"Madam? His Highness is asking for you," Joanna Caerleon only dared to interrupt the Queen's urgent prayer because allowing her to say goodbye to her young husband was even more critical at this point in time. The Prince Consort had plenty of people praying for him. The Queen, however, would never forgive herself if she didn't bid him farewell, even if they hadn't had the easiest of relationships of late. Joanna had seen that bitter regret too many times before in her years as a physician to the great and good of England. She wasn't going to let her royal mistress fall prey to it as well, not if she could help it.
The hope that leapt in Her Grace's face as she pushed herself to her feet with an effort was so obvious that it wrenched at Joanna's heart.
"Will His Highness recover, Joanna?"
