Gabby chewed her lip. There are times when a person should be deceived, for his own good. Perhaps Sudhakar had no remedy for Quill’s headaches. In that case, what Quill didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. Finally she got out of bed and sat down at the delicate little writing table in the corner of her room. She was going to break a promise, but she was doing it for Quill’s own good.

She penned a letter to Sudhakar, the vaidya of her father’s village. She described Quill’s problems as clearly as she could. It was up to Sudhakar to decide whether he would be able to help her husband. But the vaidya was of the highest Brahman caste. He was unlikely to deny a plea for help if he knew of a medicine that might cure Quill’s headaches.

After a moment’s thought, she also wrote a letter to her father. She informed him that she was married and that due to the unexpected death of his old friend, Thurlow Dewland, she was now Viscountess Dewland. Then, without detailing any of the circumstances, she pleaded with him to encourage the vaidya to help with her husband’s ailments.

Finally she curled back into a small circle and went to sleep. She dreamt that she and Quill were dancing and he wasn’t favoring his leg at all. But when she pointed it out, he smiled and said that was because they were in a field. And when Gabby looked around her, he was right. They were dancing in a grassy field next to a pond full of frogs. She woke up groggily to find it was sunrise and her maid was pulling back the curtains.

“Time to rise, my lady,” Margaret said. “The coaches are waiting to take us to the estate in Kent.” She paused, self-importantly. “They’ve dressed up the one coach all in black, even the roof.”

At Gabby’s inquiring look, she said, “That’s the coach for the old viscount. Calling it a hearse, they are. Got to get to Kent, doesn’t he?”

Gabby shivered, but Margaret chattered on about the black plumes that adorned the horses’ heads and the fact that even the servants’ coach had swags of black crepe covering the windows.

The gloomy procession reached Dewland’s country seat around four the following afternoon. Very little had been said in the main coach. Gabby sat next to Quill, who held her hand, but didn’t say one word during the entire journey. After around two hours, Gabby started wondering just how long Quill could remain silent at a stretch. He did answer questions when they stopped for the night at the Queen’s Cross Inn, and there was a dizzying moment when he drew her into an alcove and kissed her insensible. But he kissed her without speaking, and once back in the coach the next morning, he fell silent again.