Penelope shifted again, pressing a hand against the mattress as she attempted to sit upright. A faint ache travelled through her back, and she paused, waiting for it to subside before finally settling against the pillows.
She felt as though she had been asleep for a week.
Her gaze drifted toward the bedside table. The medicine bottle stood precisely where Doctor Henry had left it, beside the empty glass of water. Her eyes lingered upon it for a moment before she looked away.
She would have to speak with him.
She would have to ask him about her condition, about the medicine, and perhaps about the conversation they had shared before she fell asleep.
Penelope pressed her lips together. Perhaps she had been too quick to suspect him. Perhaps she had simply been searching for something that was not there.
But the uneasiness had not entirely left her.
She glanced toward the window again. The sunlight had grown brighter.
And then—
The garden gathering.
