Page 62 of Dropping the Ball

Alden was certain his guests would talk about the events of that evening for years. The setting alone was noteworthy enough to provide gossip for ages to come. The parade they all made as they headed into the terrarium, him leading Lady Gladys as if she were a hissing, bristling cat, Bernadette and her friends following behind with Alden’s cousins, and Lord and Lady Hethersett and their children, along with Lord Attleborough, looking like characters from a northern legend, was a sight that would not soon be forgotten.

“Now,” Alden said once they were all safely inside the terrarium, positioned among the verdant green, lit by torches and lanternlight, once Egbert had been released. “I will say what I have to say to you, Lady Gladys, and we will settle this matter once and for all. I will not marry you. I never had any intention of marrying you.”

“But Alden,” Lady Gladys said, near to tears with frustration as she tried to step closer to him. “The two of us were meant to be.”

“We were not,” Alden said. “We never were, and I believe you know that as well. You threw me over for Edward years ago, I moved on, and you began to build a life with Edward. Despite his unfortunate death and your machinations, I never had any intention of going back to you.”

“But you must,” she said, her frustration turning to fear. “The accounts are all due. Edward’s money is gone. I have nothing left. The solicitors have already come to take everything of value from the house. I shall end up in debtor’s prison if you do not save me.”

Alden’s eyes went wide. “Why did you tell me none of this before?” he asked. “I would have helped you, as a friend.”

“And risk the shame of accepting your charity?” she asked, her back going stiff. “I am too proud for that.”

“But not too proud to attempt to trap a man who loves another in marriage so that you could steal his fortune,” Alden said.

Lady Gladys’s face twisted with fury. “You have squandered your fortune,” she said. “I would put it to much greater use.”

“Alden has squandered nothing,” Bernadette defended him, glancing from Lady Gladys to Hethersett, as if she would defend him against anyone’s accusations. “He has built this magnificent terrarium to house the specimens he collected in his time abroad. He is writing a definitive book about how others mightbuild similar structures to safely house species from foreign climes.”

Lady Gladys barked a derisive laugh. “You think this is a worthy use of one’s fortune?” She stepped back to gesture around at the terrarium. “This is an abomination? Plants that should not grow in Wessex.” She reached for the branch of one of the palms and tore off part of a leaf. “Birds that should never exist on these shores.” She bent down to pick up a stone from the path and hurled it up into the canopy, disturbing one of the parrots. “Creatures that are the stuff of nightmares.” She thrust her hand into the foliage beside her, grabbing a bright blue frog and throwing it.

Alden gasped in alarm as soon as he saw what she’d done. “Lady Gladys, you must not,” he said.

“Why?” she demanded, fury in her eyes as she turned back to the leaves. “Do you care for these creatures more than me?”

She grabbed another frog and another, plucking them from their perches and hurling them at Alden and Bernadette.

Then she made a painful, squealing sound and stared at her swiftly-reddening hand.

“Frogs!” the youngest of the Hethersett children exclaimed, lunging forward, as if they would grasp one of the unfortunate, damaged frogs Lady Gladys had thrown.

“Do not touch the frogs!” Bernadette shouted, lunging forward to pull the little boy back. “They are poison dart frogs!”

“Poison?” Hethersett pulled his wife closer.

They all turned to stare at Lady Gladys as she held up her red hand and started to scream.

Chapter Twenty-One

The moment Lady Gladys grasped one of the poisoned frogs, Bernadette feared for the woman’s life. All she knew about the potency of the frogs was what Alden had told her, but that little knowledge rushed to her mind.

“Hurry, Lady Gladys,” she said, lunging toward the woman and grabbing her arm. “You must flush the poison from your skin before it can sink deeper into your body.”

Lady Gladys was too shocked as she stared at her hand, an expression of pain marring her otherwise handsome features, to resist Bernadette’s manhandling.

“The stream,” Alden said, joining Bernadette in her attempt to rescue Lady Gladys. “It’s the best we have for now. Smythe! Fetch cool, clear water!”

Bernadette had not seen Mr. Smythe enter the terrarium with the rest of them. She did not pause to search for him, trusting that the enterprising young man would do his job, asshe maneuvered Lady Gladys to the edge of the manufactured stream.

“There, Lady Gladys,” Bernadette said, speaking as she would to a child who had burnt their hand on a stove and did not know how to make themself feel better. “Kneel down and thrust your hand into the water so that we might wash away the poison.”

Lady Gladys did as she was bid, nearly falling to her knees. She blinked once, and the importance of washing her hand must have struck her. She thrust her hand into the cool, flowing water, despite the creatures within it, with a wail of pain.

Bernadette worked to swish water over Lady Gladys’s hand as the woman began to moan and shake. It was impossible for Bernadette to tell whether the woman’s distress was because of whatever pain or effects of the poison she was feeling or whether her anguish was emotional distress.

“It’s an abomination,” Lady Gladys wailed, but with decreasing strength and volume. “This entire madhouse. It is an abomination.”

“Easy, Lady Gladys,” Alden said, sinking to Lady Gladys’s other side. He took the woman’s hand from Bernadette, lifting it from the water to see if progress had been made in flushing the poison. “It looks as though we averted disaster, but we should fetch a doctor to see to this at once. You should stay here at Lyndhurst Grove tonight.”

---