Page 53 of Scars of a Passionate Revenge
“Yes, the tea.”
She bit her lip and seemed to hesitate.
“Come now, Sarah, you must tell me the truth. You are not in trouble now, but if you are not honest with me now, then you may well be.”
Sarah nodded. “There is a special tisane, My Lord, which the baroness’s maid looks after. It’s to be added to your tea, to help with your aches and pains. As we all know you have been so unwell lately, My Lord, and we are all very sorry for it.”
“A tisane?” the baron said, raising an eyebrow.
“Yes, My Lord. The baroness prepares it herself, then gives it to Marie to look after.”
“And do you know where the powder is kept, to make this tisane?”
Sarah nodded. “I believe it is kept in the mistress’s room, My Lord.”
“Indeed,” he said. “Well, thank you for telling me all this, Sarah. You may return to your work now, and please do not mention this to anyone else.”
“Yes, My Lord,” Sarah said softly, with a rapid curtsy. “Thank you, My Lord.” She turned and fled from the room, leaving Benedict and the baron staring at each other in shock.
“I think you are right in your suspicions, Benedict,” the baron said.
Benedict nodded. “I am very sorry for it, My Lord.”
“Well, never mind all that. We shall have to take action, but it will need to wait until the morning. We cannot have commotion and scandal running through the house at this time of night.”
He paused for a moment. “In the morning, I will stay in my room and pretend that nothing untoward is happening. You will go and search the baroness’s room while she is down having breakfast, then come and tell me what you find. Then we will find out once and for all what is going on here.”
His face darkened with anger as he seemed to realize the gravity of the situation. “Poisoned, in my own house, by my own wife! I can hardly believe that it is true!”
***
The following morning, Benedict rose early and waited in his room. He was not quite sure how he would know when the lady of the house had gone down to breakfast, so he kept his door open a crack, hoping that he would hear something to alert him to her going downstairs.
Sure enough, a little after nine, he heard footsteps, and the voice of the baroness barking at her maid. She was giving out some orders to do with her dress for that evening, when it seemed that some guests were expected for dinner, and her harsh tones carried along the corridor to Benedict’s ears.
He waited a few moments, then stole out of his room and along the corridor, praying as he went that the baroness’s room was not locked.
He tried the door and felt a surge of relief as it swung open. His heart pounding, he entered the room. It was immaculately tidy. Every surface was clear, and the bed had already been made perfectly. He realized that he was going to have to search through each and every cupboard and drawer to find what he was looking for.
He began his search, methodically opening all the drawers in the dressing table and rifling through them. He did not enjoy the task, and as he reached out for a jewelry box on the mantel piece, he could just imagine what would happen if someone came in and discovered him now. Newfound wealth or no newfound wealth, his reputation would be ruined and no doubt the Sheriff would be called.
But his search was not in vain. He opened the jewelry box, and there amongst the jewels and necklaces, there was a small vial of white powder.
Benedict shoved it in his pocket, closed the case and put it back where he had found it. He was sure that it would be clear to the baroness when she came back into the room that it had been searched, but hopefully things would have moved on by then, and it would not matter.
He rushed down the corridor and knocked sharply on the baron’s door, entering when he was bidden to by a voice coming from inside.
“I have found it, My Lord,” he declared breathlessly, striding across the room to where the baron was seated on a small stool in front of the dressing table. Even though it was not late in the morning, he was fully dressed. Benedict thought he looked ready for action.
He took the vial out of his pocket and handed it to the baron. “I think it is arsenic,” he said. “I have read about it. It can cause symptoms very similar to those you were suffering from, and the long-term damage is considerable. I am convinced that the baroness has been trying to kill you.”
The baron stood up, taking the vial from Benedict. His face was black with fury. “This is all the proof we needed. Thank you, Benedict. I do believe you have saved my life.” He strode towards the door. “This ends now. We will confront her and force her to confess.” He paused for a moment, and pointed across the room to where a tea tray was set on the nightstand beside the bed. “Would you be so kind as to bring that tray down to the breakfast room with us?”
Benedict nodded, wondering what the baron had in mind, but obeying him none the less. Things were happening so quickly now, and his thoughts had barely had the chance to catch up with events.
They went downstairs.
“Wait here, please,” the baron said to Benedict. “I would like to do this by myself, I am sure you’ll understand.”
