Madelyn moved through the narrow passageway like a phantom until she arrived at Mr Brand's cabin.
She could not sleep. Her mind would not cease conjuring the image of him floating in the water, or the glaring anger she had seen when he held her gaze.
Was he angry with her? Perhaps she had concocted the image, she told herself.
He had refused every tray sent to his cabin. She had overheard Dr O'Brien say that the draught he had been made to drink after he was pulled from the water had done naught but make him even more restless. What was happening to him?
They were worried. All of them. She saw it in their faces, heard it in their lowered voices. Now that unease had settled fully within her own breast. How could she not worry too?
It was perfectly wrong to call upon him at such an ungodly hour, and if they were in society, whatever reputation she had would not survive the relating scandal. But Mr Lawrence had sent her. He was the most worried of all.
