The commotion from the rout still gathered in the dining room rang in Amelia's ears as she ascended the stairs.  The banister steadied her progress, though she occasionally reached for Lottie's hand for strength.  Amelia did not feel feverish or unwell, merely weary and disheveled.  The simple act of breathing felt labourious and stilted within her chest.  She paused as she crested the landing, placing her hand on the polished newel post to steady her swaying.  Lottie placed her hand on her sister's lower back and gripped her arm lightly.

"Let us progress just a little further, dear sister," said Lottie. "You may lie down and rest in your chambers." 

Amelia nodded weakly.  She allowed her sister to guide her forward.  Their mother followed silently. Once the trio of women arrived in the bedchamber they noted that Anna, Amelia's lady's maid, was already present and ready to assist in the disrobing process.  Collectively the women removed Amelia's gown carefully.  Anna arranged the fabric perfectly for storage.  Lottie loosened Amelia's stays allowing a refreshing rush of air to enter her lungs.  Immediately Amelia began to feel unburdened physically, but her mental fatigue became more apparent as each additional layer was removed. 

When she had been stripped of all but her shift, Amelia sat down in front of her dresser.  The pallor of her complexion was impressed upon her as she regarded her reflection.  In fact, she looked downright sallow in the dim light of the table lamps.  It is scarce wonder that I did not frighten the guests away, thought Amelia.  She sighed deeply and dropped her gaze to where her hands sat in her lap.

Mrs. Moore gingerly took off Amelia's jewels and placed them in a nearby velveteen lined box on her dresser.  Anna set to removing the removing the ornate twists in Amelia's hair.  Amelia watched in the reflective glass as her long tresses began to fall around her shoulders.  She was mesmerized as each strand unfolded, releasing the tension from its elaborate placement, twisting and undulating downwards.  When all the pieces had fallen free, Anna kindly offered the brush to Lottie, who then began the process of brushing out her long locks.

The strain of the evening's events began to dissipate from Amelia's shoulders with each stroke across her scalp.  Long, slow tears flowed down Amelia's cheeks further allowing her agitation to ebb away into the camaraderie of sisterly love.  Wiping away the offending rivulets with her handkerchief, Amelia looked up at Lottie and made a simple request.

"This reminds me of days past, sister.  Would you plait my hair like we did when we were girls?"

"Certainly," replied Lottie as she deftly separated Amelia's hair into sections and began to intertwine them as requested.  A ribbon of simple fabric was used to tie the ends together.  Once Lottie was finished, Anna started to place a plain looking night cap over her madam's head.  Amelia gently pushed her hands aside.

"Not tonight, Anna.  I wish to feel free."

"As you wish, Madam," Anna said with a nod.  "If there is nothing else you will be needing, I shall excuse myself."

"Thank you, Anna.  Please gather the items you require, and when you are finished you may let the master know he is welcome to enter."

"Yes, Madam."  Anna bowed neatly and did as she was told.

"Momma, may I have my dressing gown?"

Mrs. Moore located the requested item and brought it over to cover her daughter's shoulders.  The simply cut and demure fabric was a stark contrast to her beautiful ball gown.  Yet, the presence of the well-loved garment comforted Amelia, reminding her of the blessings of sleep that she so vehemently desired at this moment.

"Sleep! by any stealth: So do not let me wear tonight away.  Without thee what is all the morning's wealth?" quoted Amelia.

"Wordsworth.  Only you would be reciting poetry at this hour," chided Lottie.

"A romantic view, I must confess," countered Amelia, "but it should not surprise you that my heart does the speaking, dear sister.  You know me too well."

"That I do, sister."  Lottie guided her sister towards the bed, and tucked her tightly underneath the sheets.  "Do you require anything else?"

"Only to ask that you please resume my duties as hostess for tonight.  I shall be grieved to hear that the mirth evening has been halted simply because I did not have the fortitude or aptitude to remain in good standing."

"You health should not be a matter of such jokes, Amelia," disciplined Mrs. Moore. "My nerves have been shaken and I would not see impropriety worsen their plight."

"I did not mean to make light, Momma," replied Amelia, trying to hide a smile that threatened to crest her lips.

Just at that moment, John entered the room.  Startled momentarily by the presence of his in-laws, he bowed civilly before crossing the room quickly to be at his wife's side.  Sensing that they were no longer required, both of the Moore women curtseyed politely and quitted the room.

"Have you recovered, my darling?" inquired John.  He placed Amelia's hand within his own and caressed the delicate skin.  "You gave us quite a scare."

"As well as a trifle of excitement, I imagine."

"That too," replied John with a smile. "I dare say Mr. Archer was quite taken aback."

"Yes, poor Mr. Archer," commiserated Amelia. "I am always surprised at the effect I have on him." And the effect he has on me, Amelia finished inwardly.

"His nerves have gotten the better of him this evening.  He dismissed himself to his chambers after you withdrew to yours."

"How very unfortunate, as there are no sweet dance partners there," Amelia quipped.  

"There will be future opportunities, I am sure."

"Too true, husband," agreed Amelia.  The sooner Mr. Archer aligns himself with some young blossom, the sooner whatever transpired between us will be nipped in the bud she thought.

"Enough talk of Mr. Archer," interjected John.  "Tell me, darling, how do you feel?  I have had Jennings summon the doctor but he may not arrive until morning."

"I am bone weary, husband.  I feel as if I could sleep for days unimpeded."

"Then let us get you rest.  Shall I have Hill prepare you a drought of laudanum?"

"That will not be necessary.  I have never cared for laudanum.  Far too many have fallen victim to its seductive powers.  I would rather keep what little wits I have about me intact."

"You are always so full of resolution, Amelia," said John with a smile.  He lightly brushed a few stray strands away from her face. "Even when you are ill, your strength is greater than many men I know."

"And you should do well to not forget it," Amelia quipped.

"Yes, my darling."  John stared lovingly at Amelia's face for a moment and then gently placed a chaste kiss on her pale lips. "Shall I leave you now? The ball is still going strong, and I wouldn't want to make a poor showing."

"No, please linger a little while longer."

"I can certainly assent to your request."  John softly placed his hand against his wife's cheek.  Amelia cupped it within hers as she lay on the pillow.  She closed her eyes .  Amelia caressed the tops of John's fingers so gently that it felt like fairy wings dancing across his skin.  He sighed deeply.

Seconds passed and John watched Amelia's eyes flutter ever so slightly before they stilled.  Her breathing became slow and regular.  When her hand lost all tension, John knew that his wife was well and truly asleep. He rose from his seat, placed a kiss on her forehead and exited the room.  

The peaceful slumber that had so consumed Amelia brought with it vivid dreams.  Amelia imagined herself running and laughing through a deep and green forest.  Her footfalls sounded out clearly in the quiet of the woodland scenery.  Amelia pictured herself gaily running and darting between the strong trunks of the trees.  Her feet seemed familiar with the path, and she was able to easily find her footing despite the prominent tree roots that stuck out from the ground, threatening to trip her.

Amelia laughed freely as the coolness of the air filled her lungs.  Her chest burned and ached with effort, yet she did not slow down.  The game was afoot and she did not wish to be caught.  Just as she felt like she could run no further, Amelia heard laughter from behind.  The sweet, innocent laughter of a child.  Her child.

Amelia threw herself behind the nearest tree.  Her heart pounded and her chest heaved from her activity.  It was there that she rested and waited for her pursuer to capture her.  It did not take long before a young boy came into sight.  He could not have been more than five or six.  His white linen suit, comprised of breeches, light ruffled shirt and blue sash fit him perfectly.  His light brown tresses fell around his head like a halo.  Yet his face was still too far away for Amelia to distinguish his features.

"I see you, Momma," called the boy, cheerful.

"So you do, my son.  Now I shall chase you."

The boy turned and started to run.  His laughter rang out perfectly.  Amelia was amazed that it had not been muffled by the undergrowth.  A deep well of pleasure bubbled up inside her and her own laughter intermingled into the air.  She ran and ran, chasing after the ephemeral figure that darted back and forth in front of her.

Finally, after what seemed like ages, Amelia caught her prize.  They tumbled to the ground in a vigorous embrace, not caring that their white outfits were now soiled or that twigs had lodged themselves in their hair.   What mattered was the love and the happiness they felt playing together, laughing in tandem, as breaks of sunshine peeked through the leafy cover to stroke their faces. 

Amelia enveloped her son within her arms.  He squirmed and squealed but soon acquiesced, allowing her to kiss his curls.  Amelia determinedly placed her hands on either side of his face and drew it up towards hers.  Her son's gentle features and cherubic lips were drawn back in a smile.  He gazed at his mother, full of affection, and it made Amelia's heart soar. 

She desired to this moment to last eternally, but her son would not be restrained.  He wiggled out of her arms and ran off into the clearing at the edge of the forest.  His small frame disappeared into the long tall grass that grew there, and Amelia took off in pursuit.  The sun hit her face in full force as she lumbered into the clearing, blinding her with bright light.  Amelia could no longer see her son yet she could hear him.  She ran and ran until she could run no more, but his laughter grew fainter and she never seemed to catch him.  Amelia's heart sank and she became frantic, searching and searching as the grass seemed to grow taller around her.

Amelia awoke with a start.  The sheets were tangled around her limbs and her skin was damp in her bed clothes.  A distinct chill traced down her spine.  Slow burning embers were all that was left in the fire place and they were insufficient in providing warmth. 

Amelia slipped out of bed, grabbing a cover and wrapping herself in it.  She placed a new log on the fire and poked the embers to ignite them.  She watched as small flames encircled the edges of the wood and then caught it alight.  As each flame rose and licked around the timber, Amelia willed them to thaw her core.  She felt entranced by soothing crackling emitted by the fireplace, yet the orange and yellow vision could not erase the vivid memory of the boy in her dreams.

He was so beautiful, so perfect. 

And his eyes were a piercing blue.