How to Catch a Duke in Ten Days by Violet Hamers

Chapter Thirty

Hermione mopped Rose’s brow once again, feeling the fever that was burning in the Dowager Duchess’ temple. She looked up from the woman who was clammy with heat although her skin was pale and turned her focus to the Doctor that was in the room.

He was hovering nearby with some small glass bottles of herbs and medicinal liquids in his hands, looking rather lost.

“What is wrong with her, Doctor?” Hermione asked, feeling her voice a little shaky. She knew that Antony and Fergus were still waiting outside the door, desperate to hear any news of their mother’s condition. The Doctor had requested that only one other person stay in the room, so that he could work with little fuss. Hermione had proved her worth in helping him care for Rose, meaning she won the right to stay.

“It is not right,” he said softly. “The symptoms are associated with a stomach sickness, food poisoning perhaps, but you said that everyone at the teahouse ate the same thing, did you not?”

“That is right,” Hermione said, biting her lip. It had been one of the first things they had guessed could have been the cause, especially after Rose had been complaining about fearing she’d eaten too much.

“Then it cannot be that,” he sighed and reached toward Rose once again. “Lift the cloth a moment.” Hermione reached back, letting the doctor lean down toward the unconscious woman. He tipped open her chin and smelled a little. Hermione wrinkled her nose, feeling that the Dowager Duchess’ personal space was well and truly being intruded upon now. “Ah… that would make sense.”

“What would?” Hermione asked, feeling her fingers clench around the damp cloth in her palm.

“I smell almonds. It is conducive with poison.”

“Poison!?” Hermione dropped the cloth then had to snap it back up off the bed to prevent a wet patch from forming. She hurried to mop at Rose’s head again. “How is that possible? Surely not!”

“I fear it is. If that is the case, then I need to apply an emetic.”

“You’re going to make her sick?” Hermione panicked, kneeling up on the side of the bed.

“I am.” He reached behind himself into his leather medicinal bag. “Fetch a chamber pot if you can. It must be done now if we are to save her life.”

Her life?

Hermione knew well enough a servant or a maid could be doing this in her place, but she wanted to do it herself. She liked Rose, dearly, and the thought of not helping at a time like this was too painful.

Hermione reached under the bed, finding an empty chamber pot and bringing it up to the Duchess. With speed and practiced alacrity, the doctor tipped back Rose’s chin and began to pour a brown, copper-colored liquid into her mouth. She appeared to choke at first before he clamped onto her chest and around her throat, urging her in her unconscious state to swallow it.

Hermione gathered Rose’s aging hair in her hands, waiting for the inevitable. It only took a minute or so to take effect before Rose began to convulse and churn. The Doctor and Hermione turned Rose toward the chamber pot, ready to empty her stomach contents and hopefully free her from the clutches of the poison.

As she winced at the sounds and offered soothing words that she prayed Rose could hear, a horrid thought entered Hermione’s head.

“We must find a way to persuade the Duchess to give us the money another way.” That was what her father had said. Had he taken such drastic measures into his hands? Surely that was not possible… yet a darkness settled on Hermione’s heart anyway.

* * *

Antony could barely stand still when Hermione eventually appeared out of his mother’s chamber. Outside, the sun was setting fast, bleeding a dark orange light into the sky that shone through the windows on all that were in the corridor. Opposite Antony, Fergus was standing just as restlessly with Lady Phoebe on his arm, whispering words of comfort.

“Hermione,” Antony turned his head up to Hermione as she stepped out of his mother’s chamber. She looked pale, drying her hands on a white apron around her dress. “What did the doctor say?”

“He thinks…” she paused, looking in pain. “He thinks she was poisoned.”

“Poisoned!?” Antony and Fergus both said at the same time. “No, that is not possible,” Antony said hurriedly. “How? Why? Who would ever want to hurt my mother?”

“I have an idea,” Hermione said, looking more scared than he had ever seen her before. She reached out, taking his hand.

“Hermione, you surely do not think?” Phoebe’s voice came from nearby, prompting Hermione to snap her head toward her sister.

“I do not want to think it, but after what he said… I have no choice. It must be said. Now.” Hermione lifted her eyes back to Antony.

“What is going on?” he asked, unable to keep his panic under control.

“My father has gambling debts, a lot of them,” Hermione said softly.

“I was aware he wanted money,” Antony said, remembering the conversation on the wedding day.

“He asked your mother for money, but she said no.” Hermione gulped, clearly frightened by her words. “He said afterward that he would have to find another way to persuade her to change her mind.”

“You think he could do this?” Antony said with horror.

“He was going to remove her from the situation,” Fergus concluded. “Without her, Antony, you would have been more likely to give him the money, surely?” Antony didn’t want to say yes, but as Hermione was the Earl’s daughter, he might well have caved in the end.

“Still, your father?” Antony turned his head back to Hermione.

“I don’t want to believe it, truly I do not, but…” Hermione’s eyes had unshed tears in them.

“He was the one that gave you that bruise, wasn’t he?” Antony asked, waiting with fear for her answer. She nodded, clearly unable to say the words. “Where is he?”

Antony turned and ran from the corridor, aware that behind him Fergus was following, along with Hermione and Lady Phoebe bringing up the rear. It didn’t matter how many times Fergus tried to call him back, shouting for his attention; he had to see the Earl of Branigan, at once.

Antony tore through the house, searching rooms with a restless and furious energy, knocking over chairs and banging doors that ricocheted off walls. He eventually found the Earl standing in the drawing room, looking out at the sunset that was dropping down over the cliffs above the ocean.

“You did this?” Antony accused, marching across the room toward him.

“Did what?” the Earl asked. Antony couldn’t bear the pretense of innocence. He took hold of the lapels on the Earl’s jacket and shook him with it.

“You would deny it now? We know it was poison. The doctor confirmed it.” Antony snapped the words.

“Poison? She was poisoned? With what?” the Earl asked, shaking his head back and forth. Antony nearly struck him in his anger.

“Antony!” Fergus’ voice snapped, and he pulled on one of Antony’s arms, trying to drag him away. “If he did this, then he will face a court for it. He will pay the price for his crime.”

“Crime? What crime?” the Earl asked, appearing quite in despair. He turned away from Antony and Fergus, looking toward Hermione and Lady Phoebe as they hurried into the room. “He said the Dowager Duchess has been poisoned; is it true?”

“It is,” Hermione said quickly, frowning. “Then… you did not do it?”

“No! How could you think that?” he asked, stumbling back.

“How could we not?” Antony barked the words, trying to grapple out of his brother’s grasp. “For one thing, I know you are manipulative enough for it. Have you not controlled your daughter from the day you stepped into this house?” He watched as the Earl had the grace to look ashamed. “What about that bruise on her wrist?”

“I… I wasn’t myself when that happened. I was out of control,” the Earl said, his hands quivering as he lifted them to cover his face.

“Then you have not tried to harm her ever again?” The small sound Hermione made told Antony everything he needed to know.

“You are clearly capable of the cruelty,” Antony finally managed to tear himself away from Fergus’ grasp and hurried forward, taking hold of the Earl’s lapels once again. “Just because my mother refused to give you money, you tried to poison her?”

“I could never do such a thing!” the Earl’s voice was so loud that Antony felt his eardrums tremble. “Truly. I could never do that. I am horrified to hear she has been poisoned. I have seen death close enough, Your Grace. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.”

“Antony,” Fergus’ voice was near. “I think he is telling the truth.”

“Then who did it?” Antony said, whipping his head away. Behind Hermione and Lady Phoebe, the doctor appeared in the doorway. “You said it was poison, doctor?”

“Yes, cyanide, I fear,” the doctor said gravely. “She is settled now. I think she might be out of the woods.”

“Then can we see her?” Antony said.

“She has asked to see you both. She is awake,” the doctor said with a small smile. Relieved to hear it, Antony hurried forward; he felt Hermione take his arm as he went, running alongside of him.

When they reached the landing, and the door came into view, it was ajar as though the doctor had not closed it behind him. Startled to see it so, Antony pushed open the door.

The sight that came into view made Antony stumble. Mrs. Atkins was standing over his mother with a glass of something in her hands, trying to force it down Rose’s throat as she struggled against Cordelia.