“Ma’am! What—oh, what’s happened? Did you fall? Did you hurt yourself?” They were both swept inside on a tide of Liza’s concerned chatter. “It’s that house! Maybe the local boys are right when they say it’s cursed on top of being haunted, and I hope you’ll take that into account and consider not pressing on with this fool project, because you can’t fix a place what has that kind of darkness on it, ma’am, not with all the will in the world—”

The girl kept up a constant stream of words as she hurried them upstairs into Alva’s room, pulling back the bedclothes and telling Sam—in between fully formed opinions—how to arrange her in bed. When Alva tried to break in, protesting that she was fine and didn’t need any of this fuss, Liza simply refused to acknowledge she’d spoken. Respite finally came ten minutes later, when Liza left to organize some herbal tea she promised was a sure thing for inflammation.

Alva and Sam sat in stunned silence.

“I wonder what she thinks is inflamed,” Alva said.

“It’s hard to say,” Sam replied. “But since it’s a sure thing—”

“Oh yes,” she agreed, a smile flickering on her mouth. “Since it’s a sure thing.”

He drew a chair to the side of the bed and sat in it.

“You know, I really don’t need to be in here,” she said.

“I wouldn’t fight it, if I were you. I have backup now, and Liza’s rather more formidable than I am.”

“Well, obviously,” she said, her smile lasting a little longer. “But we need to talk about this more, Sam.”

“In the morning,” he said. “After the doctor’s seen you and assured me you didn’t take any lasting damage. And after you’ve gotten some sleep.”

“I do feel a bit tired,” she said, yawning.

“Being murdered will do that to a person,” he muttered, low enough she didn’t hear him.

There was a knock on the door, signaling the doctor’s arrival. The man looked sternly at him, going so far as to strongly hint his presence was inappropriate, but as Sam simply refused to get up from his chair, he had to eventually get on with his business. Fifteen minutes later, Alva was declared perfectly fine, if in need of some serious rest.

“I’ll leave a sleeping draught,” he said, speaking more to Liza than to Alva or Sam. “See that she takes it.”

He sent one last disapproving glance at Sam and left. A few minutes later, Liza returned with a mug of something hot and sharp smelling, which she bullied Alva into drinking.

“You should leave,” she said to Sam, speaking quietly. “She’ll fall asleep soon and the whole house knows you’re up here.”