Over the next few days, Angie had to remind herself that she was not living in one of her girlhood dreams. A couple of days resting in bed restored much of her energy, and seeing Derrick every day for tea restored her spirit. Anne commented more than once that she had not seen her mistress in such good spirits in a very long time, and Angie had to agree. It was hard to remember when she had felt so good.

Derrick said that he had his house nearly ready, and the special license had been approved. They decided to get married quietly in the parlor of the Hollins house, with just her brothers and a few friends as witnesses. Derrick's family lawyer was invited, of course, to make sure that the will's condition was fulfilled and that there would be no objections later.

All of their guests had been reminded that the wedding might be canceled the morning of the event if Angie was unable to participate that day. Angie hoped it would not be necessary to cancel. She had invited a seamstress to the house to fit her into her mother's wedding gown. It had been carefully preserved for just such a day, and she was proud to be able to wear it at last, and to do so to marry the man she had loved for most of her life was the most amazing part of all.

It was two days before the wedding and a week and a half before the deadline in the will for the marriage. Everything they could think of was ready, except waiting for one of Derrick's cousins to arrive. They were just about to settle down for tea when a messenger arrived for Derrick about a business matter, and he had to leave suddenly.

"I am so sorry, Angie. Can I come by and join you for supper instead?" he pleaded, his expression telling her just how much it tortured him to have to leave her side.

"I think that can be arranged," she said with a smile. Usually she ate supper propped up in her bed, as she was usually exhausted by evening, but surely it would not be unseemly to dine in her chamber with her husband-to-be, especially if Anne were to join them.

After he left, Angie enjoyed the tea in solitude, a rare thing, not just with the bustle of wedding preparations, but also in life with her condition. She was used to having some sort of company just about every waking moment, including when she needed to use a chamber pot. It was blessedly peaceful.

It was only after her 2nd cup of tea was nearly finished that she noticed she did not feel right, somehow. She had managed to not collapse over the last week until after supper, and she had taken to sitting in a regular chair for tea with Derrick in the last couple of days. Now as her legs and arms grew heavy and it became increasingly hard to breathe, she regretted that decision.

Her head tilted backwards to rest on the back of the chair without her purposefully doing so; she simply could not stop it from happening. She was glad that in this position, she was less likely to tumble to the floor, but it also made it still more difficult to draw a full breath, let alone call for help. Whatever was she going to do? Where had all of the staff disappeared to for so long?

Just when she feared she was about to lose consciousness, Anne peaked her head around the doorframe and was clearly shocked to find her alone and clearly in distress. She turned and yelled over her shoulder for help and then rushed into the room. A gentle hand on her neck to check her pulse and a swift movement to pull over an ottoman, and Angie relaxed a little, fear receding as she smiled slightly to acknowledge that Anne had finally come and had assessed the situation as dangerous and was taking charge. She dozed off just as she felt her feet being lifted onto the ottoman.

When she opened her eyes next, she immediately had to close them again. The room was spinning in circles, and it was impossible to focus on anything long enough to figure out where she was. She was lying down, so she assumed that she was in bed, and she hoped she had not missed supper. She really wanted to spend some more time with Derrick. Except she had not had a chance to tell Anne that Derrick would be joining her for dinner and so she would be too.

Distress about the state of supper gave her strength to crack her eyes open, turning her head away from the light of the candle on her dresser. Facing the shadows of the room, she was able to open her eyes a little more and finally focus on the familiar details of her bedchamber.

But there was something new in the room, a chair next to her bedside, with a pile of clothing on it. Anne was always so meticulous about hanging up her dresses and braces that it was a surprise to see such a mess. Thinking that it could not be too late, Angie decided to ring the handbell kept by her bedside for just such a need, and set about to try to reach it. She tried to roll onto her side to extend her arm in the right direction, only to find that she neither rolled nor reached. Instead, her body gave out a low moan, and it occurred to her that her body hurt more than usual.

The groan appeared to have made the candle behind her dance, for she thought she saw the pile of clothes on the chair before her twitch and shift. Knowing such a thing could not be true, she closed her eyes, and opened them again, this time with a bit more speed. She noted that even her eyelids hurt. A low sound like a hurt animal issued from her lips, and to her horror, the pile of clothing began to move in earnest, shaking itself and shifting, until at last it sat up, quite like a man, and the clothing slipped away to reveal a haggard looking Derrick.

For a moment he did not react to her stare, blinking in the light and rubbing his eyes as though he had been asleep for a long time. Only then did he meet her gaze, and then the strangest thing happened: tears began to fall down his cheeks like water rushing down the crease of a roof during a spring rainstorm.

She found her hand grasped tightly in his and a gentle kiss pressed to her lips, so light and soft that she was not entirely sure she had not dreamed it. She wanted to respond, but she felt herself beginning to drift back into oblivion, and there was nothing she could do to stop it from happening.

When she next awoke, the room was filled with a soft indirect glow, the kind of lighting she most appreciated in her room during the day time when she was in the midst of a day where her condition was especially debilitating. This time, when she wanted to roll over to ring her bell, she did not moan, and her body did what she asked, but as though she was moving through molasses.

She was a little sad to see that the chair and Derrick were not beside her bed this time, but she had often reminded him that she might have a crash, and in the midst of them, he need not feel as though he was obligated to stay by her side. He must simply have needed to leave to tend to business; he would surely return when it was time for tea.

She finally touched the bell, only to tip it onto the floor instead of grasp its handle. It made an awful racket as it hit the floor, so it accomplished her aim anyway. Before anyone could have been expected to hear the bell and come into the room, Angie felt herself enveloped in a warm but gentle embrace. A light brush of lips on her cheek had her turning to see who was behind her.

She nearly gasped at the sight that met her eyes. It was Derrick, his brown eyes as warm as ever, his hair a little more than fashionably mussed, his smile as welcoming as ever. But his eyes now presided over pools of shadows, his cheeks had more than a day's growth of stubble, and he looked a little pale, almost as though he had been ill himself.

Before she could question him, he leaned in and kissed her, and she could feel his love pouring into her, along with a heavy measure of concern and uncertainty. This time she returned the kiss, though with less enthusiasm than she wanted. Her head fell back to the pillow against her will, and she could not lift it again. She could lift her hand, and she did, stroking her cheek softly before his hand covered hers and pressed it into the rough and sharp bristly hairs there. The edge of panic in his eyes vanished, replaced with soft joy.

She found herself still unable to speak, and Derrick seemed to understand immediately when she opened her mouth, but no sound emerged. He touched a finger to her lips and smiled wearily.

"I know you are probably full of questions right now. You nearly died, and I was rather ill myself. Your brothers and I have deduced that our tea must have been tainted, and I did not get as sick as you because I only had a sip or two, while you drank at least a cup." At this, she wiggled two of her fingers against his cheek. He frowned. "All right, 2 cups. Anne was beside herself because she did not make the tea or stay with you after I left. Her brother asked her to help him with a project, and she thought you might enjoy some quiet, only to find you collapsed in the chair."

Angie frowned herself, sure that none of this was Anne's fault. Derrick's other hand smoothed the wrinkles on her brow. "Not to worry, dear. I set her straight as soon as I could, and she has been invaluable in the last few days helping to watch over you."

Angie's eyebrows shot up at the mention of days in the plural form, and Derrick sighed. "I was in bed down the hall for 2 full days. It has been nearly a week since the day we were poisoned." A look of panic filled her face, and he let go of her hands to cup her face in them. "Not to worry, love, we have until tomorrow to wed, and if you are still willing to become my wife, we can arrange for it tomorrow morning. I have kept everyone informed and standing by for when you awoke, including my family's lawyer." He rolled his eyes just once and was rewarded with a full grin. "For now, just rest. It is still morning, so you have this day to get prepared for wedded bliss."