Chapter Sixteen

She had much to think about.

As Daphne settled down to her customary game of chess that night, her mind was filled with confusion and worry and sympathy. She did not know what to do.

Villiers moved a black pawn forward. “Miss Daphne, if it isn’t too bold, might I say that a wrong decision made for good reasons does not make it right.”

She smiled. Villiers had a tendency to speak in cryptic riddles. It was one of the reasons she had come to enjoy his company so much in the evenings.

“You heard more than Elliot would have been comfortable with, didn’t you?”

He nodded. “Yes, Miss Daphne.”

“Everything?” she wondered.

“Even the whispers,” he admitted.

Daphne matched his stare. “I think it would be best if you kept his secrets, Villiers.”

“I think you are quite right, Miss Daphne. No sense in any man knowing such things about another, is there?”

She shuddered as she recalled his terse explanation. It gave her more reasons to hate Countess le Dubois and her sadistic evil. If there was any way she could protect Elliot from her loathsome clutches, she would do it, no matter the price.

“Marriage is a serious undertaking, Miss Daphne.”

She frowned and moved forward one block. “I know, Villiers. It may not be necessary.”

He said no more about the subject for a long time. He focused on his game. Daphne tried to, but it was impossible. She kept seeing how hungry Elliot had been, yet how proud and honest. Honesty was something to respect in a man. A fine trait for a prospective husband to have.

When an hour passed, Darcie stepped inside, bearing a large cup of chocolate. Daphne sighed. She was up to her antics once more.

“Missus, I made some chocolate just for you. Your favorite.”

Daphne wrinkled her nose. She had never taken to drinking chocolate. “Thank you, Darcie. That was thoughtful of you.”

Darcie set it down before her, staring avidly. Villiers moved his queen.

“Blast it! You sly fox,” Daphne exclaimed.

“Best drink it while it is hot,” Darcie admonished.

“Thank you, Darcie, I will,” Daphne said dismissively.

“Missus, if you won’t be needing anything else, may I take the night off?”

Daphne sent her maid a baleful look. This was the third time this week. “I think you should stay here, Darcie. I will have need of you later,” she chided her maid.

Daphne turned her attention back to the game. Villiers gave Darcie a look of stern reproach. She stared back in anger. Turning on her heel, she marched out.

“That girl is becoming too insolent, my lady. She needs discipline.”

Daphne sighed. “I worry that the ordeal with Papa made her crazed,” she confessed. “She has been acting queerly ever since she arrived.”

“Should I ask around for a new maid?”

Daphne smiled at him. “Perhaps that would be best, Villiers. I will try to speak to her again, but if it does not work this time, I will have to let her go.”

“Very well, Miss Daphne.” Villiers sent a furtive glance to the mug. “Are you going to drink that?”

She laughed and shoved it towards him. Villiers, she had discovered, had an affinity for chocolate. “Help yourself. I hate the stuff.”

Daphne peered at the board. He had nearly managed to pin her in completely. No matter how she moved, he was going to take her. She had to find a way to save her queen.

Daphne glanced up at Villiers and paled. He had gone red in the face. Even as she looked on, he began to make odd twitching motions in the muscles of his face.

Daphne stood up. “Villiers, what is it?”

He sent the chocolate flying. It crashed onto the floor and began to sizzle. Daphne began to shake in fear. What to do? What could she do?

His whole body started to jerk and twitch, convulsing madly. Daphne wrapped her arms around his shoulders and tried to force him up. She needed to get him over to the settee so he could lay down. She forced him up and, staggering under his weight, managed to propel him forward.

The sizzling of the carpet caught her attention then. Carpet did not sizzle. Wide-eyed she turned her head. The mug had shattered over the floor. The chocolate had spilled over the carpet, where it burned and hissed, eating away at the material to the floor beneath.

Poison.

“Sweet Jesus,” Daphne moaned.

Her mind kicked in then. Annalise had prepared her well what with all her experiments. She needed water and covers. She began to scream at the top of her lungs, unwilling to leave Villiers.

Edith, who had been heading to the laundry, came in at a run. “Miss Daphne, whatever is the matter?”

Daphne glanced at the young woman. “Bring me buckets and buckets of water, Edith, and lots of covers at once,” Daphne ordered imperiously. “Have someone send for the Duke and also for a physician.”

Edith glanced at the man shaking convulsively on the settee, to the young, frightened woman standing guard. Somehow, the severity of the situation compelled her. She ran to do as she was bid with all she had in her.

“Villiers, everything will be all right. I will watch over you,” Daphne was murmuring gently when Edith returned.

They piled covers over him first. Daphne asked Edith to hold his head up while she spooned water down his throat. It was a difficult task, for his seizure was making him thrash around, but between the two of them, they managed.

There was no time to think, only act. The more water they managed to get into him, the more Villiers calmed. Daphne knelt by him and continued to patiently spoon water into his mouth.

She began to think. Daphne did not like what her mind screamed was the obvious; she did not care for it at all. In such times, however, one could not simply sit and refuse to see the truth. The truth was that the mug of chocolate had been poisoned, something vile enough to eat through a carpet. And Darcie had brought the chocolate.

“Edith, will you please bring Darcie down here?” Daphne requested.

“But…”

Daphne turned her head.

“She, ah, said you gave her the evening off. I am sorry, Miss Daphne, she is gone.”

“Very well, then. Will you please ask the cook who prepared a mug of chocolate tonight?”

The door burst open a few minutes later. James came in at a run, followed by a frantic Annalise.

“Daphne, you are okay?” James demanded starkly.

Daphne nodded silently. “It is Villiers, Your Grace. What is taking the physician so long?”

James came to stand beside her. Daphne looked up at him. It was as though he could not see her at all. His eyes were all for Villiers now. The emotion, quiet and full of agony, on his face was nearly her undoing.

“W-what are you doing?” he asked her roughly.

Annalise came to stand on her other side. “She is trying to flush the poison out of him.”

Daphne nodded. “I must be thankful you taught me so well, Anna. The water is to flush the poison out, and the blankets are to try to force him to sweat it out.”

James yanked the spoon out of her hand and took over. Kneeling, he began to spoon water into Villiers as though he were a helpless child. Daphne drew Annalise aside and pointed to the ruined carpet.

“Oh, God,” Annalise moaned.

Daphne nodded. Her sentiments exactly.

“Thank heavens you did not purge him,” Anna whispered. “It would have burned everything in its wake!”

Daphne frowned at her. “Do you believe it did that on its way down?”

Anna shook her head. “I could not know, Daphne. We would have to know what, precisely, it is.”

Daphne nodded. “Stay here.”

Quietly, she left. Edith was still in the kitchens. Seeing Daphne, they suddenly quieted. Somehow, she thought they were talking about her.

“Edith?”

“Miss Daphne, it was Darcie,” Edith admitted. “And she is gone. When she returns, we will—”

Daphne interrupted with an embittered laugh. “Return? I doubt Darcie will ever return, Edith. The Duke has arrived. Please bring the physician inside the moment he arrives.”

Her mind was racing. There was no way to deny it now. Darcie had tried to kill her. Everything was coming into bleak clarity now. All her attempts to give Daphne drinks, her following her around, obviously seeking to eavesdrop. All her prolonged evenings out. Had she taken a lover who wished Daphne dead? Had someone paid her to do it? Or had she been acting on her own from the beginning?

She gulped, as yet another possibility occurred. Had Darcie been the one to betray her father?

Annalise was waiting for her. “Darcie,” was all she said in a hushed voice.

Anna shook her head, denying it. “What would that frightened little kitten want in poisoning Villiers?”

Daphne smiled bitterly. “It was meant for me.”

* * * *

After a long, difficult night, it appeared that Villiers might yet survive. It had been difficult, with Daphne, Anna and a frantic James doing their best to help. The physician had worked hard to save him, and Villiers seemed to have a will to live.

That was something, at least, Daphne thought late that afternoon. Villiers would fight to live. He would be bound to bed for a very long time, of course, and his throat had been burned. The physician had high hopes that in time, the welts would heal. If they did not, he would not be able to speak normally again.

Darcie was gone. There was no doubt about that. All her belongings were gone. There was no hint of where she had left for. Or if she had been disguised as a lady’s maid the entire time. At such a time, Daphne would have thought everything had been made clear. Unfortunately, there were more questions than answers.

Sighing, she walked into the parlor. Annalise was there, waiting for her with Chrysanthe. She had kept them waiting far too long already.

The moment she walked in, Chrys all but pounced on her. “What the hell is going on?”

“Good to see you, too, Chrys. Tell me, does your father know you are here?”

Chrysanthe shrugged as though it were not important. “He knows Anna invited me for tea. Not even the all-powerful Lord Sinclair would refuse his daughter entrance to the home of a Duke. It would be a deadly blow to my reputation, you know.”

“Just so,” Annalise murmured. “Daphne, how are you taking all this?”

“That my maid attempted murder?” Daphne asked sarcastically. “Oh, quite well, thank you.”

Anna sighed. Daphne had been hiding beneath mockery and sarcasm all day.

“Come, Chrys, I want to show you something.”

She led them into the library. The carpet had been taken up. There were several scorching marks upon the glossy wood, where the poison had seeped through.

“That is what Darcie did,” Daphne told her friend. “Darcie put something into my chocolate capable of that. If I had drunk the chocolate, I would be dead. Villiers would not have known what to do.”

Chrysanthe stared several long, silent moments at the telling marks. “How did you know what to do, Daphne? Annalise said it was your quick thinking that saved Villiers.”

Daphne led them back to the parlor. “That, and his love of life,” she conceded. “I remembered your rabbit, Chrys.”

“My rabbit?”

“Do you not recall when it was poisoned, and Anna dropped water down its throat? She had said that, save for purging, the most sure way to empty a body of toxins is to use water or sweat.”

Anna smiled weakly. “So you see, Chrys, not all my experiments were failures.”

Chrysanthe let out a pained chuckle. “Anna said the chocolate was meant for you.”

“It was,” Daphne agreed. “She has been trying to force drinks on me every night. If she had done her job, she would have known I would never drink a cup of chocolate. Unfortunately, Villiers has an affinity for it.”

“Everyone knows it,” Annalise added. “It is considered a household jest.”

“Well, this proves a lot,” Chrysanthe decided.

“And leaves more gaping questions,” Daphne grumbled.

“You now know she is an enemy,” Annalise soothed. “That is enough to start from.”

“Yes, but was she in this all along? Did she take a lover who pushed her into this? Did she act alone? Did someone pay her for her services? Was she the betrayer at Lilac Manor? Did she welcome the killer?”

“Or did she do it herself?” Chrysanthe added. “Yes, we know all about questions. Daphne, you should be careful.”

Daphne stopped pacing for a moment. “What?”

“Well, this is hardly the first time someone has tried to harm you, is it? And…” Chrysanthe sat up straight. “Well, someone did try to kill your cousin, as well.”

Anna sat up straight. “You checked on Elliot?”

“Yes, or at least my uncle did. He has a secure alibi for the night of your father’s murder, Daph. He was here, in London. That does not mean he is innocent of treachery,” she rushed to add. “As for himself being involved, it is impossible.”

“Well, his father must have—”

“Uncle Jon is bedridden, and apparently holding on by a thread,” Daphne snapped. “They are expecting him to die at any moment.”

Chrysanthe said nothing. There was more to a theory she was working on, but Daphne was growing more upset by the moment. It was telling.

“Daphne, we will figure this out.”

Daphne stalked to the window, staring out into the sunny streets. People were riding by, in carriages, on horses. Pedestrians walked, as though there was naught to worry about.

“I will not be here much longer.”

“Daph, there is no way James will send you away, not after this,” Annalise hissed.

“No… I fear I shall be getting married soon.”

“Say it isn’t true!” Anna cried out, aghast.

“Does your guardian know?” Chrysanthe asked quietly.

“Not yet,” Daphne murmured. “I needs say something to him soon. Elliot proposed.”

“And you accepted?” Annalise snarled.

“Not yet, but I will,” she decided. “It is not a love match, but it is the best I am likely to receive. He was smart enough not to offend my sensibilities.”

“How can you talk like this? You know he is just after the fortune.”

Daphne quietly returned to her seat. Annalise was most upset by her decision. It should have been expected. She had taken an immediate dislike to Elliot for some odd reason. She expected objections from Chrys, as well, but she merely sat and waited. Patiently, like a cat stalking her prey.

“Well, actually, it is all to save Lilac Manor,” Daphne admitted. “Still, I will have control of how my fortune is spent. Indeed, it is all I could ever hope for. Elliot does not pretend a great affection for me, nor I him. He understands me. I will never be forced to the city, or to entertain. I will have my home and my independence.”

“Daphne, reconsider!”

She speared Anna with one angry glare. “Would you have me wed Brentwood, Annalise? His is the only other offer I have had. I must marry, and soon.”

“But not like this,” Annalise whispered.

Daphne stared at her hands. “I have no choice.”

“Annalise, give me a moment with her,” Chrysanthe ordered quietly.

Anna unsteadily got to her feet. Guilt piled upon guilt when Daphne saw the tears in her eyes.

Chrysanthe waited until they were alone. Daphne met her luminous stare. Chrys was becoming just as unique and intimidating as her mother.

“You love him.”

Daphne started. “What?”

“It is James you love, Daphne. I have known for a long time.”

Daphne nodded miserably. “I do,” she admitted unhappily.

Chrysanthe sent her a look of disgust. “Fight for him, Daphne! Seduce him. Annoy him until he gives in just to find peace.”

“It is impossible, Chrysanthe.”

Chrysanthe muttered a blasphemy. “Daphne, love fights, it does not quit.”

“So the fairy tales say,” Daphne sneered. “We live in the real world, Chrys. In the real world, guardians do not bed their wards, and they certainly do not marry them. In the real world, such behavior is a fount of immorality. In our world, it is impossible. James will never touch me, Chrys, and nothing I can say or do, naught you could possibly say or do, will ever change his mind.”

Chrysanthe gulped in a difficult breath. “Daph, this is not fair. You deserve your happiness. Go through season after season if you must.”

Daphne stood and began to pace. Tears pricked her eyes. “Do you think I have not thought of everything? I am not stupid. I have thought of it, every single little thing.”

“Daphne—”

“It is killing me!” she shouted. She took a deep breath, then another. “He is killing me. Seeing him each day, not being able to touch or kiss or betray my true feelings. Watching him carry on with that Dubois woman nearly destroyed me. Hour after hour, day after day, this is destroying me.

“If I stay, I will lose all of myself until there is naught left.”

Chrysanthe buried her face in her hands. “Verily, that would be the worst form of hell.”

Daphne touched the top of Chrysanthe’s head briefly. “It is, Chrys, oh believe me, it is hell. It is my life. If I do not find a way out soon, it will kill me. I cannot go on this way.”

Chrysanthe sat up, allowing Daphne to see her tears. Slowly, crystalline teardrop by teardrop, she wept for Daphne.