Gideon started to wonder if the man had vision problems. He ran the lantern along the row toward the end, where a stack had been disturbed and there was much less dust. He handed Marshall the lantern and reached for the least dusty, a box a foot and a half long and several inches deep. He carried it to the stillroom and locked the archives. Marshall hung the lantern and sent the stone wall back into place. In the better light, Gideon confirmed the date: 1780–1790, the years that covered Gideon’s birth. The lack of thick dust made him certain now that Phillip had checked it.
Marshall went on his way. He didn’t ask Gideon to return the key.
Gideon considered putting the box in his office, thought better of it, and carried it up to his suite. When he entered, he found Jem, who made a great show of organizing a drawer in the dressing room.
Gideon cursed to himself. The make-bait had been snooping. Gideon had suspected it before but had never caught him at it. Now he stood there holding something he preferred to keep private. He put the box on the table in the sitting room.
“Do you need something, Jem?” he asked.
“I was just fetching some shirts. Need ironing.” His eyes darted to the box. “Do you need anything, sir?”
“I do not.” Gideon folded his arms. It was an obvious dismissal, but Jem still lingered a moment before grabbing a shirt from the drawer and leaving.
Gideon raised his eyes to heaven before peering about for a place to put the box he preferred to keep from prying eyes. Still, Jem was Marshall’s creature, and Marshall already knew he had it. He slid the box under his bed. The massive iron key bore protecting. He found his valise in the dressing room and opened the false bottom. A hundred pounds in cash lay there safely. He added the key and went on to his office to work.
*
Any thought ofriding about the estate with Gideon Kendrick died in the night. Selina’s cough deepened, coming in great racking waves, and her fever spiked. When Mia had come up from dinner, Selina had no interest in the goings on for the first time. By morning she was incoherent.
“We must call Dr. Gratis. The viscount instructed me that if she got worse, we’re to call him in no matter what you say to me,” Kerr said, holding a wet cloth to Selina’s brow. “You don’t seem to have any other ideas.”
Mia didn’t. Willow bark worked to a degree but never for long. She feared a lung fever had developed, and she was terrified for her cousin.
“Go,” Kerr snapped. “Find that snooty butler and order him to send word.”
Mia nodded, pulling on simple stays and a plain morning gown that buttoned in the front. Her hair, still braided and coming loose, would have to do.
“Let me write a quick note for Uncle first,” Mia said, putting action to her words. She folded the missive and set out in search of someone she could rely on to act quickly. She took the servants’ stairs, thinking they might lead to the butler’s pantry, but she couldn’t find Fillmore. She confronted Mrs. Morrit instead.
“Send for Dr. Gratis?” Mrs. Morrit sneered. “He’ll come faster for Marshall.” She directed Mia to the estate offices. “I’ll warn the maids to stay away.”
Mia hurried toward the offices and almost bumped into Gideon Kendrick in the connecting passage. He grasped her with one hand on each arm. “You’re upset. What is it?”
“Selina is worse. We need to send for Dr. Gratis,” Mia said.
“That toad? He’s worthless. Less than,” Mr. Kendrick replied.
Mia fought tears. “He’ll want to leech or bleed her. It will only weaken her.”
“Then why send for him?”
“I don’t know what else to do. She’s out of her head with fever. Uncle will insist, in any case.”
A door opened, and Marshall joined them. Mia explained the issue. “Best send for the doctor. I’ll see to it,” he said.
“You do that, and I’ll see if I can get someone else from Shaftesbury—or even Dorchester,” Mr. Kendrick said.
“Who will you send?” Marshall asked.
“I’ll go myself. If I find someone in Shaftsbury, I can be back by dark or soon after,” Mr. Kendrick said.
Marshall nodded. “Do that. We should warn Clavering.”
“I’ve written something for my uncle. Can you send it over, please?” Mia said.
Marshall took it with a nod, but neither man paid her further attention. Mr. Kendrick had already lurched off toward the stables, and Marshall was calling for the footmen.
*
