Page 77 of Marry in Secret
Not that she had any servants yet—the domestic agency that had supplied servants to both Emm and Lily was sending applicants to be interviewed tomorrow. Emm was going to sit in on the interviews with her.
***
The wine merchant’s carrier and his men finished unloading the wine. Thomas paid them and they departed. He surveyed the filled racks with satisfaction. Would they ever drink that much wine? Still, wine was an investment for the future.
“Excuse me, sir.” It was the wine carrier.
Thomas turned, surprised. “Did you forget something?”
“No, but there’s a lad lyin’ on the ground out back, lookin’ right poorly. Thought you ought to know.”
Thomas hurried upstairs and went through the kitchen into the backyard. Young Peter lay sprawled, half curled on the cobbles, retching in a pool of vomit. A few of his fellows were standing back, doing nothing.
“Good God!” Thomas examined him. “You”—he stabbed a finger at a nearby workman—“is there a doctor around here?”
“It’s all right, sir, the lad don’t need a doctor,” the foreman said. “He’s just reapin’ his reward for being a greedy guts.” He pointed at the overturned box of marzipan lying a few feet away. “He ate all them fancy sweets, all by hisself.” He bent to pick one up.
“Don’t touch that!” Thomas snapped. It wasn’t simple overindulgence; there was foam coming from Peter’s mouth, greenish-yellow foam. “This boy is seriously ill. Now where’s the nearest doctor?”
“There’s a Scotsman lives not far from here,” one of the men offered. “He’s good but he don’t have much to do with nobs.”
“Fetch him,” Thomas ordered. “Tell him there’s a boy here been poisoned.”
“Poisoned?” The foreman blanched and took a step back.
“A guinea for you if he’s here within the half hour.” The man raced off.
Thomas fetched a damp cloth and wiped Peter’s mouth. The boy was barely conscious. He moved him away from the soiled area but left him on the ground. It wasn’t cold, and he had no idea what to do, whether it was safe to move him. From the look of the lad’s vomit, there wasn’t much remaining in his stomach.
But you never could tell with poison.
He picked up the box of marzipan and carefully replaced the spilled sweets. Only three left. It might turn out to be overindulgence, but he didn’t think so. He closed the box and slipped it into his coat pocket.
***
“And you say the boy’s still alive?” Ollie asked. Thomas had told him all about the incident over a glass of wine, late that night.
“The doctor has high hopes of his recovery, but as he doesn’t know what the poison might be, it’s hard to say. He took one of the sweets and a sample of the vomit to test.”
He showed Ollie the box and the card, which he’d also collected. “I don’t suppose you know of anyone who could find out more about this?”
“Not my area,” Ollie said regretfully. “Figures, numbers, I’m your man. Poisons? Assassinations? You need Ashendon.”
“Ashendon?”
Ollie nodded. “Not that he’s involved anymore, but heknowspeople.” He tapped the side of his nose significantly. He pushed the marzipan box distastefully away. “Take that thing to Ashendon. He’s your man.”
Thomas didn’t like the idea of asking Ashendon for anything, but someone had sent these filthy, poisoned, harmless-looking marzipan sweets to Rose. It could have been her lying there on the cobbles, vomiting her heart out. It didn’t bear thinking of.
If anyone was motivated as strongly as Thomas to track down the villain, it would be Ashendon.
Peter was still alive the next morning, though still a very sick boy. Thomas spoke to the boy’s widowed mother and discovered that Rose had been by earlier with a basket of food. It turned out that Peter was the breadwinner for his mother, younger brother and two sisters. Apparently Rose knew this. How, he had no idea.
Thomas assured the boy’s mother that he would cover the costs of Peter’s medical treatment and that the family would be looked after. He slipped her five pounds to make up for the loss of the boy’s wages and left quickly to avoid her embarrassing gratitude.
He then called on Ashendon. He explained what had happened—Rose had already told him some of it—and showed him the box, the sweets and the card. He finished by saying that Ollie had suggested he consult Ashendon because he “knew people.”
Ashendon neither confirmed nor denied it. He questioned Thomas about the incident. “You don’t have any idea who sent it?”
