32
Mal woke to a sense of utter disorientation and a sharp ache in his lower back. Blinking the crust from his eyelids, he lifted his head and found himself gazing blearily at Will, who was sound asleep in his bed. Mal sat up and cursed the crick in his neck. The last thing he remembered was sitting by Will’s bedside, straining to hear his cousin’s shallow breaths over the crackling of the fire and the patter of the rain. He didn’t remember slumping forward onto the edge of the bed; he must have passed out from sheer exhaustion. It had taken nearly two hours for Dr. Porter to arrive, the servant sent for him having finally tracked him down at a cottage two miles outside the village. There was nothing he could do, he told Mal with the type of frowning, low-voiced sympathy that never boded well
- Writer
