Page 75 of The King's Man
Thamsine stared at her sister. ‘Poisonous?’
‘It was autumn and I had been drying some herbs and roots. She seemed particularly interested in the monkshood.’
Thamsine thought of the dried slivers of root in the earthenware crock and felt goosebumps rising on her arm. ‘What does it do?’
‘It causes vomiting and prostration. The victim has difficulty breathing and dies in great pain.’
‘What a horrible way to die. Your poor rats,’ Thamsine commented, trying to keep her tone light.
‘I wasn’t talking about rats, Thamsine. It can kill a person very quickly. Of course, it was not many months later that Martin Talbot died.’ Jane looked at her sister, her meaning clear.
‘You think … ?’
‘I don’t think anything,’ Jane said hurriedly, ‘but I do know that after she left that day, a couple of the roots of monkshood I had been drying were missing. Now, enough talk of Lucy Talbot. We have work to do.’ Jane pushed open the door of the stillroom again. ‘You see those empty jars? They must all be washed and scrubbed.’
The sisters were so engrossed in the task that they did not hear Roger until he coughed. As one they looked up to see him standing in the doorway.
He smiled, almost pleasantly. ‘Well, I am pleased to see this sight.’
Thamsine straightened and curtsied.
‘Jane? Has your sister behaved?’
‘She has been exemplary, Roger.’
Thamsine swallowed. She knew the words she was about to say would gall her but for Jane’s sake, if not her own, they needed saying. She lowered her head, clasping her hands, like a true penitent, in front of her.
‘Roger, I have had much time in the past few days to consider my past actions, and I see that I have acted wrongly.’
Roger narrowed his eyes. ‘I am pleased to see you have reconsidered your willful behaviour, Thamsine. Am I to understand that you will no longer resist marriage?’
Thamsine hesitated for a very long time. ‘I seem to have no choice in the matter.’
Roger let out a heartfelt sigh. ‘I am relieved that you have seen sense, Thamsine. Morton will be delighted when I tell him when he returns tomorrow. You have made the right decision.’
Thamsine lay awake that night staring at the small, square window, where a distant moon cast a sickly, silvery light over her. All the pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place, and the players in the drama took their rightful places on the stage.
Pretty, frivolous, empty-headed Lucy was not the person she professed to be, or that men thought her. She remembered Lucy’s hard, implacable face on the day Ambrose had come for her. Nothing stood between Lucy and what – or who – she wanted. The question was, who did she want now – Ambrose Morton, Roger Knott, or Kit Lovell?
Surely Kit had nothing to offer her except whatever talents he had in bed. Roger? He was a married man with a sickly wife and unexciting prospects. Ambrose? If he married Thamsine he would be a wealthy man and more significantly, a wealthy widower.
Thamsine shivered. When she married Morton, would there be a deadly dose of monkshood waiting for her in the future?
Despair engulfed her. If she ran now, she left Jane at the mercy of Ambrose Morton. Anyway, where could she go? Not to Kit Lovell. He was as much in Lucy’s thrall as Roger. He would no more believe his mistress was a scheming murderess than Roger would.
She was on her own again.
Chapter 20
Ambrose Morton returned to Turnham Green the next evening. Thamsine heard his voice in the parlour and crept to the head of the stairs. She could not make out the conversation, but Morton and Knott appeared to be arguing. Occasionally Jane’s voice interceded, and after a little while, Jane came out of the parlour.
She stood at the bottom of the stairs looking upwards.
‘Thamsine? Ambrose is here. You must come.’
Thamsine stared down at her. ‘Jane, I can’t.’
Roger appeared behind his wife. ‘Thamsine, come down here at once.’
