"Indeed it is. However, I am willing to share."
"Oh, no!" Patricia flushed slightly, then smiled at the table at large. "It is most fattening, Diana. Surely, as a lady ---"
"My little sister is perfect," said Daniel. "As much as I love my food, I won't even demand a bite."
Diana laughed and forked down the exquisitely prepared dish, savoring each bite.
"I really wish you would share with your father," Deborah said again.
Lucien gave his wife a puzzled look, then turned to Charles as he began another amusing story.
Daniel finished off his dinner. Grainger sat back in his chair, his hands folded over his stomach. He looked tired and older suddenly, Diana thought. She wished she could think of something to say that would make things better, but there were no words forthcoming.
An hour later, Diana was yawning, unable to prevent it.
Her father smiled at her. "Time to go to your bed, my dear."
She shook her head. "I don't know why I am so tired."
"Come, Diana, I will see you to your room," Deborah said, rising from her chair.
Diana yawned again. She felt as though there were heavy weights tied to her feet. Every step was an effort. Her mind felt like mush. Deborah said nothing, merely entered Diana's bedchamber with her and helped her undress for bed.
"I don't know what is wrong with me," Diana said, weaving toward the bed.
Her last thought before she fell asleep was that Deborah was looking uncommonly severe. How very odd.
The next morning she felt sluggish, as if she had overindulged in the heavy estate rum. She'd only done that once, when she was twelve years old. Her father hadn't punished her, merely smiled at her and said what she was now feeling was punishment enough.
Her head throbbed. It was an effort to dress herself. Only Patricia was at the table when she came out onto the veranda.
"Did you sleep well?"
Was there sarcasm in Patricia's voice? Diana shook her head. "I suppose so," she said, and seated herself.
She wanted to see to household matters, but she didn't have the energy. It seemed, even to her not-very-objective eye, that Deborah was dealing with things efficiently.
She dragged herself to her bedchamber after lunch and fell into a deep sleep.
"What is this, love?"
She heard a man's voice, quietly talking to her. She felt a man's mouth kissing her.
"Lyon?"
He was frowning down at her. "Wake up, love. It's late. You've missed your dinner."
She forced her eyes to open. "You're back," she said, touching her fingertips to his cheek.
"Yes, of course I am. I missed you and hurried. You're right, I should have taken you with me, then at least I would have had you on hand to cure my bouts of distraction."
"What about Mendenhall?" Talking was such an effort. Keeping her eyes focused was an equal effort.
"My decision wasn't particularly difficult. I brought Bemis back with me, to arrange things. He doesn't yet know what I plan. It involves your father. Diana, how long have you felt so tired?"
She heard the worry in his voice and smiled up at him. "Since dinner, last night. I couldn't keep my eyes open. You said I missed dinner. What time is it?"
"Nearly ten-thirty."