But could I even make it to the Rock?
Gideon was so jealous of my time and attention now that he barely let me out of his sight even at night.
And if I made it to the Rock, I didn’t even know what to look for.
Could I go on such a small hope, that he had something for me there?
Even if I could find my way over the rough ground and around the hidden bogs, it was a long way to St. Mary’s.
That was a lot of opportunity for Gideon to hunt me down when he noticed I was missing.
It was surely--impossible! But what was my other option?
To wait here until my baby was born so my husband had an excuse to kill me?
Gideon was excited for the baby’s arrival. I didn’t think he would kill me until then. So my first concern would be protecting myself and the baby from Ada.
But how could I do that? She was bigger, stronger, and had the loyalty of the servants.
If I had not imagined the madness in her eyes. . . I might be able to. . . prod her into doing something that would force Gideon to punish her.
To guide her descent into total madness--but such an idea must be madness itself!
And dangerous.
But I needed her gone.
The next day, I decided to bring up Mariam's passing and see what effect it had on Ada, and thus decide what angle to approach her with.
"The servants are saying Mariam was poisoned," I said after Gideon had gone to the study to answer a few letters.
"You should not listen to gossip," she retorted, her lip curled up.
Had I been wrong?
I said nothing for a moment, then.
"The servants say the only one who could have access to poison is either my husband or someone very close to him. I supposed that could not beyou. After all, Gideon would never let you know anything about his business."
My gambit worked all too well, veins standing out in Ada's forehead as she took my hand and began to pull me out of the room.
"Who is closer to the Nightshade than I? I even have a key to his workshop."
I began to get seriously afraid as she dragged me across the gardens.
"Let me go!" I tried to yank my arm from her grasp but it was too late.
Ada brought out a heavy brass key from somewhere in her skirts and inserted it into the keyhole.
“We aren’t supposed to be in here–” I protested, but the door swung open noiselessly and my husband’s mistress shoved me inside.
Stepping inside was like moving into a demonic wonderland.
The walls of his workspace were dark wood, and they were lined with rows upon rows of different-colored vials. There must have been over a hundred of them. Some were vivid yellows and greens, others subdued and dark. A few even bubbled, the pops bursting against the glass with oily smears.
"Hello, my pretties," she crooned, running her hands down the front row. "Did you miss me?"
"You're quite mad, you know!" I said, a sharp, pungent anger replacing my irritation. "You killed Mariam but you meant to kill me."
