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"Well and fine, as far as we ken," he assured her. "He feared getting it himself and took his bride and left fer safer shores when yer maid got sick."
Edith didn't comment. Now that he mentioned it, she recalled Brodie's leaving. She'd been rather annoyed at the time, thinking it less than laird-like behavior to flee the keep and all its people when they might be at the start of a crisis. She noted that Niels sounded disgusted by his actions too, but merely asked, "Moibeal? She is--"
"Yer maid is fine," he assured her. "And fashing to see ye. I would be surprised does she no' ignore Rory's orders to stay away and show up here once she learns ye're awake."
Edith's eyebrows rose. "Why was she no' allowed--"
She broke off and glanced to the door when it opened. Alick was returning with another man and Edith found herself examining the three of them. They were all similar in looks with dark hair and those lovely blue eyes. But Niels was obviously older than the other two. He was also bigger, his shoulders wide, his arms thick and strong. Not that the other two didn't look strong, but Niels looked like a warrior used to wielding a broadsword, while Alick looked like he hadn't fully grown yet and Rory looked like . . . well, like he was a healer more than a warrior.
"'Tis good to see ye awake, Lady Edith," Rory said by way of greeting as he walked to the bed. "How do ye feel?"
"Thirsty," Edith admitted.
"I've only given her two small sips o' mead to see how she stomachs it," Niels announced, and much to Edith's disappointment, stood so that Rory could take his place. She wasn't sure why she was sorry he left, since she barely knew the man, but she was disappointed, and her feelings obviously showed on her face, Edith realized when Rory's eyebrows rose slightly and he glanced from her to Niels with a small smile.
Fortunately, he didn't embarrass her by commenting and merely asked, "How does yer stomach feel after the first couple o' sips?"
"Fine, thank ye," she whispered.
"Then Niels can give ye more in a minute," he said and leaned in to look into her eyes.
Edith stilled, fighting the urge to look away and simply waited.
"Yer eyes are back to normal," he murmured.
Edith had no idea what that meant, but looked away with relief when he sat back again. She then frowned as her gaze fell on the woman in bed next to her. "Effie? Is she--?"
"She appears to have ingested the poison too," Rory interrupted, sparing her voice. "I think, like Moibeal, she did no' consume much o' whatever had the poison in it . . . else she'd be dead now. Howbeit she's old and frail enough that even a little might yet do her in."
"Ye ken what was poisoned?" Edith asked, her voice cracking in several spots. Her throat hurt it was so dry and the few sips she'd had of mead hadn't been enough to ease it.
"Niels, come give her more mead," Rory said, standing and moving around the bed to examine Effie now.
Edith frowned, thinking he planned to ignore her question, but when Niels settled next to her on the bed again and slid an arm under her shoulders to ease her to a sitting position, she forgot all about her question. Niels smelled like the woods in the springtime, a scent she'd always loved. Edith couldn't resist turning her head toward the curve of his neck and shoulder and inhaling deeply. When Niels stilled, she realized what she was doing and quickly turned her face back. Edith was quite sure she was blushing, but Niels merely smiled faintly and offered her the mug of mead.
"Thank ye," Edith murmured before taking a sip.
"Moibeal said she had a couple sips o' yer wine when ye did no' drink it the night she fell ill," Rory commented after she'd had several cautious sips.
Looking toward the other man, Edith saw that he had lifted Effie's eyelids and was peering at her eyes silently. His words hadn't been a question, but she nodded and responded as if it was anyway. "Aye. I said she could. I did no' have the stomach fer it after tossing it back up so many times, so she gave me her cider and I let her have me wine."
"She said she did no' drink much though. Is that right?" Rory asked, sitting up straight and turning his questioning gaze to her.
"Aye. She only had a sip. She did no' care fer it," Edith recalled, noting that her voice was getting stronger. The mead was making her throat feel better too.
"And did Effie have some o' yer wine too?" Rory asked.
"I--" Edith paused, her gaze dropping to the woman before she shrugged helplessly and admitted, "I'm no' sure. She may have. I do no' recall much o' the last week or so since I fell ill again." Frowning, she explained, "At first I could no' keep anything down, but felt better once I'd purged. That kept happening, and finally I refused the wine and broth Moibeal brought." Eyes narrowing as she thought on it, she murmured, "Once I stopped having those, I was able to keep down an apple and some bread Moibeal brought me and I started to feel better again . . . and then I wanted to build me strength so I had some stew and--" She grimaced with distaste. "It did no' seem to make much difference when that came back up. I was exhausted and weary and just wanted to sleep."
"Ye were weakening from no' being able to keep yer food down fer so long," Rory said solemnly.
"Mayhap," Edith admitted and glanced to the woman in bed next to her. "I have a vague recollection o' Effie trying to get me to eat or drink and saying I needed to build up me strength, but every time I did . . ." She grimaced with distaste and merely shook her head.
"Did ye ha'e wine with the stew while ye were tending Moibeal?" Niels asked, drawing her gaze his way.
Edith wrinkled her nose and shook her head. "Frankly, I fear I'll never want wine again after tossing it back up so many times. I did no' have anything to drink that night."
"So the poison was in both the wine and stew," Niels said grimly.
"It was?" Edith asked uncertainly.
"Aye," he assured her, his voice sounding angry. "Moibeal was poisoned from a couple o' sips o' yer wine, but ye fell ill again after eating stew. Both must ha'e been poisoned."
"Oh, aye," she said with realization and then noticed the grim looks Niels and Rory exchanged.
Still a bit fuzzy-minded, Edith wasn't sure what that exchange meant. Noticing her confusion, Rory explained, "We were hoping that perhaps the family wine had been poisoned in an effort to kill yer father and brothers, and ye merely had the bad luck to have some o' the poisoned wine. But if yer stew was later poisoned too . . ." He pointed out almost apologetically, "No one else fell ill from the stew that night."
Edith's eyes widened incredulously at those words. She understood what he was saying. After killing her father and brothers, someone had deliberately tried to poison her. Why would anyone want her dead? She was no one of import.
"Though," Niels added now, turning toward his brother, "the maids both being poisoned is most likely an unintended result o' trying to poison Edith."
"Aye," Rory agreed. "If Effie wakes up I'm quite sure we'll find she ate or drank something that was sent up fer Lady Edith."
Niels nodded, his gaze shifting toward the table where the cask, vegetables and rabbit skin sat. "So the liquid from the vial the maid was mixing into her drink is probably no' the poison."
"Nay. Probably not," Rory agreed. "Effie would hardly deliberately poison herself too."
"A little blue glass vial?" Edith asked, her ears perking up. She hadn't noticed it on the table, but it was small and there was enough mess with the mugs and whatnot that it might be hidden from her view.
"Aye," Niels said. "Effie was pouring the last o' it into yer drink to give to ye as we entered."
"Victoria gave it to Effie ere she left. She said it would help build me blood to aid in fighting the illness or some such thing," Edith murmured and grimaced. "It was foul. Just the smell o' it was enough to make me heave the first night Effie put it in me drink."
"Really?" Rory murmured, and the way he looked toward the table now with interest, convinced her the vial must be there somewhere.
"It can no' be the poison," Edith assured them quietly. "Victoria does no' l
ike me much, but she's no' stupid. She'd hardly give Effie poison to give me in front o' others like that."
"Nay . . . o' course she would no'," Niels murmured, but neither he nor his brothers looked completely convinced by her words. "Here, have more mead."
Edith hesitated, but then let him feed her more mead. She didn't think for a minute the tonic Victoria had given Effie could have poison in it. Her sister-in-law simply wasn't that stupid. Mind you, she wouldn't put it past the lass to have poisoned them all, just not in something that would lead directly back to her. Victoria might have seemed all sweetness and batting eyelashes when she'd first arrived at Drummond as Brodie's new bride, but once Edith's father and brothers had fallen ill, her ambition had shown through. Victoria wanted to be Lady Drummond with all that entailed, and had been terribly frustrated that the servants were not simply falling in line with her vision while the older brothers still lived. The woman had shown her true colors then, throwing a temper tantrum of epic proportions. Even Brodie had appeared taken aback by her behavior and he was famous for his temper tantrums.
In truth, Edith had almost been glad to fall ill herself once her second brother, Hamish, had died. It allowed her to avoid watching the woman claim the position she was so greedy for. Edith was quite certain Victoria wouldn't have taken over graciously or kindly in an effort to secure the hearts of the people now under her charge. She had probably been spiteful and bitter as she'd barked her orders and demanded immediate obeisance. Edith couldn't have borne watching that.
Actually, she was no more eager to watch it now once her brother and his wife returned. Perhaps a visit with Saidh was in order so that she could sort out what she should do now. Edith was quite certain her days at Drummond were numbered. She had no doubt Victoria would want her out of there as quickly as possible, which probably meant a nunnery for her. If she wanted to avoid that, a visit with Saidh and the other girls who made up their group--Murine and Jo--might be helpful. If the four of them put their heads together, they might come up with an alternative future for her, and that would be . . . well, really it was the only hope she had. Although, it was a slim one at best.
Swallowing the mead, Edith asked, "Has there been word as to when Brodie and Victoria will return?"
Niels shook his head. "Nay. I asked Tormod that very thing this morning and he said no one has heard from them. He also said he did no' expect to, that Brodie comes and goes as he pleases without troubling himself to let others ken what he's about."
"Aye," Edith said on a sigh. "Brodie tends to be . . . impulsive. We did no' even ken he'd married until he arrived home with Victoria in tow. It seems he met her at court, fell madly in love and married her within a month."
"And her parents allowed it?" Niels asked with surprise.
"That was my first question," Edith admitted wryly.
