The fever was upon Cordelia like a thief in the night. She awoke to a burning sensation in her throat so strong that she felt she was drowning. Perspiration coated her forehead and her muscles ached with such pain that she felt she was going to die.
It was through willpower alone that she managed to ring for Martha, and she felt more and more distressed as the seconds passed before she eventually heard the soft knock on her door. She could not find it within her to respond and after a few seconds of silence, she heard the door creak open softly.
"You rang, Miss Cordelia?" Martha asked softly, her eyes squinting in the darkness of the room.
"Help," Cordelia whispered weakly, her voice croaking as the sensitive muscles burned.
Martha was beside her in an instant, observing the heat of her skin and glazed expression. She gasped in alarm and quickly pulled on the rope to call for more servants' assistance.
Cordelia was vaguely aware of the coolness of a cotton cloth against her forehead and temples, and the hushed murmurs of instruction as her consciousness was akin to those of waves upon a shore. Many times she woke briefly to see her room spinning. She would groan low in her throat, wishing for the pounding ache in her skull to subside and as soon as she closed her eyes, she would drift into oblivion once more.
She remembered one time being forced to sit upright and a warm, sweet substance was eased down her throat. It made her stomach churn, threatening to expel what it was forced to consume. Soothing hands moved up and down her spine then and the feeling was relieved.
Cordelia could only remember one time that she had been so sick. She had not been in London long and was battling to acclimatise herself to the world of the upper class. She had been overcome by such a terrible bout of homesickness that she felt she would be better off dead. In her fever-stricken mind, she knew that this was what she was experiencing once again, and it was something that the doctor confirmed when he reached the house at first light.
"How is she, Martha?" Lady Mayfield asked a little later that morning as she and her son stepped into the room to notice the old woman seated beside the bed, continuously replacing the cool cloths when they grew too warm.
"She is still burning. I do not think the doctor's medicine is working yet," she replied, her expression pinched with worry.
George frowned at her words, and he glanced towards the fire crackling in the corner. "How can she be burning when she is not even near the fire?"
His mother ignored his comment as she stepped towards the bed. "Make ready her luggage, Martha," she instructed with a softened voice as she looked upon the dismal sight of her sick niece. "We are to return to Mayfield as soon as she is strong enough to handle the journey."
Her voice, as quiet as it was, left no room for discussion. She cared not that they were now in the height of the season. She should have known that this would occur sooner or later. Her niece, as strong and resilient as she was, could not be apart from the country for such extended periods. She drew her strength from nature, finding it extremely difficult to navigate life in the city for so many weeks without reprieve.
The old nurse bowed. "Very well, Your Ladyship."
"Finally," the Earl replied with a sigh of relief as he and his mother exited the room. "I thought we would never leave this place."
The Countess glanced at him with a sharp look. "You certainly do pick the most opportune moments to be a ray of sunshine, you know."
His dark eyes flickered with confusion. "It is physically impossible for one to be a ray of sunshine."
She sucked a large breath into her lungs, her patience running thin. She loved her son and knew better than anyone of the brilliant mind he possessed. But sometimes . . . he was a little too literal for her to remain patient with him.
"A figure of speech, George. Now, if you will excuse me, I have my letter writing to attend to," she said briskly before making her way down the hall and towards the drawing room to begin on the letters she would have to send to cancel their appointments.
She worked in silence for several peaceful minutes and had just finished the fourth letter when the butler entered the room and bowed.
"I do not wish to take any visitors at present," the Countess stated as she chose another piece of paper.
"It is Mr. Sutton, who has called on Miss Sutton, Your Ladyship."
The Countess paused in her movements, looking back at the serious expression on the butler's face. Her lips pursed in disdain, agitated by the call since she had more important matters to attend to. But Edward was her nephew, and she knew that there would be some laundry to air between them.
With a sigh, she waved her hand in acceptance. "Very well. You may show him through."
She drew a deep breath into her lungs and straightened her shoulders as she adjusted her position to face the door. The old butler entered first and stepped to the side. "Edward Sutton."
The gentleman entered the room with confidence, his head raised and shoulders square. His features had refined greatly in the last few years since the Countess had seen him, and he was without a doubt a most handsome man. But she took no notice of his extravagant appearance and lifted her chin as she rose to her feet.
They bowed in greeting, the communication stiff as she offered him a seat and called for refreshments.
"I was hoping to speak to Cordelia, but I hear that she is indisposed," Edward started as he sat on the plush satin couch and set his riding crop and hat astride his thigh. "How long has she been sick?"
The Countess remained impassive as she took a seat closer to her guest and crossed her hands over her skirts. "She came down with a fever early this morning. She has not been herself for the last few days, and I suppose the ball last night must have taken a toll on her. Considering all the activity she partook in . . ."
Edward's sapphire gaze snapped to her calm expression, and his lips tightened at the insinuation. "If you believe I was the cause of her distress, you must be mistaken."
"I mentioned nothing of the kind. However, you must admit that it will have come as a shock to her. Considering that she has not heard from you in years, to stumble upon her brother at a ball in London who has not tried to make contact with her at all since his arrival."
Edward's expression flashed with anger, a redness creeping upon his neck. "As I told Cordelia last night, I was unable to send her communication due to my travels."
The Countess raised her head, the first sparks of agitation appearing on her face. "Yes, Cordelia enlightened me on your absence of communication and the reason for it on our journey home last night. But I am not so easily fooled. You mean to come here and pretend that you have not had ample opportunities over the last years to send a letter to your family, and yet you would hardly succeed as a shipping mogul without communicating with stakeholders regularly."
Edward stood, the redness growing on his cheeks as he glared at his aunt. "Are you suggesting that I have been uncaring towards my sister? My flesh and blood?"
"It is not a suggestion if it is the truth."
Edward's face brimmed with anger. "How dare you! I have nothing but love and affection for my sister. It may come as a surprise to someone like yourself that people are capable of such emotions, but I tell you the truth, the moment Cordelia is well again, she is to live with me! I will not have her around you any longer."
Lady Mayfield kept her expression aloof, but her eyes narrowed by the slightest fraction. "And what basis do you have for demanding such a thing when she has been under my care for the last six years? Does she appear to be lacking in any way, shape or form? You would hardly know, for you have not spoken to her in years."
"I know that she would never willingly live with someone as despicable as yourself. You have some plan up your conniving sleeve, I am certain of it."
The Countess raised her eyebrows. "Do you care to enlighten me on what you think I am planning?"
"You are mocking me," he said through gritted teeth. "I do not know what you are planning, but I cannot fathom why you would waste your precious money on your niece, who is not even in the same class as yourself. She is beautiful to be sure, and I know that someone as sly as yourself would use that to your advantage."
Despite the insults thrown her way, the Countess remained impassive. "You have created a rather dark picture of me, Edward. But I feel your paint is insubstantial. Why are you so against me? Are you so adamant of the fact that I wish to gain something instead of helping your sister out of the goodness of my heart?"
"Because a woman like you has no heart! If you did, you would have helped your own sister."
The first crack of emotion entered her gaze, and her lips thinned a little as she stared at him. "I did try to help her, but your father would not allow me to."
Edward muttered a curse, his eyes hard. For the briefest moment, Lady Mayfield saw the likeness of her brother-in-law within him, and her jaw clenched.
"Do you honestly expect me to believe that?" he sneered. "My father was a hard-working, honest man who did the best he could for my mother, considering the circumstances they found themselves in. He loved her more than anything. Do you honestly expect me to believe your lies?"
Lady Mayfield closed her eyes and breathed deeply in an attempt to compose herself. Eventually, she began at length, "Whether you believe me or not is entirely your choice, but it does not affect the truth of the matter. Your father was a hard, cruel, and proud man who was embittered by the world. I intended to ensure that Cordelia remained as far away from him as possible."
If Edward had a response to her statement, she did not have a chance to hear it, for the butler returned once more, causing their focus to shift to him.
"Forgive my intrusion, but Lady Alicia has called on Miss Sutton."
The Countess wished to rub her fingers against her temple to soothe the forming headache. Could she not have a moment's peace?
"Show her through, please," she said and turned her gaze back to her nephew as she rose from her seat, the silent communication clear.
Edward gritted his teeth as he stood. "I will be back for my sister," he stated firmly, his gaze determined.
"You will have a difficult time in doing so," the Countess replied. "You have little right over being her so-called guardian."
He frowned. "What are you implying?"
Lady Mayfield raised her head higher. "She is well over the age of fourteen years. By law, she is allowed to choose with whom she will live. And do you honestly believe that she will choose to live with a stranger who abandoned her for so many years?"
Anger thundered his expression, and she watched his fists clench as he shoved his hat atop his head and gripped the crop firmly in his hands. He turned without another word and marched towards the door. It opened just as he reached it, and his shoulder collided harshly with the delicate frame of Lady Alicia.
She yelped in fright at the sudden pain that blossomed in her arm, and she looked up just in time to see the livid expression of a handsome man before he was gone, without even a word of apology. She spluttered a word of indignation at the rude gentleman, and turned to look back at the Countess who sighed heavily as she returned to her seat.
"Take no notice of him, my dear," she said. "He is merely a spoiled boy who did not like my answer."
Her eyes brightened with anger. "I have never been treated in such a fashion! Who is he anyway? He looked somewhat familiar."
"That is Edward Sutton, Cordelia's brother. You may have seen him at the ball last night."
Surprise was evident on the young lady's face, her anger momentarily lapsing. "Her brother? I was not aware that she had any contact with him."
"She did not. She saw him for the first time in many years last night at the ball."
Lady Alicia's lips parted with comprehension before her gaze turned serious. "Speaking of Cordelia, I believe she is ill. Is she all right? What happened?"
"She came down with a fever this morning, and the doctor believes it to be homesickness. We are to leave as soon as she is well enough to travel."
The Countess watched her expression fall in empathy. "I thought as much. She has been wishing for the countryside for quite some time now, and I have noticed her health declining because of it."
Lady Mayfield frowned. "I was not aware of this."
"No, you would not have been," Alicia sighed. "Cordelia is quite reserved about some matters. I suppose she did not want to appear ungrateful by asking to go home while at the peak of the season."
Her lips tightened upon hearing those words. "That is absurd. I told her that we would leave as soon as she felt she could not handle the city anymore. No matter. We are leaving as soon as she is better. I do apologize for you being unable to speak to her, but she needs her rest. She may feel a bit better tomorrow."
"Oh, yes, of course, I do not mind. I wish her a speedy recovery."
"Thank you."
The Countess remained seated as she watched her guest leave. Once she was alone, however, her brave mask crumbled. She exhaled heavily, thinking of what had just transpired between herself and her nephew. She gritted her teeth a little from the anger she felt and looked down at her hands, clenching them tightly when she noticed her fingers trembling.
FUN FACT: when making calls, if the hostess rose to her feet after a considerable amount of time, it was a silent hint that her guests were expected to take their leave.