Lisbon: Richard and Rose, Book 8 (17 page)

“Oh, Rose, surely not!” I had forgotten that Lizzie hadn’t witnessed the worst of my mother-in-law’s behaviour.

I could see no reason not to tell her. “Oh yes. Look at it from her point of view. If I’d died, they would have had their heirs and Richard could have added to the family coffers by making a more advantageous and influential second marriage.”

Lizzie, my most practical sister, was nevertheless shocked by the matter-of-fact way I delivered the comments. I had learned to live with Lady Southwood’s dynastic ambitions, so it came as no surprise to me that she had probably wished me dead once I’d outlived my usefulness.

Not that she had ever voiced such a wish. Just the sight of her frozen features when she first visited me as I was recovering persuaded me. I saw the flicker of disappointment in her eyes when I told her I expected to make a full recovery. And she meant me to see it too. I wouldn’t put it past her to be the agent of my destruction here, except that it was not as yet clear that I was the victim, even though I had fallen ill. Our suppositions were bound together with threads as thin as spider webs, and just as fragile. We needed more information. And I would not distress Richard by telling him my private suspicions.

“She means nothing personal,” I tried to explain now. “Lady Southwood doesn’t believe in personal feelings. She doesn’t wish me evil. But she sees the advantages in Richard being a free agent once more. It’s obvious that Gervase will never marry, although she’s tried to encourage him to think of it.” Richard’s twin preferred the embrace of my brother, Ian, and together they made a far more devoted couple than many I could think of, but that wouldn’t have stopped Lady Southwood had she considered a suitable match for him.

At the moment their sister, who preferred these days to be addressed by her second name, Georgiana, rather than her first name of Maria, was the subject of her matchmaking ambitions. Richard had left Gervase in charge of checking their mother’s more outrageous schemes, such as arranging a match between an aged, wealthy duke who happened to be close to eighty years old. It was fortunate that Georgiana’s father doted on her and had witnessed some of his wife’s more elaborate obsessions, so he would care for Georgiana too.

Lizzie swallowed. “How do you manage?”

I smiled and shrugged. “I avoid her company as much as I can. She has hurt Richard enough. She will not do so again.”

“Even if you’re not here?”

“It’s one of the reasons I fought so hard to live. I wasn’t ready to leave. I have children to care for and a husband to love.” I was no longer shy of explaining my love for my husband. I left it to him what to say to others, but Lizzie knew how he felt about me. How much he needed me.

Lizzie had a loving relationship with her husband, so I wouldn’t have expected the flush that mantled her cheeks now. But she had ever been the practical one. She had expected to make a comfortable match, not a passionate one, and I guessed she might be still coming to terms with what that meant. Thanks to servants’ gossip, I knew she and Paul customarily slept in the same bed, much as Richard and I were wont to do.

Thinking of that, I broadened my smile. “Your strategy worked, Lizzie. Although my illness might not have helped, I won’t let him draw apart from me again.”

“I’m so glad. I take it you’re reconciled?”

“Yes.” We would be completely together, very soon. I was certain of that. Perhaps tonight. The thought sent an illicit thrill through me.

“And you’re feeling well again?” She bit her lip, her pale blue eyes vivid under the shade of her broad straw hat. “I’m so sorry, Rose.”

“It happens to the best of cooks.” I brushed aside her concerns for me. “How is the maid? The one who—” It was my turn to redden.

“Died?” Lizzie finished for me, a note of bitterness in her voice. “I have to visit the poor girl’s parents. Her mother will be distraught. It’s fortunate she has other girls, since she depends upon them for a living.” Typical of Lizzie to find out all she could. I would wager if the woman had no other means of support, Lizzie would have seen that she didn’t want. “A hard-working, honest girl, despite her propensity to sleep in. As were the other two. They are still abed, but recovering. Weaker than you were.”

“I ate less,” I said. “If they ate most of the dish between them, they would have had considerably more.”

She sighed. “I suppose so.”

A shadow fell over me, and I turned to see Carier. “My lady.” His unsmiling gaze held a query.

“Yes, Carier, I think the children should go in.” I motioned to the nurses and glanced at Lizzie, who nodded. I gave her an apologetic smile. “I should have noticed before. Helen is visibly dropping.” In fact she wasn’t, but it wouldn’t be long. The nurses should have time to get her to bed for her nap before she grew irritable, her invariable habit if kept awake for too long.

I kissed my children, paying special attention to little Will, but he gurgled at me and I could have sworn he smiled. Such a beautiful baby, eyes as blue as the summer sky and a fine complexion, with a fragile appearance belied by his more robust brothers. They would need to be put to the breast. Once again I felt a pang when I recalled that I would not be feeding these children and never had the chance. I would never have the chance again. Life is full of farewells.

I glanced at Carier. “Should I go in?” I was asking him if he minded if Lizzie was privy to the news he was so obviously ready to impart.

“Not unless you wish it, ma’am.”

Richard approached, carrying a tray containing tall glasses. Their faceted surfaces glinted off the cold sun. He’d have brought a servant, but I knew he would want privacy. He presented the glasses to us with a smile. “Wine mixed with pomegranate juice.”

“A popular beverage here,” Lizzie told me.

After my first sip, I understood why. The pomegranate gave a rich, fruity flavour to the young red wine. A refreshing drink and one I’d remember when I returned home. It would make an interesting offering at my afternoon salons.

Richard settled on the couch next to me. Lizzie had ordered two comfortable couches brought out from the house, made of woven basketwork, covered with large cushions. They made an excellent garden seat, and far more easy than the stone seats I was used to at home.

Richard waved the footmen back. They stepped out of earshot but remained on duty. No doubt I’d see them a lot in the weeks to come. I could put them to use when we went shopping in Lisbon again, as we planned to do soon. Once we resolved our current mystery.

Richard took my hand and turned it palm-up in his. “You feel well, still?”

I didn’t like the anxiety in his tone. “I’m fine. I’ve had a light meal and everything is as it should be.”

Lizzie got to her feet. “Indeed she shows every sign of recovering well. I don’t scruple to tell you it was a great shock knowing you were ill, especially after your—trouble.” That was one way of putting it. “But I have ordered the dairy scrubbed out, and the kitchen too. That will keep the maids busy.” She shook out her skirts. “If you will excuse me, I must take little Paul to his father. He likes to see him every day at this time, and in any case, I think my husband has been about estate business for too long.” She laughed and held her hand out to her son, who toddled unsteadily to her. She picked him up and smiled at us. “I’m glad you’re here,” she said simply, before she went away.

We watched her leave, her pink skirts lifting in the light breeze, her essential elegance as apparent from the back view as the front.

Carier motioned to our attendant footman who obligingly moved a little farther away. By that alone I knew he had news. Carier spoke the words I was dreading. “It was poison, my lady. There’s no doubt.”

I wanted to know everything, nothing held back. “Tell me.”

“The rodent died.” His mouth thinned. “It was not the fault of the cook, or the dairymaids. The lemon cream had an extra topping that someone added between the dairy and the dining room. The dish was made and then put in the dairy to keep cool until the time to serve it. That was probably when it was contaminated.” I swallowed but said nothing. “I gave the creature the whole item then noted a glistening substance on the surface. It appeared to be sugar. But I took some of the crystal and gave it to another creature the gardener provided me with. It convulsed and died.”

“I noticed a new topping,” I said. “I thought it was sugar, but it didn’t taste particularly sweet.” I turned to face my husband. “When I vomited, Nichols didn’t like the shivers or the spasms my body went into. That was when she decided to purge me, she said.”

“She could have saved your life,” Richard said.

“I didn’t eat much, so I might have merely spent several more days in bed like the unfortunate maids.”

“Or died, like the more unfortunate maid.” Richard would face that first. His voice was steady but low toned. “I think we have to face the fact that someone tried to kill you, my love.”

Chapter Eleven

I wanted to throw myself into his arms and let him hold me until I could face this ugly thing. I wanted to turn my back, run away, get away from the horror that had infected me. But I forced myself to remain calm. I couldn’t add to his burdens now by behaving like a hysterical female. “How do you know it was me they wanted and not Lizzie?”

“We don’t. Both of you have professed a fondness for the sweet,” Richard said. It relieved me that he could admit the possibility, that he hadn’t immediately surrounded me with more safeguards than I could cope with. “I doubt anyone intended it for the maids, though. Not specific enough, and there was no probability of the dish returning to the kitchen uneaten. You could have consumed it all at the table.”

“Did you ask her ladyship about the sequence of events, ma’am?” Carier asked gently.

Lizzie had volunteered most of the information. I hadn’t had to ask her, but I had committed what she told me to memory. “She said that she was running late, so she went down to the kitchen instead of having the cook come to her with the menus, as she usually does. They were preparing breakfast, so that would be at around half past ten. No later than eleven, because the maid hadn’t yet got out the eggs. Paul likes scrambled eggs with fish and rice, so they provide a dish every morning for him.” A ghost of a smile flickered over my lips at this reminder of the way Lizzie liked to control her household. “She discussed the menus with the cook then, in the main kitchen. Because they were preparing breakfast and beginning dinner preparations too, the kitchen was full, but none of the upstairs maids should have been there. They would be elsewhere.”

Richard sighed. “A well-ordered household is a wonderful thing. Perhaps you could ask Lizzie to make a list of the servants who should have been in the kitchens at that time, and perhaps those who also might have the opportunity to be there and overhear the orders. Footmen running errands, perhaps, or the butler checking the wine list.”

“But do we really need to know all that, if we think we know the identity of the poisoner?”

“I want to know everything, my love,” Richard said. “All the details.”

“I believe I should befriend the cook,” Carier said. “He will be particularly distressed that a guest fell ill after his food. I will emphasize the importance of careful vigilance of the items between kitchen and table.”

Richard glanced up at him. “A good thought.” His perceptive gaze fell on me, and he stretched out his hand, concern crossing his face. Without hesitation, I moved closer to him. He settled my shawl more securely over my shoulders before he took my hand. “I will discover who did this and why. Not the agent, who we’re fairly sure of, but the enemy we are undoubtedly facing. Any ideas?”

“At least we know the Drurys haven’t sent an assassin.” I shuddered at the reminder. “A terrible business.”

Our old enemy Steven Drury had retired to the country with his father-in-law, trying to rebuild his fortune after his late wife, Julia, had dissipated it in search of a high social standing and influence over matters of state. As well as trying to kill Richard and me.

One enemy remained, and it was time to speak his name. I kept the possibility of Lady Southwood close to my chest. I had no reason to suspect her. She had never attacked us in that way before, and I couldn’t allow my dislike of her to colour my thinking now. “John Kneller is in the Colonies,” I said. Someone had to say his name, but a chill crept over my skin at the words. “A new enemy? An old one returned?”

Richard exchanged a telling look with Carier, who stood behind the sofa where I’d recently sat. “We know that someone wanted to do you harm, my love, that’s for sure. We are fairly sure we know who could have done it, but we don’t know if he was working alone or with someone else.”

He paused, thinking, before he voiced his suspicions. “It would have been a simple matter for Barber to go to the dairy, either before he made his presence known here or just before dinner.” Activity in most dairies was confined to earlier in the day, when the milk was collected and processed. It was left closed after that, to keep the contents chilled until they were needed. “Dairies are customarily built against an outer wall of the house, or in a separate building, to facilitate the coming and going from the fields, and theirs is no exception. That means there is only one door between the dairy and the outside world, unlike the rest of the kitchen area. Easier to find a way in.” Now his face was so rigid with control I felt sure anger simmered inside him. “Either Barber is a new enemy, or he is working with an old adversary. I want him found.”