Violet wiped her face with the back of her hand and told her mother what she had found.
“How long?” her mother asked.
“Overnight, at least.”
“The poison entered through the cuts the razor made. The skin is a door when it is broken, and he opened it every morning.” Her mother’s voice was clinical. “You did well with the egg whites which will help with whatever reached his stomach through saliva, but the bulk of the dose is in his blood.”
“I cleaned where the razor and shaving soap must have touched.”
“Good. All the way down his neck?”
“Yes.”
“Well done.” She turned to Dr Bainbridge. “Has he been bled?”
“He has not. Your daughter prevented it.”
Lady Thornwick glanced at Violet with pride before turning back to the doctor. “Good. Bleeding would be fatal.”
She opened her bag. Violet watched her mother’s confident hands. She had always made her feel safe when she was a child. Lady Thornwick produced a dark glass bottle and uncorked it. The smell of iron filled the room.
“Iron precipitated in water,” she said. “It fixes the arsenic in the blood and the gut and renders it inert. I have been preparing this for twenty years and have never had occasion to use it on a person.” Her mother proceeded to mix a tablespoon of it in water and fed it to Henry.
The Duchess of Cranbrook’s attention shifted to her physician. “Are you writing this down, Bainbridge? So many things that could be done instead of bleeding. I suggest you purchase vials of these and store them for me. I should not be surprised if anyone tried to poison me.”
Dr Bainbridge stood quietly, looking as though he’d sucked on a lemon. To his credit, he reached for the bottle and uncorkedit, smelled it, held it to the light. “Interesting... If it works, it’s brilliant.”
“I discovered it in my garden. When the iron in my soil saved a bed of foxglove from arsenical runoff.” She took the bottle back and turned to Violet. “Give one tablespoon mixed in water every quarter hour. Too much iron will damage his stomach. Too little and the arsenic will continue to spread.” She addressed the doctor. “I would welcome your expertise on his pulse and respiration, Doctor. I know plants. You know bodies. Between us we may keep him alive.”
Dr Bainbridge nodded. “Indeed, my lady.” Then he rolled up his sleeves. “I will monitor his pulse between doses. If his heart rate exceeds one hundred and forty, we stop.”
“Agreed.”
They worked. Her mother measured the dose, and Violet fed the liquid and Dr Bainbridge checked his pulse and listened to his lungs. Lady Thornwick counted the seconds between doses on her own heartbeat, which she claimed was more reliable than any watch. The doctor did not argue.
Between doses, Violet sponged his face and neck with cold water. Her mother mixed a poultice of charcoal and damp clay and spread it over his face and across his chest and stomach to draw the poison through the skin. Dr Bainbridge watched this with scepticism but said nothing. Henry’s pulse, which had been climbing, had steadied at one hundred and twenty after the third dose of iron.
“He is responding.” The scepticism had left the doctor’s voice entirely. “The iron is working.”
“Of course it is,” Cranbrook said.
“The body expels the poison through the kidneys, Doctor. It is the same principle that saved my roses,” said Lady Thornwick.
“Your roses,” he repeated.
“My roses are excellent.”
The knock came at half past one. Mrs Greer opened the door to Mrs Bickle and Letty, both women flushed from the carriage, both carrying parcels.
“I received your word,” Mrs Bickle said after she’d been presented to the Duchess of Cranbrook and Dr Bainbridge. “Mrs Brindle had it in her collection. She said it was given to her by a chemist in Edinburgh.”
She held out a small glass jar sealed with wax. Violet took it.
“Hydrated magnesia,” her mother said.
“The labels say it was prepared by Dr R. Christison of Edinburgh.”
Lady Thornwick took the jar from Violet’s hands, broke the seal, and smelled it. She looked at Dr Bainbridge. “This combined with the iron will address both the blood and the gut.”
