“What?” Harley strode forward. “Who would poison a woman…and one with child at that? Who would do such a thing?”
“I don’t know. I’m not a magistrate. But the extent of the vomitus, convulsions, and severe stomach cramps coupled with the fact that someone in this villa has already been poisoned with arsenic, leads me to believe it’s possible she was too.”
Bridget squeezed the miniature so hard that the metal of the small oval frame that housed it bit into her palm.Did Jane have a liaison with George? Had she been in love with him?She glanced at Harley.Did he know? And if so, didhekill George? Had they gotten everything wrong and sent another innocent man to his potential death?
She recalled Miss Jennings’s words, “‘Rupert is innocent.’”
Rose reentered the room with a clean chamber pot and washcloth. She closed the door and froze, no doubt sensing the tension in the room. “Shall I…go?” she whispered to no one in particular.
“Stay,” Doctor Elias said. “I have some questions for you.”
Rose crept forward and placed the clean chamber pot and cloth on the small table next to Jane’s bed.
“When was the last time your mistress ate?”
“She ate dinner last night.”
He looked at Mr. Harley, Nate, and Bridget. “Did you all eat from the same dishes?”
They all nodded.
“And no one else is sick?”
“Not that we know of,” Nate said.
“Did she consume anything else?” Dr. Elias turned back to Rose.
“Warm chocolate. She likes something sweet now that she’s with child. Miss Jennings suggested the chocolate. She said when her dear sister were with child, nothing made her happier than a cup of warm chocolate before bed.”
“Who prepared the chocolate?”
“Miss Jennings insisted on preparing it herself. It was ever so kind of her.”
Miss Jennings! But why?Bridget opened her hand and glanced at the portrait.
“What’s that?” Nate asked.
Bridget held out her palm, exposing the portrait. “Jane was clutching this in her fist.”
Nate took the portrait and turned to Harley. “What do you know about this?”
Heat spread across Harley’s pale, freckled skin. He turned to Rose. “Wait outside.”
She left the room, and Harley said, “As it turns out, I am the one who is barren, not my wife.”
“Didn’t you learn anything from last summer?” Nate growled. “How many women must end up dead in your quest to have a child?”
“How many women die in childbirth every year?” Harley threw up his hands. “None of this was my fault. She fell in love with him. I didn’t tell her to do it.”
Bridget’s gaze flew to Jane—her sweet, understanding friend—lying still and pale in the bed. All she’d wanted was to be a mother.
She’d been so good with the Groby’s children, so loving. So made to be a mother. And she’d been so happy to finally learn she was with child. Her greatest wish had been granted, and her joy had been palpable.
And now…
“But you didn’t care either.”
“We didn’t marry for love, as you well know. Our union is worth nothing without a child.”
