“I have been searching a good hour to find you, Amelie,” Clarisse said. “Where have you been?”
“I was in the chapel,” Amelie said, lying.
“That is strange because I checked the chapel, and did not see you there,” she twisted her lips. “Perhaps we missed each other. Anyhow, Geoffrey has arrived and was asking about you. Have you seen him yet?”
“Nay,” she said. “But I fail to see what he — that anyone — can do. At least Sir Derrik has placed my father somewhere safe.”
“Where is this farmhouse that he spoke about?”
“’Tis about five hours north of Stanbury. I am told that Sir Gareth —”
“Wait, are we speaking about the Sir Gareth? The Iron Hawk’s commander?”
“The former commander, as I understand. But aye, we are speaking about the same knight. For some reason he has chosen to live in the secluded area.”
“Then he cannot be farming so far north. There would be nothing there except for wilderness.”
Amelie nodded. “I do not know if Sir Gareth actually farms the land. A farmer usually clears the fields that he works,” her brows drew together in puzzlement. “As far as I know, his property is not cleared.”
“How odd. I am assuming he has no neighbors nearby?” Clarisse asked.
“None that I know of. I am told that very few men venture near his home.”
“I guess ’twould be a safe haven for Lord Stanbury if no one cares to go that far north,” she said, shrugging.
“Aye, the knight has put up many barriers to prevent people from getting near his place.”
“Do you think he has gone mad? I have heard stories —”
“I should hope that he has all his mental capacities in tact since he will be harboring my father,” Amelie said, cutting off her cousin.
Clarisse gave her an assessing look before saying, “Aye, of course you are right. ‘Tis by far safer for Lord Stanbury to stay at the farm rather than be here at the castle, if what you told me is true.”
“How is Mother?” she asked, abruptly changing the subject.
Her cousin blinked, understanding immediately that the discussion about Lord Stanbury was ended. “Lady Edeline is much better now, although she is still weak and delirious at times. In her confusion she asks about you and Lord Stanbury.”
The Healer looked up when they entered the bedchamber. “My ladies,” she said although there was no smile of greeting upon her lips.
A servant stood on one side of the bed, while Margery stood on the other side with the Healer.
“Ester, move aside please,” Clarisse said. The servant jumped and did what was asked of her. Clarisse beckoned for Amelie to come closer. “Her convulsions have stopped, and she has slept for a good while now.”
The wimple was gone from Lady Edeline’s head, exposing gray streaked hair. She was sleeping, although the blue veins showed through her eyelids. Even in her sleep, Amelie could see the dark shadows that formed beneath her eyes. And her once beautiful skin had taken on a sallow, sickly hue.
Sensing her presence, her mother opened her tired eyes. “Daughter,” she said weakly. She raised her hand, but the movement seemed to take too much effort, and Amelie caught it before it dropped.
“Are you feeling better now, mother?”
Her mother made a thin, inaudible sound in the back of her throat.
“Perhaps we should administer more of the potion, my lady?” Margery said from behind them.
Clarisse glanced at the nursemaid. “I do not think ‘tis wise to give any more of the potion, Margery,” she said quickly. “It seems to make her worse every time you give it to her. Perhaps if she is thirsty, she should only drink the wine.” She softened her voice and turned to Lady Edeline. “My lady, do you want some of your spiced wine?”
“But Margery’s potion makes me feel strong…” Lady Edeline protested.
Clarisse made a clicking sound with her tongue, demonstrating her contradictory opinion. “There is nothing that will take away this sickness. Even the physician is puzzled over it. He has tried blood-letting and a number of other remedies, and as you can see, nothing has worked.” She looked over at the Healer. “What do you think ‘tis, Mistress?”
The Healer leaned closer, her keen eyes taking everything in. “Aye, I agree with you, my lady. She should stop taking the medicinal potion and just drink wine.”
Clarisse gestured for Margery to get the wine. The nursemaid frowned slightly at her, but she went to fetch the drink from the small table.
“Thank you, Margery,” Clarisse said, taking the flask from the nursemaid’s hand. She then filled a goblet with the spiced beverage and held it to her mistress’ lips.
The Healer watched as Lady Edeline opened her mouth and obediently drank from the cup. “Where is my lady’s herbal potion, I wonder? I want to see it,” she said, looking at the table and frowning.
“’Tis almost finished,” Margery said.
Hearing the defensiveness in the nursemaid’s tone, the Healer’s demeanor changed. She narrowed her eyes at the nursemaid. “I asked to see the bottle. I did not ask if ‘twas finished.”
Amelie frowned at Margery’s odd behavior. Ever since the king’s men had arrived at Stanbury Castle, she had become increasingly belligerent. “Bring the elixir as she asks, Margery,” she said.
“As you wish, my lady,” the nursemaid said. “I had put it away in the oak chest.”
The Healer shook her head as she watched Margery walk to the foot of the bed and rummage through the ornate chest.
“I have had enough,” Lady Edeline said after taking another sip of the wine. She turned her face and looked tiredly at Amelie. In a whispery voice, she asked, “Were you successful in finding your father?” Her eyes searched Amelie’s face, and then a small smile of satisfaction formed upon her pale lips. “You have found him. Ah, my Gordon is safe.”
“Aye.” Amelie opened her mouth to tell her all the things that happened to her, all the things that she learned. But she stopped. Her father’s life was still in danger, and it served no purpose to reveal this to her mother. She forced a smile to her lips. “He will be home soon.”
Her mother returned her smile. “I knew you would find him,” she said, reaching for her hand and squeezing it lightly. Once again, Amelie wished that she was a child, and the weight of the castle didn’t rest upon her shoulders. But when she looked into her mother’s pallid face, she knew she couldn’t bring herself to let her frail mother take on the heavy burden.
“You are tired, mother,” she said, gently withdrawing her hand. “Close your eyes and rest.”
Just as Lady Edeline gave into her exhaustion and shut her eyes, Margery walked quietly to the bedside. Her hand trembled slightly as she handed the bottle over to the Healer.
“Here is the medicinal concoction, mistress,” she said, her tone hushed. “I used most of it to heal Lady Edeline,” she continued. “I have another bottle in Lady Amelie’s bedchamber. If you would allow me to fetch it, I shall return in due haste.”
The older woman took the bottle from her and pulled out the stopper. Margery stood transfixed as she watched the Healer’s actions before she added quickly, “’Tis a bitter brew. One has to mix it with wine to make it palatable.”
The Healer nodded. There were only a couple of drops left in the bottle, but what remained was a slightly yellowish liquid. Until now, Amelie had never taken a close look at what her mother drank every day. As she watched the Healer’s face, she wondered if there was something wrong with the herbal brew.
“Bring the other vial, Margery,” Amelie ordered. The nursemaid bowed and slipped out of the chamber.
The Healer carefully swirled the bottle and sniffed at the fumes that wafted out from it. She mumbled something under her breath although Amelie couldn’t make out what she said.
“Tell me of my lady’s complaints,” the Healer commanded.
Clarisse spoke up, her fingers laced tightly in front of her. “She complains of headaches, nausea and tiredness, Mistress. On occasion she says that she is encased in a green and blue haze. Other times I do not understand her, since some of the things she says do not make sense. Until now, this was a not a problem.”
The Healer tipped the bottle and put a small drop of the liquid on her index finger. She sniffed at the finger and then placed it on the tip of her tongue.
“’Tis what I suspected,” she said, nodding wisely and placing the stopper back onto the bottle. For a moment, her eyes lingered on Lady Edeline’s face. “Our lady is being poisoned.”
There was a collective gasp.
“How could she be poisoned? Margery is the one…” But even as she said it, Amelie already knew the answer. A sickening feeling settled in the pit of her stomach.
“Are you certain that ‘tis poison, mistress?” Clarisse demanded, her face turning as white as the linen sheet on the bed.
“I was once the king’s royal herbalist, and have spent the better part of my life studying plants and herbs.” She held up the vial for them to see. “From the smell and taste of this brew, I know ‘tis made from the herb foxglove.” She looked from Amelie to Clarisse. “Taken in small, diluted amounts, foxglove causes all the symptoms that Lady Edeline experienced. However in large, potent doses it has the ability to kill.”