Amanda's Story

Awakening Again

The throbbing in her head was just too much. Amanda squeezed her eyes tight against the pain.

"She's responsive, that's a good sign."

Amanda fluttered her eyes. Aware now that someone placed a hand on her forehead, then against her neck, then on her wrist, she became confused. Who dared to poke her like so? She raised her arm to swat the hand away, but the effort of lifting it seemed gargantuan. She sighed and turned her head away, hoping whoever it was would leave.

"The only concern would be for the lungs. So much water can be very damaging. She must be sure to take air often, breath deeply. Clean air, no vapors or humors from animals or outhouses."

"Mr. Pratt, her hands..."

Amanda recognized Rachel's voice. She tipped her chin down, peering through half-lidded eyes to see where she was. The mound of blankets covering her obscured the view. She attempted to sit up a bit.

"Oh, now miss, lay back," the man said.

"Amanda, dear, the doctor needs you to rest."

Amanda slumped back. She did ache something awful, and her arm and hand seemed too heavy to be natural.

"Where am I?" she whispered.

"We've brought you to Duncombe Park."

Amanda tipped her head the other direction. "Marian?"

"Yes, dearest, I'm here as well."

Amanda licked her lips, then coughed. A mistake. The effort burned, spurring more coughing, which seemed to make her chest collapse around the ribs and pierce her heart.

"It hurts," she gasped, coughing and coughing until someone pressed a cups to her lips. She tried to swallow, but the coughing fit made the water dribble out her mouth. The cup was pressed again, and she managed a large swig. The taste was bitter.

"Some laudanum will help her relax, giving the lungs time to mend."

Amanda tried to shake her head. No, they should not be here. She was sure there was something important, something urgent she was forgetting. She should tell him...

Who? Who was it? She hardly remembered...

The next time she awoke, it was because her hand itched. She moved her other hand to scratch it, but there was a blanket covering it.

No, not a blanket.

She slitted her eyes open. A cloth was wrapped from her fingertips to her elbow. A stiff board was placed under her palm.

She blinked. What had happened?

The fireplace was nearby, but the fire had been banked to a low burn. The room was unfamiliar—bed curtains of soft blue trimmed with white lace, thick white blankets and a mattress of soft down, a mirror across from the bed.

Amanda puzzled in her mind the situation. She remembered Rachel and Marian had been there. Oh, and a doctor. He'd said something about lungs.

Her eyes widened. She saw a flash of water, felt the cold, and as if she'd been doused again, she sat up in a panic.

"Oh," then a shuffle, then a step. Someone came from behind her.

She turned, tipped her head up. The profile of the man against the morning light outside showed his long, crooked nose, before he moved to kneel at the bedside.

"Miss Amanda, good morning," Tobias whispered.

Her eyes widened, and she cast about the room. Were they alone... in a bedroom? She pulled the blankets up higher with the one unbound arm.