Chapter Forty-two

Ned was fairly sure he was going to go out of his mind waiting for someone to tell him how Marguerite was. The hours since they had broken into Delphine’s room filled a cauldron of nightmare memories.

Tony’s casual “I’m sure she’ll be fine” did not help.

Ned turned on him with a snarl. “You didn’t see her. There was blood all over her. And that lunatic cousin of yours was trying to kill her.”

“You can’t know that,” Tony protested.

Ned seized him by the shirtfront. “She was dragging her to the window. She was going to throw her out. Doesn’t that sound murderous to you?”

“All right! All right!” Tony held up his hands in surrender. “I was just trying to reassure you.”

Ned released him with a contemptuous shove and resumed his pacing. He had been permitted to carry Marguerite back to her own room, but then his mother had taken control. She shooed him out with orders to fetch the doctor and go find himself a place to wait.

The waiting place he chose was the room across the corridor from Marguerite’s. It was empty, and wide enough for pacing. Every time he passed the open door he glared out at the closed door of Marguerite’s room. A few servants had gone in and out, carrying pitchers and basins and towels and suchlike, but no one had come out to tell him what was happening.

Horace had joined him. He did not pace. He just sat and stared at Marguerite’s door. His lips moved slightly, but no sound came out. Ned thought he might be praying.

“Damnation! I’m not waiting any longer!” He strode across the corridor and flung open the door.

Dr. Fernac looked up from fastening his cuffs with a smile. “Ah, the impatience of youth.”

Ned wasn’t interested in Fernac. His eyes focused instantly on Marguerite. His mother was tucking her into some sort of frilly jacket thing, but Marguerite saw him and smiled. “It’s all right,” she said. “She didn’t really hurt me.”

In an instant, he was on his knees at the bedside, holding her hand to his cheek. “Of course she hurt you. You were unconscious and there was blood all over.”

She laughed a little at that. “Well, she did hurt me a bit, but no lasting damage. The doctor says that nothing is broken in my elbow. Just a bruise.”

“Your elbow? But your head…” His hand hovered over the small bandage on her temple. A bruise was spreading around it.

Fernac chuckled. “An unusual young woman. She awakens to find herself covered in blood, and all she worries about is her elbow.”

“It hurt,” she protested, but with a smile. “And I cannot play the piano if I cannot bend my arm. But Dr. Fernac has promised that there is no real injury there.”

Ned looked over at the doctor for confirmation.

“True enough,” Fernac said. “The first blow caught her on the elbow. And such a blow causes pain, no doubt. It was the second, the corner of the drawer, that caused the cut and the bleeding. But it did not even need a stitch, there are no signs of any lasting effects, and her arm will be fine in a day or two.”

On the far side of the bed, his mother and Mme. d’Hivers stood side by side, arms folded in identical fashion. They exchanged looks, and both nodded.

His mother was the one who spoke. “She is going to rest in bed at least for today.” She looked pointedly at her son. “She needs peace and quiet, and she should not be upset. You do understand, don’t you?”

“Yes, of course.” Why did his mother think he would do anything to upset Marguerite? And why was she giving him that exasperated look?

“I don’t understand it. Delphine has never had an outburst like this. She has never been violent—at least not to me. Not like this.” Marguerite sounded worried, and he suddenly realized. She did not know what had happened.

“There’s no need for you to worry,” he assured her, and gave his mother a look intended to convey Yes I understand. I’m not an idiot.

“Tante Héloise is usually able to handle Delphine, but she may need some help this time,” Marguerite said carefully. “Will you be able to manage?”

Madame shook her head. “Do not worry yourself, child.”

But Marguerite was still looking at him. He was still holding her hand, so he kissed it and then he leaned over and kissed her on the forehead, taking care to avoid her injury. “Yes, of course. And I will take care of Horace as well.”

Lady Penworth nodded her approval. “And later on, you may bring a book and sit here with Marguerite if you promise not to disturb her and to let her rest.”

Suddenly Ned felt much better. Not only did it appear that Marguerite was not seriously injured, but his mother was no longer calling her “Miss Benda.”

The rest of the day was spent on practicalities and explanations. Ned found himself grateful for his parents’ presence. They were so reassuringly competent.

By afternoon, when Marguerite was worrying more about her cousin than about her elbow, Ned was allowed to tell her what had happened. Her first reaction was to hide her face in her hands. Ned was less worried about the possibility of tears than he was about the fact that she wasn’t moving.

He put a hand on her shoulder. “Marguerite?”

She shook her head and lowered her hands. There were no tears. “I feel so ashamed. My first reaction after the shock was relief. I was…I was glad. Glad that it was all over.”

His arms went around her to shelter her. “It’s all right. It’s all right, my darling. I think we all felt the same way.” He kept murmuring to her as he cradled her against him.

The tears came then, and he held her until they finally subsided.

At last she lifted her head. “She was terrified, you know, when she first came.” Her voice was clogged with tears. “All the time, she kept being afraid that people were going to take her back to the school, but after a while she trusted me. I was the one who took care of her.”

“But now,” he said, “it had reached the point where no one could take care of her anymore. There was nothing good in the future for her.”

“It was such a waste.” More tears came until finally she fell asleep. He laid her down gently on the pillows.

Mme. d’Hivers, once it was clear that Marguerite was not in danger, seemed to collapse. The moment she left Marguerite’s room she began to berate herself for having dismissed Delphine’s delusions as tiresome when she should have recognized the seriousness of the way they were taking over the girl’s mind. Finally, Dr. Fernac dosed her with laudanum and sent her to bed as well.

That left the door open for Lady Penworth. She gave full vent to her maternal instincts, cosseting Marguerite in ways Ned couldn’t ever recall her cosseting her own children. To his recollection, when he had fallen off a horse or tumbled out of a tree, he had been efficiently cleaned up and bandaged, but the look on his mother’s face had implied that his aches and pains were his own fault.

Now, however, she was all but wrapping Marguerite in cotton wool. And from the way Marguerite was sinking into it, he suspected that nobody had been taking that kind of care of her in a long time. Maybe ever.

Well, there would be plenty of cherishing in her future. He would see to that.

Tony had been only moderately distressed to learn that Delphine had killed herself. He was considerably more distressed to learn that she had been trying to kill him. “I knew her whole branch of the family was obsessed with their bloodline, but this is outrageous.” He stormed about the room, waving his arms in good Gallic fashion. “She must have been out of her mind.”

“I believe that has been pretty clearly established,” Ned said dryly.

Tony pulled up abruptly. “Yes, I suppose it has.” A shamefaced grin appeared. “And I never did pay much attention to her. Was that why Marguerite was always so…so…nervy?”

“Probably. But don’t feel too guilty. She and Mme. d’Hivers were trying to keep it more or less secret, and even they didn’t realize how bad it had gotten.”

“Well, that’s that then.” Tony recovered his self-confidence. “Probably just as well she killed herself. If it ever got out that she was trying to poison people, it would make a terrible scandal, and people would start worrying that there might be madness in the family. Investors don’t like that sort of thing.”

One could always trust Tony to keep his priorities straight—his own priorities, that is. Ned shook his head and said, “I thought your great grandfather was providing all the funding you need.”

“Yes, but you never know what the future may bring.”

Before Tony could begin his lecture on the future of industry, Lord Penworth came in. “I’ve spoken with the mayor and with the priest and told them about this dreadful accident. There are a dozen or so fishermen out looking for the body.” He looked sternly at Ned and Tony. “You will be very careful to remember that this was an accident, won’t you?”

“We can do that easily enough,” Ned said, “but what about the servants who saw her jump?”

Lord Penworth sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He looked on the verge of a severe headache. “There can be no guarantees, of course, but I have spoken with them at length. They value their jobs here. It seems decent employment is not easy to come by in this area. At any rate, they do not want to cause problems for the old vicomte and have agreed to keep silent.”

Tony looked doubtful. “And how much did that cost?”

Lord Penworth shrugged. “A few hundred francs.”

“Really, Papa.” Ned couldn’t resist. “Bribery. After all the times you have told me how important it is to be open and aboveboard.”

“I believe I have also told you to use your common sense. Which reminds me.” He turned to Tony. “We are all agreed that your great-grandfather should not be told of the girl’s madness, are we not? As far as he is concerned, it will be a tragic accident.”

Tony shrugged. “If you think so.”

Lord Penworth frowned. “What I think does not matter. What Dr. Fernac thinks is that the vicomte can survive learning about an accident. He might not survive madness and suicide.”

Tony lifted his hands in surrender. “You are perfectly right. There is no point in distressing him unnecessarily. I wish him many more years here in his chateau.”

Lord Penworth pursed his lips as he contemplated the younger man. “You do realize that you are going to have to spend a fair amount of time here.”

“Me? In this antiquated pile? Whatever for?”

“Because,” Lord Penworth explained patiently, “your great-grandfather is a very old man. He can continue here, cared for by servants and Dr. Fernac, but there should be a member of his family watching out for him at least occasionally. And that would be you.”

“But…” Tony turned to Ned. “Marguerite could do it, couldn’t she?”

Ned shook his head, feeling no regret at all. “Sorry, my friend, but she will be busy taking care of me. Besides, this is your inheritance. You’ll need to take care of it.”

‘What do I want with a musty old heap of stones like this? An unwanted relic. A monument to history best forgotten. It’s been standing here for centuries, utterly useless.” Tony glared at the walls around him, and his expression slowly turned to contemplation. “Standing here for centuries,” he repeated. “Even the Revolution didn’t damage it.”

A slight smile lifted the corners of Penworth’s mouth. “You can contemplate the future of the building later. Just now you will have to come with me to break the news of Mlle. de Roncaille’s demise to the vicomte. As for you, Ned, you should probably join your mother and Marguerite. I believe your wedding is being planned, and you may want to call for some restraint.”

Ned looked at his father with horror and hurried from the room.