and looked away. "And so can I, I'm afraid."