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Her grandmother nodded. “This morning, my tea had an unusual bitter taste to it, but I didn’t think anything of it at the time,” she said. “It wasn’t long after that I started feeling ill, I know it was from that sip I took. I also spilled some of the tea on my arm.”
“But why would someone poison you?”
“I am not sure, but I know what I tasted,” she said. “I believe I was poisoned by foxglove.”
“Foxglove?”
“When I was a child, I accidently consumed foxglove and had a similar reaction to what I am experiencing now.” Her grandmother winced as she brought a hand up to her head. “I didn’t want to say this around the servants, but my heart is also beating strangely.”
Daphne frowned. “That does sound like foxglove poisoning,” she mused.
“We must both remain vigilant,” her grandmother urged. “I have been giving it some thought, and I believe the burr in your saddle might not have been an accident.”
“I had the same thought, but I couldn’t prove it.”
“If you die, then you are no longer my heir.” Her grandmother grew solemn. “There is only one person who would benefit from that.”
“Phineas,” Daphne murmured.
A pained look came to her grandmother’s face. “If I were you, I would be cautious around him.”
“I do not believe that Phineas would try to kill me to achieve his purposes.”
“I hope that I am speaking out of turn, but I cannot discount that someone in this household poisoned me.”
“Perhaps it was just an accident.”
Her grandmother lifted her wrinkled brow. “I do not think it was.”
“Who delivered your tea this morning?”
“It was Sarah,” her grandmother replied, “just as she always does.”
Before Daphne could reply, a knock came at the door, interrupting their conversation.
“Enter,” her grandmother ordered.
The door opened and the doctor stepped into the room. “I understand that you are not feeling well, my lady.”
“I am not,” her grandmother replied.
Daphne stepped back to allow the doctor to examine her grandmother. Her mind was reeling with what she had been told.
Phineas stepped into the room and yawned. “What is the commotion?” he asked Daphne in an unconcerned voice. “I am trying to sleep.”
“I’m afraid Grandmother isn’t feeling well,” Daphne replied, keeping her voice low so as not to be overheard.
“Of course not,” he replied. “She is old.”
Daphne gave him a disapproving look. “That was rather a cruel thing to say.”
Phineas shrugged. “The sooner she dies, the sooner you inherit your money,” he said.
“I would rather Grandmother live another hundred years.”
“You might have your wish, because she is too obstinate to die.”
The doctor turned to face them. “Would you mind stepping into the hall while I examine your grandmother?”
