“I couldn’t possibly—” Kenna broke off as Rhys turned away from the stand with the tray in front of him and bumped directly into Nick who had moved closer to hear what she had to say. Rhys tried to balance the tray, then attempted to catch the bowl of broth, but his efforts came to naught. The hot, clear broth slid off the tray and splattered his shirt, his trousers, the toes of his boots, and the oriental rug. Nick had adroitly managed to miss most of the mess. Kenna hid a faint smile as Rhys swore softly but explicitly.
Victorine moved from Kenna’s side, arms akimbo, and ready to do violence. “Out! Both of you! This is no place for either of you! I care little who sends for the physician, but one of you please do so. Immediately!” When they were gone from the room she turned to Kenna. “Graceless wretches. They do manage to get underfoot. I’ll have someone clean up this mess. Are you certain you can’t eat anything?”
Kenna nodded. “I’d rather not.”
“As you wish.” She gave Kenna a kiss on her forehead and tucked her in a little better, smoothing the blankets in a loving fashion. “I’ll be here when the doctor arrives.”
Kenna was deeply asleep when Janet came to clean up the mess left by Rhys and Nick. The maid stayed at her mistress’s side and hovered in the background when Victorine showed the doctor in.
Kenna was nudged awake by Doctor Tipping’s gentle hand. She looked up into his kindly brown eyes and smiled weakly. “Hello.”
“M’lady. You have Dunnelly in an uproar. What seems to be the problem?”
Kenna related her aches and pains but Tipping reserved judgment until he had conducted a thorough examination, “I’ve seen this sort of thing before,” he said to Kenna as he repacked his bag, “But I thought you had better sense. I wouldn’t have taken you for one of the vain sillies I’ve treated in the past.”
Kenna’s brows wrinkled. “What do you mean?”
“Arsenic, m’lady. A pale complexion is all the rage, but taking a bit of poison to enhance it is foolhardy, and in some cases, deadly. You’ve been fortunate thus far, but I want you to cease its use.”
“But I—”
“Now. Now. I won’t listen to your objections. There’s no excuse for tempting fate. I gave the same advice to Lady Blake and she scoffed also. In the pursuit of fashionably pale youth she did what she wanted. I will say, she was a remarkably lovely corpse.” He shook his head in deep disgust. “If I could find the person who first recommended the use of arsenic for the complexion, I would cheerfully wring his, or her, neck. It’s insanity, that’s what it is.”
Kenna was simply too stunned to defend herself. She had never used arsenic in her life though she was well aware of the practice. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Victorine looking at her with sharp disapproval and across the room Janet was clucking her tongue softly.
“I will speak to your brother about this matter and I want your promise not to use the stuff again. In fact, I would like your bottle to take with me.”
“Of course she won’t use it again,” said Victorine. “Where is your bottle, Kenna? Your maid can get it.”
Before Kenna could answer Janet was handing over a small green glass bottle that she had picked up on Kenna’s dressing table. “You can see for yourself she’s used the last of it,” the maid said. “Good riddance to the stuff, I say.”
Tipping echoed Janet’s words while he briefly examined the nearly empty bottle then dropped it in his case. “Give it few days to work out of your system and you’ll be feeling quite the thing. As long as you don’t use it again. You can build some tolerance to the poison, then accidentally give yourself an overdose. No more. Is that understood?” He looked at all three women and saw them agree with varying degrees of conviction. Kenna appeared most reluctant, but Tipping was confident neither her stepmother nor her maid would let her be so foolish again.
“Good day, ladies,” he said, giving Victorine a brief bow.
“I’ll walk with you downstairs,” said Victorine.
“Why did you give the doctor that bottle?” Kenna asked Janet as soon as they were alone.
“I could see you were tired, m’lady. You don’t mind, do you? He was going on and on and it shut him up.”
Kenna rubbed her eyes and temples. “I don’t mind. But he’s going to discover sooner or later it held nothing but some bath salts.”
“By that time I’m going to discover where the arsenic came from,” Janet said with assurance. “Aren’t you the least bit curious?”
Curious did not even begin to describe what Kenna was feeling. She was still reeling from the knowledge that someone had tried to poison her. Probably several times since she had taken to her room, she realized. The dosage was small, the effects cumulative, which is why she had been feeling steadily worse. She could not help but wonder what her state would be if she had been able to hold down her breakfast. “What will you do?” she asked slowly. The pounding in her head was almost unbearable. She should have asked the doctor for some powders.
“Do? I’m going to supervise the preparation of your meals myself, that’s what I’m going to do. I never trusted that Frenchy cook your stepmother brought here. I always said it’s better if the staff speaks English. He stubbornly refused to learn more than a few words. No doubt he’s filled the salt cellars with rat poison. Don’t worry. I’ll set him straight.”
“Why didn’t you tell Victorine and Doctor Tipping your suspicions?” The pounding in her head lessened. Janet thought it was an accident, nothing more, and Kenna conceded she could be right. She felt as if a weight was being lifted from her chest.
Janet flushed to the roots of her hair and she could not meet her mistress’s eye. Her voice was soft, almost girlish. “I admit to a certain fondness for that temperamental fool. I thought to save his position.”
“Oh, Janet,” Kenna sighed. “But now Victorine and Nick have heard what the doctor said. They will think I’m so foolish.”
Janet had the grace to look discomfited. “I’m sorry, m’lady. Please say you’ll forgive me. I promise I’ll speak to Claude. I’ll have the kitchen searched from top to bottom, everything tested. It won’t happen again.”
Kenna felt herself softening as soon as Janet spoke of the chef as Claude. What did it matter if her family thought her vain and silly? Didn’t she owe Janet some small measure of Her trust and loyalty? Janet had taken care of Kenna since right before Lord Dunne’s death and had never asked for any favor during all that time. “Of course I forgive you, Janet. But please talk to—Claude, was it?”
