That day, Mrs. Amwell had asked me to organize a pile of her letters, giving me several dozen to sort before leaving for the gardens, but I could not complete my task because of a headache. Midmorning, Mr. Amwell stumbled upon me with tears on my cheeks; the pressure behind my eyes had become almost unbearable. He insisted that I retire to my room and sleep. A few minutes later, he offered me a drink that he said would help, and I sucked down the sharp, honey-colored liquid as quickly as I could even though it made me cough and gasp. It looked like the brandy my mistress sometimes sipped from the bottle, though I could not fathom why anyone would willingly drink such a thing.

I slept away the headache in the quiet, sunny comfort of my room. Eventually, I woke to the smell of animal fat—a tallow candle—and my mistress’s cool touch on my forehead. The ache in my head had gone. Mrs. Amwell asked me how long I had been asleep, and I told her truthfully that I did not know—that I had lain down midmorning. It is now half ten at night, she told me, meaning I had slept for nearly twelve hours.

Mrs. Amwell asked if I had had any dreams. Although I shook my head, the truth was that a faint memory had begun to form, one I felt sure was a dream I’d had only a few hours ago. It was a memory of Mr. Amwell in my garret room; he had lifted the fat tabby cat from her place on my cot and set her into the corridor, then closed the door and approached me. He took a seat next to me, placing his hand on my stomach, and we began to talk. Try as I might, I could not remember what we discussed in the dream. He then began to move his hand upward, sliding it along my navel, when one of the footmen made a commotion downstairs; a pair of gentlemen had arrived, needing to speak urgently with Mr. Amwell.

I admitted this story to my mistress, but I said that I did not know whether it had been a dream or real. Afterward, she remained at my side, a concerned look on her face. She pointed at the empty brandy glass and asked if Mr. Amwell had given it to me. I told her yes. She then leaned in close and placed one of her hands on mine. “Is it the first time he has done so?”

I nodded.

“And you are well now? Nothing hurts?”

I shook my head. Nothing hurt.

My mistress eyed the glass carefully, tucked the blankets in close around me and wished me goodnight.

It was only after she had gone that I heard the soft cry of the tabby cat outside my room. She was in the corridor, mewing to be let inside.