"Mrs Holland to see you, your ladyship," Miss Shingle announced. The blonde followed close behind the older woman, sweeping into the room. Miss Shingle closed the door behind her, leaving the two women alone together. The room was dark, drapes drawn across the windows, and the countess was sitting up in the bed, her back against the pillows.

"How are you this afternoon, darling?" Sibella questioned as she removed her gloves and held the back of her hand against Phoebe's forehead. The brunette was still hot with fever.

"I've been better," she replied with a mournful sigh.

"Miss Shingle looked a little weary just now, I wonder if we should send her to bed as well- prevent her from falling ill."

"I've tried not to get too close to anyone else, but none of us slept very well last night. Both she and Monty insisted on sitting up with me." Sibella could tell that the brunette must have protested this, as she seemed vexed mentioning it.

"You're very fortunate to have people who care about you so much," Sibella said quietly, ducking her head and unbuttoning her coat.

"You talk as if I'm more fortunate than you, but I find that hard to believe. You have Lionel, and often Monty as well, and you have a full staff," Phoebe pointed out, forever searching for the best in people.

"Oh yes, Lionel. He's never at home, always away on business. As for the staff, they either fear me or turn up their noses at me," the blonde replied, dropping her coat over the back of the chair next to the bed.

"But surely, even despite his frequent absence, your husband must love you. Isn't that evident?" Phoebe asked, somewhat worried as to what the answer might be.

Sibella was silent for a moment. With a slight sigh, she responded, "You'd have to ask Lionel."

In the silence that followed, though she tried to stifle it, Phoebe gave a sizeable yawn. "Pray excuse me," Phoebe apologised, slightly mortified, her hand held in front of her mouth. "It's only that I am so very tired."

"Then go to sleep. You needn't stay up on my account. I'll be here when you wake, it's alright."

"You'd stay?"

"Of course," the blonde said, with a small smile. Phoebe smiled in return. She slid down in the bed so that her head was on the pillows and turned onto her side, facing Sibella. Again, the brunette smiled up at her, and the green-eyed woman took her hand. Phoebe wrapped her fingers around Sibella's, but instead of letting go after a moment as the blonde expected, she held on. With another, somewhat smaller yawn, Phoebe closed her eyes and soon drifted off to sleep, feeling safe and loved, and overwhelmingly grateful for Sibella.

"Sleep well, my love," the blonde woman whispered, running her thumb lightly across the back of Phoebe's hand. After a moment, she lay down next to the other woman, without letting go of her hand.

An hour or so later, Monty entered the room to find the two women lying next to each other in bed, Phoebe wrapped in the bedsheets, Sibella draped on top of them, their fingers intertwined. He smiled broadly, and instead of waking them to tell them that afternoon tea was served, as he had intended, he took the comforter from the foot of the bed and pulled it up to cover both women's shoulders. He brushed a feather-light kiss to Phoebe's hot temple, and another to Sibella's neck before tip-toeing out of the room, closing the door softly behind him.