They all sat frozen by the same thought: that this could only be news of Mr. Vincent. There were footsteps in the front hall, and then at the door, and then Captain Livingston strode into the room. At the happy expression on his face, Jane pressed her hands to her mouth, still afraid to hope.

“He is awake,” Captain Livingston said, without preamble.

Melody squealed and threw her sewing into the air. Mr. Ellsworth closed his eyes and murmured a fervent prayer of thanksgiving.

But Jane waited, knowing that though Mr. Vincent might be awake, his mind might yet be disordered. Her fingers lost their feeling as she clutched the arms of her chair. “Is he—is he alert?”

“Yes. Thanks to you. The surgeon declares that if you had not asked for the cold-monger, Mr. Vincent would not have survived the night. He is weak yet, and must be kept quiet, but he is out of danger.”

Jane let out a breath she had not realized she was holding as all the fear of the past two days left her body in a great rush. She pressed her hands over her face and wept with relief.

Mr. Ellsworth patted Jane awkwardly on the back. “Captain Livingston, you have our profound thanks for bringing us the news so faithfully. I believe this calls for a celebratory brandy.”

Jane lifted her head, wiping her eyes. “Yes, indeed. Please join us.”

“I must decline, as I need to continue on my rounds. Aunt Elise has charged me to deliver the news to all our neighbours, and if I celebrate at each, I shall be unable to complete my rounds.”

“Where are you off to next?”

“The Marchands.”

Melody laughed. “Then you should fortify your strength beforehand.”

“I fear you have the right of it. But after the Marchands, I proceed to the Dunkirks, and I would prefer to have a clear head when I greet them.”

Jane looked for some sign of self-consciousness in his manner when he mentioned the family of his secret fiancée, but saw nothing untoward. His ease of carriage gave no hint that Beth had spoken of Jane’s unwitting participation in their tête-à-tête. Nor was this surprising upon reflection, for when would the couple have had time to meet?

“I hope Miss Dunkirk is well. It must be hard on her to see her instructor struck down thus,” Melody said.

“Ah. Well, you know how excitable young girls can be. Miss Dunkirk is not half so steady in her thoughts as I remember you and Miss Ellsworth being when younger yet than she.”

Melody nodded judiciously. “It is true that I have often remarked to myself that her interest in the arts was too keen for such a delicate mind. I am surprized that Mr. Dunkirk encourages such fancies as hers.”

Jane could not let this betrayal of her friend stand. “I believe that the arts allow one a safe outlet for passions which could not otherwise be borne. We women have no recourse to the distractions available to men. Is it not better to spend one’s excess energy in the act of creation than to allow oneself to become overwhelmed?”