"Sophie?"
Mary advanced. Before she could do anything, Familiar flew to the bed. With a half growl, he caught the covers in his teeth and pulled.
Mary ran forward. Her friend was deathly pale, her eyes closed and her chest barely moving. "Sophie?"
There was no answer.
Mary rushed to the bedside and tried to shake Sophie awake. She was alive, but she did not respond to anything Mary did. "Sophie!" Mary cried urgently. Then she ran from the room, down the stairs, and hurried out the kitchen door, running once again toward the Connery house.
Chapter Nine
"Keep her walking," Abby directed the tiring Kevin and John as they supported Sophie in a slow pacing back and forth across the room. "There'll be no sleep for you this night, but tomorrow you can lie abed and snore yourselves silly."
Mary sat in a chair in front of the fire and watched her friend stumble sleepily between the two men. Sophie's color was good, as was her breathing. But it didn't do to take a chance, not at Mayfair. Mary toyed with the idea of loading William and Sophie into a car and taking them both away. She could do it— and she might. "Do you think Dr. Sloan should take a look at her?"
"Let the poor man sleep," Abby said. "Miss Sophie's taken in a quantity of my herbal tea. She's sleepy, but it isn't a toxic substance. We could let her sleep it off, but it'll make you feel better if we revive her."
"Yes, it will," Mary agreed. Sophie was rolling her head from side to side, resisting all effort to wake her. But Kevin and John struggled on, forcing her to walk.
"Why won't you leave me alone?" Sophie said clearly— and irritably. "I want to sleep."
"See," Abby said. "She's fine."
"I think you're right." Mary was feeling better and better as her friend started to grudgingly wake up.
"How do you suppose she got into the tea?"
Abby motioned for the men to put Sophie back onto the bed. "She came downstairs about nine and said she'd stayed behind so that you and William could have a real date. She'd been reading, but felt nervous. She kept hearing things outside her door and such. I know how Miss Sophie's mind can imagine things, so I gave her a cup of tea."
"One cup wouldn't do this," Mary said.
"Right. She obviously went back and made more. I showed her where the herbs were located."
"She must have drunk several pots," Mary replied. She caught the startled look on John's face, but he quickly averted his eyes.
"I'll go and make us some coffee," Kevin offered. "Caffeine should help bring her around."
"Exactly so." Abby went to the bed and rested her palm on Sophie's forehead. "How are you, Sophie?"
"I was fine until you burst in here, dragged me around the room, and irritated me to pieces."
Mary felt relief wash over her. Sophie had always been grumpy about being awakened. With each passing minute she was sounding more and more like her old self.
"I'll be back," Abby said, excusing herself. John and Kevin followed after her. Their work was done.
"What possessed you to drink all of that tea?" Mary asked as soon as she was alone with her friend.
"Don't make it sound like I've been robbing the cupboards. I went back and made myself a single cup of tea. The one Abby gave me was delicious, and I was beginning to feel very relaxed and sleepy. So I thought one more would bump me over the edge into sleep. I didn't realize I was going to be the sport for every member of the Connery family, not to mention my best friend. Next, William will be here nagging me to wake up."
Mary smiled. "So sorry to disturb your dreams, Sleeping Beauty. I thought you were dead."
"It's this place, this morbid castle."
Instead of denying it, Mary stood and paced the room. "William is going to the hospital Monday for some tests. If we can manage to get through this weekend…"
"Mary." Sophie sat up. "What's wrong?"
"He had another attack." Mary pulled a chair up beside the bed and gave her friend some of the details. Carefully avoiding all references to Lisette, Mary told of William's illness and the ride through the night. "So, things are very tough for William. I'd like to have this dinner party and pretend that everything is fine here. It could be very important to William. In the future."
"Mary, what are you going to do?" Sophie gave Mary's hand a squeeze. "I've been terrible, thinking only of myself. William is really sick. What will you do?"
"He'll go into the hospital, and we should know something in a day or two. I'll remain here." Even as she spoke, Mary knew she sounded unsure of herself. Should she stay at Mayfair? Would that help or hinder William in the future?
"That's good, a show of strength." Sophie sounded more and more assured as she talked. "At least William has consented to finding out what's wrong. I think this is a very positive step."
"Sophie…" Mary looked at her friend. "I've teased you so much lately about this ghost business."
"That's okay. I guess I was being something of a goose. I mean, I saw someone in the hall, but I didn't really see his face. I was being silly."
"Maybe not." Mary felt the flush creep up her face. "William changed." She forced herself to continue. "He changed radically. And he…" She had to stop.
"He what?" Sophie was leaning forward. "What, Mary?"
"He thought I was Lisette." She dropped her gaze down to her lap. She'd intended to keep this part from Sophie, but she needed someone to confide in, and Sophie had been her closest friend for the past five years. From the pocket of her jeans, she extracted the ring. "He left this for me on my door."
Sophie drew in her breath. "It's beautiful, Mary. It must be hundreds of years old. In fact, at least two of the women in the paintings are wearing a ring just like this one."
"It's the MacEachern marriage ring. I think William left it for me because he was Slaytor, and he thought I was Lisette."
"Oh, Mary." Sophie's eyes filled with tears. "That isn't true. If William left it, he meant it for you. He loves you without any reservations."
"Aye, he does. When he's William." Mary turned away before Sophie could see her tears. She was tired and upset, but crying wouldn't do any good.
"Well, I'm wide awake. Let's plan the dinner."
"Now that's a good idea. It's Saturday morning, and though I haven't had a wink of sleep, I'm ready to plan. That will give Abby and the staff a chance to put it all together."
"What, dinner for…seven?"
"Ten, I believe. We'll have the three of us, Mrs. Daugherty, Dr. Sloan, Erick, his lady, Chancey, Clarissa and Darren McLeod and…" Mary stopped. "Who else?"
"William will know. Ten will hardly put a dent in that enormous table." Sophie's hand flew to her forehead. "What a goose I am. I forgot to tell you that Darren McLeod stopped by last night. He was desperate to see William."
"Darren?" Mary was surprised at her reaction of concern. "What did he want?" Maybe it was his mother that set Mary's teeth on edge. She didn't trust Clarissa as far as she could throw her. And Darren was definitely in his mother's thrall.
"He didn't say. I was reading when he knocked on the door. John had gone to bed, so I answered it."
"Did he come in?"
"Only the foyer. He demanded to know where William was. Naturally I couldn't tell him a thing, so he left. His hair was all tousled and he was anxious. But he didn't leave any kind of message."
"Well, I'm sure William can handle whatever it is." Mary forced her mind back to the party. "Now we have our guest list…."
"Will ten people be enough?"
"More than enough." Mary already felt apprehensive. She didn't want to overextend herself on the first entertainment, but she also wanted to put on a show of graciousness and ease. If William didn't get sick. "It's always in the evening when William has an attack."
"I know." Sophie spoke quietly. "I was so excited for you last night. I was hoping it was over. The night before had been calm, except for Familiar's episode. And last night looked so promising."
"I've racked my p
oor brain. What would trigger such a thing? I've gotten to the point where I'm saying the hall clock chimes eight and William becomes Slaytor. Could it be the clock?" Mary laughed at herself, but it wasn't a humorous sound. "I'm getting desperate to find some cause and effect."
Sophie yawned and stretched. "Excuse me. Another little twinge of that tea."
Remembering the coffee, Mary got up and went to the door. "I'll bring the coffee up. And I want to check those herbs. If you only made a cup, and it nearly turned you into Ichabod Crane, maybe I could keep some on hand for William when he starts to act strange."
Mary didn't wait for an answer. She was bone weary as she trudged to the kitchen. Abby was nowhere to be found, but the coffeepot and two cups were on a tray. She'd obviously been about to bring them up when her attention had been diverted.
Stepping into the pantry, Mary began to rummage through the different jars and bags that Abby kept. The array was impressive. Some of the goods were store bought, and others Abby had put up herself. Spices and teas predominated, and Mary made a mental note to come back and check out Abby's pantry at a later date. Herbs fascinated her, and a few cooking lessons wouldn't hurt.
As a member of the symphony, she had found that her life revolved around music rather than food. Now, things were changing. It would be fun to prepare something for the dinner party, some dessert or dish. It would help her to hold on to her dream of life with William at Mayfair.
In the kitchen, she retrieved the tray and a small black shadow that followed her along the halls. At the library, she checked on William. He was sleeping soundly.
"As well he should," she murmured under her breath. "Like a baby, and I'm wide awake." She tucked the blanket under his chin and closed the door behind her.
"Come on, Familiar. We have a menu to plan, and I'm certain you have a few ideas in that direction."
* * *
MARY TWISTED HER curls into a loosely gathered cluster and pinned them in place. The effect was perfect with the gown she'd chosen for the evening. It wasn't a formal dinner, but she wanted to look her best. For William.
William was dressing for the dinner, also. He'd awakened long enough to drink tea and eat toast, and then he'd slept through the rest of the day. There had been no opportunity to speak with him about the events of the night before.
The guests would be arriving at any moment. Mary picked up Familiar and stroked him, allowing herself to enjoy the feel of his silky hide. Somehow she'd manage to get through the night. Somehow. She and William would have a long talk on Sunday.
Her nerves as taut as a fiddle string, Mary fought against the worries that seemed to tear at her. She held to the picture of William, sleeping soundly on the library sofa. He was okay. He really was. But the image of him as Slaytor MacEachern superimposed itself on the picture. Rugged, determined, a man who would risk everything to have the woman he loved.
Mary sighed, and Familiar licked her hand with his rough tongue.
"You know, don't you?" she whispered as she placed him on his feet. "I hope Eleanor and Peter are having more luck than I am."
She checked her bedside clock and discovered that she had time for one cup of tea before she could expect the knock of the first guest. Maybe William would join her. She checked her earrings one last time. The opals looked good with her green dress and her eyes. Suddenly remembering the emerald ring, she went to get it. It was amazing how well it fit her finger. And it was beautiful with the dress.
Should she risk triggering an episode with William by wearing it to dinner? She closed her fingers over it and decided to take it to his room. If he didn't remember giving it to her— and he hadn't said a word— it would be better to return it before anything happened to it. There was no safe place in her room, only a dresser drawer or her own jewelry box in a drawer in the bathroom. That wasn't exactly the place for a ring worth a small fortune. Best to return it to William. There was a safe in Mayfair, and it would be much better there. With that in mind, she put it back on the chain and put it around her neck. It nestled just above the curve of her breasts, obscured by the dress.
Passing Sophie's room, Mary had the first truly happy thought of the day. Sophie had gone down to the barn— sneaked, actually— to talk with Kevin. For Sophie, who was extremely shy with men, it was a major step. In all of the years that they had known each other, Sophie had expressed crushes and infatuations with men who were always unattainable. She'd yearned for movie stars and newsmakers, always turning aside the overtures of handsome young men who were actually available. Kevin was a definite step in the right direction. The matter of his parentage might prove to be rocky, but Mary had no doubt William would do everything in his power to be fair. She grinned. Yes, indeed, Sophie might see a lot more of Mayfair than she ever anticipated.
She was smiling still when she made it to the kitchen. Several of Abby's helpers were bustling about, and Mary waved them away as she turned on a kettle for tea. As Marla whirled by with cooking utensils bristling from her arms, Mary stepped into the pantry for the tea. She found the tin marked Abby's Special Blend and shook a portion into a teapot. The excitement in the kitchen was contagious and transmitted itself to her.
As she put the canister back, she saw another, very similar tin. Abby's Sleep Aid was written on the label. Mary held the can, considering. When Sophie had made her tea, she could have mistakenly picked up the wrong canister. Standing on tiptoe, Mary inspected some of the other tins and jars. Pushed way into the back was a small brown vial. Pulling it forward, she discovered it was a prescription ordered for Abby by Dr. Sloan. Nembutal.
Panic clicked in Mary's brain. Nembutal was a powerful sleeping drug. Had some of it gotten mixed in the tea? By accident or deliberately? Were there any other effects of the drug? Her mind raced with a thousand possibilities. She memorized the spelling of the drug and checked the date. It was only two months old. Whatever was troubling Abby's sleep had started about the time that William had made it known he was coming home to Mayfair.
The possibilities rolled and turned, shaping and reshaping. Mary tried to stop them because some were so patently ridiculous. She could not visualize Abby deliberately putting anything in anyone's food. The harsh truth was, though, that William's "spells" came during or after the evening meal. During the day, he often ate on the run, stopping at a pub or neighbor's house if he was out on the estate. In the evenings he ate at Mayfair.
She tried to remember each horrible incident. The last two were most vivid. One had been at the dinner table and the other had been with a glass of port. The port! She'd planned on serving it prior to the meal.
Putting the pills back on the shelf, she hurried to the bar and removed the heavy crystal decanter. Several loud glugs came from the decanter as she tipped it into the sink. Better safe than sorry. What would she do with a roomful of Scots who decided to go back in time— especially the McLeods and MacEacherns? They had been at war with each other at one time!
The idea was so ridiculous that Mary had to laugh. Mixed with the terror was a growing measure of relief. If William's episodes were brought on by some substance, then he was perfectly all right. If he stopped getting the substance, then he would never "regress" again.
She started to rinse the port decanter to refill it. Bitter reality hit home; she should have kept some of the port for analysis. She'd poured her proof down the drain.
"Blast me for a fool," she muttered. She tipped the bottle and found a small portion still remained. "Thank goodness." Finding an empty glass, she poured the half ounce of port into it and was holding it when she heard footsteps approaching. Like a guilty child, she pushed the glass into a dark corner of the bar.
"Mary?" William walked into the parlor. "Who are you talking to?"
"Myself, for being an idiot." She looked at him and couldn't help the smile that spread over her face. He was the most handsome man she'd ever seen. And he was fine! She was going to prove it!
"What a lovely smile," he said. "I feel like so
me charmed character in a fairy tale. After sleeping a hundred years, I awaken to find myself engaged to a lovely princess."
"Oh, William. I have so many things to tell you."
"What happened last night?" His worry showed in the deep lines etched in his forehead. "I remember bits and pieces. You rode with me in the night."
"I did. And my body has the bruises to prove it." Mary couldn't stop grinning.
"You're awfully jolly about it."
"Indeed I am." She kissed him. "I think I've figured it all out. William, I— "
The doorbell rang, announcing the first guest.
"What?" William had caught hold of her excitement.
"After dinner. Just promise me that you'll switch plates with me."
"Mary?" He was amused.
"No argument. It's important. Promise?"
"I don't understand, but if it pleases you, of course. By the way, Erick called and sent his belated regrets. The woman he's seeing, her child is sick. It must be serious or he would be here."
"I know. It's a shame, though. I was looking forward to meeting this woman. Erick is so private about her."
"We'll meet her soon enough. He promised that."
"If it were up to me, we'd sneak away, to be alone." Mary felt the thrill of her discovery ripple through her. She stood on tiptoe and kissed William again, making sure to remove the traces of her lipstick before she put her arm in his. Together, they went to greet the guests John was showing into the castle.
* * *
"HOW QUAINT!" Clarissa McLeod lightly touched Mary's arm. "Is this some Edinburgh custom, to switch food with your intended mate?"
"It's a custom of my family, not my city," Mary said. Her voice was very soft, and she smiled, but she saw Darren's head swivel toward his mother. He gave Clarissa a disapproving look, which she shot back at him, forcing him to return to his conversation with Sophie.
"Since we don't know much about you, dear, forgive my inquisitiveness. It's just that Lady MacEachern is such an important role to fill. Strange customs will excite gossip."
"It seems everything excites gossip in this small village." Mary wanted to bite off her own tongue. She was being antagonistic and abrasive, but she'd had as much of Clarissa's indelicate probing as she could take.
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