Before dinner, John met me in the parlor where he closed the door so we would not be disturbed. I knew what the discussion would entail but had not expected to see such a pained expression on my husband’s face. His reddened eyes accented his pallid countenance as if he had recently shed tears.
“Sit with me,” he said. John stretched out his hand palm up and waited for me to take it.
“All right.” When I touched his fingers, they were ice cold. He directed me to the scarlet settee, and we sat down together. The color of the fabric matched the circumstances. John continued to hold my hand. I did not attempt to pull it away, thankful for the closeness even during this strained moment.
“After our discussion this morning, I summoned Melanie into the parlor and spoke to her in private.”
“It must have been difficult for you,” I replied. Clearly, it had been a strenuous day by the tense look upon his face.
“Unfortunately, it did not end pleasantly,” he began. “When I told her that you did not wish her to serve you any longer because you discovered our past together, she flew into an inconsolable rage.”
“Rage?” I repeated. I had pictured her crying and pleading with John upon receiving the news, not ranting and raving.
“I questioned her about the arsenic, and she vehemently denied her involvement.”
“And you believed her,” I said as if I already knew the answer.
“I’m sorry, Ann, but I still cannot conceive in my mind that she would do such a ghastly thing as to try and kill you.” He paused for a moment. “If she had conceived anything so horrific, she should punish me instead as retribution for leaving our relationship.”
“Well, I don’t trust her,” I admitted. “I shall always fear for my life as long as she remains in this house.”
“You have nothing to fear from Melanie,” he reiterated.
Each time he denied her involvement, I paused searching his eyes for the truth. A part of me feared that he lied to protect Melanie. Why couldn’t I trust his sincerity? I needed to ask him a question to test his motives.
“If she succeeded in murdering me and you thought it natural causes that led to my demise, would you have eventually taken her as your wife?”
John pulled his hand away and scowled me. “How can you ask me such an unspeakable question?” he indignantly challenged me.
Evidently I wounded him in doing so, but he had not given me a response. “Well, would you?”
John rose to his feet and looked down at me. “It’s apparent to me that you have already answered that question yourself. Therefore, I shall not give you the satisfaction of responding either way.”
A second later, he stormed from the parlor and left me alone. Another stabbing pain sliced through my abdomen. It had only been a day since I received no tea from Melanie’s hand, but the symptoms persisted. In addition, I grappled with fatigue and weakness in my arms and legs. My emotional and physical wellbeing brought me to the brink of collapse.
Now that I expertly alienated my husband for asking what I thought to be a logical question, I refused dinner and returned to my room. I did not wish to think or talk about the situation any longer and instead sought sleep.
* * * *
Morning arrived after spending the night alone. John did not return to speak with me after he stormed off from the parlor. While stirring in bed, a knock came at the door.
“Who is it?” I sat up and pulled the covers to my bosom.
“Mrs. James, your ladyship. I am here to introduce you to your new lady’s maid.”
After sighing in relief, I ran my fingers through my hair to try to straighten the unruly mess of curls. “You may enter,” I answered.
The door opened and Mrs. James arrived with another woman who I had seen on a few occasions. She wore the same black dress with white collar and cuffs like Melanie. Rather than being young, she looked to be in her thirties.
“Your ladyship, this is Margaret MacDonald. She would like to serve you for the next few days as your attendant. If you approve of her skills, she desires to remain in the position.”
“Very well,” I said.
“Your ladyship,” Margaret said, curtsying. “It’s a pleasure to serve you.” Her thick Scottish accent brought a smile to my face.
I watched as she carried the tray of hot tea and bread to my night table. A feeling of dread washed over me, and I glanced away as if I were looking at death itself.
“Mrs. James, I know it’s the custom to bring me tea and bread in the morning, but I think that I would like to dispense with the practice immediately.”
“Why is that, your ladyship?” She cocked her head at me apparently surprised over my break in protocol.
Why. My mind spun around in circles trying to think of an answer to spurn the morning household ceremony. “It spoils my appetite for breakfast frankly.” My excuse sounded reasonable. “I would rather wait to partake of my morning tea and toast in the dining room.”
“As you wish, my lady,” she replied, readily accepting my explanation. She turned toward Margaret. “Well, I shall leave the two of you alone to get acquainted.”
Mrs. James retreated and closed the door behind her. I cautiously lifted my eyes to my new lady’s maid, feeling leery of her presence. My paranoia increased another notch.
“Is it your habit to bathe in the morning?” she asked, smiling at me kindly.
“About three times a week,” I answered. “I know it’s excessive, but I enjoy a hot bath.”
“Would you like me to fetch a chambermaid to bring water this morning?”
Chambermaid. Even the title brought fear. “As long as it’s not Melanie,” I replied, pulling my eyes away not wishing to see her reaction.
“Of course, your ladyship.” She picked up the tray. “I will return your tea to the kitchen and summon water for you.” Before doing so, she slipped her hand into her pocket and retrieved an envelope. “Please forgive me, but I’ve been asked to give this to you by Miss Wright.”
Her trembling hand held out an envelope, and I stared at it in suspicion. Naturally, I hesitated taking it, but my curiosity incited me to do so anyway.
“Thank you,” I said, snatching it with my fingers. Margaret looked relieved that I had taken it and not reprimanded her for offering to deliver the note. “You may go now.”
“Thank you, your ladyship.”
After she had departed, I stared at the envelope for some time before finding the courage to open and read the contents. What could she possibly want? Maybe it was an apology and plea for forgiveness so that she could win John’s favor. I had given her more credit than I cared to extend.
Cautiously, I slipped out the paper from the envelope and read the contents.
Lady Broadhurst,
His lordship has expressed to me his disappointment in my behavior. You had every right to dismiss me from my position. However, I know that you possess lingering questions about my relationship with your husband.
If you would be so kind as to meet me this afternoon, I will be happy to reveal everything to you in order to put this matter to rest. Perhaps it will bring peace to us all.
I will be at the tower at two o’clock and hope to see you there so that we may speak in private.
Your humble servant,
Melanie
Her words sounded somewhat repentant but could I believe them? I did have lingering questions about their relationship that needed to be answered. Due to John’s unwillingness to pursue the subject further with me, I suspected that I would never get the entire truth unless I sought it myself.
I placed the opened letter on my night table. At two o’clock, I would excuse myself and take a ride to the tower to find out if their relationship had ended. If it had, I needed her assurance that she accepted things as they were. Otherwise, I would never have peace while living at Blythe Court with Melanie in our household.