She shifted position, mumbling something in her sleep.
Gregory looked sharply over at Peter, every question in the world hanging in his eyes.
“See if you can get her to answer you,” Peter said.
“Let me try,” Hyacinth said forcefully. Gregory watched as she leaned down and said something into Lucy’s ear.
“What are you saying?” he asked.
Hyacinth shook her head. “You don’t want to know.”
“Oh, for God’s sake,” he muttered, pushing her aside. He picked up Lucy’s hand and squeezed it with more force than he’d done earlier. “Lucy! How many steps are there in the back staircase from the kitchen to the first floor?”
She didn’t open her eyes, but she did make a sound that he thought sounded like—
“Did you say fifteen?” he asked her.
She snorted, and this time he heard her clearly. “Sixteen.”
“Oh, thank God.” Gregory let go of her hand and collapsed into the chair by her bed. “There,” he said. “There. She’s all right. She will be all right.”
“Gregory . . .” But Peter’s voice was not reassuring.
“You told me we had to awaken her.”
“We did,” Peter said with stiff acknowledgment. “And it was a very good sign that we were able to. But it doesn’t mean—”
“Don’t say it,” Gregory said in a low voice.
“But you must—”
“Don’t say it!”
Peter went silent. He just stood there, looking at him with an awful expression. It was pity and compassion and regret and nothing he ever wanted to see on a doctor’s face.
Gregory slumped. He’d done what had been asked of him. He’d woken Lucy, if only for a moment. She was sleeping again, now curled on her side, facing in the other direction.
“I did what you asked,” he said softly. He looked back up at Peter. “I did what you asked,” he repeated, sharply this time.
“I know,” Peter said gently, “and I can’t tell you
how reassuring it is that she spoke. But we cannot count that as a guarantee.”
Gregory tried to speak, but his throat was closing. That awful choking feeling was rushing through him again, and all he could manage was to breathe. If he could just breathe, and do nothing else, he might be able to keep from crying in front of his friend.
“The body needs to regain its strength after a blood loss,” Peter explained. “She may sleep a while yet. And she might—” He cleared his throat. “She might not wake up again.”
“Of course she will wake up,” Hyacinth said sharply. “She’s done it once, she can do it again.”
The doctor gave her a fleeting glance before turning his attention back to Gregory. “If all goes well, I would think we could expect a fairly ordinary recovery. It might take some time,” he warned. “I can’t be sure how much blood she’s lost. It can take months for the body to reconstitute its necessary fluids.”
Gregory nodded slowly.
“She’ll be weak. I should think she’d need to remain in bed for at least a month.”
“She won’t like that.”
Peter cleared his throat. Awkwardly. “You will send someone if there is a change?”