Chapter 32
“How is she?” Walter asked, having returned from his search empty-handed.
Henry shook his head, his arms crossed tight over his chest. The physician had asked him to leave the drawing room and, despite initial protests, he had eventually acquiesced. He did not want to be the reason that Dr. Farnaby could not do everything he needed to, in order to help Thalia.
“No news or…?” Walter trailed off, his face blanching.
“No news.” Henry gestured toward the front door. “What of you?”
Walter sat down beside his brother on the chaise-longue, the entrance hall empty of anyone but them.
“The stablemaster said he saw the carriage depart, at the same time that Frances insisted on fetching assistance. He did not look into the carriage, as Frances had asked him not to unhitch anything, but he said he thought he heard noises from within.”
“James?”
“He could not say for sure,” Walter replied.
Henry nodded gravely. “Do you think they have returned to Weverton?”
“I do not doubt it. James will say he has been comforting his sister after the ‘awful experience’ she endured, and will deny any involvement.” Walter paused. “Do we know what caused her to collapse?”
Henry leaned forward and held his head in his hands. “I suspect poison. Dr. Farnaby said he would inform me once he had assessed her further, but that was an hour ago.”
“If you like, I can ride to Weverton?” Walter offered.
“I can pretend to be a messenger, bringing news of Thalia’s condition.
I can create a ruse, that constables are being sent for to arrest Baxter.
At the very least, it will keep them there until you are able to confront them.
They will not bolt if they feel they have gotten away with it. ”
Focusing on his breathing, Henry turned the idea over in his mind. He had not considered how to keep his cousins from running, nor how to conceal the fact that they had been discovered until constables could be sent for.
“Yes, that would be… very wise,” he said. “Thank you, Walt.”
Walter put an arm around his shoulders, giving him an awkward squeeze. “Anything for you and your love, Henners.” He hesitated. “But if she makes it out of this, promise me one thing?”
“What?”
“Promise me that you will not waste any more time,” he said.
Henry raised his gaze to his brother. “If she wakes from this, I will never leave her side again.”
“Good.” With a light smack of encouragement to Henry’s back, Walter got up and headed back out into the fiery glow of sunset.
It would be dark soon and Henry did not know why, but there was something about Thalia not awakening before night fell that made him even more terrified.
As if bad things could only happen in the darkness, and as long as there was a sliver of sunlight left, there was hope for her.
It was silly, but his overwrought mind believed it anyway.
The sound of departing hoofbeats had just faded away, when the drawing room door opened. Dr. Farnaby stood there like a priest at a funeral, head bowed.
“How is she?” Henry jumped up.
The physician lifted his head, and Henry tried very hard not to look at the spots of blood that marked the man’s shirt and sleeves.
“I believe she will survive the night and, with all probability, beyond that. By some miracle, her body seemed to eject a quantity of the poison.” He hesitated, as if trying to think of a delicate way to put it.
“There was… um… residue of the tea on the front of her dress.”
“Did she fall forward?” Henry asked.
Dr. Farnaby arched a curious eyebrow. “The grazing on her arms and legs and cheek would suggest so. Why do you ask?”
“No reason,” Henry lied.
Frances must not have seen that Thalia expelled some of it…
“I managed to purge what I assume to be the majority of the drink from her stomach,” the physician continued. “Her heart is already stronger, as is her breathing, and there is some color returning to her face. But until she awakens, I will not know if there is any lasting damage.”
Henry grasped the man’s hand and shook it vigorously. “Thank you, Doctor.”
“However,” the physician said, a word no one wanted to hear from such a man, “there is the matter of the poison itself. I am no expert in such things, but the scent was very familiar to me. I believe she was poisoned with a plant called Pennyroyal. The aroma is pungent, like mint. Easy to hide in a spearmint tea, which is what appeared to be in the teapot.”
Henry frowned. “But she shared the tea with my cousin.”
“The aroma was not the same in the other teacup,” the physician said.
“I suspect a few drops of concentrated Pennyroyal oil must have been put into Her Grace’s cup.
The scent really was overwhelming. And it would explain her symptoms. But, I am afraid Pennyroyal is rather dangerous in other ways, in… um… lasting ways.”
A great fist of panic clenched around Henry’s heart. “Such as?”
“It can make a woman barren, Your Grace. Depending on how much actually made it into her body and into her blood, there is every chance that she will never bear children,” the physician explained in a heavy voice, laced with apology.
“There has been some bleeding which confirms my worries, but I will keep an eye on her and let you know more in the morning. Until then, I am afraid I cannot let you see her.”
Henry bristled. “She is my wife, Doctor.”
“I am aware, Your Grace, but it is for her wellbeing,” the man replied. “She is in a fragile condition, and I do not know how much she is aware of in her unconscious state. I fear your presence might be a strain upon her heart if she were to hear you or sense you.”
Henry did not like it one bit, every impulse urging him to push past the physician and go straight to Thalia’s side. But what if Dr. Farnaby was right? After last night’s tensions, what if Henry’s presence made his beloved worse?
Unable to bear children? His heart broke afresh, understanding that he was now the cause of a second unfulfilled wish. Thalia had longed to be a mother so badly, and now she might never have the chance, all because of two wretched creatures from his family.
His silent question repeated in his mind, the tone shifting slightly. Unable to bear children?
A different sort of realization struck him, his stomach twisting at the pure evil of it.
There must have been a thousand poisons that his cousins could have used if they wanted to get rid of Thalia, but they had chosen Pennyroyal.
With a blinding surge of fury, he understood why: a double insurance for James’ hopes of inheritance.
“Excuse me, Doctor,” Henry said, turning. “I will be back by morning. If anything happens while I am gone, send word to me at Weverton at once.”
Thrumming with absolute rage, so powerful it made him shake, Henry ran out to fetch his horse. Knowing what he now surmised, he could not wait for Thalia to wake before he brought swift and harsh justice down upon the heads of his cousins. He would explode if he did.
Leaping from his horse at the porch of Weverton, Henry pulled off his gloves as he marched up the steps and straight into the manor, ignoring the cries of surprise from the servants there. He did not stop, his heavy footfalls echoing on the parquet, until he reached the drawing room.
Throwing the door opened, he was pleased to find James, Frances, and Walter sitting there, enjoying—somewhat ironically—a spot of evening tea.
“Cousin?” James got up. “Is there news of her? Has she woken up?”
Feeling unnaturally calm, Henry walked straight up to the beast and drove his fist directly into James’ nose, a satisfying crack ringing out through the drawing room.
A howling wail emerged from deep in James’ chest as his hands flew to his broken nose, his eyes streaming as he looked to Henry for explanation.
But it was Frances who screamed, “Henry! What is the matter with you? I realize your wife is unwell, but there is no need for this!”
“You are lucky you are a woman,” Henry spat, glowering at her. “I would not deign to strike you, though you very much deserve it for your wickedness.”
Frances clasped a hand to her chest, feigning affront. “Wicked? Whatever do you mean? I have done nothing!”
“My wife is unconscious, in a fragile condition, her dreams dashed, because of you,” Henry shot back. “And what is more, it is not the first time. The two of you certainly have heeded the family motto of perseverance; I grant you that.”
Fanning herself with her hand, Frances continued the ruse. “You have gone mad, Henry. Clearly, what has happened to Thalia has made you lose your mind. If it were not for me, there would be no physician. I helped her; I did not harm her.”
“You are better liars than I thought you were, but you are liars nonetheless,” Henry snarled, returning his attention to James.
“Are you sure you are not my father’s son?
He was a monster, too. Or, perhaps, this is what your father trained you for, and what you will train your son for, until you finally have what is not yours to take. ”
Henry saw James’ fist fly a second before it struck him in the face.