Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“What... what is going on?”
Valerie's voice was weak, hoarse from days of disuse, but her words rang out clearly through the attic like a bell. Isobel felt her breath catch in her throat, her hand reaching for her sister's as green eyes – so much like her own – blinked slowly in confusion.
“Where am I?” Valerie asked quietly, her gaze drifting from Isobel to Richard and back again to her sister as though she could not help it. “What happened?”
Richard was the first to recover, rising from his chair swiftly in a way that was unlike his usual elegant composure. “Miss Wightman – Valerie – you are awake. Thank God.”
“I –” Valerie tried to sit up, but her arms trembled with the effort, and she could barely lift her head above her shoulder level.
Isobel immediately moved to help her, adjusting the pillows gently behind her sister's back to support her comfortably. The motion felt strangely natural – almost instinctive, as though she had been caring for Valerie all her life rather than meeting her for the first time mere moments ago.
“Please, do not exert yourself,” Richard said gently, his tone so incredibly soft as though he believed a louder decibel range might startle her.
“You have been... rather unwell. You have our word – we will answer whatever questions you might have, but first, we need to ensure that you are all right. Are you in any pain? Do you need anything?”
Valerie shook her head slowly, though her brow furrowed as if she were gradually taking note of the state of her body. “No, I do not feel any pain. Only... tired. I feel so tired. Confused. It is as though I have been asleep for a very long time.”
“You have been,” Isobel told her quietly, and when Valerie's gaze snapped to hers, she saw the question forming even before her sister spoke it.
“Are you thirsty?” Richard interrupted, ever practical as he moved to stand at the foot of the bed. “You have not had anything to drink properly in days.”
“Days?” Valerie's eyes widened. “How long have I – yes. Yes, I am very thirsty.”
Isobel was already moving before Richard could, crossing to the other side of the room where a small table lay. On it, a jug of water and a cup had been placed, and her hands shook slightly as she poured, her brows furrowing as she channeled her concentration to keep her from spilling.
When she returned to the bedside, Valerie was watching her with an intensity that made Isobel's heart stutter.
Those green eyes – identical to her own – followed every movement as Isobel carefully placed the cup in her sister's hands, her hands still hovering uncertainly, ready to provide support if Valerie needed.
Valerie raised the cup to her lips and took a long, deep drink, her eyes never straying from Isobel's face even as she swallowed. When she finally lowered the cup, there was a tremor in her voice that had nothing to do with physical weakness within her body.
“You...” Valerie began, then stopped, as though she had changed her mind.
Her free hand reached out slowly, tentatively, and Isobel found herself meeting it halfway, drawn to the missing piece of her existence, unable to keep herself from sighing softly when their fingers intertwined.
Valerie cleared her throat and tried again, speaking up nervously. “Are you... Are you my twin sister?”
The words hung in the air between them, weighted with years of separation and longing. Isobel felt tears prick at her eyes as she nodded, slow at first, then again with increased fervor.
“I am,” she admitted, her voice thick with emotion. “My name is Isobel. Isobel Lennox.”
“Isobel,” Valerie repeated, as though she wanted to test the name on her tongue.
Just as Isobel decided she liked the sound of her name when her twin called it, without warning, tears spilled down Valerie’s pale cheeks. “Oh, Isobel. I have wanted to meet you for so long.”
“As have I,” Isobel whispered as she shuffled closer, her own tears falling freely now. “Truthfully, I had no idea of your existence until father sent for me, but now that I am here – now that I see you… it feels as though a piece of me that has been missing my entire life has finally been found.”
Valerie's grip on her hand tightened, and a burst of warmth spread through Isobel. “I feel that way too. As a child, I felt... incomplete somehow. As though there was someone out there who was supposed to be with me, but I could never find them.”
She lowered her gaze to their intertwined hands and squeezed slightly, her eyes widening as though she was rediscovering the sensation of touch. She laughed, the sound watery and messy.
“I… this will sound so strange, but I used to dream about you. A girl who looked just like me, who understood me in ways no one else could. We never did much other than enjoy each other’s company, but still, you comforted me greatly then, in ways I could never find here.
I thought I was simply being silly, but –”
“You were not,” Isobel interrupted, squeezing her sister's hand. “I felt it too. That emptiness. And now it is gone.”
They stared at each other, and Isobel felt the strangest sensation – as though she were looking into a mirror that reflected not just her appearance but her very soul. This woman, this stranger who wore her face, felt more familiar than anyone she had ever known besides her adopted family.
Despite the fact that she had felt so incredibly out of place acting as Valerie, meeting her made her feel the most welcome.
“I wanted you at my wedding more than anything,” Valerie said suddenly, her expression crumpling.
“I begged father to invite you. I told him it would mean everything to me to have my sister there, to share the happiest day of my life with you. But he refused. He said – he said it would be needlessly complex. He said that you were content with your own life in Scotland and would not want to be bothered with English affairs… I am so sorry. I should have demanded it. I should have insisted –”
“Hush,” Isobel soothed, reaching up to brush away her sister's tears with her free hand. “You have nothing to apologize for. I am here now, am I not? And I am so very pleased to finally meet you, Valerie. Truly.”
“But the circumstances –” Valerie glanced around the attic, confusion returning to her features. “Why am I in the attic? What happened to me?”
Isobel leaned in closer, “What is the last thing you remember?”
Valerie frowned, and Isobel watched with almost morbid fascination how the muscles in her face contorted together to give the image of displeasure.
“The last thing I remember is... dinner. I remember the cheers and the kind words of congratulations. Then… I began to feel a little unwell. And then... nothing.”
Isobel and Richard exchanged a glance, both reaffirming what they already knew – there was no way to soften this blow, no gentle way to tell Valerie that someone had tried to kill her.
Richard nodded, silently offering to take the lead. Isobel appreciated his strength and was thankful for his presence, inhaling deeply as he turned his attention back to Valerie. His expression was grave, his usual stern demeanor tempered with genuine concern.
“Valerie,” he began carefully, “What we are about to tell you will be distressing. But I need you to remain calm and listen carefully. We are here to answer whatever questions you might have afterwards. Is that all right?”
Valerie's grip on Isobel's hand tightened, but she nodded. “Yes. Please, just tell me what is going on.”
“You were poisoned,” Richard informed her bluntly.
“On the first day of your wedding party, someone slipped poison into something you consumed – we believe it might have been your tea, but we cannot be certain. A few hours later, you collapsed and fell unconscious. You have been in this state for over a week now.”
The color drained from Valerie's face. “Poisoned? But... but who would...?”
“That is what we have been trying to determine,” Isobel said gently, tightening her grip when she noticed how shaky Valerie’s hands had become.
“Father – our father – was quite alarmed when you fell ill. He was concerned that if you were unable to proceed with the wedding, it would be a scandal – for both you and your… groom. And whatever benefits your marriage was meant to guarantee. So he... he sent for me.”
Valerie's eyes widened. “He sent for you? I am glad – beyond words, and relieved as well – that you are here. But truthfully – I can’t help but wonder why he would invite you, following an illness that had befallen me due to being poisoned. Unless you run an apothecary. Do you, sister?”
“Um… no, I do not run an apothecary. After my father summoned me, I arrived believing I had been invited to attend your wedding, only to discover the truth upon my arrival.” Isobel tried to keep the bitterness from her voice, but some of it must have leaked through because Valerie's expression became pained.
“Father asked that I take your place and pretend to be you. To continue with the wedding preparations and interact with the guests, all while trying to determine who among them might have poisoned you.”
“You have been pretending to be me?” Valerie looked horrified. “But that is – Isobel, that is dangerous! Whoever poisoned me, if they realize you are not who you claim to be –”
“They will likely try again,” Richard finished grimly. “Which is why we have been taking precautions. I have been assisting Miss Wightman – Isobel – in her investigation, and I have taken measures to ensure her safety as much as possible.”
Valerie turned her gaze to Richard, and something flickered across her face – recognition mixed with confusion. “Your Grace. I... forgive me, my mind is still foggy. But you are here helping my sister?”