The resounding chorus of gasps drew all eyes towards Thomas where he stood with Amelia. Her limp body lay as a dead weight in his arms. The pallor of her cheeks and her lack of movement struck fear into Thomas' chest, as for only a moment, he might have sworn that Amelia had crossed from the living. The barely visible, but slow and rhythmic, rise and fall of her bosom waylaid these fears and Thomas hoped that her revival was only a matter of time. Thomas lightly stroked his finger over the top of her hand where it lay in his, and whispered gently into the air.

"Mrs. Dyer? Amelia?"

A fluttering of eyelashes was the only response. Before Thomas could breathe another word, John was at his side and he began to fret over the sorry state of his wife. He stroked her cheek and placed his palm over her forehead.

"Amelia, darling, please tell me you can hear me," John cried out, anguished as she remained in her syncopal state.  Fretfully, John searched her face for answer.  "Thank you, thank you for your care, Archer."

The pother surrounding the men had now reached the highest height of enthusiasm.  For those who had been dipping quite deeply, the commotion of Mrs. Dyer's drop was highly entertaining.  Young ladies were tittering as they spoke in attempted hush tones, behind their fans and over their handkerchiefs. Murmurous words were also running rampant among the gentleman. No doubt Mr. Archer's dramatic rescue and Mr. Dyer's discomposed reaction would be discussed broadly by all throughout the county.

Mr. Archer felt indignant at the lack of compassion so readily visible in the assemblage. Mrs. Dyer had outdone herself in preparing a beautiful evening, but her efforts were now overshadowed as she lay a in a destitute state. Had any other young lady or dandy fallen ill, very few would have batted an eyelash.

"Dyer, should we not seek to place madam in a more comfortable location?" Thomas inquired subtly, attempting to hide the fervency he felt.

Oblivious of being the subject of the on dit, John raised his eyes away from his wife's face and looked plainly at his friend. Noting the veiled stringency of Mr. Archer's request, John seemed to come to his senses. He glanced about the room, noted the loose talk and gossiping proclivities of the guests, and nodded immediately.

"Why, yes, of course," replied John. He immediately turned to the footman and said with a commanding voice "Open these doors and guide Mr. Archer towards the west parlour. There is is settee upon which Mrs. Dyer may be set."

Thomas nodded in ascent and followed the footman forthwith.

"You there," John said, directed to a second footman. "Find Jennings and send him to me at once."

No sooner had Thomas laid Amelia down on the prescribed settee, when both Lottie and Mrs. Moore rushed into the room. 

"Amelia," cried Mrs. Moore, as she knelt down next to her daughter. "I have never seen her in such an insensible state.  She is not prone to fits of nerves."

"It was rather warm in the dining room, Momma," replied Lottie.  "It isn't unusual for the crush to become too much."

"Quite true," conceded Mrs. Moore as she patted her younger daughter's hand. "Amelia has been working so diligently to make this ball a success.  Fatigue may also have been a factor."

Mrs. Moore affectionately stroked Amelia's head causing her eyelids to flutter once more.  Lottie clutched her breast as she regarded her sister.  She placed her reticule on a nearby side table and joined her mother.  Anxiety was evident in both women.  Mrs. Moore rang her kerchief around her fingers, twisting and bundling the tissue, as if worrying it to carry her woes. 

A small whimper erupted from Mrs. Moore's throat and she brought the fabric to her mouth to cover her emission.  If only we had something to revive her, thought Lottie as she watched her mother agonize over her daughter.  Suddenly, triggered by something her her mother's mannerisms, Lottie cried out  and reached for her reticule.

"Oh Lud!  How silly of me!" exclaimed Lottie. "Momma, I carried my vinaigrette tonight!  It is nearly impossible to avoid becoming faint between the heat of the candles, the fetor of the warm bodies in the ballroom, and all the miasma of dyspepsia after such a rich dinner.  I could not bear the thought of being without a olfactory rescue. Small wonder we did not all collapse.   Perhaps it is just what Amelia requires to revive her."

Lottie produced a small, delicate silver box with a chased lid.  Engraved on the top were the initials L.M. showing its ownership.  As she lifted the hinged lid with one finger, a strong fragrance burst forth sending notes of vinegar and lavender from the hidden sponge, through the holes in the intricate foliage design etched on the inner gilded grill, and into the room.  Lottie held the potent portable beneath her sister's nose.

Within moments, the flittering of Amelia's eyelids became more prominent and her breathing quickened.  Encouraged by these signs, Lottie called out her sister's name in a hushed manner.  Finally, Amelia's green eyes sprang open.  Once she espied her mother and sister and the gauged her surroundings, Amelia started.  She tried to raise herself from the chaise, but promptly two set of hands steadied back down. 

Releasing a sigh of frustration and clutching her head, Amelia persisted in her efforts and righted herself.  She felt lightheaded and addled.  Though Amelia could not remember the particulars of the event, she was quite conscious that she had taken quite the spill.  Shadows of images and whispers of her forename were the only fleeting impressions that remained.How foolish I must have looked, she thought.  Thank goodness strong arms were there to catch me. 

Amelia's eyes wandered about the room in the expectation of laying them upon her husband.  She wished dearly to thank him for intercepting her descent, yet John was not present.  Instead in the corner of the room stood Mr. Thomas Archer, the very man with whom Amelia had shared a covert moment.  A sudden blush of realization caused Amelia's cheeks to flare crimson. 

Her eyes flicked towards the gentleman just as he did the same.  Amelia's heart quivered within her chest.  The piercing azure gaze lingered momentarily on her face.   As desperately as Amelia knew she should look away, she could not.  She was transfixed.  It was only when the fussing of her mother and Lottie became too much to bear that Amelia tore her regard away.

Thomas released the breath that had been captive within his chest.  He could make no formal claims towards Mrs. Dyer,  but the tension in Thomas' frame betrayed his wish to say otherwise. The violent shaking of his nerves and the reverberation of his hands was physical proof of his desperately fear of losing the beautiful woman before him. It was then that Thomas realized his ardent admiration of the lady of the house was tiptoeing along a dangerous border. 

Frightened by the intensity of his self-revelation, Thomas sought to quit the room immediately.  Private contemplation would perhaps clear his befogged mind of these mawkish notions.  So enraptured was he in his navel-gazing, Thomas did not see John entering the room as he was trying to exit, causing him to walk straight into his cousin's frame.

"Archer!" exclaimed John. "How my wife yet recovered?" 

Rife with righteous and agonized concern, John's gaze felt oppressive to Thomas as it added to the weight of his inner turmoil.  Thomas could barely stammer a response as he struggled to regain his composure.  Just as his reply crested the tip of his tongue, he was interrupted by a cherubic, ethereal sound that both soothed and fed his discomfiture.

"John," breathed Amelia.  "My darling."  She reached her hand affectionately towards her spouse's and John crossed the room in two strides to grasp it.  John immediately kneeled next to Amelia and placed her hand on his heart. With her other hand, Amelia stroked his cheek gently.

A distinct virescent veil crossed over Thomas' reasoning, and for a moment he longed for nothing more than to drive John away.  Yet, he could not.  Therefore, Thomas simply dropped his gaze to the floor, placed his hands tightly behind his back, and watched mutely at the scene that unfolded. 

"Husband, I am fine to ambulate towards my chambers, I assure you.  Honestly, you would think me but a frail piece of lace ready to blow over with the slightest gust of wind."

The resolve in Mrs. Dyer's voice caused a smile to spread across Thomas' face.  The dynamism of her words clearly had an impact, as he lifted his eyes to witness Amelia rising from her chaise and walking in his direction.  A perfect blaze of determination was present in her eyes as she carried herself across the room without stumbling.

"Momma, Lottie, will you accompany me?" asked Amelia, as the excited the room.  The ladies complied, and soon John and Thomas were left to their own devices.

"The maverick of my fair wife has always astounded me," said John in awe.

"She strikes me as one who's plume is full of pluck," quipped Thomas in reply.  And it is not only you whose heart she makes soar, he thought ruefully.  But I shall learn to clip the wings of my affections before my bird-witted behaviour causes me to fly too closely too the sun.