Sibella had been on edge all day. A certain tightness in her chest, catching herself breathing shallowly and too quickly, she had been careful not to let Phoebe see her hands tremble. Monty was out of town, having been invited by Lord Sitwell to a shooting party at his country estate- men only. Lionel was also out of town, off once again on business, which meant that Sibella was free to stay up at Highhurst, where she and Phoebe could keep each other company.
She'd had days like this before, but not in quite some time, and never at Highhurst. She'd also learned to hide it expertly when she felt like this, so that even those who were close to her and knew her well couldn't see that there was anything amiss.
The day at Highhurst was slow and quiet, with corgis curled on laps and tea taken in the drawing room. In the evening, at last Phoebe came to a good point in her book to pause her reading, and the two women retired to bed. As the brunette woman next to her blew out the last candle on the bedside table, plunging the room into complete darkness, Sibella threw a silent prayer to the heavens that she could keep it together through the night, for Phoebe's sake.
Phoebe was almost asleep again, having woken momentarily in the night. However, she was jerked back into consciousness by a sudden movement to her right. She opened her eyes to see that Sibella had shot upright. Slowly, Phoebe raised herself to a seated position, leaning toward the other woman. The blonde had her forehead resting on her knees and her hands clasped to either side of her head, long fingers intertwining with gold curls.
"Sibella?" the countess whispered. But she received no reply.
Phoebe reached out tentatively to place a hand on the other woman's arm. "Sibella, dearest?"
The blonde jumped, feeling Phoebe's fingers against her arm.
"I didn't mean to startle you," the brunette murmured. "Are you alright?"
Sibella turned to look at her, eyes wide and quickly filling with tears. She shook her head in response, unable to find her voice.
"Nightmares?" Phoebe guessed. The blonde nodded as she began to cry.
The countess moved over in bed, sat up on her knees, and wrapped her arms around Sibella. "I'm here," she said softly. "You're safe." Turning her head into Phoebe's shoulder, Sibella held her tightly, her hand trembling on the brunette's waist.
"Shhhh..." Phoebe soothed, kissing the top of Sibella's head. A tiny crease of worry appeared on her forehead as she felt the blonde's chest rising and falling rapidly against her own. Too rapidly. "You're safe. You're at Highhurst, with me, in our room. Nobody is going to come in here."
"I…" stammered Sibella, lifting her head from Phoebe's shoulder. "I c-can't…" Backing away from the countess, she reached out for the bedpost with one hand and in the other she gathered a handful of the sheets.
"Breathe," Phoebe instructed, not knowing what else to say. She took a deep breath to encourage Sibella to do the same. The second time Phoebe tried to get the blonde to follow her example, the other woman attempted to take a shaky breath in.
"Good," Phoebe murmured. "Keep breathing and just listen to my voice. You are in our room at Highhurst. You are safe. I am safe. Monty is safe. Bella and Donna are curled up on their blankets, guarding us. They are sleeping peacefully because they know we are safe. Highhurst is very secure. Nobody can possibly get in here without us letting them in. We're safe."
But despite Phoebe's words, Sibella was no longer breathing following the brunette's example. She kept gasping in, but rarely exhaled, and the trembling of her hands had spread to much of the rest of her body.
"Sibella?" Phoebe was frightened. She tried to preserve an appearance of calm as she considered ringing the bell. But who would possibly be awake downstairs at this time of night?
The blonde pushed herself back against the bedpost, giving a whine like a wounded animal, her hands tearing at the sheets. She looked at Phoebe with an almost pleading expression, tears spilling over her bottom lashes.
"What do you need me to do?" Phoebe asked. She had never seen anybody like this before. But Sibella shook her head vehemently, pulling her knees towards her chest, her hands pushing against her thighs, trying desperately to stop the shaking of her body.
Phoebe started making guesses. "Do you want me to hold you?"
But Sibella shook her head again.
"Should I call for help?"
The blonde woman hesitated a moment but shook her head as insistently as before, sobbing as she fought for breath.
Phoebe occasionally got nightmares herself- she had ever since the entire rest of her family had died, most of them violently- and when they woke her in the middle of the night, Monty would hold her until she fell asleep again. But clearly this was a different sort of reaction entirely. "What does Monty do?" she asked Sibella desperately, not expecting a coherent reply, but even a hint would be helpful.
Sibella looked up at Phoebe and saw the panic in the countess's eyes. The blonde released the fabric of the bedsheets with one hand and reached out for Phoebe. She fumbled for her hand and wrapped her fingers around Phoebe's thumb, her grip hard enough to take the countess by surprise.
"Here," Phoebe said, quickly holding out her other hand. Sibella, with some difficulty, took hold of the brunette's other thumb as well. She was shaking so violently that Phoebe's hands echoed the motion, as did the mattress. "Is there anything else I should do?" With something between a gasp and a sob, Sibella shook her head once more.
They stayed like that for some time, Phoebe watching Sibella carefully and Sibella struggling to take a breath in and let it out again. Inhales were sharp and desperate as the blonde shivered. The countess felt tears prick at her eyes, watching the woman she loved so fall to pieces, and knowing that she could do almost nothing to help hold her together.
At long last, Sibella was breathing somewhat normally again and she slumped back against the bedpost. She continued to cling to Phoebe's hands, waiting to stop trembling. After several minutes, the countess's hands almost did not move with Sibella's.
"I'm so sorry," Sibella whispered, breaking the long silence, and slowly beginning to uncurl her hands from around Phoebe's thumbs. "I haven't done that in a-a long time. I should have s- seen it coming, I knew… I knew I didn't feel right today. I'm so sorry- I scared you, didn't I?" Her words were slow and careful, as though it were difficult for her to speak.
"A bit, but you don't need to apologise. As long as you're alright now."
"I should be fine now. I don't... think it will happen again tonight, I'm too exhausted," Sibella said. Phoebe brought her hand up to brush tears from the blonde's face and eyes.
"Do you need anything?"
"Just you."
Phoebe smiled gently. "Do you want to lie down again?" Sibella nodded, and she and Phoebe shifted back to the top of the bed. They lay down and tucked themselves in. Phoebe sought out Sibella's hand under the covers and tried to entwine their fingers, but Sibella's hand did not move. The countess repositioned her own hand so that she could press Sibella's reassuringly.
"I'm so sorry you had to see me that way. And I'm sorry I'm not much help when I'm like that," Sibella apologised again.
"Oh darling, you have nothing to apologise for." Phoebe realised that she had just called Sibella 'darling,' which was a name she usually reserved for Monty. "And now I know what to do if it ever happens again. Which I hope it doesn't."
"Lord, I hope not. I keep forgetting how much I despise it- not having any control whatsoever. I have to fight so hard to do something as simple as breathe. And I can't move my hands," she added, feeling the countess's fingers wrap around her own.
"It must be awful," Phoebe murmured compassionately. Sibella nodded sadly.
"It's a form of hysteria," Sibella whispered, after several minutes of silence.
"How often does that happen to you?" Phoebe whispered back.
"Less frequently as I've grown older. It used to happen every few weeks, sometimes every few days. But now it's only occasionally. The last time was two or three months ago."
"Is it always nightmares?"
"No. It can happen at any time, and it doesn't always have an apparent cause. Sometimes I just wake up and can't breathe. A few months ago it was early evening, and the first time Monty saw it we were having tea."
"Oh my dear," Phoebe said. "Is there anything more or less I could have done to be helpful?"
"Not really. Just being there is helpful. Having someone else there keeps me grounded. It's always worse when I'm alone. I was lucky this time; usually I faint."
"I can't imagine." The countess wrapped her arms around the blonde. "Does Lionel know?"
"No. I don't think he'd understand. Heaven knows what he'd do if I fell apart in front of him."
"Well, whenever you fall apart, I will do my best to piece you back together again. And I'm sure Monty will, too."
"Thank you," Sibella murmured, tearful again.
"Of course, love." Phoebe leaned over and picked up a blue handkerchief from her bedside table. "Here." Sibella reached out to take it, her fingers barely moving, and dabbed at her eyes and nose. Sniffing, she folded it clumsily and handed it back to Phoebe, her hand falling limp on the pillow. "Have you seen a doctor about this? Or even asked your father?"
"Oh yes. My father didn't have an answer so he took me to someone who specialised in the workings of the mind. He gave me the word 'hysteria'. Which didn't really help. I was hoping he could fix it. But at least it has a name of sorts."
Phoebe wasn't quite sure what to say, so she just held Sibella more tightly and kissed the top of her head.
"Is there anything else you want to know?" asked Sibella. "Monty had lots of questions, you're much calmer than he was."
"I didn't think panicking would be helpful to you. I just want you to be alright. I don't need to know anything beside that."
The hint of a smile crept onto Sibella's lips and she nodded, exhausted. "I'm still here."
"As am I," Phoebe replied. "Always."