Page 75 of Passion Painted in a Lady's Heart
“Stay your hand,” John hissed, holding Sebastian back, as he turned to his friend with a look of horror on his face.
“I knew… I knew he was doing something, but her… and my father…” Sebastian exclaimed, sinking down onto the top step, as John put his arm around him.
“You’re not mad, Sebastian, but those wicked creatures want to make you out to be. I’ve never heard such cruelty all this time they’ve been conspiring against you,” John exclaimed, shaking his head, as Sebastian struggled to make sense of what he had just heard.
It was too awful for words, his father, and now him, subjected to the same wickedness so vividly described. It was a plot many years in the making, one both his uncle and stepmother had planned together for their own gain.
“But what do I do?” Sebastian said, looking up at John, who glanced towards the door leading into the hallway.
“You come back, Sebastian, and we expose the truth. You’re not mad, and you were never going to be,” he replied.
***
When Sebastian walked through the door later that day, his stepmother looked at him in surprise as she emerged from the drawing room.
“Oh… Sebastian, you’re back? Didn’t you leave?” she asked.
Sebastian shook his head, forcing his face into an expression of nonchalance.
“John took ill on the journey. We decided to come back. Bath can wait. Besides, I feel a little out of sorts myself. I’m going to retire for the evening. But I’ll be at breakfast tomorrow morning. I presume I haven’t forgotten anything else I needed to remember?” he said, and his stepmother shook her head.
“No, not at all. You rest, Sebastian. It’ll do you good. I’m sorry to hear about Lord Cuthbert. I’m sure he’ll be quite all right, though. He’s got Elizabeth, after all,” she said, smiling at Sebastian, before returning to the drawing room.
Sebastian clenched his fists. All these years, his stepmother had been playing him for a fool. Her demeanor was always the same pleasant, but never overly familiar. She had carved a niche for herself, a cuckoo in the nest. Sebastian wondered what had brought her to Southbourne House all those years ago.
Had she ever truly loved his father, or had she and Sebastian’s uncle always planned this wickedness? It made him shudder to think of it. And he retired to his room, instructing Langton to bring up a tray for him later in the evening.
“Her Ladyship thought you might like some coffee, my Lord. There’s a pot here freshly made and piping hot,” the butler said, when later he brought up Sebastian’s dinner.
Sebastian thanked him, but as soon as the door was closed, he seized the pot, pulling off the lid and tossing the contents out of the window. There was no doubt in his mind as to the source of the poisoning, and it horrified him to think of the many apparent kindnesses his stepmother had shown him in bringing cups of coffee to his study. She had often lingered to watch him drink it, and now he knew her reason.
“Vile concoction,” he thought to himself, examining the dregs in the pot, where a fine white sediment had collected around the rim.
He thought back to the “doctor” and his prescription, shuddering again at the thought of the many ways in which his stepmother and uncle had executed their plans.
“But not anymore,” he told himself, and eating only the slices of bread on his dinner tray reasoning as to Mrs. Pattison’s trustworthiness in preparation, Sebastian retired for an early night.
***
He awoke early the next morning, being methodical in his dress and appearance. He shaved and put on clean clothes, dousing himself with cologne, before making his way downstairs, and hoping the plans he and John had made were now in place. The smell of breakfast wafted from the dining room, and Sebastian’s heart was beating fast, knowing he was entering the lion’s den.
“Ah, Sebastian. I was sorry to hear about Lord Cuthbert. How unfortunate to find your visit to Bath cut short before it even began,” Sebastian’s uncle said.
He was eating a plate of deviled kidneys, a coffee pot placed in front of him. Sebastian sat down opposite, with his stepmother between them. She smiled at him, offering him the marmalade jar, as he took a slice of toast from the rack. Sebastian glanced towards the window, which looked out over the gardens. The curtains hung down on either side, plush red velvet reaching down to the floor.
“It couldn’t be helped, uncle. We’ll get there eventually or to Norfolk, perhaps,” Sebastian replied, spreading marmalade liberally on his toast.
“We should discuss the matter of the Norfolk holdings. But not now. In the coming days,” Lady Soutbourne said, and Sebastian nodded.
He was trying to maintain his composure, even as he wanted only to explode with rage, his anger tempered by the knowledge justice would soon be served.
“I agree. It’s time we made a decision,” Sebastian replied.
“Won’t you have some coffee? It’s a fresh pot. You can’t eat toast and marmalade without coffee,” his stepmother said.
Sebastian nodded, allowing his stepmother to pour it for him, watching as the steaming liquid filled his cup. She set down the coffeepot, smiling, as she watched Sebastian raise the cup to his lips. The aroma was bitter, just like that he had thrown out of the window the previous evening. His uncle, too, was watching, as though with anticipation. And Sebastian now took a sip, swallowing the hot coffee, and holding his stepmother’s gaze.
“Delicious,” he said, but with a sudden jerk, he dropped the cup, sending the contents across the table, the china smashing into a hundred pieces, as Sebastian fell from his chair, shaking, his body convulsing, as he writhed on the floor.
