“What’s wrong with her?”

“I’m honestly not sure. Her fits have been steadily worsening for the past week and she spends all her time in bed, mostly sleeping. She’s developed a fever, too.”

“Has the doctor come by today?”

“Yes, sir. Once this morning.”

“Well, get him back out here, damnit!”

“Yes, sir. Right away.”

The conversation had been brief and, though Isabella was in a drowsy stupor, she could tell by the voices alone it had been her father and Heidi that stood by the bed discussing the illness. Heidi was right, she had been bedridden nearly the whole time since the fight with her father and the removal of any communication from Violet. Of course, he’d gone on business the day after and didn’t even bother to stop by her room beforehand. Not that seeing her in this state would’ve changed his mind on anything.

He would probably say she was a “silly girl” who simply needed to get over it. But she couldn’t just get over it. And, even if she suddenly didn’t miss her friend so much it hurt, her body’s decline felt like it was going to continue, anyway. After they left, and Isabella heard the door shut, she turned over, and wrapped her arms tight around her bear and an extra pillow. She wasn’t really comfortable but tried to go to sleep again, anyway. Perhaps in her dreams, she could be with Violet once more.

Dreams didn’t come though, only nightmares, just like every time she closed her eyes. Flashes of Violet did show up but they were never good. It was Violet crying at her desk, clutching the last letter Isabella sent and wondering why they suddenly stopped. Or Violet furiously tearing her collection of letters to shreds after they stopped coming, only for them to be unceremoniously dumped in a garbage pail. Each one was a reflection of the same fear, that Violet would come to hate her in time. If only she could’ve written one more, just one more to explain everything, to set Violet free and stop the threat of those tears.

The doctor did come again that day, and the next, and the next. Until the decision was made to take Isabella to a hospital. Of course, not just any hospital would do, not for the daughter of Richard York. It had to be the finest that her father’s money could buy. Which meant one thing, it had to be in the capitol.

The journey was uncomfortable, even if her father had rented out a luxurious train car for their travel. However, it was the same as at his estate, she mostly slept in between fits and thought of Violet always. Whatever illness took hold continued to worsen during their travels too. So much so that her father actually accompanied her and even managed to look concerned every once and a while. However, that was probably more due to the potential loss of a powerful marriage should the worst come to pass.

When they arrived in Leiden, Isabella was whisked away to the hospital and underwent a battery of tests to try and determine what was wrong with her, in addition to being poked and prodded with just about every device imaginable. Not to mention the awful-tasting medicine that was constantly shoved down her throat.

Still, there bloomed a faint glimmer of happiness no matter how fleeting. She was as close to Violet as she had been since the doll left all those months ago. So close. If only she could reach her, if only she could tell Violet she was here and finally get a letter to her after weeks with nothing.

Eventually, the doctors and nurses managed to stabilize Isabella’s descent but that’s where her health remained. In a valley showing no signs of actual improvement. Though her father accompanied her to Leiden, she began to suspect it wasn’t wholly for concern out of her, or his legacy, more accurately.

He spent more time away than with her, attending meetings with more important people, no doubt. But all this time alone gave her an opportunity to think, to form the tiniest thought and nurture it until it grew into the semblance of a plan. It was that flicker of hope that kept her going, that made her not want to completely give up. So, when her father returned from another trip, Isabella set her plan into motion.

“I want to write a letter,” Isabella said out of the blue. Her father sat in a chair in the corner, reading the newspaper in a rare moment of relaxation and he barely moved in response to the request.

“Isabella, you won’t manipulate my sympathy. You will not write that girl,” he said gruffly before returning his attention to his reading.

How could her father still be so hateful, even now? To deny her this? But that was alright, she had anticipated as much. “Not to Violet. To my other friend, Ashley Lancaster.”

This was met with a grunt of thought and her father fell silent but at least he hadn’t dismissed it wholesale. He was probably weighing the benefits and risks of letting Isabella write to a powerful and wealthy family, especially the eldest daughter. Eventually, he sighed and folded the paper to regard her properly.

“I suppose that would be acceptable, but you’re in no condition to write.”

“Get me a doll.”

And then his expression turned from exasperation to annoyance. “Do you think I’m so stupid, girl? That I would let you bring her here instead of writing to her?”

“Whoever, it doesn’t matter,” Isabella protested before leaning forward and coughing into her hand.

“Fine,” he said and then stood from his chair. “I will find you a doll not associated with that damned company and you will not do anything behind my back, do you understand?”

“Yes, father.” Isabella even managed to sound halfway convincing and even accompanied the words with an obedient nod. At least by now, he stopped outwardly threatening Taylor’s wellbeing, the consequences were well understood by this point.

—

“Hello, my name is Luculia,” the young woman said before grabbing her skirt and performing a curtsey. “How may I be of service, Miss York?”

Miss York. It sounded different coming from her guest but the memory of the words spoken by Violet threatened to overwhelm her before they even started. So, this was the doll her father sent for? She stood in the doorway to Isabella’s private room, hands clasped in front of a soft green dress where they held a bag. For her typewriter, no doubt. She was pretty, too. Her red hair flowed freely around her shoulders and she wore a warm smile. However, all Isabella could feel was a profound sadness that it wasn’t her doll.

“Hello,” Isabella croaked out as she sat up straighter in the bed. “Please, come in.”

Luculia did so without delay and then stopped at the foot of Isabella’s bed before setting her things down. “Your father tells me you wish to write a letter to a friend?”

“Something like that; however, before we get started, I have a question.”

“Oh, alright. You may ask it.”

“Do you know Violet Evergarden? She’s a doll here in Leiden, I know she doesn’t work with you but I had hoped your paths had crossed.”

Hearing Violet’s name only deepened the smile on Luculia’s face before she nodded. “I do, Violet is a dear friend. We actually went through training together, if you can believe it.”

Isabella’s eyes lit up like they hadn’t in weeks at hearing the good news. Finally, finally, something had gone her way! She’d done it, she found one of Violet’s friends and could hopefully accomplish what she set out to do.

“Do you know Violet, too?” Luculia’s expression shifted to one of curiosity and her eyes looked over Isabella with renewed attention.

“I do,” Isabella confirmed. “She is very precious to me and I have the most important letter to send her.”

—

“Are you sure this is the letter you wish to send?” Luculia asked before handing the draft to Isabella for review.

Isabella took it but nodded anyway, without even having to read it. “Yes, this is how it has to be.”

In the end, it didn’t take long for the two women to write out what needed to be said. Isabella had also managed to secure assurances that Luculia would seek Violet out to deliver the letter, not that it had taken much convincing once she came to understand who Isabella was and what she might mean to Violet.

Now that everything was written, Luculia began packing up and Isabella leaned back into the pillows to try and catch her breath. She had talked too much and was now paying the price for it. A price that was worth it of course, but one that took a toll on her body.

That exhaustion only deepened when her father reappeared in the doorway to her room, ensuring that Luculia could not get around if need be. “Young lady,” he said, addressing the doll and bringing her attention to him.

“Yes, Mister York?”

“I’ll have that letter, please.” Following his words, he extended his hand and wiggled his fingers impatiently.

Luculia seemed surprised by the request and didn’t move the hand that contained the envelope. After a second, she looked to Isabella who only nodded that it was alright. Still, Luculia was obviously reluctant but ultimately did what was asked of her.

Richard practically snatched the letter from her hands and slipped a finger beneath the sealed flap. He unceremoniously retrieved the paper from inside and then unfolded it to read. His face remained placid throughout, the only movement on his face the piercing brown eyes that went back and forth.

When he finished, he grunted his acknowledgment and then handed the letter back to the doll. “Really, Isabella? No mention of your fiancé? The word needs to get out.”

“Yes, father. Next time…”