Chapter Seventeen
A nd so, it proved to be. He was tired and a little frustrated, but still alert when they left the steward’s house the following morning. It was after sunrise, but the heavy cloud cover meant they were moving in the gloom. The steward had, in the end, borrowed a carriage from the squire, who was more likely to be silent about it than the innkeeper.
“I thought I might have to get him out of bed,” the steward said, “but he was in the stables. He’d been up early with a foaling mare. He said I could take it and be welcome and even sent his stable master to drive the carriage.”
In the carriage, while Gran slept and the miles between them and the doctor in Alstonebridge grew shorter with each turn of the wheels, Pol explained what he had found out.
“Gran’s maid was in her own room, fast asleep and stinking of liquor,” he told the steward. “I doubt she’ll be getting up for some time. If anyone else tries Gran’s door and finds it locked, I’m counting on them assuming it was the maid who locked it. We will be clean away before any alarm is sounded, or so I hope.”
“Did you find the Bible?” the steward asked.
“Yes,” said Pol. “Tucked into a drawer of her desk. But the family record pages were not all there. The page with the most recent additions had been torn out. Which is suggestive but proves nothing. I left the Bible there. The only other thing that might be useful were some letters from my father to his father, in which he talks about his wife and baby son. He refers to me as my grandfather’s heir. It sounds as if you were right.”
“Do you have them with you? It might be enough to justify an inquiry.”
Pol patted his pocket. “Safe and sound. But who is to say at this stage that they were truly from my father? Or that what is in them is true? It is good to know that I am legitimate, but there’s not enough to prove that Oscar and his mother are usurpers.”
The steward looked disappointed, but then he rallied and said, “I am glad you know the truth, Allegro. Or should I say, ‘Riese’?”
Pol shuddered. “I’m not sure that I want anything to do with that name. If it were not for the people of the village and the estate,”—and his desire to be worthy of the daughter of a French Comte— “I’d forget the whole thing.”
*
Pol came back with his Gran in a coach driven by the stable master from Tissingham. He was accompanied by the Riese’s steward. Pol lifted the old dowager, Lady Riese, out of the carriage and Jackie had her first sight of the poor lady. She looked as if a gentle breeze would carry her away.
Maman gave a distressed cry at the sight of her and hurried to Pol’s side. “Follow me, Mr. Allegro. I will show you to Lady Riese’s room.”
“Gran, you know Madame de Haricot du Charmont, do you not? And this is her daughter, Mademoiselle Jacqueline de Haricot du Charmont.”
“Madame… La Blanc…?” the old lady asked.
“My working name, Madame,” Maman explained. “You have been ill, I see. Let me get you settled in your room, and we shall find something for you to eat and drink. A cup of hot tea, and perhaps some chicken soup.”
The dowager viscountess managed to smile and nod. To Pol, she said, “My… medicine…?”
“I will take you to your room, Gran,” Pol told her. “Then I will go for the doctor.”
“Doctor… says… I am… old…”
“We shall see what the doctor here says.” Pol climbed the stairs behind Maman and followed her into the room they had prepared. He set his grandmother on the bed. “I shall leave you with Madame Haricot,” he told her. “She will make sure you are comfortable, Gran.”
Jackie followed Pol back downstairs. She had a nasty feeling about old Lady Riese’s condition. “Pol, I overheard a conversation at the apothecary. The doctor from Tissingham had sent his servant to buy laudanum and arsenic. He told the apothecary that the doctor uses it to make face powder.”
“That can’t be right,” Pol said. “Wait. You think Gran…?”
“I don’t know,” Jackie told him. “But I think it is possible.”
“Lady Riese has been poisoning my grandmother,” Pol said. “I must go, Jackie.”
“Your friend the steward and the stable master from the squire’s are in the kitchen. I told them I’d make them a cup of tea and a bite to eat before they head back to Tissingham. Perhaps the stable master will take you into town to get the doctor while I put a meal together.”
Pol’s expression lightened. “Thank you. That’s a good idea. Let’s go and ask him.”
The stable master agreed, and in no time, the doctor came back with Pol, his horse tied on behind the carriage. Maman stayed with Gran while the doctor examined her, but they sent Pol downstairs to wait. Jackie was in the kitchen feeding the stable master and the steward, and tried to get him to eat something, but he was not hungry.
“I’ve told him about the arsenic,” he said. “He says it can be hard to detect, but he is pleased to be aware of the possibility.”
“Arsenic?” the stable master asked.
Jackie explained what she had heard, and the stable master and steward were suitably horrified. Not surprised, though, Jackie realized. Five people have heard about the arsenic now, and four of us know the viscount’s mother. None of us four think it impossible, or even unlikely, that she has been poisoning her mother-in-law .
“My housekeeper reads the broadsheets,” the steward said. “There was a case recently where a woman was poisoned with arsenic. Apparently, if a person is given it over time in moderate doses, it can mimic a disease of the gut, so when the dose is increased to a fatal level, the authorities are unlikely to suspect foul play.”
“Aye, I heard summat about that,” the stable master commented. “Her husband, wasn’t it. He got caught because his first wife had died the same way, and her daughter was suspicious.”
They were silent for a moment while they considered the implications.
“What if I was too late?” Pol asked.
“You couldn’t have known,” Jackie said, but Pol shook his head, his eyes bleak.
“I left her there, with them,” he said.
The steward gripped his shoulder. “If you had stayed, you would have been arrested. Miss Haricot, too, and who knows what might have happened to her. You couldn’t have helped your Gran or Miss Haricot from a prison cell.”
The two men from Tissingham had finished the lunch she had prepared for them. “I’ll make a cup of tea,” she decided. “Will you have a cup before you get on your way?”
But both men asked if they could stay until they heard what the doctor had to say, and so the four of them sat around the kitchen table, drinking tea, until they heard him come down the stairs.
“Go and talk to him in the parlor, Pol,” Jackie said. “Then come and tell us what you think we should know.”
*
Pol met the doctor at the bottom of the stairs and ushered him into the parlor. “How is she, doctor?”
“Your grandmother is extremely fragile, Mr. Allegro. I could wish you discovered your dissatisfaction with your previous physician before he bled her to within an inch of her life. Add to that the stomach complaint, which has further weakened her, and the laudanum addiction.” He shook his head. “I must caution you against too much hope.”
Pol, who had prepared himself to be told that Gran was dying, received the news with a slight lift of his spirits. “There is some hope?”
“She is alive,” said the doctor, unwilling to commit himself further. “I have instructed Madame Haricot to throw out all her old medicines, in case your fears of poisoning have substance. I have taken some samples for a few experiments and have provided a new bottle of laudanum. Apart from that… Careful nursing, plenty of fluids, an invalid diet, if she can tolerate it. It is the best we can do. As to whether it is enough, we shall just have to wait and see.”
“More laudanum?” Pol asked. Surely it would be better to throw that out with the rest?
“She has had the drug habitually, Mr. Allegro. Stopping it abruptly has been known to kill even a relatively healthy habitue. If she recovers, it will be time enough to taper the laudanum doses. Even then, I caution that haste will be risky. You have removed her from the custody of other relatives, you said?”
“I have, sir. As soon as I saw her condition.” Pol only wished he had done so earlier. He should have seen what was going on!
The doctor nodded. “If she survives, you will have saved her life.” His stern mien softened into a smile. “I will call again tomorrow. If she takes a turn for the worst, send for me immediately. I have told Madame Haricot the symptoms to look for.”
“I cannot thank you enough, sir,” Pol said. He took his purse from his pocket. “May I make a contribution to your work?” Physicians were gentlemen, and—in theory—did not ask payment for their services. However, a gift was certainly expected from patients and their families.
“That certainly goes some way toward thanking me,” the doctor commented, dryly. “Five shillings would be a most appreciated contribution.”
Ouch. If they paid that every day, they would soon run through Pol’s ready cash. Though, he consoled himself, not the extra stash of coins he’d liberated from Oscar’s goose the previous night.
“A weekly contribution,” the doctor clarified. “I imagine I shall be a regular visitor for at least the next fortnight.”
Five shillings a week was reasonable. “Thank you again,” Pol said.
After he’d shown the doctor out, he went through to the kitchen and told Jackie and the others the gist of what the doctor had to say.
“We shall be praying for her, lad,” the steward said, “Mrs. Finch and I.”
“Aye,” said the stable master. “I remember her from when I was a boy. A good lady, your grandmother. I wish her well, Mr. Allegro. Send news, if you can without those monsters finding out where you are.”
“Yes,” the steward agreed. “Perhaps a note to the squire?”
Repeating their good wishes, the pair of them went on their way back to Tissingham.
“Right,” said Jackie. “Sit down and have something to eat.” She gestured to the table, where food and drink waited for him. “You will wish to see your grandmother. I shall check with Maman and come and fetch you.”
He watched her go. His worry for Gran was somewhat lightened by Jackie’s care for him. What a woman. What a wonderful wife she will make. To someone. The revelation about his birth had removed one of the barriers between them, but Pol still had to find a position that would allow him to support a family before he could ask her to be his bride. Tomorrow, he would return to work at the local squire’s.