“There’s my good girl,” Mrs. Jamison said, just as if Lillian had been a child. “Come now, and lie down in the nice warm bed. Have no worries for your charges. Mr. Jamison will keep them safe.”
Lillian cuddled down in flannel sheets that smelled of lavender and cinnamon. In spite of the many crowding uncertainties, she fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.
Chapter 49
Sebastian eyed the London watch captain with suspicion. The wild stories he had heard thus far gave him no confidence that this would be a credible narration. But the man had ridden up from London, which was at least a two-day journey, and he had been through a great deal.
“Tea and toasted bread for the Captain,” Sebastian directed. “And undo the shackles on his hands.”
The captain bit hungrily into the bread, and washed it down with a swig of tea. Then he began talking.
“I was called to the Clottrahorn manor the night that Charles Newman was poisoned. When I arrived, he had been dead for over an hour. His sister, brother-in-law and mother were there, as was Lady Tabitha, his sister-in-law. She seemed very calm and collected, if a little pale. But when we asked to speak to Lady Lillian, she was nowhere to be found. It was several hours before it was discovered that a horse was gone from the stables. By then, the tracks had been trampled over, so we were forced to resort to asking questions.”
The Captain took another sip of sea, and a bite of bread, chewed and swallowed. “Meanwhile, I started asking about Lord Clottrahorn and learned some very curious things. It seems that he had been involved in some very odd sorts of political dealings, with Prinny’s blessing.”
“Oh? Odd enough to make enemies?”
“Oh, yes. Several of them. I’m afraid I can’t give you the particulars. Confidentiality, and all that. But the part that will be important to you and to Lady Lillian is that someone got to Lady Tabitha, and started simultaneously feeding her a nasty mix of arsenic and opium, along with nasty little whispers against her sister. It wasn’t too long before Lady Tabitha would do almost anything for her medicine.”
“Curious,” Sebastian said. “Do go on.”
The very interesting part is that my informant was able to ascertain that the same substance that was being fed to Lady Tabitha had been added to the wine Lord Charles drank – except in a much higher dose than was being given the lady.”
“Deliberate, do you think?”
“Oh, certainly.”
“Do I have the perpetrator of this deed in custody?”
“You do. Do not think that Lady Tabitha’s death was an accident. She was forcefully pushed. I saw it.”
“Sarah.”
“The one and the same. She and Constable Michaels are in this up to their elbows and then some.”
Sebastian tapped his fingers on the arm of his chair. “Very curious,” he said. “Very curious indeed.” He turned to one of the footmen who were standing duty nearby. “Run down to Dr. Gavril’s dispensary and see if he is in. Ask him if he would come up to the castle, if he is not too busy.”
The young footman bowed and walked out briskly. Sebastian leaned forward, “Tell me, Captain, have I inappropriately incarcerated any of your men?”
“Only Inspector Michaels, Your Grace. He is completely innocent of any wrong-doing. The men you flagged out were late hires brought in by Constable Michaels. You have saved me the trouble of formally reading them out of the service.”
“And Billy Bob?”
“A street thug with a price on his head. You could make a pretty penny by claiming his capture.”
Sebastian shuddered. “Donate it to the poor house. Goodness knows, they need it. I would feel as if my entire holding were compromised if I kept it.”
“It shall be as you say, Your Grace.”
There was a slight stir at the far end of the dining room, Evans ushered Dr. Gavril over to Sebastian. “You sent for me, Your Grace? Who is hurt?”
“That is a good question, Dr. Gavril. One that I hope you can answer. Evans, would you be so kind as to ask Mrs. Blanchard to have Miss Doyle’s medicine brought down?”
“At once, Your Grace.” Mrs. Blanchard hurried away.
“Is there a problem with the medicine, Your Grace?” Dr. Gavril looked puzzled.
“That is a good question, physician.” Sebastian smiled lazily at him. “Do you have a sample of the medicine you prescribed for Miss Doyle?”
“Of course. It is the same medicine I gave to everyone in the village. It is a tincture of poppy, plus just a trace of arsenic to help kill the humors of the disease.”
“Could it be dangerous in excess doses?”
“Quite, Your Grace. As you probably already know, there are many medical and alchemical compounds that can be beneficial in small amounts but that are lethal when misapplied.”
Mrs. Blanchard came hurrying back in with the bottle from Lillian’s room. She handed it to Sebastian, who then handed it to the physician.
“Can I take this back to my dispensary?” Dr. Gavril asked.
“I would rather it not leave my sight,” Sebastian answered.
“You are not used to being so suspicious, Your Grace. It will be difficult to manage the compounds without my tools.”
Sebastian shrugged. “Recent events have proven that there are those who can be trusted and those who seem trustworthy, but are not. Perhaps we can supply what you need from the kitchen distillery?”
Dr. Gavril seemed to think that over for a moment. “I believe so.” He turned to Mrs. Blanchard and gave her a list of the vessels, spices, and other items that could be found in the distillery where essential oils and alchohols were produced for culinary use.
Sebastian sighed, and poured himself another cup of tea. It was nearly the last in the pot. “Evans, could I get a pot of that India black tea? Brewed extra stout? Bring up some mint in a separate pot. I think this might turn into a long morning. I think I heard the village roosters crowing not long ago.”
Evans nodded, and turned to comply.
“One more thing, Evans. Could you have Inspector Michaels, my captain of the guard, and the village constable brought in? This is becoming quite complex. Oh, yes. And send down to the parsonage and ask for Miss Doyle to come here when she wakes. But on no account is she to be disturbed if she is resting peacefully.”
“Gladly, Your Grace,” was Evans relieved response. “I know she has not been sleeping well, and has been plagued with nightmares since she was taken ill.”
“Hmmm,” said Dr. Gavril, fixing his gaze on Sebastian’s face. “How very interesting.”
Chapter 50
Lillian woke, feeling clearheaded and refreshed. For a moment, she did not remember where she was. Then the sweet scent of lavender and cinnamon reminded her. She was in the spare bedroom in the parsonage. She felt well-rested for the first time in weeks, perhaps even months.
She lay still for a moment before the memory of recent events began trickling back into her consciousness. But now, it was more like a shadow play, something that had happened to someone else. In her mind, she knew that the events were real. Her sister was dead, and someone had tried to set the castle on fire.
Out in the other room, she could hear the piping of childish voices as Luke and Nick played some sort of word game. Now and then she could hear the parson’s clear tenor. He must be playing with them.
Lillian swung her feet out of bed, and stood up. She clung for a moment to the newel post at the foot of the bed as the room spun around her a little bit. As she stood, it steadied and she could see a fresh wrapper laid out on a chair nearby. On another chair, some of her own clothes were laid out neatly.
Lillian pulled on the wrapper and stepped to the door. Parson Jamison and the boys were sitting around a game board on the hearth. Three large chairs and two stools were placed behind them, but it looked as if they had chosen to be seated on the floor because it brought them closer to the board.
“There you are, Miss Lillian,” the parson exclaimed. “
I was just teaching the boys how to play fox and geese. Word has it from the castle that if you are up to it, you should go up. The Duke has been interviewing people, and he has news that he thinks you should hear.”
An icy feeling of dread ran down Lillian’s spine. Even though Tabitha had confessed to killing Charles, Lillian was by no means certain that she was no longer wanted.
Mrs. Jamison came in from the kitchen carrying a tray laden with a tea service for five. “You are up, Miss Lillian! How are you feeling?”
“Much better, thank you. I think your cambric tea is better medicine than that the physician gave me.”
“I would not doubt it. Physicians deal in strong medicine, an’ scorns the old ways of herbs an’ gentle drinks. You come now and have your tea, then I’ll help you get dressed. The kitchen lad can run up to the castle and get them to bring down the sleigh for you. It is snowing again.”
“Again? I think it will never end,” Lillian sighed.
“You must have faith,” the parson looked up from the board game, “The Lord moves in mysterious ways . . .”
“His wonders to reveal,” Lillian finished the quotation somewhat acidly. “My old nurse used to say that to me all the time, especially when there was something that I wanted to do but it was forbidden to me because I was a girl. But I will tell you that I never found it all that comforting for it usually meant that there was something that I was not going to get to do or that something bad had happened.”
“Snow is just snow,” Mrs. Jamison said, setting down the tea tray, before her husband could quote anything else. “Drink up your tea and have a biscuit or two, Miss Doyle. The duke sent down a generous case of cinnamon a year or two ago when the shipping was still open. I’ve grated some into these. That should make them extra flavorful.”
Lillian sipped the cup of tea that Mrs. Jamison had prepared. It was brewed stout, with just a trace of cinnamon and cloves in it. “This is very good,” she said.
Mrs. Jamison nodded. “It warms the soul as well as the body.”
The biscuits were good, too. After Lillian had shamelessly eaten five of the sugary rounds of cinnamon flavored deliciousness, she retired to the little bedroom where Mrs. Jamison helped her into the simple clothing that Martha Louisa had sent down.
“Such a good, practical girl, Martha Louisa,” Mrs. Jamison said. “Always working hard, always thinking of others.”
“I find her a great deal of fun, as well,” Lillian said. “It isn’t too many maids who would have kept quiet about the young gentlemen’s caged mouse.”
“Oh, dear no. But that’s Martha Louisa. Now, I think we have you ready, and I believe I hear the sleigh bells.”
It was indeed the sleigh, drawn by two red oxen whose breath plumed in the winter air as if they were breathing fire. Lillian wore the fleece lined leather cloak over her woolen dress and flannel petticoats, and someone had thoughtfully provided hot bricks for her feet and a warm laprobe.
As soon as she was settled, the driver gave a chirrup to the team, and they set off up the drive to the castle. When they arrived in the courtyard, the falling white crystals had completely covered it, hiding the last remains of the bonfire as well as the stains on the paving stones where her sister had died.
Lillian swallowed hard, blinked twice, but pulled herself together and stepped out of the sleigh. Evans was on hand to take her cloak and to usher her into the big dining room.
The castle windows were closed again, and only the faintest scent of smoke could be detected over the usual scents of beeswax, strewing herbs and aromatic wood. The Duke slouched in his big wooden chair, looking as if he was nearly asleep. Has he been to bed at all yet? He looks so tired.
In a far corner, well away from the fireplace, Dr. Gavril was doing something that involved glass cylinders and alembics. He had just finished adding something to a bottle that turned pale orange.
The Duke pushed himself to his feet, and came toward her, both hands outstretched. “Lillian! You look fresh and rested.”
Lillian gave both her gloved hands to him. “I wish I could say the same of you, Your Grace. Have you gotten any sleep at all?”
“I’ve napped a little in my chair. But I have much news for you.”
Lillian then realized that the Captain from London, the Duke’s captain of the guard, and Inspector Michaels sat at a low table near the Duke’s chair and that none of them were shackled.
“It is a long tale, Lady Lillian, but I think that you will want to hear it for yourself. Especially since there are a few parts of it which we have not yet pieced together. It is my hope that you will be able to fill those in.”
“I will do what I can, Your Grace,” Lillian replied. “But I am not sure what help I can lend.”
“Let’s begin with what Dr. Gavril has to tell us.”
Dr. Gavril left the glass container with its steaming orange contents on the table, and accompanied them back to the table that was drawn up near the fire. The castle felt cold after the cozy warmth of the parsonage, but the blaze on the giant hearth was doing a great deal to improve the heat in the area.
“Your Grace, if I may, I’d like to start with asking Miss Doyle some questions. Have you been having nightmares of late?”
“Yes, I have. Rather horrid ones, in fact.”
“How did you feel during the day?”
“Tired. But I’ve been ill most of the time since I arrived in the castle, especially during the last three weeks.”
“Indeed you have been. Nor is it surprising considering the ordeal you have been through. But we shall get back to that.” Dr. Gavril paused, and seemed to gather his thoughts. “When do you remember first seeing Sara?”
“After I came down with measles. I woke up one day, and she was in my room.”
“When did the dreams start?”
“Not long before the onset of measles. Is there a point to this, Dr. Gavril?”
“Indeed there is. Your Grace, if I might ask a few more questions? Remember, I do not reside in the castle, and am busy most of my time with matters in the village.”
“Quite so, Dr. Gavril,” Sebastian acknowledged, “Ask away.”
The stout little physician turned to Mrs. Blanchard. “You are the housekeeper, is that correct?”
“I am.”
“Do you recall hiring Sara?”
“No, as a matter of fact, I do not. But I supposed that with all the illness that she was someone the Duke had brought in from the outside.”
“Your Grace, do you recall hiring her?”
“Indeed, I did not. Evans and Mrs. Blanchard take care of acquiring household staff.”
“Mrs. Blanchard, when do you remember first seeing Sara?”
“I think it was the morning after Miss Doyle was taken ill. She was in the kitchen, and I sent her up with the tray for Miss Doyle. Martha Louisa had been up all night, and was falling asleep in the wingback chair in Miss Doyle’s room.”
“Quite so. Sara was introduced into the household during the confusion of the epidemic. Miss Doyle, did she give you any medicine that morning?”
“Oh, Dr. Gavril! I really could not say. I was quite ill at the time. I believe she gave me medicine several mornings in a row.”
Dr. Gavril nodded. “Just as I thought. It is amazing that someone so skilled would mistake the dose and the vessel, thereby poisoning Lord Charles. Therefore, I do not think she administered the poison responsible for his death. But, Lord Sebastian, you said that in her diatribe against Lady Lillian, Lady Tabitha admitted to adding the poison to the wine?”
“Yes, that is what I recall,” Sebastian said.
Dr. Gavril nodded. “It all begins to come together. I, of course, have no idea of the motivations or emotions behind the actions. But I can tell you that Lady Tabitha had been being dosed with a mixture not unlike the medicine I have been prescribing for measles. There are, however, subtle but telling differences.”
“How do you know this, Dr. Gavril” Sebastian asked
, “And just what are those differences?”
“I know it because I found traces of the medicine in Lady Tabitha’s blood. The condition of her bones is also consistent with long-term ingestion of arsenic, such as often happens with ladies who are seeking a milk-white skin. The state of her lungs, heart and liver indicate long-term usage of opium. Again, this is consistent with ladies who take laudanum for their monthly ordeal or for headaches. Bodies can tell us a great deal, Your Grace, if one knows how to look.”
Sebastian reached out and took Lillian’s hand in his. She clung to it, fearing what she might hear next. “Do you think, Dr. Gavril, that her use of this mixture caused her to have an unhealthy envy of her sister?”
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