Mary added, “The empress Livia Drusilla was said to have used it to murder her husband.”
Lydia stopped chewing, but Mama pushed the plate toward her.
Jane asked, “What should we look for over the next hour or two until Lydia is out of danger?”
“Aside from a racing pulse and dilated eyes, the worst cases provoke hallucinations and delirium along with convulsions.”
Lydia shoved the plate away, her lips pressed into a firm, white line.
“You must eat your cake, Lydia,” insisted Mama.
Tears pooled in Lydia’s eyes, but she looked too angry to cry.
“Think of your baby,” Mama added.
Squeezing her eyes shut, Lydia screeched, “There is no baby!”
“But your stomach—” Kitty exclaimed. “Your figure—”
Bottom lip trembling, Lydia sobbed, “George only brought me here to be rid of me.”
Shocked silence filled the room before several voices burst forth at once.
How could you do such a thing?
Why did you lie to your husband? To Us?
Did you think we would not notice as the weeks and months passed?
What were you thinking?
Where is that ingrate?
Tears poured down Lydia’s face, Kitty and Mama flanking her on either side, their arms around her waist, attempting to console her.
Again, Mama asked, “Wickham has always been so attentive, such a good husband. Why would you think such a thing?”
Lydia sniffed loudly. “George was distracted. There were nights he would not come home at all, or I would return from shopping early to find him home at the strangest hours. As it turns out”—sniff sniff—“he was carrying on with the maid.”
Papa handed her his handkerchief.
Lydia buried her face in the soft linen for several minutes. Then, drying her eyes and leveling her shoulders, she continued, her grief yielding to spite. “I dismissed her, of course. George was angry with me, and he rarely came home after that. I thought … I thought that if I told him I was pregnant, he would pay more attention to me. That things would go back to how they were before we got married.”
Kitty whispered, “You must tell them the rest.”
Elizabeth sucked in a breath, dreading to hear more.
Voice raw, Lydia began, “I was convinced I had grown rather clumsy. I suffered many accidents — little things like tripping over carpets, falling down stairs, and walking into doors.”
Elizabeth clutched her stomach, nauseous insympathy for her sister and hatred for her useless husband.
“However, I am beginning to think that George provoked these ‘accidents.’” She blew her nose.
Kitty added gravely, “She has bruises all over.”
What sort of man inflicted harm on a woman who he thought bore his own child? A monster. A sick, detestable monster.
“Why did you not say anything sooner?” asked Jane, tears flooding her eyes as she leaned over to take her sister’s hands. “We would have helped you.”
