Olivia's brow furrowed and her nose wrinkled as her sister sneezed. She didn't move any nearer but instead remained standing in the doorway. Conflict flickered in the depths of her dark eyes, but ultimately she shook her head slowly and sighed a second time.

"You know how that makes me feel, Pearl," she said, dourly. "Getting sick is a far cry better when it comes to possible outcomes." 

Her expression darkened slightly, her eyes dulling. She was thinking of him again. Absently, she rubbed at her ring finger, upon which rested her engagement ring. It glittered with the dashed hopes that he would return, and that he'd have an impressive story to tell that would make everything okay again. She still dreamt of their wedding, and of the beautiful children they would have brought into this world. Privileged children.

Daring the risk of being inflicted with Pearl's affliction, the wraith of a woman moved to sit upon the armchair furthest away from her sister. She'd thinned considerably since being left at the alter, depression and worry eating at every fiber of her being. Yet still, she waited. Often, Olivia was found at the harbor, dockside and watching sailors and travelers unladen ships. 

"I stayed home today, just to have tea with you. There were two ships arriving this morning, and he could have been on one of them. Now I'll have to scour the taverns and inns." Those were the other places the socialite frequented, though she never left with anyone. First, the scandal wouldn't do. Second, what if he walked in from a late-arriving vessel and saw her with another man? What if people began to talk?