Loving The Lost Duke (Dangerous Deceptions #1)(71)
The guests assembled downstairs, subdued and tending to huddle in small groups, speculating. Sophie, lingering outside Cal’s study, overheard the doctor talking to Lord Peter and Cal and realised that Hunt and Flynn must have removed all the evidence of vomiting. The doctor, elderly and over-awed by his surroundings appeared to have taken a rapid look at the body, announced there was no evidence of self-harm or injury and suggested a brain seizure.
She moved away from the study door when she heard movement inside and went back to the drawing room where Lord Peter, in the role of Justice, announced that he was satisfied with the doctor’s verdict and would release the body for temporary burial in the parish churchyard pending his family’s wishes being known.
‘It is too warm to keep him hanging about for days, even in the wine cellar,’ he said, with an unfortunate lack of sensitivity and Lady Beauville gave a low moan as she slid to the floor in a faint.
By luncheon, which everyone picked at, spirits had revived enough for there to be universal agreement that the house party would go on. ‘It is very sad, but it is not as though he was related to anyone here,’ Lady Peter pronounced. ‘Naturally, the gentlemen will attend the funeral.’
Cal drew Sophie aside after the meal. ‘Will you join us in the library? There is something I want to talk through.’
Hunt and Flynn were already there, with several maps spread out on the big table. Sophie could see that some were estate maps, others were rougher, older plans. ‘Is this about the Duke’s Spring?’ she asked as they made room for her to sit down.
‘Yes.’ Cal nodded. ‘I started to become ill after my father died and the obvious inference was that it was because I was now the Duke and someone wanted to do away with me. No-one had been sick with those symptoms before, certainly not my father who used to drink the spring water regularly. He was superstitious about it.’
‘But his spring dried up,’ Hunt said.
‘Exactly. The local people saw that as an omen of bad fortune, linked to his death, but then, two days later, the new spring appeared. That confirmed all the tales – the spring died with the old Duke and was created again with the new one – you can imagine the sort of thing.’
‘And you drank the water and became ill?’
‘No, that is why I never made the connection. I avoided drinking the stuff because I had tried it in my father’s day from the original spring – secretly of course – and didn’t like the taste. Typical spa water. You know the sort of thing, full of iron. Of course, all the old retainers muttered about not keeping up the traditions.’
‘But somehow you were given it?’
‘Yes. But how, I don’t know.’ He shrugged. ‘Yes, I do, of course. They would add it to things, I am sure, because that was the traditional thing, the right thing. I was a foolish youth, ignoring the old ways that my father had observed so that would have been corrected. I doubt I would notice the taste in chocolate or broth, for example. No-one meant to do any damage, it was just a harmless but important tradition to them.’
‘So, the old water was safe, the new spring not?’
‘That seems the only explanation because, you see, I took a mouthful of it when you and I were there, Sophie. And that night I was taken ill. I drank it right from the source.’
‘So no-one is trying to murder you?’ The relief was indescribable.
Cal stared at her, his face bleak. ‘Oh, hell. What have I done?’
Chapter Twenty Two - Where The Duke Breaks A Heart
‘Nothing. You have done nothing.’ What was the matter with Cal?
‘Nothing? I have believed either my uncle or my cousin capable of murder. I have shared that slander with four other people. I left this country and my duties and responsibilities for years because of it. And you say I have done nothing?’
‘You acted to save your life on the information you had. And it did save your life. You were getting weaker and weaker. None of your caring relatives recognised what was happening or troubled to investigate. Sooner or later your well-meaning household would have dosed you with enough of that water to kill you. And what about the accidents?’ Sophie wanted to shake him. Cal torn by doubt and wracked by guilt was not the man she knew, the man she loved.
‘If I eliminate the times when I was sick from the water, or weak and probably clumsy as a result, then what is left is no doubt the same tally of mishaps and injuries that befall any adolescent boy.’
‘But the circumstantial evidence pointed to foul play. It might still be, for all we know. Perhaps they did know about the water and let nature take its course. I don’t know – and I like your aunt and uncle and I contemplated marrying your cousin, for heaven’s sake.’
‘We still have to prove it is the spring water,’ Hunt pointed out.
‘Which means tracing the source.’ Cal was focused again, to Sophie’s vast relief. ‘It must lie on the other side of the ridge in a stream that goes underground there and did so only after my father’s death. And, equally, the source of the old spring must be there, blocked up at the same time.’ He scrubbed his hand over his face. ‘How to prove which water runs where?’ He snapped his fingers. ‘Bluing from the laundry. Sophie, can you go and ask Mrs Fairfax for all the bluing in the house?’