The Duchess of Cranbrook had been fanning herself increasingly rapidly over the hours. Violet caught her glaring at the doctor on one occasion. The older duchess closed her fan with a crack. “Bainbridge, do—”
“Already noted, Your Grace. I shall stock it as soon as I am able."
“Good,” Cranbrook said, snapping her fan open.
They dissolved the magnesia in water and Violet held Henry’s head again while her mother poured it slowly past his lips. He swallowed. His body convulsed once, a violent shudder that ran through his whole frame, and then he went still. His breathing was still shallow but it had steadied. The grey in his skin had shifted toward something warmer.
“Now we wait,” Lady Thornwick said. She pulled a chair to the bedside and sat down. She placed a hand on Henry’s forehead with the same maternal care she had used on her daughters.
Dr Bainbridge straightened from the washstand. “His pulse has steadied. I shall step out and write my notes while the treatment holds. Lady Thornwick, you will send for me if anything changes.”
“I shall.”
Cranbrook rose. “Mrs Bickle, come. You and I have matters to discuss, and the duchess does not need six people breathing her air.” She swept Mrs Bickle and her daughter out. The door closed behind them.
The room was quiet. Just the fire, and Henry’s breathing, and her mother’s hand on his forehead.
Violet pulled a chair beside her mother and sat. She reached for Henry’s hand and pressed her forehead to his knuckles. A prayer came out of her, barely a whisper. She kissed his hand and held it against her chest.
Her mother’s hand found her cheek and wiped the tears with her thumb.
“You love him,” she said gently.
“I do.” Her voice broke. “I want him to live, Mama.”
Her mother placed her hand over Violet’s clasping Henry’s. “We have done everything we can. I will send word if there are any changes. Now go and attend to other matters. Do you know who did this?”
“I think so.”
“Then go get justice for your husband. For all those women who paid with their lives. I will be right here to look after him.”
She kissed her mother’s cheek and thanked Dr Bainbridge at the door. She looked back once at Henry’s face, at her mother’s hand on his forehead, and made herself close the door.
Chapter thirty-three
Wednesday’s Reckoning
Violet
The corridor was cold after the warmth of the sickroom. Violet stood with her back against the closed door and pressed her palms flat against it.
Cranbrook was already there. “Baker is gone,” she said.
Violet’s stomach dropped. “Gone? Are you certain?”
“Her room has been cleared. Her wardrobe is empty. By the servants’ account and my own reckoning, she left through the kitchen entrance approximately twenty minutes after the word of the duke falling ill.”
“She must have been packed and ready to leave at a moment’s notice since she began applying the arsenic.”
“It appears so.”
Violet leaned against the wall. The strength she had been running on was thinning. Cranbrook supported her elbow. “I sent for the police as soon as I found her room empty. I gave them her name and description.”
Violet looked at her as a thought occurred to her. “She has a son in Surrey. Mr Harris knows the address.”
“I shall see to it at once. I will find Mr Harris. You must eat before you perish ahead of your husband.” Cranbrook swept out.
Violet heard her voice in the hall, sharp and commanding, directing Patten to find paper and a rider.
