“I don’t intend to.”
With Louie padding along at her heels, Anne walked first to the church. She didn’t find Mr. Strong there, but a woman arranging flowers before the pulpit told her the curate had gone to the Falcon Inn for a bite to eat. Anne walked there next and, finding him enjoying a meat pie with the parish clerk, delivered Lady Celia’s request. Mr. Strong promised to come.
Her errand taking her very near Yew Cottage, Anne stopped briefly to bid a fond good day to her friend before starting back.
Miss Newland came to the door herself with the aid of crutches. “Look at these! Dr. Marsland dropped them off on his way out of town. I’m still getting the knack of using them.”
Anne grinned. “Looks like you’re off to a good start!”
She passed along Mrs. Burdock’s thanks for the stockings and then returned to Painswick Court.
As she entered through the side door, a sound from the top of the stairs drew her gaze. She looked up and saw the hem of a long robe flutter out behind someone before disappearing from sight. Anne started. King Charles? Or at least, his ghost? Anne shivered and blinked, wondering if she had imagined it. She must have.
Remembering she was supposed to summon the cook-housekeeper as well, Anne continued belowstairs to pass along Lady Celia’s request for Mrs. Pratt to come up to her room at four.
“Up to her room? Whatever for?”
“Don’t worry. You’re not in any trouble. She simply wants you to witness the signing of her will.”
“Oh, is that all? Very well, miss.” Mrs. Pratt sent her a relieved smile before disappearing into the storeroom.
The scullery maid, Kezia, approached, shyly twisting her hands in her apron. “Miss? Been wantin’ to tell ya somethin’. Remember when you asked Clara who brought that little vase of flowers down here? I saw who done it.”
“Did you? Who was it?”
“Colonel Paine.”
The name was a punch to Anne’s stomach. “The colonel? Are you certain?”
“Yes, miss. Said it were a little surprise for his aunt. I thought it were a secret, so I didn’t say anythin’. Then I thought maybe I should.”
The news troubled Anne, and she planned to ask Jasper about it.
“Thank you for telling me, Kezia.”
After Louie had a treat and drank from his water bowl, Anne led him back up to Lady Celia’s room. Reaching the top of the stairs, Anne noticed the goose feather on the floor again. Louie tugged on the lead, straining to sniff something else he’d found on the floor.
“Louie, no.” Afraid he might eat whatever it was, Anne bent down to pick it up before he could. Straightening, she lifted the thing to her face to better see it in the corridor’s dim light. A long spiral of dark, curled hair—human hair but glued at one end, as though fallen from a wig...
How strange.
Feeling uneasy, Anne set the hair on the small table beside the door and let herself into Lady Celia’s bedchamber. Immediately she knew something was wrong. A new stillness and a new smell permeated the room. She hurried to the bed and found Lady Celia all but insensible. The sweet, pungent smell of opium was heavy on her breath, and something spicy as well. Nutmeg and cloves? Anne felt for a pulse. It was quick and light. Her breathing was rapid, and her skin warm and perspiring.
No. Not again.Would the woman survive another overdose, let alone the unpleasant measures needed to ameliorate the drug’s effects?
“Lady Celia?” Anne said, then repeated more sharply, “Lady Celia!”
A slight groan was her only reply.
Anne shouted for Rosa, and when the young woman appeared, wide-eyed, Anne told her to run and fetch her uncle, and to send Toby to ask Dr. Marsland to come as quickly as possible. She hoped he had returned from Nailsworth by now.
When Rosa had gone, Anne grabbed the pitcher and splashed cold water onto Lady Celia’s face, neck, and chest. The woman barely flinched.
Anne rushed to her own room and grasped the laudanum bottle—it was at the same level as when she’d administered it last night. She had not given the woman any opium today. But someone had, and with a vengeance, based on the severity of her reaction.
Panicked, Anne dug into her medicine case and pulled out the bottle of emetic syrup and the throat feather.
She rushed back to the bed. Lady Celia’s mouth was already open, and Anne lifted the woman’s head, preparing to pour in the syrup.
