He was a beautiful boy, but everything had always been wrong with him. And his infirmities had terrified his father. And now, in spite of himself, seeing the look of anguish in Teddy's eyes touched Gordon. He couldn't put off telling him the truth anymore, but he didn't want to be responsible for impacting his health. Teddy's existence always seemed to hang by a thread, and Gordon didn't want to be the one to sever his lifeline with disastrous news about the mother he adored.

“She had an accident,” Gordon said in a low voice, and he could hear Teddy catch his breath, without looking at him. He couldn't bear the sight of what he knew he would see in the boy's eyes.

“Is she all right?” Teddy's voice was the merest whisper. He already knew something was wrong, but was terrified of what his father would say to him.

“She will be all right, I hope. We don't know yet. She's very ill. I'm sorry,” Gordon said stiffly, but at least Teddy didn't cry. He just sat there breathing carefully and watching his father, as he waited for more.

“You can't let her die,” he said in a whisper, as though Gordon had some power to change it.

“It's not in my control. You know I don't want anything to happen to her.” But the look in Teddy's eyes spoke volumes. He knew too much about his mother's unhappiness, although she had never explained it to him. It was the second time in two days that someone had accused Gordon of being unkind to Isabelle, and he didn't like it.

“Is that why Sophie is coming home?” Teddy asked, and Gordon nodded. He sat across the room from the boy. It never dawned on him to walk across the room and put his arms around him. It would have been totally foreign to him to do anything like that, unlike Isabelle, who would have been holding Teddy close to her then, if Gordon had had the accident instead. Even Gordon knew that. “I want to go to London with Sophie, or with you,” Teddy said with a determined look. “When are you going back?” He was sure he would. He couldn't bear the thought of his mother being there alone.

“I don't know,” Gordon said honestly. “I thought I should come home to you.” Teddy didn't acknowledge what he said. He was still trying to absorb and assimilate what his father had just told him. Gordon was stunned and impressed that the boy wasn't crying. Teddy was braver than he'd thought.

“I want to talk to her. Can we call her now?” Teddy asked, and his father shook his head.

“No, we can't. She's been unconscious since the accident. She's in a coma, from a blow to her head.”

“Oh, no!” Teddy said, suddenly envisioning her as desperately injured as she was, and he started to cry finally. The full impact had suddenly hit him. “I want to go now,” he said, looking agitated.

“She won't know you're there,” Gordon said practically, “and it wouldn't be good for you. You're not strong enough to make the trip.” It was a reality of Teddy's life, no matter how sick his mother was, or how dire her condition. A trip to London was not an option for Teddy.

“Yes, I am strong enough,” Teddy said ferociously, wiping his eyes bravely. “She needs us at the hospital with her. She's always there for me. We can't leave her alone, Papa. We can't do that to her.” He suddenly looked like a child again as he cried, feeling helpless.

“Let's wait until Sophie gets home,” Gordon said, looking tired. “Why don't you go upstairs and rest? This isn't good for you,” he told him, as though he were an adult, but Teddy didn't care. All he wanted now was to go to his mother's side. Nothing was going to stop him. He was still talking about it as he walked to the little elevator they'd mounted for him at the side of the stairs. It had been there for years. And as Teddy lay on his bed, talking to the nurse, once he got back to his room, his eyes were wild. He couldn't stop talking, and after dinner, the nurse took his temperature and he had a fever. He had gotten too excited, which was dangerous for him. It was precisely the kind of reaction Gordon had expected Teddy to have when he heard the news.

Teddy was still wide awake when Sophie came home late that night. She had managed to catch an eight o'clock flight, and by midnight, she was back in Paris.

Gordon was waiting up for her, and he met her in the front hall when he heard the car outside. She catapulted into his arms the moment she saw him and started crying.

“Oh, Papa … please don't let her die….” He had never seen her so upset, understandably, and as soon as she'd calmed down a little bit, she went upstairs to see Teddy. He was waiting for her in his bed. And the two embraced as though they hadn't seen each other in years. The most terrible, unthinkable thing had happened to them. Neither of them could imagine it. It was beyond bearing, beyond thinking. They cried for a long time in each other's arms, until their father finally walked into the room, looking exhausted. The emotions of the day had taken a toll on him, as well as his children.

“I'm coming to London with you to see Mom,” Teddy said to Sophie quietly, as their father stood watching them, looking grim. Their reaction had been even worse than he'd feared.

“I don't think he should,” Gordon said somberly. “It'll just make him sicker than he is.” He spoke of Teddy as though he couldn't hear him.

“Mom wouldn't like that,” Sophie said, smoothing her brother's tousled hair, and just touching him, she could feel he was too warm. “She'd be very upset if you got sick, and that won't be good for her when she wakes up,” Sophie said sensibly, stressing the word “when” and not “if.” Teddy looked at her with huge eyes.

“I want to see her anyway, even if she's in a coma. She'll know I'm there.” It was the same theory Bill had, but their father didn't agree. He thought that Teddy's seeing her was pointless.

“She doesn't know anyone's there,” Gordon said calmly. He was sure of that, he didn't believe that people in comas heard things, or sensed what was happening. Especially after seeing her, he was convinced that was nonsense, and he was not going to allow the boy to go. It would be insane, and too great a risk for anyone to take him there, he was much too frail to travel, or even leave the house.

“Then why are you going if she won't know you're there?” Teddy asked Sophie pointedly.

“She's not sick,” Gordon said sensibly. “And I think she should. I'll stay here with you.”

“You're not going back, Papa?” Sophie looked shocked, but didn't say anything when he shook his head.

“Not yet. I'll wait till you come home. You can go tomorrow for the day if you want, or spend the night, whatever you prefer.”

“I thought I'd stay a little while, maybe a few days.”

“We'll see how she is, but don't stay too long,” Gordon said, and then left the room. He had no intention of being alone in the house with his son for an extended period of time. He wanted Sophie to take over his care, and she couldn't do that if she was in London with her mother.

Sophie slept in Teddy's bed that night, with her arms around him, and she got up early the next day while he was still asleep. She showered and dressed, and she was ready to leave for the airport by the time he woke up.

“Are you going now?” he asked sleepily. “I want to come.” But he was too tired and weak to move. The night before had taken a toll on him, and he looked less well than he had in a long time.

“I'll be back soon,” Sophie whispered, and then left his room. She went to say good-bye to her father, but he had already left for the bank. A ticket had been arranged for her the night before, and she had a reservation at Claridge's. She knew the name of the hospital where her mother was. St. Thomas' Hospital. And she still had money left over from her trip. Her father's driver was waiting for her outside, and half an hour later she was at Roissy There had been no traffic at all. And Sophie looked far calmer and more mature than she felt.

Her flight landed at noon local time, and a car from Claridge's drove her straight to the hospital. She felt very grown up going there, in a simple navy dress and a pair of shoes her mother had bought for her. Her hair was pulled back, and she was well dressed, but to anyone who saw her, even at eighteen she looked like a child, with huge frightened eyes filled with sorrow.

The nurses smiled at her when she spoke to them at the desk. She explained who she was, and one of them took her straight to her mother's room. The door across the hall was open, and she saw a man watching her. He had no other choice, they had turned him on his side, and he was looking toward the door, unable to move.

Cautiously, she stepped into her mother's room and was instantly shocked by what she saw there. Her mother looked deathly pale, with a huge bandage on her head. A respirator was breathing for her, and there were monitors and tubes coming from every part of her. Sophie's eyes filled with tears as she approached the bed, and she stood there for a long time just looking at her and touching her hand, and then finally a nurse pulled a chair up to the bed for her, and Sophie sat down. Instinctively, Sophie started talking to Isabelle, hoping that somewhere, somehow, she could hear her. She told her how much she loved her, and begged her to live. There was no sign of life from Isabelle. The only thing that moved was the respirator, and the little lines of light on the monitors. There was no other sound or movement in the room. Her mother looked even more terrifying than she'd expected. It was hard to believe she'd survive it.

Sophie sat there for a long time, and then finally, around four o'clock, she walked out of the room. The same man who had watched her go in was looking at her again. The nurses had told him who she was, but he would have known anyway. She looked like a very young Isabelle.