A Perilous Perspective (Lady Darby Mystery #10)(97)

I climbed the stairs, but rather than exiting into the corridor that would lead to my bedchamber, I continued up the next flight to Charlotte’s. I rapped softly before opening the door to peer inside. The lights were all extinguished save the fire in the hearth, which revealed her lying on her bed in the flickering glow, and the scents of lavender, yarrow, and feverfew drifted from the room.

“Kiera?” she murmured.

“May I come in?”

“Of course.”

I shut the door gently before crossing the room to perch on the edge of her bed. “How are you feeling?”

A cloth was draped over her forehead, and she opened her eyes briefly before answering. “Better. A little.”

She allowed me to take her hand in mine. “Is there anything I can do?”

“No. Celeste knows what to do.”

I remembered her maid. She had nearly died with us at Gairloch.

Turning to gaze into the fire, I searched for the right words. “I’m sorry I’ve been so distracted by the inquiries . . .”

She squeezed my hand, halting me. “There’s no need to apologize.” Her eyes fluttered behind their lids.

“Maybe. But I still wish I could have been with you more these past few days, to stand beside you, to offer my support.”

Her lips quirked into a pained smile. “You’re a good friend, Kiera. But your being there wouldn’t have made contending with my father any better or any easier.” She sighed. “He is who he is. And I just have to accept that.” Her voice strengthened. “Just as he’ll have to accept that I’m marrying Rye. Or not accept it, I suppose. The choice will be his. But that’s not going to stop me from doing it.”

I felt the tears I’d been biting back earlier resurface. “I’m so happy to hear that, dearest. You deserve to be happy.”

“I don’t know that I deserve it,” she countered. “I don’t know that any of us do. But I’m going to be. Happy, that is. And I’m going to stop trying to make everyone else happy as well. If they want to be, they can decide they’re going to be for themselves.”

“Bravo, Charlotte,” I exclaimed as tears streamed down my cheeks. I knew this was a momentous realization for her. She’d spent so much of her life trying to please others, deferring to their wishes and tying herself in knots to do so, that she’d lost sight of what made her content. That’s one of the reasons I’d always adored her great-aunt, Lady Bearsden, for she’d never let Charlotte cater to her happiness over her own.

Her eyes opened to meet mine in a moment of solidarity before closing again.

“I shall leave you to rest then,” I said, squeezing her hand once more before rising to my feet.

“Kiera?” she murmured before I could go.

“Yes, dear?”

“Don’t fret about me. I know what needs to be done. You just focus on finding that murderer.”

“Is that an order?” I couldn’t help but quip.

“Will it help if I make it one?”

I smirked, for she knew me too well. “Maybe.”

“Then, yes. It is.”

“Yes, my lady,” I replied with a mock curtsy she couldn’t see.

Or maybe she could, for she snorted.

I left the room with a smile. It was the last one I would wear for some time.



* * *




*

I woke with a start to the sound of banging on our bedchamber door. Sitting upright, I clasped the sheet to my pounding chest. Meanwhile Gage had already vaulted out of bed and pulled his dressing gown on over his bare torso as he crossed the room. He yanked open the door only to be confronted by a frantic Anderley. I’d never seen him looking anything less than cool and collected, but his dark hair stood on end, and there was a stain across the collar of his white shirt.

“It’s Bree,” he gasped. “We think she’s been poisoned.”

Panic clutched my throat, making it difficult to speak. “What are her symptoms? Where is she now?” I scrabbled for my own dressing gown.

“She started vomiting . . . about an hour ago, on the trail back from Poltalloch. I . . . I lost track of the time. Oh Dio!” He broke off to exclaim, clutching his hair in both hands.

“It doesn’t matter,” I told him, thrusting my arms into the sleeves, even though he evidently realized it did. “What else?”

“She . . . she became lethargic. And cool and clammy to the touch. What does that mean?”

“It could just be a result of her vomiting,” I tried to reassure him even though my heart stuttered with fear. “Which is a good thing. If she ingested the poison, then we need her to vomit it back up. All of it back up.” I hastened forward to grip his arms, seeing the wildness in his eyes. “Where is she now?”

“The servants’ hall with the cook. I didn’t know . . .”

I nodded, cutting him off. “Bring her to Gage’s assigned chamber and tell the cook I need a bottle of ipecac or whatever foul remedy they have for making someone vomit, as well as clean water and chamber pots.”

He whipped around and ran down the hall, disappearing into the stairwell.

I stood in the doorway, pressing a hand to my heart as I tried to process what had just happened. Bree had been poisoned while she was investigating on our behalf. Gage’s arms wrapped around me, pulling me into his chest, and I allowed myself one moment to absorb his comfort before pushing him away. Fear was clawing its way up inside me, and if I didn’t do something, it might take hold entirely.