Henry nodded. “He is closest. He used to be a physician. I cannot wait for someone else to arrive. Take my horse.”
“Of course, Your Grace.” Recovering quickly, Baxter ran for the waiting gelding, heaved himself into the saddle and was off down the driveway in an instant, kicking up a cloud of dust.
Thalia felt so heavy in Henry’s arms as he cradled her close, his hand supporting her head to keep it from lolling. For a second or two, he just held her, uncertain of what to do next. Scared to his core. He was no physician, he did not know what was wrong with her; he had never felt more helpless in his entire life.
I am going to lose her. The last thing she will ever think of me is that I did not want to stay, when I want nothing more.
Fighting tears, Henry carried his wife into the drawing room and lay her down upon the settee.
There, his gaze was drawn to the tea tray that rested on the low table: one teapot, a little jug of milk, a bowl of sugar, two slices of lemon, but only one teacup. Yet, there on the edge of the table, closest to him, he spotted a faint ring, recently made. A teacup was missing.
“Charcoal,” he said suddenly, remembering something he had read once in his youth. “Bring charcoal, make it into a powder. I need water, too. Water and blankets and… cushions for her head.”
He had no idea if itwaspoison that had put his wife in this dire condition, but he had to dosomething. The more he could do before the physician arrived, the better. At the very least, it would distract him enough that he would not crumble entirely.
“You heard him!” Mrs. Fisher barked, as the servants scattered, running off to fetch what he had requested.
The charcoal and water were necessary, the rest was just a means of evacuating the room. He did not want to be surrounded by so many people, not when there were private things he needed to say to his wife while there was still a chance that she might hear him.
“You should wake up, darling,” he said, kneeling at her side, hesitantly touching her pale face. “I do no want to continue without you.”
He listened to the awful rattle of her breaths, so small and superficial that he doubted it would suffice to keep her alive.
“You asked me if I wanted to stay,” he murmured. “I want to. I have always wanted to. I never wish to be parted from you again so, please, my love, do not leave.”
Her eyelids flickered, but he knew it was just the movement of her eyes beneath them. Whatever had befallen her, he feared that her luck had run out. For the first time in thirty years, he was truly, paralyzingly terrified.
“I love you, Thalia,” he whispered, as he rested his head against her chest, listening to the erratic, feeble beat of her heart. “I love you. Do not leave. Please, do not leave.”
He was so overcome with sorrow that he did not hear the patter of hurried footfalls until the drawing room door burst open, and the physician rushed inside. Not the man that Henry had sent Baxter for, but Dr. Farnaby.
So, Francesdidsend for a physician?Henry stared at the man as if he could not quite believe it. And yet, Frances was not therewiththe physician, as a truly concerned friend would be. She was nowhere to be seen.
“Your Grace,” the physician said gently, “if I may?”
It took all the strength that Henry had left to separate from Thalia, pulling himself up to his feet and stepping aside to let Dr. Farnaby help.
“Poison,” Henry said quietly.
“Pardon?” Dr. Farnaby opened up his medicine bag.
Henry nodded to his wife. “I think it was poison.” He paused, a thought gathering weight in his head. “And I do not think this is the first time.”
Indeed, running through the events of the last ‘accident’, one factor repeated: Thalia had enjoyed tea with Frances then, too.
Yes, there had been the evening tea that Baxter had made for Thalia, but the butler prepared that himself and could confirm it had not been tampered with.
But what if the poison had already been in her bodybeforeshe retired for the night? What if she had decided not to go to sleep, but to go to the tower to see Henry, to speak about motherhood, when the poison had finally taken hold? A small dose wouldwork that way. A delayed response so that Frances would be far from the manor before it did its deadly work. And if someone suspected poison, Baxter would be implicated instead.
I will kill them both…
The compulsion to hunt his cousins down scorched his veins, making him pace the room in restless fury, but he would not leave to deliver justice until he knew his wife’s fate. Hecould notleave her now.
Indeed, all he could do was pray and hope, and trust that it was not too late.
CHAPTER 32
“How is she?” Walter asked, having returned from his search empty-handed.
