Chapter Twenty-Five

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A/N It's here, it's here! Once again, I'm so sorry for the long wait; but I won't hold you back any longer. Here's this week's update!

IT BEGAN WITH A COUGH. JUST ONE, GENTLE AND UNTHREATENING, AND Lady Victoria Arden assumed that it was a result of nothing more than the cold draft that she had felt brush against her whilst she was walking in the palace grounds outside. It was just a cough, once, and she thought nothing of it.

Now she sat, frailer than she was yesterday, in her bed in the palace; the palace physician stood before her and said, "It is the influenza virus, my lady."

Standing at her bedside, Emmett felt his heart drop into the pit of his stomach. "Will she be all right?" he asked.

"As I am certain you are aware, the virus has known to be life-threatening, Your Lordship," he replied, "but I would remain rather optimistic. After all, Lady Victoria has access to the very best medical services across the land."

"I see. And...and her baby?"

"Your child should be fine, my lord, as long as she receives sufficient care and rest and recovers soon enough."

"So she will get better, won't she?"

"I am unable to promise anything with such certainty, as a man of science I never can; but she has a moderate chance, Sir," the doctor answered carefully, to his dismay. "As I mentioned earlier, influenza has been known to be fatal in some cases, but she is in a good position."

Emmett nodded, swallowing. He had been looking for reassurance from the physician, and he supposed he had gotten some. He looked over at his fiancée beside him. She was dressed in a nightgown, her face pale, her hair more unkempt than either of them were accustomed to. The doctor's words were almost hard to believe, she looked so ill – but she had to get better. She had to – for the child and for herself.

"I will prescribe her some medication, and convey the instructions for its preparation to one of the maids. Make sure she gets plenty of sleep, and does not exert herself." He scribbled something illegible on a slip of paper before starting to pack up his briefcase.

"Yes. Of course. You will see her again?"

"Tomorrow afternoon, Sir."

"Thank you." Emmett nodded. He could not find it in himself to smile.

Neither, it seemed, could the doctor, and his expression remained grave. "No mention, Your Lordship. Take care, my lady."

He left with a curt bow, and Victoria did her best to nod her thanks.

Emmett sat then, in the chair he had placed beside her, and took her hand. "Do not worry yourself, you will recover soon enough."

"I...the baby. If I..." A tear streaked down her cheek, and though she had hardly managed to form a coherent sentence, he understood immediately.

"You will get better, I promise. Do you not remember that the doctor said to remain optimistic?"

"Yes, but..." As if to prove her point, she started to cough. When she had finally recovered, "Please – water."

"Of course." He rushed to attend to her request, and brought a cup of warm water to her lips. She drank gratefully, and when she turned her head away slightly to signal that she had had enough he set the water down on the bedside dresser. "You will be all right, I promise. And the baby will be just fine."

"But the wedding...What if I cannot...recover in time?"

"Then we shall postpone it, my dear, do not let such a detail bother you."

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