each passing minute, more questions emerged, and there wasn’t an answer readily available.
Benedict quit hesitating and knocked on the door, waiting for an invitation. Moments later, a gust of air swooshed before him as the earl presented himself.
“What do you want? Do you know anything about my broken vase?” asked Lord Cuthbert.
He raised a brow at his host’s stern and volatile tone. “I do not. I was too busy trying to figure out who has been in Estelle’s room poisoning her with laudanum.”
The earl took a step back, his eyes narrowed. He pursed his lips and inhaled sharply. “What do you mean she’s been given laudanum?”
“I meant every word of what I said. If you will let me in, I have my own questions to ask you.” He followed the earl in and waited to speak until he locked the library door. Benedict winced at the sight of the shards of glass strewn across the floor; then returned his gaze to his host who eyed him warily.
“How do you know that it was laudanum? Is it not possible your fiancée could have a problem that you are unaware of?”
Benedict scowled, his chest tightened, and the need to pummel the man for the insult rose to the surface. Never in his life had he heard such a ridiculous thought. Estelle never medicated herself, nor suffered any ailments to his immediate knowledge. The only time he’d ever seen a woman—his mother—seeking some sort of remedy, it was during her menses to ease her discomfort. A sorry truth he wished he didn’t know about.
“I shall have you know, my lord, that Estelle addicted to pain medicine is about as likely as pigs flying. Someone gave it to her and I want to know who in this house would be in possession of such a drug.”
The earl sat back in his seat and crossed his arms. Awareness flashed in his eyes, and it was in that time Benedict recognized the earl knew precisely who had access to such a powerful sedative in the house.
“I implore you, Lord Cuthbert. I must know who did this to her.”
“I can assure you, St. John, the only person who would have access to laudanum wasn’t the one who did it. Someone must have stolen it.”
“What are you talking about? And how can you be certain of this?”
“Because it simply could not have been my wife. You know that as well. She was with me the entire time up until I came into my library to discover my vase destroyed.”
The earl’s admission still left the questions of who had stolen the drug and why feed it to Estelle. Again the thought caused him further worry. Had she seen something she shouldn’t have?
“If that is the case, then who do you suppose would have had the opportunity to take the countess’s medication?”
The earl exhaled and leaned forward, resting his arms on his desk. “I don’t know, St. John, but I will find out. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to have some peace.”
Benedict inclined his head, left his seat, and returned to his room. He’d discover who the culprit was, and the earl wouldn’t be able to save them.
* * * *
Estelle watched the maid move to and fro, cleaning and reorganizing, humming a somber tune she recognized from childhood. Every so often she caught the maid watching her, and then she’d get back to keeping busy, until the maid ended up sitting at her bedside.
“Miss Humphrey, I know we do not know each other, but—” She quivered and then continued, “But do you believe in spirits coming back on unfinished business?”
“I am starting to.”
“If you do not mind my saying so, I heard you telling Lord St. John that you saw the master’s niece. I should warn you this house is cursed. The servants are afraid of the master’s nephew, Edwin, as well. Apparently every time he is around, someone gets hurt.”
She never dreamed that Edwin held that much power over anyone; yet even Helen, before she mysteriously died, found her brother peculiar. What an odd inclination too. This house had way too many secrets and before she and
Benedict quit hesitating and knocked on the door, waiting for an invitation. Moments later, a gust of air swooshed before him as the earl presented himself.
“What do you want? Do you know anything about my broken vase?” asked Lord Cuthbert.
He raised a brow at his host’s stern and volatile tone. “I do not. I was too busy trying to figure out who has been in Estelle’s room poisoning her with laudanum.”
The earl took a step back, his eyes narrowed. He pursed his lips and inhaled sharply. “What do you mean she’s been given laudanum?”
“I meant every word of what I said. If you will let me in, I have my own questions to ask you.” He followed the earl in and waited to speak until he locked the library door. Benedict winced at the sight of the shards of glass strewn across the floor; then returned his gaze to his host who eyed him warily.
“How do you know that it was laudanum? Is it not possible your fiancée could have a problem that you are unaware of?”
Benedict scowled, his chest tightened, and the need to pummel the man for the insult rose to the surface. Never in his life had he heard such a ridiculous thought. Estelle never medicated herself, nor suffered any ailments to his immediate knowledge. The only time he’d ever seen a woman—his mother—seeking some sort of remedy, it was during her menses to ease her discomfort. A sorry truth he wished he didn’t know about.
“I shall have you know, my lord, that Estelle addicted to pain medicine is about as likely as pigs flying. Someone gave it to her and I want to know who in this house would be in possession of such a drug.”
The earl sat back in his seat and crossed his arms. Awareness flashed in his eyes, and it was in that time Benedict recognized the earl knew precisely who had access to such a powerful sedative in the house.
“I implore you, Lord Cuthbert. I must know who did this to her.”
“I can assure you, St. John, the only person who would have access to laudanum wasn’t the one who did it. Someone must have stolen it.”
“What are you talking about? And how can you be certain of this?”
“Because it simply could not have been my wife. You know that as well. She was with me the entire time up until I came into my library to discover my vase destroyed.”
The earl’s admission still left the questions of who had stolen the drug and why feed it to Estelle. Again the thought caused him further worry. Had she seen something she shouldn’t have?
“If that is the case, then who do you suppose would have had the opportunity to take the countess’s medication?”
The earl exhaled and leaned forward, resting his arms on his desk. “I don’t know, St. John, but I will find out. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to have some peace.”
Benedict inclined his head, left his seat, and returned to his room. He’d discover who the culprit was, and the earl wouldn’t be able to save them.
* * * *
Estelle watched the maid move to and fro, cleaning and reorganizing, humming a somber tune she recognized from childhood. Every so often she caught the maid watching her, and then she’d get back to keeping busy, until the maid ended up sitting at her bedside.
“Miss Humphrey, I know we do not know each other, but—” She quivered and then continued, “But do you believe in spirits coming back on unfinished business?”
“I am starting to.”
“If you do not mind my saying so, I heard you telling Lord St. John that you saw the master’s niece. I should warn you this house is cursed. The servants are afraid of the master’s nephew, Edwin, as well. Apparently every time he is around, someone gets hurt.”
She never dreamed that Edwin held that much power over anyone; yet even Helen, before she mysteriously died, found her brother peculiar. What an odd inclination too. This house had way too many secrets and before she and
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