Chapter 29
“The letters are gone,” Cassandra said, her voice small and frightened, as she stood at the end of Ewan’s bed. Her face was very pale, and she trembled slightly as she said the words. Alaric, who stood next to her, began to pace around the room. Dr. Ludley, meanwhile, put his head in his hands.
Downstairs, his brother was still being entertained by Lady Pembury. But how long would the dinner go on?
“What does this mean, exactly?” Ewan asked, looking at the doctor.
He still did not have enough energy to stand, but he was sitting up in bed at least, and all his other symptoms seemed to have evaporated.
His headache was gone, he was no longer clammy and feverish, and he was breathing perfectly once again.
“If we do not have the vials or the letters, can we still prove that Christopher was behind this?”
“I am not certain,” Dr. Ludley said, looking up and frowning.
“I am not a legal expert. We will have to consult a solicitor to be certain. Even then, Christopher will undoubtedly employ great solicitors in his own defense. Without proof of arsenic poison over a substantial period of time, we may have no case.”
There was a long, terrible silence as the reality of these words hit them all.
Ewan was disappointed, of course he was, he knew that his brother deserved to face justice for his crimes.
But it was the look of pure distress on his wife’s face that caused him the most agony.
She looked as if she were about to cry, and when she looked at him, he could see the anguish in her eyes.
“We cannot let him get away with this,” she murmured. “There must be a way.”
“We could keep searching for the letters,” Dr. Ludley suggested. “Christopher may have put them somewhere we would not think to look for them.”
“He will have destroyed the letters by now,” Alaric said. “If he suspects that we are investigating him, he would not want any evidence lying around. Attempted murder is punishable by death in Scotland. He would not risk it.”
Dr. Ludley nodded, then fell silent. There was another long pause. Then Ewan spoke.
“We can let him attempt to poison me again.”
Everyone turned to stare at him. Their reactions were immediate and predictable. Alaric’s face twisted with anger, the doctor’s mouth dropped open in surprise, and terror flitted across Cassandra’s face.
“No, Ewan!” she said at once. “We cannot allow that! What if he is able to force some of it down your throat? You are only just better now.” She looked at the doctor desperately. “Tell him that you will not allow such a thing, Dr. Ludley! Tell him it is too risky.”
Dr. Ludley shifted. “Under ordinary circumstances, I would say that it is too risky. After all, if Christopher suspects that His Grace is getting better, he could try for a bigger dose, one that will end his brother once and for all. However, considering our options…” he spread his hands wide.
“I am not sure what choice we have. If we do not allow him to try again, if we do not have witnesses who can testify that he was trying to administer the poison, then I am afraid that we would be thwarted when the case came to jury.”
Cassandra’s lip quivered, and for a moment, Ewan really did think that she was going to burst into tears.
Then she took a deep, steadying breath, and he watched in utter amazement as her face went from one of terror and pain to something calmer and resolved. The face of someone who knew what had to be done and was willing to do it.
“Would he need to administer the poison?” she asked. “Or simply deliver it to the duke?”
“I think delivering it would be enough,” Dr. Ludley said. “Although we must make sure that he does not throw it away. We must have the liquid.”
Cassandra’s jaw worked as she nodded. “Very well. Then I will send word to the household staff that I am feeling ill and have taken to bed.” She sounded like a military commander marshaling her troops, and Ewan could not help but feel a surge of admiration and desire as he watched her.
There was no woman like her. None as brave or as capable.
And she was his.
“Dr. Ludley,” she continued, “you will make a show of leaving the house, then double round to the back and sneak back up through the servants’ corridors.
That way, Christopher will feel emboldened, thinking there are fewer people about to catch him.
Meanwhile, of course, we will all be waiting here to catch him in the act.
Dr. Ludley, you will stand in wait in the closet across the hall, and when Christopher enters the room, you will have to come and peek through the door.
Alaric, you will be stationed at the end of the hall, to catch Christopher if he tries to run. ”
Alaric nodded. “And where will you be, Your Grace?”
Cassandra’s eyes narrowed. “I will be waiting in the wardrobe.”
They all turned and looked at the tall, mahogany wardrobe with elaborate carvings of vines and flowers on the outside. At the same time, Ewan felt his stomach lurch.
“No,” he said at once. “It is too dangerous.”
But Cassandra would brook no opposition. She folded her arms and glared at him.
“Yes,” she said. “We have no other choice. There must be a witness directly in the room. And that is the best location.”
“But… what if he hurts you?” Ewan asked desperately.
“I will be right outside,” Dr. Ludley said. “And Alaric will be right down the hall.”
Ewan licked his lips. His whole throat felt suddenly far too dry. But as he looked into the determined gaze of his wife, he knew there was no point in fighting. She was willing to risk this for him, and he had to trust her. He did trust her. With his life.
“Alright,” he whispered, and his hand reached for her. She took it, squeezing it. “Just be safe.”
A shadow of a smile flitted across her face. “I will try.”
An hour later, everything was in place. They had all heard as Dr. Ludley made a loud show of leaving the house, calling goodnight to Christopher and Lady Pembury, who were just finishing up in the dining hall.
Several minutes later, a maid entered the dining hall to tell Lady Pembury that her daughter wasn’t feeling well and she was needed upstairs to tend to her.
The maid then scurried back upstairs, where she told Ewan that the message had been delivered. Shortly after that, Ewan heard someone creeping along the corridor, then the sound of a door opening and closing as Dr. Ludley slipped into the closet across from his room.
At the same moment, Cassandra, who had been waiting at the end of his bed, stood and went to the wardrobe. She opened the door and stepped inside, then paused. Her eyes found Ewan’s from across the room. There was a long moment when they simply stared at one another.
She was smiling softly, as if to say, everything will be alright.
Then she closed the wardrobe door.
After that, silence filled the room.
And Ewan waited.
A minute went by. Then five. Then ten.
Ewan was beginning to sweat on the back of his neck, his palms were clammy.
Maybe Christopher wasn’t coming. Maybe he had seen through their ruse and suspected that something was up.
Or maybe he was simply preparing the potion.
A clock struck ten o’clock. And then, a moment later, he heard them. Footsteps on the corridor. Not creeping. Not trying to be subtle. The footsteps of a man who was perfectly innocent—or pretending to be.
The next moment, the door to the room opened, and Christopher came in holding a steaming cup of tea.
“Ahh, you are awake still,” Christopher said, smiling widely at his brother. “That is good.
“I am awake still,” Ewan said, then remembered that he was supposed to be acting sicker than he was. He immediately pretended to cough, which elicited a small smile from his brother.
“Your lungs still hurt, then?” he asked, and Ewan nodded, faking a grimace.
“What is that?” he asked, gesturing at the tea.
“Ahh, just a little herbal remedy I whipped up for you,” he said cheerily, setting the tea down on the bedside table. “Do you feel up to drinking some?”
Ewan felt his throat close slightly, all the moisture in his mouth and throat leaving him at once. Somehow, he nodded.
“Y-yes,” he stammered. “That would be very nice, thank you.”
“Oh good.” Christopher beamed. He picked up the tea and handed it to Ewan. Their eyes met, and Christopher kept hold of the mug, not releasing it quite yet. There was something in his eyes, some kind of tenderness, that Ewan had not seen in a long time.
“You know, it is nice to have this moment alone,” Christopher murmured. His voice sounded husky. “We have not had a chance to speak, just the two of us, in a long time. Your wife is always here. Or your friend.”
“Cassandra is very protective,” Ewan said. His heart was hammering. When would Cassandra burst from the wardrobe? Would she wait until the drink was at his lips?
“And that is a lovely quality in a wife,” Christopher said. His hand was still holding firm to the mug. “I am glad you got that, Ewan.” He sounded almost sincere now. “After the disaster with Margaret… You deserved this. To feel happy. To have love in your life.”
There was a tense silence as Ewan stared up into his brother’s eyes. Was his brother trying to apologize, in some small way, for what he was about to do? Or was he trying to justify his actions—that it was forgivable to kill him, since he had finally, at least, found love?
And had Cassandra heard that?
Did that mean she knew, at long last, how he felt?
“Yes,” Ewan said, loud enough that his voice carried throughout the room. “I am very glad to have found love at long last.”
Then he pulled the mug from Christopher’s hands and raised it to his lips.
At the same time, the wardrobe door burst open, and Cassandra pelted into the room.
“Stop right there!” she shouted. She looked wild, strands of hair falling from her coiffure around her face, her cheeks flushed and her eyes flashing. “Step away from the duke, Christopher!”