“I have already asked,” Weed says anxiously. “I have walked the gardens, the fields, the forest. They say your condition is not of their making, and thus cannot be of their curing.”

“‘Not of their making’; what does that mean?”

“I am not sure.” His voice catches. “It troubles me, Jessamine. They have always been eager, even proud, to offer their cures, even before I ask for them. Now they seem—frightened.”

My eyes close of their own will. “Whatever is wrong, Father will cure me. I know he will,” I mumble drowsily.

“I know he will try,” I hear Weed say as I sink back into sleep.

“How much food has she taken?”

“Very little. I have got a few spoonfuls of the broth you prepared past her lips every quarter of an hour.”

“Have you given her anything else? Any medicines, ointments, remedies?”

“No, sir.”

My hand flies up, lifted by some force outside me, a puppet arm on a string.

“The pulse is weak and fast. Her color is sallow; the skin is cool. Jessamine? Can you speak?”

The words come out as an unintelligible moan, which is just as well, for I am prattling gibberish: But Father, why can I not enter the ’pothecary garden? I am not a child anymore….

My hand sinks back to the bed. The voices wash over me, lapping each other like waves—

“She is delirious with fever.”

“What can be wrong with her? The illness came upon her so quickly, with no warning.”

The sharp snap of the latch on Father’s medical bag. Bottles clinking against bottles.

“Believe it or not, there is a condition known as lovesickness.”

“Mr. Luxton, do not joke—”

“I am completely serious. For a young woman like Jessamine, innocent, sheltered, with a sensitive and passionate temperament—it is possible that this has all been too much for her. The excitement has worn out her nerves; her body and mind are overwhelmed and seek respite in the only way they can: through a withdrawal into illness.”

“Are you suggesting that I leave her?” Weed’s voice is strangled. “For I will not—I cannot—”

“Noooooo.” An animal howl of protest escapes my lips.

Silence.

“Good.” Father says after a moment. “Though she is unconscious, it seems she can hear us; that is a positive sign. No, Weed, I would not instruct you to be anywhere but by her side. At this point your departure would only make matters worse. Rest assured, I do not think lovesickness is the sole explanation for her condition. Rather, the excitement created by your engagement may have weakened her constitution temporarily, and thus made her susceptible to some disease or infection.”