Verity was napping when she thought she felt someone else enter the grounds but she couldn't be sure. The pregnancy was making her so sleepy anymore that she didn't bother to get up or send an elf, Montague would get it.
When she woke, what was probably hours later, the house was darker than usual, no lamps lit the rooms. Groggily, she rubbed her eyes and set about the tiring task of getting out of bed. First, she went to check on Marlowe and asked if he'd seen Mister Monty at all, which he apologised for not having done.
She wasn't up to searching for him so she called an elf and asked it to light the lamps and request Montague come find her. And something should be done about supper.
Verity hadn't made it far before the elf returned to her, wringing it's hands and clearly in a state of panic.
"Missus, it's Master, he's in the yard, Missus, he be sleeping," the elf explained. Verity looked at the elf and shook her head.
"That's ridiculous, he wouldn't sleep in the yard. Wake him up and tell him to come here."
"'did Missus, Master won't wake up."
The realisation was like ice water pouring over her. She was frozen still for a moment before she ordered the elf to take her to her husband, moving quicker than she knew she was capable of.
When she screamed out his name she barely heard it. Panic was begining to seize her and she fell to his side. She was able to determine he wasn't dead and wasn't waking up before she'd completely lost her mind. "Monty, baby, please wake up, please Monty, don't do this, don't do this," she sobbed. She had enough mental acquity to order the elves to take him to their room, get him into bed, and send for the Healer.
When she was lifting the glass of whiskey up to her lips Ficus reminded her that she was pregnant and couldn't drink. She looked at him as though he were a stranger but nodded hollowly and put the glass back down.