“You're exaggerating,” Holly said defensively, but that only roused his temper to a higher pitch.
He continued to blister her ears with a lecture that was furious and insulting by turns, naming the various diseases she could have contracted and the vermin she had likely encountered, until Holly couldn't bear another word.
“I've heard enough,” she cried hotly. “It's clear to me that I'm not to make a single decision without asking your permission first—I'm to be treated as a child, and you will act as a dictator.” The accusation was unfair, and she knew it, but she was too incensed to care.
Suddenly his fury seemed to evaporate, and he stared at her with an inscrutable gaze. A long moment passed before he spoke again. “You wouldn't have taken Rose to such a place, would you?”
“Of course not! But she is a little girl, and I'm—”
“My life,” he interrupted quietly. “You're my entire life. If anything ever happens to you, Holly, there is nothing left for me.”
Suddenly his words made her feel small and petty and, as he had accused, irresponsible. And yet her intentions had truly been good. On the other hand, she had known that visiting the factory had not been the wisest thing to do, or she wouldn't have tried to keep it secret from him. Swallowing back further arguments, she stared at a fixed point on the wall with an unhappy frown.
She heard Zachary swear beneath his breath, the ugliness of the word causing her to wince. “I won't say another word if you'll make me a promise.”
“Yes?” she said warily.
“From now on, don't go anywhere that you wouldn't feel perfectly safe taking Rose. Unless I'm with you.”
“I suppose that's not unreasonable,” she said grudgingly. “Very well, I promise.”
Zachary nodded shortly, his mouth set in a grim line. It occurred to Holly that this was the first time he had ever exerted his marital authority. Moreover, he had handled the situation far differently than George would have. George had set far greater limits for her, albeit in a gentler fashion. In the same circumstances, George would undoubtedly have asked her to leave the committee altogether. True ladies, he would have pointed out, did little more than carry baskets of jellies and soups to the poor, or perhaps contribute a bit of needlework to a bazaar. Zachary, for all his fire and thunder, actually asked very little of her in the way of wifely obedience. “I am sorry,” she brought herself to say stiffly. “I didn't mean to worry you.”
He accepted the apology with a single nod. “You didn't worry me,” he muttered. “When I realized what you'd done, it scared the living hell out of me.”
Although their quarrel was made up and the atmosphere became easier, Holly was aware of a certain constraint between them that lasted through dinner and afterward. For the first time in their marriage, Zachary did not come to her bed at night. She had a restless sleep, tossing and turning, waking frequently to realize that she was alone. In the morning she was frustrated and bleary-eyed, and to compound her discontent, she discovered that Zachary had already left the house for his offices in town. It was difficult to summon her usual vitality during the day, and the thought of food was singularly unappealing. After consulting a looking glass to view her own fatigued appearance, Holly groaned and wondered if Zachary had been right, that she might indeed have caught some sort of illness during her factory visit.
She napped late in the day, pulling the curtains closed in her room to block out all trace of light. After sinking into an exhausted slumber, she awoke to find Zachary's outline near her as he occupied a bedside chair.
“Wh-what time is it?” she asked groggily, struggling to rise to her elbows.
“Half-past seven.”
Realizing she had slept longer than she had intended, Holly made an apologetic sound. “Did I make everyone late for supper?…Oh, I must have—”
Zachary hushed her softly, moving over her, pressing her back to the pillows. “Megrims?” he murmured quietly.
She shook her head. “No, I was only tired. I didn't sleep well last night. I wanted you…that is…wanted your company…”
He laughed softly at her awkward admission. Straightening, he unbuttoned his waistcoat and dropped it to the floor, then tugged at his necktie. The low, vibrant sound of his voice in the darkness seemed to gather and tickle at the top of her spine. “We'll have supper sent up for you.” The white banner of his shirt fluttered from view as it, too, was cast to the floor. “In a little while,” he added, and shed the rest of his clothes to join her in bed.
Over the course of the next fortnight, Holly was aware of not quite being herself, the fatigue having settled deep in her marrow and refusing to leave no matter how much she slept. Retaining her usual good humor took a great deal of effort, and late in the day she often felt irritable or melancholy. Her weight began to drop, which she rather liked at first, but unfortunately her eyes had begun to take on a sunken aspect that was not at all pleasing. A family doctor was sent for, but he was unable to find anything wrong with her.
Zachary treated her with extreme gentleness and pa
tience, bringing her gifts of sweets and novels and amusing engravings. When it became clear that she no longer had the stamina for lovemaking, despite her willingness, he settled for other intimacies, spending the evenings bathing her, rubbing scented cream into her dry skin, cuddling and kissing her as if she were a treasured child. Another doctor was sent for, and then another, but neither had been able to come up with a diagnosis other than “decline,” the word all physicians used when they were unable to identify an illness.
“I don't know why I'm so weary,” Holly exclaimed fretfully one evening, while Zachary brushed her long hair as they sat before the fire. The air was warm—stifling, almost—but she felt chilled in all her limbs. “There's no reason for this decline—I've always been perfectly healthy, and nothing like this has ever happened to me before.”
The motion of the brush paused, then resumed its gentle stroke. “I think you're over the worst of it now,” came his soft voice. “You seem a little better today.” While he brushed her hair, he made a hundred promises of all the things they would do when she was well again: the places they would travel, the exotic pleasures he would show her. She fell asleep in his lap with a smile curving her lips, her head resting heavily in the crook of his arm.
The next morning, however, she was much worse, her body quivering and light and burning hot, as if every part of her had been transmuted from flesh to flame. She was only vaguely aware of voices, of Zachary's gentle hand on her head and Paula's light cool fingers moving a cool rag over her scorching skin. It seemed that if that gentle cooling stroke ever ceased, she would not be able to bear the heat that would surely overtake her. She heard herself whispering words that made no sense, then some moments everything was clear enough that she could speak. “Help me, Mother…don't stop, please…”
“Dear Holly,” came Paula's kind, familiar voice, and the cloth moved diligently over her, ceaseless and untiring. Somewhere amid the delirium she heard Zachary as he snapped out orders to servants and sent a footman for the doctor, and there was some new hoarse note she had never heard in his voice. He was afraid, she thought dully…She tried to call for him, to reassure him that she would certainly get well again. But now that was only an elusive hope. It seemed this terrible inner fire would always be with her, burning and charring until she was nothing but an empty shell.
A new doctor arrived, a handsome blond man who wasn't much older than herself. Having always been attended by gray-whiskered old physicians of renowned experience and wisdom, Holly wondered if Dr. Linley would be of any use at all. However, his cool competence was immediately apparent, and during his examination she felt her delirium receding somewhat, as if storm clouds had been driven at bay by an emerging sun. With a gentle briskness that somehow reassured her, Linley left behind some brandy tonic and sent for some broth from the kitchen, advising that she must eat to preserve her strength. He left to confer with Zachary, who waited outside the room.
Finally Zachary came in to see her. Carefully he took the bedside chair and moved it to the edge of the mattress.