He found them sound asleep. The Duke lay mostly on his back, but his face was turned toward Celeste. Celeste held one of his hands in both of hers, and she leaned awkwardly against the arm of the chair and the wall. The doctor carefully adjusted a pillow under her head, then went away shaking his head at the vagaries of fate.
Chapter 53
Even though he survived the initial poisoning, Jonathan was ill for several days. He was, however, rational and held court in the servants’ dining hall because no one wanted to leave him alone for even a minute while there was a chance that a whole cohort of disgruntled former revolutionaries were roaming the mountainside.
Inspector Ravensgard didn’t appear to be in any hurry to take Warner and his mother to Edinburgh for trial. It seemed as if he was waiting for something.
On a clear, bright Tuesday afternoon, when nothing in particular was happening, the “something” came walking down the mountain trail from Edinburgh.
Mr. Smith, the Bow Street Runner, came trudging into the village. As might be expected after walking for the better part of five days, his clothes were covered with dust, but he had a remarkably cheerful demeanor. Especially for a man who walked from Edinburgh up into the mountains. He stopped at the Blind Sheep Inn and asked the innkeeper, “Do you have an Inspector Ravensgard who has a room hereabouts?”
The innkeeper eyed him askance. “An’ who might ye be that’s askin’?”
“I’m Mr. Smith. If you know his whereabouts, perhaps you would be so good as to deliver my card to him?” Mr. Smith presented the innkeeper a blue card, printed with crude black lettering. On the back of it was the legend, “Bow Street Runner.” “I’ve a bit of news for him, which I think he’s been wanting.”
“Well, I’ll send the card with an errand boy, soon as mine gets back from the market. Are ye plannin’ to stay long?”
“A day or two. I might need a room.”
“Happens I’ve got a room. It’s up under the eaves, but it’s clean. The sheets on the beds are new wove. They gets changed once a week if occupied, an’ after each guest if not. Ef ya wants yer boots blacked, that’s extra. Ef ya wants laundry, that’s extra. But my boy blacks tha boots, an’ my wife does the laundry, so’s ya know its done right. Any questions?”
“How much, with laundry and boot blacking?”
“Tuppence a night, meals are extra.”
“Done. I’m famished, and I think my feet have grown to these boots. Is there anywhere a man could buy a new pair o’ socks?”
“Haberdasher right down the street, public bath next door. My wife would appreciate it if you availed yourself of it before sleepin’ on her clean bed.”
“Excellent!” said Mr. Smith. “I’ll have whatever is the special today, then I’ll just go take care of those things. When the Inspector arrives, I’ll most likely be in the bath.”
“Very good, sir. Special today is vegetable soup an’ brown bread. It’s a good soup with plenty o’ beans.”
“Beans, eh? Might as well have a small beer with that, then.”
While Mr. Smith tucked into his meal, then went in pursuit of a new pair of socks and a bath, the innkeeper’s son went pelting up the road to the castle.
When he arrived, Mr. Hammonds made him wait in the front hall while he delivered the card to Inspector Ravensgard.
Mr. Ravensgard was in the solar with the Duke, Miss Singer, Mrs. Warner and Gran’ther Tim. “Ah, yes. I’ve been waiting for this,” he said. “I believe that Mr. Smith will have more of the story about Roddy Warner. I have been expecting him, Mr. Hammonds. Could you have the boy carry a note back for me?”
“Of course, Inspector.”
Inspector Ravensgard wrote out a note, and handed it and a small coin to the boy.
When the innkeeper’s son had departed, Celeste said, “Every time I see someone hand out a coin now, I want to leap up and hold out a bowl of water to wash it. How is David’s hand?”
“Oh, it has been quite well for some time now. But he is also a bit wary of taking coins. He has developed the habit of wearing gloves when he is on duty.”
Mrs. Margery Warner, she who had posed as Duchess, spoke up then. She was reclining on a contraption made of wood with long strips of leather woven around the framework. Suspended between four wheels, it could be moved from one place to another without distressing the occupant. “You won’t hurt Roddy, will you? He does love me.” She sounded almost piteous.
Inspector Ravensgard gently replied, “It really isn’t up to me. I’m afraid that your Roddy was a very bad boy, for quite a long while. I’m not even sure if he loved you. There is a good chance that you will have to stand trial for your part in his nefarious schemes. But, again, I am not the judge, and it is not up to me.”
She nodded, and a slow tear trickled down one cheek. “It is hard to think without his potions. I need them. Could someone please let him make one for me?”
“I’m sorry, Margery,” the Duke said. “I’m afraid that isn’t allowable. Sister Agatha will be here soon with your medicine for today.”
Margery moved her hands restlessly on the coverlet and looked as if she would like to throw something. Unfortunately for her, but fortunately for everyone else in the room, her lower limbs were completely immobilized in the hope that the bones might one day knit together again.