Page 114 of To Love And To Cherish
“Yes, please, please come in. My girl is very ill.”
They stepped into the dim room. Anne lay motionless, her skin flushed, her limbs trembling slightly. Darcy touched her hand. She was burning with fever.
“Annie is out of her mind,” Mrs. Jenkinson said through tears. “My girl speaks to her father and others who are not present. Her hands and legs shake. She was complaining of heart palpitations when she was coherent enough to speak. And my lovely girl hasn’t eaten for two days.”
“Has she seen a doctor?”
“Yes, Dr. Clark came this morning. He says there is nothing more to be done.” Mrs. Jenkinson pointed to a bottle. “I forgot to show this to Dr. Clark. I believe it is harming her. She began to fall ill five or six weeks ago, when she first started taking it as a restorative.”
Darcy picked it up. A dark brown glass vial labeled simplyGrey Powder.
“Richard,” he said, holding it out.
“I’ve never heard of it.”
Darcy frowned. “Where did she obtain this restorative?”
“A peddler passed through the area five or six weeks ago, and Lady Catherine purchased two bottles from him. When Anne finished the first, her ladyship supplied her with this second.”
“I’ll take it,” Darcy said. “We’ll try to learn what it is. In the meantime, give her only tea or water.”
“Yes, sir, I’ll keep trying, but she isn’t responding, and I don’t know how to make her take any.”
Outside, he turned to Richard. “I need to speak with Elizabeth. Perhaps there is something we can do to help Anne.”
At the Bertrams’, he found her with Charlotte, embroidery in hand.
“How is your cousin?” Elizabeth asked, looking up.
Darcy’s voice was grim. “I believe she is dying.”
He explained her symptoms, then produced the bottle. Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed as she read the label.
“Grey powder?” she repeated. “William, that is a purgative made with chalk and mercury. It’s poisonous. Dr. Edgerton once chased a peddler out of Hertfordshire for selling this particular powder.”
“Mercury?” Darcy echoed.
“Mercury must be listed in my book,” she said, rising. “The one you gave me. I packed it in my small trunk.”
“I’ll get it,” he said and strode out of the room. Upstairs in their bedchamber, he located it in her trunk. As he pulled the book free, three old letters slipped from the cover, written in his hand and posted from Paris, dated eighteen hundred and five.
She had kept his letters.
He gazed at them for a moment, then carefully returned them to the box where the book had been packed and opened the large tome to the chapter on poisons.
The symptoms chilled him: tremors, fever, hallucinations, vomiting, seizures, even death.
He carried the book back downstairs and handed it to Richard. “I think she’s been poisoned.”
They discussed the possibility of poisoning and the recommended remedies listed in the chapter, which were believed to be of benefit. Charlotte disposed of the toxic powder. Elizabeth offered milk thistle and charcoal from her own supply, and Darcy sent to the apothecary for a larger bottle of the milk thistle tincture. They would have the Rosings kitchen send up warm milk at regular intervals.
One obstacle remained.
“Elizabeth,” he said, “when Lady Catherine learns of our marriage, she will, in all likelihood, refuse you entry.”
Richard intervened. “We will not tell Lady Catherine. Elizabeth, we’ll slip you into the house through a side door.”
Elizabeth nodded. “I will help in any way I can. Since she is no longer responsive or able to take water, we must administer fluids by means of a clyster.”
