Page 73 of The Tempting of Thomas Carrick
Manachan accepted that as the final word; knowing his uncle, Thomas suspected it had been the final declaration he’d been angling to hear. Manachan inclined his head to Lucilla in as much of a bow as he could manage. “Thank you, my dear. I’m honestly not sure what me and mine would have done without your assistance.”
While Lucilla repeated that the Vale would always answer any call for help from the Carricks, Manachan’s gaze rose to Thomas’s face and, lips lightly curving, Manachan fractionally inclined his head—a gesture that brought to mind the words:Well played.
Unsure what his uncle had meant—on what aspect of Lucilla’s presence Manachan had been commenting—Thomas followed her out of Manachan’s suite and into the gallery.
She swept to the head of the stairs, then turned and looked back at Manachan’s closed door. There was calculation in her expression, then she looked at Thomas as he halted beside her. “The one thing I still cannot understand is why he never asked Joy to, at the very least, take a look at him. She might not have been as skilled as I or my mother, but she would still have brought him some degree of betterment.”
That was one of the many issues he’d spent the morning pondering. He held her gaze for a moment, then glanced around before waving her down the stairs. “Let’s go for a stroll.”
She immediately took his meaning and nodded. “An excellent idea.”
Side by side, they walked down the stairs, out of the front door, circled the house, and started along the side terrace.
As they settled to an easy pace, she simply asked, “Why?”
Looking down, he considered his words. “Because,” he eventually said, “someone in the clan has to be behind what’s going on. At least one member, and it might be more.”
After a moment, he went on, “As to your point, I originally thought, as I believe you did, too, that Manachan’s refusal to see a healer stemmed from his pride, in one aspect or another. Yet as we’ve seen, he was ready enough to allow you to treat him. But according to Edgar and Ferguson—and Mrs. Kennedy, too—Manachan’s been more or less in the state we found him for months.” He paused, then continued, “I’ve asked, and no one knows of any reason Manachan might have taken against Joy, yet he steadfastly refused to listen to Edgar’s suggestions that he consult her. Yet you heard him today, at the funeral—he told us what he thought of Joy. Manachan might be many things, but he isn’t good at prevarication, at putting on a polite show.”
She snorted. “According to my parents, that’s never been his style.”
“Exactly. So what he said about Joy, he meant. Which means there was no reason he didn’t ask her to help himexcept—and this is what I now believe purely because I’ve seen no evidence of anything else—someone convinced him, whether intentionally or otherwise, that everything he was suffering from was simply due to old age.”
She walked on for several seconds; like him, her gaze was fixed on the flagstones ahead of them. “We have heard that explanation put forward several times since we’ve been here.”
Her tone was exceedingly even; he had to give her points for remaining, apparently at least, detached. “Indeed.” His own temper wasn’t so accommodating; the word had been clipped. Then again, Manachan was his uncle, not hers. “But setting aside the question of why he didn’t seek help before now, I wanted to ask—your tonic and restorative. How do they work?”
Glancing at her, he saw a slight frown claim her face.
“Do you mean what aspects of a person’s vitality the two potions are designed to affect?”
He hesitated, then admitted, “I think that’s what I mean. I was wondering if knowing what you’re building up might tell us anything of what brought him low.”
“Ah, I see.” She raised her head. “Unfortunately, the answer is no. The treatment is specifically to boost his strength—muscle tone, but even more his energy levels. That’s circulation, breathing, and digestion. But lack of vitality—vigor, strength, whatever one calls it—is a general symptom. If I had seen him soon after he’d first been taken ill, I probably could have said what caused it, but after such a long period of debilitation, it’s not possible to define what sent him into that state to begin with.”
He grimaced. “What sort of things might it have been?”
“It might have been something relatively ordinary—like a lung infection.” They reached the end of the terrace and turned to walk back. She shook her head. “It’s not really possible to guess after all this time.”
He took two paces before saying, “Would it be true to say that, regardless of what initially brought him low, the critical issue that’s kept him ill for so long was that he didn’t seek help?”
She nodded decisively. “Definitely. That can be stated without any equivocation.”
After a moment, she turned her head and studied him, then said, “And yes, if you’d visited more often, you would have ensured he got treatment earlier and he wouldn’t have been so drawn down for so long, but no one told you, so you weren’t to know. But now you’ve come, and I’ve seen him and treated him, and that’s all that can be done.”
Jaw setting, he halted and waited until she did the same. Locking his eyes on hers, he simply said, “Indeed. So will you leave now?” When she blinked, he added, “Please.”
She frowned. “What brought this on?”
“An adder inexplicably appearing in the still room. A man creeping into your room in the dead of night, apparently intent on smothering you while you slept. Those two incidents, for a start.” Along with his growing conviction that whoever was behind whatever was going on had already committed murder twice. He kept his lips clamped, holding back those words.
Much good did the restraint do him.
Her frown grew black. “No. I will not simply waltz off home, not until I’m sure Manachan—who is now officially my patient—is firmly on the road to recovery.” With a swish of her skirts, she started walking again. “And before you ask, I imagine that will take at least two more days.”
He gritted his teeth and followed. “Do you have any idea what”—exasperated, he waved—“interfamily ructionswill ensue if anything happens to you while under this roof?” He threw out a hand. “More, with your standing in the area, something happening to you while you’re here will very likely break up the clan.”
After finally getting him into her bed, Lucilla wasn’t going to meekly pack up and go home. She halted and swung to face him. “That’s—”
