The Ghost of Winn Peterson

20. Winn

15 October

Writing has been slower than I'd like. Seized with the most miserable pains in my midsection and a lethargy that not even the strongest coffee or tea could cure, I found myself bedridden once more. Dr. Radcliffe and Evie returned the day after my last entry, and it was much to their surprise to find me not eagerly waiting by the door, but buried up to my nose in blankets and surrounded by candles I had persuaded the old maid to bring up. Knocking on my door, it was first Evie's face, and then the doctor's, that peered around the door frame to gaze upon my indisposed state.

"Whatever happened to you!" Leaping at once to my side, Evie pulled back some of the blankets to reveal my no-doubt pale face, which was doubly a shock for her. Though I was not the darkest mixture of offspring interracial couples could have had, there was still enough of a toast to my complexion that being so washed out was quite alarming. When she would later show me my reflection in a hand mirror, I remember scoffing that the difference was not so alarming as she had made it out to be, but once her alarm was set off, so too was the doctor's.

What was initially an oppourtunity to discuss my friend's changed future and the details of her nuptials turned quickly into a fussing event over myself. How I loathed it! I had already affixed myself as best I could to alleviate my pain, and all that needed doing was leaving me be until I was better. Of course, this was quite possibly the worst house to fall any kinds of ill in - I was forced to drink something I'm positive was more damaging to my health than not. My blankets were removed and small cloths of freezing temperament were placed at my sides. Even after I threatened to throw them out of the window, Dr. Radcliffe wasted no time in ensuring Atticus was stationed at my side to ensure I remained where I was.

"What does he know about my pain?" I grumbled, missing the warmth of the candles and the thick cotton.

"More than you, I'd suppose. You're not the doctor." Oh, how I hated that stupid match, always clacking about his teeth! He was sitting in a chair by the door, ready to turn and call for the doctor, should I move.

"This is no way to treat these... ailments, anybody would know that."

"I wouldn't." I blinked, surprised to hear the usually proud Atticus admit that he didn't know something.

"No? Have you no sisters, no mother who complained of these symptoms?" I wriggled against the cold and nudged one closer to my feet.

"If I ever had a mother, I never knew her."

The room grew quiet after that. It occurred to me that anyone employed by the strange doctor had to be forced into it by something dire indeed. Was Evie not on the cusp of financial and personal tragedy with the death of her mother, who still had burial arrangements that needed paying for?

As though saving us from the painful silence of personal details, another knock sounded at the door and Evie came in again, this time with a plate of tea cups and toast. Upon spying Atticus in the chair, she scowled and jerked her head towards the hall.

"You'll be of no use in here - out!"

"I'm not your slave."

"Go, I said!"

Not wishing to be inconvenienced any longer, Atticus did as he was told and left in no slow manner, but not before making a rude gesture towards Evie. Turning around in time to catch him recovering, she slammed the door and shouted some unsavoury words I shall not repeat. I found myself wanting to defend him in some way, but Evie's approach with the tea distracted me totally.

She waited a moment before talking, watching as I took in several greedy sips. "Are you quite certain your pains are all natural?" Removing the icy sheets, she avoided my eye and instead inspected me with various pokes and prods.