The Serving Girl // Book 2 in the Rosie Grey series

Chapter Eighteen

"You know, she is probably the only person who could get influenza without having any contact with the illness. Yet she could sleep in the same room as a group of infected children yet not catch it."

James' voice washed over as I felt myself being pulled from a rather comfortable sleep. The cloth on my head had remained damp, though I knew Robert must have replaced it, and the top of my nightdress felt damp against my chest. Although I knew I had been asleep for several hours, it was still too hot under the blanket and I couldn't shake the sensation of being in a rather high-temperature oven. Still, I kept my eyes closed and snuggled further into the blanket in the hopes of falling back asleep. With how loud James was talking, I didn't think that would be possible. Noises I could sleep through, conversations were a different story especially with James who had no volume control whatsoever.

"Rosie's never been one to do what is expected of her. This is the same child who climbed the tallest tree in the park at the age of five and fell out if it without injuring herself in the slightest. The day she does what is expected will be a miracle." Matthew's voice joined the conversation.

"So that's where she got her tree climbing skills from," Robert said, the legs of his chair smacking against the floor.

"She started climbing trees around the same time she started to walk, used to drive Mother mad," James said.

"If we couldn't find her, we knew she'd be either up a tree or sat in a bush."

"In a bush?"

"Yes, she would sit in them with a piece of paper and pencil and draw. We would find her a few hours later."

"And I thought Zachariah was bad," Robert muttered.

"I can hear you," I mumbled from under the blanket.

Groaning slightly, I pushed the blanket off my face and rolled over on the bed, so I was facing Robert who had abandoned his book in favour of rocking back on his chair. James was stood at the far end of the room with his back pressed against the chest of drawers and his arms folded across his chest. He looked calm and relaxed, the exact opposite of Matthew. Matthew had taken up a position by the window, his bandaged hand laying by his side whilst his other hand rested over his shoulder and on his back. He stood with his back straight, and he watched me out of the corner of my eye as I shuffled myself into a sitting position, the cloth falling from my head and landing on the floor. The sling had slipped off my arm in the night and I made no attempt to retrieve it.

Although it still hurt to breath and the room still lurched to the side when I moved but the sleep had done its job. I pushed my hair off my eyes as it clung to my now damp forehead, the top of my nightdress seemingly soaked through from the water of the cloth. I glanced over towards Matthew and the window. The sky had turned a dark grey as the sun had started to set, clouds dotted the dark sky and a small strip of the setting sun still found its way into the room. With the fading light, someone had lit several candles and small lantern which hung from a hook on the wall. I slept for the entire day and didn't even know it.

No one said anything and I found myself sitting there with three pairs of eyes staring at me as though I was about to collapse or something. I glanced from person to person, my eyes lingering on Matthew for a few seconds longer as I tried to formulate a reason for him being there. Two days before he had stormed out of the office without so much as a hint of wanting to talk to me again. Yet there he stood, looking the most anxious out of everyone and acting as though the events had never happened. How he had found out that I was ill remained a mystery, but I was glad he knew. Now I had a chance to explain everything.

"Ah, she's awake," Doctor Ealing said, appearing in the doorway.

"It's hard to sleep with James and Matthew telling the world my childhood adventures of tree climbing and hiding in bushes," I said.