“Cases like yours are all too common, Miss Honeywell,” Dr. Hart said as Jane handed him a cup of tea. “Well-meaning family, and if you’ll forgive me, wrongheaded country physicians, who respond to any near brush with death by wrapping the patient in cotton wool. If I’ve said it once I’ve said it one hundred times, the sooner one resumes their normal day-to-day activities after such an illness, the sooner one is restored to health.”

“But how can I resume my normal life?” Maggie asked. “I’m not bedridden, it’s true, but I’m far from being able to walk all over the countryside, or gallop my horse, or any of the number of things I was used to do before I fell ill. Why, I nearly fainted after a simple stroll in the park last week.”

Having finished presiding over the tea tray, Jane took a seat beside Maggie on the library sofa. “Margaret is light-headed and faint whenever she overexerts herself. It’s my constant fear that she’ll swoon during one of our outings and crack her head open on the paving stones.”

Dr. Hart nodded in sympathy. “You are weak, Miss Honeywell. That I will not dispute. But while there’s certainly a portion of your weakness that can be attributed to the influenza, the majority, I believe, is a result of three years of enforced invalidism.”

Maggie listened as the doctor went on to explain how her already weak lungs had been made weaker still by her lack of activity, and in his opinion, two successive bouts of mourning that had kept her confined to the house with little opportunity for fresh air and sunlight—two items he deemed essential for recovery from any illness.

“I don’t hold with keeping my patients in darkened rooms with fires burning all year round. The outdoors is the place for healing. The countryside, ideally. Fresh air, sunlight, and short bouts of exertion several times each day. A turn about the garden, perhaps, or a walk down the drive. It needn’t be strenuous.”

“Then you believe Margaret can recover?” Jane asked. “That there’s a chance she’ll be well enough to do all that she did before?”

Dr. Hart scratched the side of his nose. “Well…No. Not precisely.” He looked at Maggie. “By your own description, your life preceding the influenza was a very active one. It’s unlikely you will ever be strong enough to resume that level of vigor. But you’re still relatively young. There’s no reason to say you won’t recover enough to ride again or to go for walks. It’s a matter of building your strength by slow degrees. Pushing yourself just enough without going too far, if that makes sense.”