“Grandmother of an angel,” added Cody, nudging Clara, who, at that moment at least, did look very angelic as she fingered the locket lying against her shirred bodice.
Following Brandon’s lead, Shannon lifted her glass to her lips and drank deeply. Caught up in a flood of memories, she didn’t notice immediately that Aurora was suddenly sitting straighter in her chair, her violet eyes huge and darkening with a mixture of surprise and pain.
Robert Whittaker jumped from his chair as Aurora lurched to her feet. He quickly took the glass from Aurora’s hand and set it down, putting one arm about Aurora’s shoulders and a hand at her elbow to support her. “My dear, what is it?” He gave her a light tap on her back as she struggled for air. Beads of perspiration were already forming above her lip, and her face was unnaturally flushed.
“What’s wrong with Mama?” Clara cried plaintively. When none of the adults answered her, or appeared to have heard her question, she began to weep.
Shannon pulled Clara onto her lap and held her tightly, averting the child’s face from her mother’s pain. Brandon’s chair tipped backward as he leaped to his feet to come to Aurora’s assistance.
“Haven’t you done enough?” Aurora gasped accusingly. She cowered in the safe haven of Robert’s arms as Brandon approached. Clawing at her throat with one hand, she tried to ward Brandon off with the other, forcing Whittaker to retreat a few steps from the table. “It’s true then,” she rasped. “You want me gone so badly that you would try to kill me.”
Ignoring the charge she made, Brandon took Aurora from Robert’s arms as her knees buckled beneath her and her eyes rolled back. Her head lolled to one side when Brandon lifted her.
“Now see here,” Robert sputtered as Brandon kissed his wife on the lips. “I don’t think that—”
Mingling with the flavor of wine on Aurora’s mouth was the taste of some bitter drug. “Cody! Get Martha! Have her prepare a purgative, and bring it to Aurora’s chamber. It was the wine. She’s been poisoned.”
Robert picked up Aurora’s glass, swirling it under his nose as Cody ran out of the room. Tentatively he tasted it. “Dear God” was all he said as he set it down.
Brandon started toward the door, shifting Aurora’s weight in his arms. “Molly, please come with me. I find myself in need of a witness not of this family.”
Molly hesitated, glancing uncertainly at her husband. “Go on, dear,” said Robert. “Aurora requires your protection.”
Shannon gasped at the veiled condemnation of Brandon. She hugged Clara tighter, hoping the child had not understood all that had just passed. “I’m taking Clara to the nursery,” she said when Brandon and Molly were gone. “I’ll return once she’s settled. Excuse me, please.”
The door to Aurora’s bedchamber was already closed when Shannon passed it on the way to the nursery. Clara did not even ask to see her mother, and Shannon assumed it was because she was too frightened. With Addie’s assistance, Shannon readied Clara for bed and stayed with her, holding her hand and offering reassurances until she fell asleep. Leaving Clara in Addie’s care, Shannon returned to the dining room. Except for a single glass of white wine, everything had been cleared from the table.
Cody looked up when Shannon entered. He was sitting in Brandon’s chair at the head of the table, his feet propped on the seat of another chair he had pulled out for that purpose. His arms were crossed in front of him. A black scowl etched his features as he turned from Shannon and continued to study the glass of wine.
“Where is Dr. Whittaker?” Shannon asked, taking a seat on Cody’s right so she could face the door.
“He stepped outside. Declared he needed fresh air.” Cody grimaced. “More likely he didn’t want my tainted company.”
“Cody! Why do you say that?”
“I poured her drink, Shannon. I wouldn’t be surprised if Brandon suspected me of doing this.” He massaged his eyebrows with his thumb and forefinger.
“I swear I didn’t know there was anything in it. Brandon handed me the bottle. ‘Finish this one,’ he says. And I did. God help me, I even served her the glass.”
“Dr. Whittaker doesn’t accuse you, Cody. He thinks Brandon is responsible.”
“That doesn’t lift my spirits one whit. Bran’s not capable of something like this, no matter how damning it looks.” His expression was earnest as he caught Shannon’s troubled eyes. “You do believe that, don’t you?”
“Of course I do. And I trust in your innocence as well.” She shook her head wearily. “There remains the question of who is guilty. I suppose almost anyone could have added poison to the bottle.”
“True. Nearly all the house servants know Aurora rarely drinks anything but white wine.”
“She did not suffer any ill effects yesterday when she drank at dinner. Was her wine from the same bottle?”
“I assume it was. Martha poured last evening.” Cody kicked away the chair under his feet in disgust. “This speculation does us no good. Unless we surprise someone in the act of trying to hurt Rory, we will never know who is responsible.”
Dr. Whittaker’s return to the dining room did nothing to alleviate the ponderous silence that had settled between Cody and Shannon. He joined their vigil, waiting for word from abovestairs.
Shannon’s head lifted as she recognized Brandon’s footsteps in the hallway. A moment later he stood in the doorway, his face gray with fatigue, his eyes dull. He spoke to Dr. Whittaker. “Aurora is going to recover. She is asking to speak with you. Molly and Martha are with her now.”
Robert nodded gravely and excused himself, brushing by Brandon without meeting his eyes.
Brandon opened one of the drawers in the sideboard and took out a box of cheroots. He lifted a candle, lighted the cheroot, and then offered the box to Cody.
