“Frances, dress and go down to the nursery,” Lord John was saying.
“I’ll send your maid,” Duncan said as he closed the door behind him. He all but jumped as the maid in question stepped in front of him.
“What is all this? Her ladyship’s clothing was not lost.”
“I’m glad you’re here, Simms. Lady John was asking for you. She wants to dress right away.” Duncan fled before the maid could say anything further. He was still carrying the bowl and cup, and he stopped by his chamber to put them away for examination later. In the chamber, he turned about. Where to hide them? Under the bed, he decided. He got down on his belly and slid them back as far as he could reach. The bed was low to the floor, and he couldn’t fit under it, but his arms were long. Then he stood, brushed off, and returned to the schoolroom.
In the nursery, the baby had stopped crying. Lucy sat on the floor, stroking Johnny’s hair. Ada, the nursery maid, had a mop and was cleaning the floor. Duncan could only assume the porridge or milk had spilled at some point. The basin where Johnny had spit his breakfast and water to rinse his mouth was gone.
“How is he?” Duncan asked Lucy.
She glanced at him then at Ada. “Did Lord John send for a doctor?”
“Yes. Someone should be fetching him now.”
“My tummy hurts,” Johnny said.
“Tell me how it feels,” Duncan said, crouching down to look at the boy. He really did look quite pale. It might have been from the excitement of the morning, but it could also be an effect of the poison.
“I just said, it hurts.”
Duncan smiled. “What kind of hurt? Does it feel like you’re on a boat, rocking and rolling? Or does it feel like someone has grabbed it and keeps squeezing and letting go and squeezing again?”
Johnny opened one eye. “The second one.”
Lucy and Duncan exchanged looks. “It didn’t hurt when you came down this morning,” Lucy said. “You told me you were hungry.”
“I was.” Johnny closed his eyes again. “I told you the porridge tasted bad.”
“What did it taste like?” Duncan asked.
“Poor boy,” Ada said. Duncan looked over his shoulder to see the nursery maid standing behind them, one hand on the broom. “Should I fetch a blanket or a pillow?”
“A blanket,” Johnny said. “I’m cold.”
“Of course. Anything else? Tea for him or you, Miss Smith?”
“Thank you, Ada. That’s very kind,” Lucy said.
“I hate seeing his wee face all scrunched up in pain. Sweet boy,” she said as she moved away. “I’ll return straightaway.”
“I hope she brings something to eat,” Johnny said.
Lucy laughed. “I thought your tummy hurt.”
“It does, but I’m a little hungry too.”
“Let’s wait for the doctor before you eat anything else,” Duncan said.
“Johnny?”
“Mama!” Johnny sat up as his mother entered. Lucy moved out of the way so that Lady John could embrace her son.
“The doctor should be here soon,” Lady John said as she took her eldest son in her arms.
“I’ll go watch for him,” Lucy said. She moved out of the nursery, but when Duncan would have spoken, she put a finger to her lips and gestured for him to follow her outside.
On the gravel path just outside the house, she stared down the drive, the poplar trees above placing her in shade and rustling in the breeze. Her skirts rustled as well, the same skirts, Duncan couldn’t help but notice, that she’d worn last night.
