“What on earth?” That was Mrs. Cox, obviously having followed him out to see why he was running through the ground floor like a wild horse.
“Mrs. Cox, I need a jug. Please, hurry!”
Mrs. Cox, normally so staid and calm, widened her eyes, lifted her skirts, and hurried back into the house. She returned a moment later with a jug. Spilling more than he poured into the jug, Duncan filled it halfway then grabbed the jug and returned to the nursery.
The nursery was the scene of utter chaos. Johnny wailed, the baby howled, Wilhemina screeched, and the nursery maid wiped spilled porridge and milk off the floor.
Only Lucy looked calm and composed. She knelt beside the sobbing Johnny, rubbing his back. She gave Duncan a grim smile when he returned with the jug and held out her hand. Duncan knelt beside her, trying to get a look at Johnny.
“Drink this,” Lucy told the boy. “Then spit it back out into the basin. I want you to rinse your mouth like you do before bed.”
“I don’t want to,” the boy cried.
Lucy took him by the shoulders. “Listen to me, Johnny, and do as I say right this minute.”
The boy looked up and into her face. Duncan was no child, but he wouldn’t have dared gainsay her. He handed the jug to Johnny, who sipped at the water then obediently spit it out and into the basin.
“Again,” Lucy ordered. Then she looked at Duncan. “Fetch the bowl and glass. Ada, stop cleaning that up. Duncan will do it.”
“Oh, no, miss. This is my job.” She piled the bowl and glass on a tray with several wet rags, but Duncan quickly snatched the tableware from the tray and brought them to Lucy.
Thank you, she mouthed as Johnny spit out more water.
“Shouldn’t I take that to the kitchen?” Ada asked. “It’s been on the floor.”
“I’ll do it, Ada,” Duncan said. “You fetch a mop.”
Ada looked worried, but she picked up the tray and left.
“Wilhemina,” Duncan said, glancing at the nurse and the screaming baby, “perhaps you could rock him in the nursery for a few moments and leave us to tend Master John in the schoolroom.”
“Oh, of course.” Wilhemina took the baby into the room next door and closed the door. Duncan felt his shoulders relax at the sudden silence.
“I don’t feel well,” Johnny said.
“How do you feel?” Lucy asked.
“My tummy hurts.”
“Come lie on the settee,” Lucy said, taking the boy’s hand. “Duncan will fetch you a warm cloth for your head.”
“I’ll be right back.” Duncan hurried to the kitchen, knowing better than to get in Michaud’s way, even if it was an emergency. “I need a cloth and hot water. Master John feels ill,” he said before Michaud could scold him for daring to step foot inherkitchen while she prepared breakfast.
Michaud narrowed her eyes then placed a rag in a bowl and poured steaming water over it. She handed the bowl to Duncan who carried it back to the schoolroom. Lucy took it immediately, wrung it out and waved it to cool it slightly. Then she placed it on Johnny’s forehead. The boy looked pale, and he clenched at his abdomen with his hands. “I’ll be right back,” Lucy told him.
She grabbed Duncan’s arm and pulled him to a corner across the room. “Have Lord John fetch the doctor.”
“You think this is poison?”
“Don’t you?”
“Yes.”
