Ian Bainbridge parked himself next to Elizabeth's bed. He had to turn her on side to reduce the swelling on her head stitches. The wound bled again, and he was afraid that it would cause the stitches to become undone. He kept the wound clean. He was concerned that her state of unconsciousness was not only due to the ingested Laudanum, but the severe blow to the head. He didn't know the amount she took, but she certainly took plenty to put her to sleep for a long time. He can't exactly force liquid on her to speed up the process of flushing out the drug, but he tried to with a rag soaked in broth and trickled into her mouth. He kept her lips and mouth moist. He was able to get a little bit down her throat, but it was a very slow process. He didn't mind because he is a very patient man.

Mr. Jacobsen found some of his wife's old clothes that he couldn't bring himself to get rid of. He is now glad that it found a new purpose. Ian went through it and found a few nightgowns. He set them aside. He dug further into his aunt's belongings and found her diary, and a small chest box. He looked at his uncle and he nodded in consent. He opened it and found some trinkets and found another smaller box. He opened that and found a set of rings. He handed the box to his uncle. Mr. Jacobsen caressed the treasure with tenderness and sadness. He looked at Ian and said, "One day these rings will find a home again. Hopefully in the hands of the woman you love and love you in return.".

"Uncle, I couldn't. These are your treasures." Ian's emotional plea.

"Yes, they are, and you as well. You are the son I never had and will always be. I deem this rightfully yours when the day comes."

Ian was touched by his uncle's declaration. He stood up from his chair and walked over to him and hugged him and kissed his forehead. He's always loved his uncle and they've always been close. The relationship his uncle and aunt had set a high standard of a loving relationship. He will not settle for anything less than the example he was shown.

He took the nightgowns and went back to his room where Elizabeth lay. He felt her forehead to check her temperature. She felt warm. Not taking chances. He went ahead and gave Elizabeth a sponge bath and changed her into one of his aunt's nightgowns. He brushed her hair tenderly while staring at her face. She really is beautiful. He bet that her beauty would be greatly enhanced once her eyes are open.

Elizabeth stirred a little bit, and nothing more. On the second day he was thinking that she might wake up. He dedicated his time reading her books, newspaper, medical journal etc. He continued to force liquid down her throat, and again it was a tedious process. A few drops at a time are not much, but it's better than nothing. He wasted more than what he got her to swallow. He ate his meals right by her bed. He talked with her as if they were sitting across the table from each other. He told her a little bit about himself, places he went to on the continent, and interesting illnesses that are recently being recognized.

Most of the late-night hours, Mr. Jacobsen would find his nephew asleep sitting on the chair next to the bed with his head on the bed and hand clasping Elizabeth's. He smiled at the picture and went on to his chamber. He prayed for Elizabeth and his nephew, but especially for Elizabeth. He had a feeling that there is more to the mystery woman's story than meets the eye. He will have to wait to hear it straight from the young lady.

Around three in the morning, Elizabeth stirred. Her hand movement alerted the sleeping Ian. He jerked his head up and saw through the moonlight her eyelashes fluttering as if trying to awaken. She licked her lips and in a barely audible voice whispered, "Wa…ter". Ian sprang into action lighting a candle and pouring a glass of water. He carefully cradled her upper body and wedged a generous number of pillows behind her. Elizabeth gripped her head in discomfort at the sudden change of position of her head. She let out a whimper and tears trickled down her cheeks. Ian was quick to wipe her tears with his thumb and whispered soothing words. Moments later. She became accustomed to her body position. She opens her eyes and Ian's breath is caught in his throat. He was right about her eyes enhancing her beauty.

Elizabeth is still in a daze and again mutters softly, "Water.", bringing Ian back to awareness. He reached over to the side table and put the glass of water in her hands. Her hand shook too much to handle it. Ian then held the glass to her mouth. She drank it greedily. The speed in which she drank it caused her to gag and vomit half of the contents and cough while gripping her head. Water was coming out of her nose and mouth. She was breathing hard and quickly exhausting herself. The exhaustion overtook her, and she closed her eyes again to slumber. Ian grabbed a towel at the foot of the bed and wiped Elizabeth's face and chest, but she was too wet to remain in her nightclothes. He took her nightgown off and wiped her dry. Then slipped on a new one. He watched her closely and hoped that she didn't aspirate water. The last thing she needs is getting afflicted with consumption.

She slept again for another twenty-four hours. On almost the fourth day. She stirred and whispered for water again. This time Ian made sure she didn't drink too fast. Instead of water, he gave her broth that he kept warm by the fire should she wake up. He put her in a semi sitting position again. She winced in pain, a good sign that the Laudanum is beginning to wear off. He spoons feed her the broth. She mechanically opened her mouth while her eyes were staring at nothing. Eventually, the broth is cool enough for her to drink straight from the cup. When she finished the whole cup, she became aware of Ian's presence.

She looked at him and her surroundings. Panic is written all over her face. Who is he? Where is she? Even more disturbing is, who is she? Ian gently took her hand and rubbed circles on the back of it to help her calm down. He asked her what she remembered. There was no response, just blank stares. "I…I…don't know." She shook her head, and her eyes flooded with tears until the dam broke. She doesn't even know what she is crying about. Just that she is a "nobody".

Ian's heart broke as he gazed at her panic, but vacant look. He'd seen that look before in his other patients, particularly soldiers and grieving widows. The look of an empty vessel with no particular purpose. Her flood of tears broke him, and without thought drew Elizabeth to his chest and rubbed circles on her back. She cried until she fell asleep on his person. He gently laid her back down. He now knows that in the matter of a few hours, he will have to answer a lot of questions. Most of which he won't have an answer to or have to carefully consider how to answer them. Though it was still very early, he knocked at his uncle's chamber, but there was no answer. He needs fatherly advice to soothe his troubled heart.

He headed to the kitchen to make tea. When he spotted a flickering candlelight in the sitting room. He heard a soft clattering of china. There he found his uncle with two cups of tea ready to serve. He smiled at him.

"How did you know uncle?"

"I just know, son, and remember I will always be here for you. You have a tender heart and that is one of the reasons you're a good doctor. You also want to be ahead of trouble and foil any disaster that might arise, but the thing is, you can't. It is a big dilemma between having her remember everything and put her in a state of despair or remember nothing with feelings of emptiness. Neither of those scenarios are desirable and we must take things as they come. Perhaps the best course of action is to let her take the lead. The good thing is that you and I are here for her. How is she?"

"As you probably heard, she woke up asking for water. Then about twenty-four hours later she woke up asking the same. Only this time, I gave her broth. I'm hoping that she will wake up again soon for a longer period of time. She tires easily. It's a good sign though, that the Laudanum is wearing off. I'm glad you kept Aunt Rebekah's clothes. It came quite handy."

"I'm glad to hear that she is making progress."

"She opened her eyes as if a new person. Her eyes revealed nothing of the past nor hope in the future. She looked so confused and vulnerable. It's just….I don't know….If you had seen the look on her face." He turned his face towards the fire staring at the dancing flames.

"Perhaps it was better that I didn't. This way I would be able to give you more sound advice without my feelings getting in the way. All we can do right now is take care of her immediate needs." Mr. Jacobsen remembered how he would lose rational thoughts just by looking at his wife.

"I have no idea how to best protect her since we know nothing about her. I know that she is very young, most likely have not reached her majority."

"No point in borrowing trouble. Why don't you go back to sleep, morning light will come soon enough." Mr. Jacobsen had never seen his nephew look at any woman with such tenderness.

Ian went back into his chamber and resumed his vigil. He settled himself next to the bed, held her hand and laid his head on the mattress. At dawn, he was jolted to wakefulness at the sound of Elizabeth's distress. He was careful not to add to it. He slowly came even closer. She is obviously still asleep but talking and weeping.

"Papa please wake up. Don't leave me. Please don't leave me. No. No. No. NOOOOOO!" She began to sob. Then she sprang up to a sitting position, breathing heavily. The sudden change in her position made her dizzy and caused her to fall back down to her pillows. Her right hand gripping the back of her head. Tears streamed down the side of her face as she stared at the ceiling. He slowly elevated her upper body to a comfortable level and wedge pillows under and around her. He sat there quietly holding her right hand and rubbing the back of it with his thumb.

She tried to move her left arm, but it hurts to do so. She noticed the bruises on it and wondered how she got it. She gave Ian a questioning look. He wasn't sure how to answer her. He was afraid that enlightening her with the whole situation would trigger an emotional breakdown. Finally, he thought honesty in slow dosage might just be the best answer.

"I'm sorry about your arm. It was my fault. I was trying to prevent you from falling." He said. He didn't know whether to tell her that she tried to commit suicide. He felt she needed to recover more to handle the truth.

"Who are you? Where am I?" She asked.

"I'm Dr. Ian Bainbridge and we are at my uncle Mr. Stephen Jacobsen. Do you think you could tell me a little bit about yourself?" He replied.

"I really wish I could. My name is…..My name is…. My…" She tried to recall, but nothing. She looked away from him in embarrassment. How could she not remember the most basic thing about her? She looked back at him expecting pity. Her heart warmed a little bit when she saw tenderness, and concerns in his eyes. She felt as though he could be trusted. If only she knows where to begin.