“Be assured, my Lady, that I will be present by my daughter’s side, throughout whatever ill-conceived thing you may have set in motion.”
“Excellent.”
Seemingly pleased with the disturbance that her demands had created, the Dowager turned her attention to her food and ate with an appetite and enthusiasm which no one else in the room felt any longer.
An hour later, with the Dowager again retired to her rooms, they sat in the parlour, wondering what it was that would happen that morning, unable to see any way to do more than wait. Maria took up her embroidery again, wondering if this piece would ever be finished, yet needing something to keep her occupied. She looked up to find Charles watching her. Their eyes met, and her hands stilled, the needle partway through the cloth. There was such care, such warmth, such, dare she think it, love, in his eyes that she felt close to tears. Her thoughts went back to those moments in the conservatory, when he had held her while she cried. She wanted to feel like that again – not the tears, but the sense of being safe, protected, cherished.
He smiled, and gave a little shrug, as if to say that he also could not think of anything to do but wait. Maria gave a tiny nod in return, and forced her attention back to the embroidery in her hands. As it turned out, they did not have long to wait.
Within a half hour, there came the sound of carriage wheels on the gravel, soon followed by the opening of the front door. Some minutes passed, and then the Dowagers voice came from the hall.
“Thank you for coming at such short notice, Dr Fitzpatrick. If you would follow me.”
“Of course, my Lady.”
The parlour door opened, and the Dowager entered, followed by a distinguished looking man who carried a valise of the type often used by doctors to carry their potions and devices. The Dowager fixed Maria with her harsh glare again, and addressed the room.
“This is Doctor Sir Wilfred Fitzpatrick, a physician of renown. I have called him in to assess the… potions… which you administered to my son. I would have proof of your ill doing to your husband, from a source that no one will dispute. Dr Fitzpatrick, this…” she waved her hand in Maria’s direction, “is my late son’s wife. It is her potions that I believe caused his death. Demand of her whatever you need for your assessment. I will ensure that she complies.”
The bitter cruel edge to the Dowager’s voice was enough to make Maria shiver a little with fear, but Charles met her eyes and smiled. She drew herself up and stepped forward, smiling as brightly as she could.
“Good day to you, Dr Fitzpatrick. I am Maria, Lady Granville – how may I assist you? I would have this situation resolved as rapidly as possible. Let me introduce the others present.” She motioned each person forward in turn, introducing them. “My brother-in-law, the Duke of Melton, my sister, the Duchess of Melton, my father and mother – Lord and Lady Chester, my brother Lord Kevin Loughbridge and His Grace’s brother, Lord Wareham.”
The doctor’s eyes widened a little at the room full of important personages arrayed before him, but he retained his composure admirably. Maria felt the smallest piece of hopefulness – he appeared a reasonable man of good social standing, and gracious manner – perhaps he was not simply a tool to the Dowager’s hand.
Once the doctor had acknowledged everyone, bowing elegantly to the ladies present, he turned back to Maria.
“Perhaps, my Lady, it would be best if you told me a little about what you know of medicines, where you learnt this, and why, and then, perhaps you can show me the area in which you prepare things?”
“Of course. Won’t you be seated, Doctor? This may take a little while to tell.”
The doctor sat, and everyone settled in, watching curiously. The Dowager paced the edge of the room, apparently unable to simply sit. Maria ignored her, to the best of her ability.
“The story, if I am to tell all of it, begins when I was a child.”
Maria glanced at her mother, who looked rather startled at these words.
It was to be expected – Maria was about to reveal things that her mother had never known about.
“Tell me whatever you feel necessary, my Lady.”
The doctor appeared almost embarrassed at what he had been asked to do here, and seemed most grateful that she was cooperating, rather than there being a terrible scene.
“I became interested in healing plants, and what could be done with them, as a result of my childhood Nurse. For she always had a posset or a simple to treat my sniffles or scratches. And they worked. Nor did they taste as horrible as the medicines that our physician sometimes provided.” Maria blushed a little, realising that her words might be interpreted as criticising physicians, but the doctor simply nodded and waited for her to continue. “I was not a child to like the outdoors,” Nerissa’s stifled laughter made Maria glance her way for a second, “but I was willing to follow my Nurse to see the plants that she used. Over time, I learnt much. I did not tell my mother, for I feared that she would think it an unladylike interest.”
Lady Chester looked somewhat offended at Maria’s words, and went as if to speak, but an unexpected glare from her other daughter caused her to subside. After a moment Kevin spoke.
“I say Maria, does that mean it was you who ran off with my botany books? I never could work out where they’d gone.”
“Yes, that was me. I’m sorry, but I wanted to learn.”
Kevin laughed at her reddened cheeks.
“Well you made better use of them, it seems, than I ever would have.”
Maria turned back to the doctor, and went on.
“I had a little shed, near the gardener’s cottages, and I learnt how to use the plants. The staff helped me, for they wanted the simples I made for their ill children and families. When I came here, I found it… difficult to adapt. The way that the household operated… was so… different from my previous experience.” She glanced at the Dowager, whose expression suggested that, if she said anything more specific about the household situation, then retribution would occur later. “I found myself with a need for something to fill my time, so I began to wander the Park, and the close by lanes, looking for plants, and I appropriated an old cottage near the home farm, and used it to store and prepare my possets. Again, the staff here, once they realised what I was doing, helped when they could, bringing me plants when they discovered them.”
“How dare they!”
The Dowager’s words cut harshly across the conversation, full of anger. The Doctor looked at her enquiringly
“My Lady?”
She turned away, obviously struggling to rein in her anger.
“Nothing. Do go on. This is most informative so far.”
The doctor turned back to Maria, a small frown marring his brow.
“I see – will you show me this cottage?”
“Yes, willingly. When my husband suffered his accident, and then took a terrible fever of the lungs, I did what I could to help him – to soothe so that he could sleep, and breathe easier.”
The doctor nodded, waiting for her to continue.
“But nothing could save him. Each time, he would swallow what I gave him, and he would seem better for a short time, but, always, he got worse again. And then, despite my personal objections, the physician attending insisted on bleeding him. He weakened immediately – I am quite certain that it hastened his death.”
“I am inclined to agree on that point. My experience, in recent years, suggests that bleeding is not as efficacious as it was once thought to be.”
Maria relaxed a little in her seat, relived that the doctor shared her views on the topic. The Dowager, however, had stilled in her pacing, and stood stiffly, her eyes angry upon the doctor she had summoned. It seemed that she was not best pleased with his views. Maria thought a moment, unsure if there was anything else she should tell him, then concluded that there was not.
“That is, I think, all of the story. If you would follow me, I will show you the cottage, and all of my herbs and preparations. I must warn you
that the path will be well muddied with the recent snow.”
“I believe that I can manage a little mud, my Lady.”
Maria nodded, and rose. Everyone followed her as she led the doctor from the room, even the Dowager – it seemed that her curiosity overwhelmed her distaste for the muddied paths outside. No one spoke as they walked through the gardens, and down the paths past the home farm, until they reached the simple cottage.
They stepped inside, and Maria stood to one side, leaving the doctor to examine the contents of the room as he would. The swirl of scents from the hanging dried herbs surrounded her, soothing, reassuring – this was the one place in which she usually had control of everything. As the doctor stepped forward, Charles came to stand beside her. Softly, as if by accident, his fingers brushed her arm. She felt it, as if it was searingly hot, even through her warm clothes. She knew, with absolute certainty, that the touch was no accident – it was intentional, and meant to offer her what support he could, under the view of others’ eyes. She glanced at him, smiling, then returned her eyes to the doctor.
The man wandered around, lifting bottles, and unstoppering them, carefully sniffing the contents before resealing them, examining herbs and equipment. Finally, he turned to Maria, a bottle in hand.
“My Lady, if you would, tell me what this is, how it was made, and what it might be used for?”
Maria complied, and he simply nodded, and moved on to another item. So it went for over an hour. Maria felt exhausted by the end of it, yet pleased – he had not mocked her in any way, had not spoken against the properties of the possets and simples she created – he had simply nodded each time, and asked about another item. Finally, he replaced the last bottle in its correct place, and spoke.
“Thank you for your patience. We can now return to the parlour – I am certain that you are all ready to be out of the cold and settle by a warm fire.”
The Dowager made as if to speak, then simply nodded.
They filed back out of the cottage, and back to the house, the silence almost oppressive.
At the parlour door, the doctor spoke again.
“My Lady, one last thing – would you show me your late husband’s rooms, and any items you might have given him, if any remain?”
“As you wish, doctor.”
Maria met Charles’ eyes for a moment, as he tensed, and almost moved towards her. She gave a tiny shake of her head, then turned and went to the stairs. The doctor followed, waving everyone else back except Lord Chester and the Dowager, who stood, her obvious impatience barely contained - it was clear that she did not like being directed in her own home.
In Edmund’s rooms, everything was exactly as it had been on the day of his death. Maria was relieved – it appeared that the dowager’s grief had kept her away, and that none had dared touch the rooms without her orders. Maria went to the dresser and indicated the row of bottles.
“This one for his breathing, this one to lower his fever, and this to help him sleep.”
The doctor stood beside her, and lifted each bottle in turn, opening them and sniffing their contents. Finally, he turned to her, his eyes kind.
“I must ask this of you my Lady, as a last confirming thing.”
The Dowager watched, and, to Maria’s eyes, her expression was hungry, and a little desperate – what did she expect to happen now? Lord Chester stood, glaring at the Dowager.
“Yes?”
“Would you drink from each of these bottles, my Lady?” Maria gasped, understanding the implication of his words. But his eyes were kind, and flicked momentarily towards the Dowager. In that moment, Maria understood his intent – he seemed to bear no ill will towards her, and was seeking a way to absolutely prove his point.
“I will do so, Sir, right now, if you wish it.”
“I would be grateful if you would, my Lady.”
Maria took each bottle in turn, uncorked it, and took a sizeable swallow – less so from the sleeping draught than the others, as sleep would not be helpful now. Then she turned to face the Dowager, and, for the first time since this ridiculous activity had commenced, spoke directly to her.
“Are you satisfied now, my Lady? Has this waste of the good doctor’s time convinced you that I did not poison, nor intend to poison, my husband? For I believe that the doctor will confirm my words.”
“Indeed I will, Lady Granville, and I thank you for your forbearance as I have conducted this investigation as it was commissioned by the Dowager Countess.” He turned to the Dowager, and spoke directly to her, an edge of irritation in his voice. “Lady Granville, I have found not one shred of evidence of any malfeasance on the younger Lady Granville’s part. Her knowledge in the area of medicines is excellent – I could wish that many physicians knew as much. Nothing I found in her cottage, or in her herbs and infusions, was of a nature designed to harm. And she has just amply demonstrated that, by taking her own medicine.”
The Dowager’s face turned an unbecoming shade of crimson.
“I do not believe you sir! Surely, there is something there which is beyond the acceptable?”
“There is not. Now let us return to your parlour – I feel it only fair that I declare my findings in this matter before everyone present.”
The Dowager went to speak again, full of blustering anger, but Lord Chester stepped forward.
“I will thank you to stop maligning my daughter, my Lady. It is time to see this farce ended – let us do as the good doctor suggests, and repair to the parlour.”
The Dowager glared, but could not find a reason to refuse the suggestion. They returned to the lower floor in silence.
~~~~~
Charles paced about the parlour, unable to be still, wishing desperately that he had reason to have gone upstairs with Maria. At least her father, true to his word, was with her. For whilst the physician had behaved with great courtesy so far, Charles still did not trust what he might do – after all, he was present at the Dowager’s behest.
There came a knock at the door, and everyone turned – it was too soon for Maria and the others to have returned – and the Dowager would certainly not have knocked. Moments later, Thompson, looking concerned, ushered the magistrate into the room.
“My Lords and Ladies, Your Grace, I trust you are well today? Might I have a little of your time, to confirm some of the details again, before the highwaymen are finally dealt with?”
Hunter stepped forward.
“Certainly, how can we help?”
“I simply need to hear the details of how you identified the men, and located their hiding place, again. I must inform you that you were also correct about them using the old tower on Lady Fremont’s property – our search there uncovered a very large amount of stolen goods – many were identifiable pieces of jewellery, which had been reported as stolen in highway robberies.”
“I am glad that so many goods have been recovered, and will be, I hope, returned to their owners. But come, sit, and we will call for tea, then we can go through the whole story again for you.”
“My thanks, Your Grace.”
Once the tea had been delivered, they told the tale again, in even greater detail than the night before, noting how it all tied together with the Dowager’s accusations of Maria, and the somewhat unusual circumstances of Lord Granville’s accident, which led to his death. Charles also explained that the Dowager still persisted in her condemnation of Maria – to the extent that a learned physician was, at that moment, ‘investigating’ Maria’s medicines. The magistrate looked most shocked.
“Your Grace, I do not understand how the Dowager can believe ill of Lady Granville – her possets have helped half the village!”
“Nonetheless, the Dowager Countess appears utterly convinced of Lady Granville’s ill intent.”
The magistrate shook his head, muttering quietly.
“Shocking. Most shocking!”
He did not have the chance to say more, for at that moment the door opened.
~~~~~
&nbs
p; Downstairs, the parlour was quiet. All eyes turned to Maria and her companions as they entered, and she realised that there was an extra person present – the magistrate. More to witness her humiliation, she thought, wryly. Well, it was no worse than she had suffered throughout her marriage. The doctor stepped forward.
“I have completed my assessment of Lady Granville’s herbal preparations, as I was commissioned to do. I will now deliver my opinion on the matter, before all present, that there might be no doubt of my words. I have found nothing whatsoever in any of Lady Granville’s herbs or preparations, to indicate any intent to harm, or, indeed, the production of any potion capable of harm. In addition, to confirm my assessment, I asked lady Granville to drink from each of the bottles which contained potions which she had administered to her late husband. She did so without hesitation. I thank her for her forbearance as I have done what I was commissioned to do. A set of actions which, I believe, were entirely unnecessary.”
The Dowager glared at the man.
Lady Chester looked at her husband, who nodded, confirming what had happened.
“Thank you, doctor, for your courtesy in dealing with this. Might we all now return to the other matters in our day?”
“Certainly, I have no need to further disturb you.”
He bowed to all, and last to the Dowager, then left the room. The Dowager, freed by his exit, scowled at everyone, then focussed on the magistrate.
“And what are you doing here? As the good doctor has not succeeded in providing information adequate for me to suggest that you lock up this hussy for murder, I do not understand your presence in my home.”
The magistrate drew himself up, and appeared to consciously choose to ignore her rudeness.
“My Lady, I am here to consult with your guests, who, last night, were successful in bringing to justice the highwaymen who have plagued the roads between here and London for months. The reprobates were, it seems, also responsible for Lord Granville’s ‘accident’, and therefore his death. They were using your Dower House to store their stolen goods, and when Lord Granville began the work to restore the building, they decided to act to stop him.”
Rescuing the Countess: Sweet and Clean Regency Romance (His Majesty's Hounds Book 13) Page 11
