Chapter Thirty-Seven

Griff received an answering message from Dr. Johnson when the groom returned from London. The note was not encouraging. The erudite physician was of the opinion that edibles in the storeroom might very well been contaminated by rat poison, but who would want to test it to find out? The symptoms were not conclusive, but people behave differently when ingesting something new or strange, even poison. If the powder flew around in the air while Cook sprinkled it on the floor, it could have gotten into anything in the storeroom that wasn’t closed up tight or covered. Johnson suggested that Griff interrogate the kitchen staff.

He was bleary-eyed from lack of sleep. He lingered beside the bed for a long time watching Dulcie breathe before he left her. He hadn’t shaved for two days, nor had he brought a change of clothes. He knew he looked disheveled and felt worse, but he went to the kitchen very early the next morning while Dulcie still slept.

Heads snapped up when Griff entered the kitchen. Some of the servants started to rise, but he waved them back to the benches they occupied. The Bonne Vista staff gathered about the large table in the kitchen eating scones, slices of ham, cut rounds of hard cheese, hot porridge, and fresh bread. The female housemaids sipped cups of tea, and the men slurped coffee. To Griff it seemed the servants ate very well. Knowing the countess’s penurious nature and of a mind to tighten her purse strings, Griff was surprised the witch allowed servants to finish leftovers. Of course, no one had eaten supper in the dining room last eve.

“Am I correct? Are you are eating stores from the pantry?” Griff asked.

Eyes turned toward the butler, the servants’ countenances looking uncomfortable where they sat around the table.

“Of course, we are,” Sommers replied in his sonorous voice. “Lady Dulcina has always treated her staff with the utmost kindness.”

“I’m sure you speak the truth, Sommers,” Griff said. “I’m simply asking if any of you, except Dolly, and…the other housemaid, were too sick to work a few days ago.”

He got no reply. His gaze jumped from one face to the next. “No one experienced painful twinges of the stomach? Loose bowels? Or felt ill enough to cast up their accounts?”

His eyes halted upon Mrs. Travis.

“Only the housemaids, then? Well, that eliminates everyone except those two.”

There was deadly silence until Mrs. Travis spoke up. “I’ve already asked Dolly and Liz, Mr. Spencer. My girls do not need to steal food, since they are well fed.”

“Yes, well, I can only suppose they ingested something harmful that made them sick. No one else ate or swallowed anything that upset their stomachs—only, it seems, the housemaids—and Lady Dulcina.” He turned to the two recuperated housemaids, his eyes piercing them. “Can you think back that far, ladies?”

The maids glanced at one another, embarrassed, and slightly wary.

“Well,” Dolly finally said, “We finished up a spot of milady’s tea once or twice.” Griff saw the girl’s knuckles whiten in her lap. “Ye see,” she explained, haltingly, “the countess said th-that we was to make sure Lady Dulcina drank all her tea—every day.”

The second maid piped up to aid her friend. “But we was so scared, sir, when Miss Dulcina wouldn’t take a drop, that we each swallowed a few cups and took the pot down to the kitchen almost empty.”

“Is the tea special?”

“Oh, yes,” Cook responded quickly. “’Twas to be brewed only for the countess and her lady’s maid.” Then added, “And of course, Lady Dulcina. Our young lady certainly has a sweet tooth. We kept the sugar bowl full for her.”

Something tickled Griff’s subconscious. “Who here uses sweetener in their tea?”

“Well, of course, we all do,” the housekeeper said, “but sugar is quite expensive with the war with the Colonies and on the Continent, and all. I asked the staff to use honey instead, save the sugar for our betters.”

Again, Griff’s sharp gaze turned to the housemaids. “Dolly and Liz, did you use sugar from Lady Dulcina’s bowl when you drank the tea so you wouldn’t be scolded by the countess?”

The maids both looked down at their laps for a moment without answering him. Dolly looked up first. “Yessir. We both did, but…”

Griff raised an open palm. He his heartbeat accelerated.

It has to be the sugar! The damn stuff is white powder and the sugar is laced with arsenic! And I sprinkled it on her porridge and in her tea and made her drink it! Two heaping teaspoonfuls in every cup! Oh God!

He swallowed hard, his breath coming too fast. “Mrs. Travis, I suggest you get rid of any sugar you have left in your storeroom, no matter the expense. Dispose of it where it won’t hurt anyone or cause them to become ill. Perhaps, you should scrub down the storeroom completely also. I’ve a mind that the sugar is the culprit poisoning Lady Dulcina.”

“Poisoning milady! Oh Lawdy, help us!”

By the horrified looks on faces seated around the large worktable, Griff was substantially certain no member of the household staff tampered with the food stores. “Is anyone else allowed in the storeroom, Mrs. Travis?”

“Why, no.” Then she countermanded herself. “No one but Miss Trent, the countess’s lady’s maid. She filled both the sugar bowls on occasion, theirs and Lady Dulcina’s, but…”

“I expect you couldn’t stop her from doing that,” he said. “The countess gives orders and you must obey them.”

Next, Griff turned to Sommers. “I want a small sample of the sugar from Lady Dulcina’s sugar bowl saved for me in a leather pouch. The rest, get rid of it, where it can do no damage.”

“As you wish.”

“Now, if you please, bring Lady Dulcina a tray with a bowl of porridge, a few scones, fresh butter and a pot of your regular tea sent up to her room. No sugar for any of us, of any kind. Do you hear me?” His expression was stern with command. “Bring along a jar of honey instead.”

* * * *

Mounting the stairs to Dulcie’s room, Griff felt tremendously better. He was certain he had solved the problem of Dulcie’s poisonous illness. All she needed to do now was get well. Of course, he still had problems, seeing they had agreed to cancel their false betrothal.

Simon was waiting in Dulcie’s room. He leaned up on the bed with his front paws to greet his mistress that morning. She had the strength to pet him and coo to him when he licked her hand.

Dulcie ate most of her porridge with Griff’s help. He poured honey over it to sweeten the taste. She managed to drink two cups of tea with honey instead of sugar. Griff drank two cups of coffee, black, without sweetener. He fibbed to Dulcie, told her the kitchen ran out of sugar. She frowned but accepted his reasoning without argument.

A pair of housemaids arrived a little later with warm water, soap, and drying cloths to give Dulcie a sponge bath. Sommers supplied a straight razor and supplies for Griff’s use. Griff used an adjacent room for a shave and a wash while the maids stayed to help Dulcie. When he returned, Griff felt much fresher, if not completely comfortable in his wrinkled clothes.

By mid-morning, Griff took Simon outside for exercise. He saw a rider approaching the manor. As the bay horse trotted up the drive, Griff recognized Rand.

“Hallo! Glad you made it,” Griff yelled, walking briskly to meet the viscount. Meanwhile Simon pranced around the horse’s feet, barking loud enough to wake the dead.

“I thought I’d bring your things myself, Griff. I’d been wondering what was going on here.”

Griff stopped beside the horse, shaking his friend’s hand. “’Tis a long story, Rand. I’ll tell you when we are settled inside.”

They went side by side to the manor’s entry. Rand tossed down Griff’s portmanteau and dismounted. “Take care of the viscount’s mount, will you?” Griff asked, directing a groom who had run up to take the horse.

The butler waited at the landing at the top of the stairs. “Sommers, this is Viscount Titus, a good friend of mine. We shall settle in the earl’s study for a time. See that we are not disturbed.”

“Your bag, sir?”

“Above stairs, Sommers, thank you.”