She held Ellen’s head—and her own tongue—while spasms wracked the girl’s body, purging her of the poison. Over and over, but it wasn’t enough for Rose. When Ellen swallowed convulsively, holding back another spasm while she slumped over the table, Rose hauled her back up.
“All of it,” she demanded. Ellen’s knees buckled, and Rose kept her upright by sheer force of will. “More! I want to see that there’s nothing left in your stomach. Nothing, Ellen, you hear me? Else my finger will go down your throat. More!”
At long last, a series of dry heaves left Rose satisfied. She slung an arm around Ellen’s shoulders and led her to a chair.
Still shuddering and frightfully pale, Ellen sank down. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, a shaky hand to her mouth. Tears spilled and ran down her cheeks. “I’m so sorry.”
Rose took the chair beside her, a hand to her still-racing heart. She thought she’d caught Ellen in time. She’d call her mother and a doctor to make sure, but first she had to catch her breath.
She’d never been so scared in her life.
“Confound it, Ellen, I know you’re unhappy, but surely things aren’t bad enough to end it all.”
Ellen’s eyes widened. “I wasn’t trying to,” she whispered. “I swear it. I didn’t know tansy was dangerous.”
Cautious relief sang through Rose’s veins, but something still didn’t fit. “Why, then?” Suddenly chilled, she hugged herself, running her hands up and down her arms. “Tansy is powerful stuff. What could have possessed you to drink a whole vile?”
Ellen clenched her hands together in her lap and stared at them. “What do you know about it?”
“I know what my perfumer mother drilled into her children’s heads so we wouldn’t accidentally do ourselves in. Tansy oil is incredibly potent and never safe to eat. In herb form, small doses can be used to flavor food and brew remedies.” Rose’s brows snapped together. “Are you ill?”
Ellen shook her head. “A midwife told me tansy tea helps a woman conceive.” The tears flowed faster, and words spilled out between her sobs. “But I didn’t have any leaves, and then I saw your mother’s oils…”
“Conceive?” Rose felt utterly lost. “But I thought…you and Thomas haven’t…”
“No,” Ellen whimpered, “not yet. I don’t know how to do it yet, since you haven’t finished—” She stopped abruptly, dropping her head in her hands.
Rose’s breath faltered as she stared at her friend’s miserable, huddled form—and understanding dawned.
“Oh, Ellen!” Aghast, Rose slid from her chair to kneel at Ellen’s feet and pull her hands away from her face. “Why?” The girl’s tears fell on their clasped fingers as Rose searched her eyes. Her friend hadn’t been attempting suicide, thank heavens, but… “Why on earth would you behave so recklessly?”
A sudden spark of anger made her friend’s eyes flash green. “It’s the only way, don’t you see? If I’m carrying Thomas’s child, Kit will have to let me marry him.”
She wrenched her hands from Rose’s and dashed at her tears.
“Which is worse, Rose? Sacrificing my virtue in exchange for a happy marriage, or saving it for a rotten one? Because I vow and swear, if Kit marries me to some rich poltroon, I will not be a dutiful wife. I will never lie with my husband. How could I, knowing I was meant to be with another? I will run back to Thomas, and then my virtue will be sullied anyhow.”
Rose swallowed, trying to understand, trying to be a good friend. “So you felt the only way to persuade Kit was to get yourself with child?”
“Can you think of another way?” Ellen’s tears flowed even faster. “I’ve tried for months to talk him around—I’ve tried! He’ll never listen to me. And I’ll never give up Thomas. It’s hopeless.”
Not knowing what she could say to help, Rose patted the girl’s shoulder. She appreciated the depth of Ellen’s frustration—her situation was hopeless. “Does Thomas know of your plan?” she asked gently.
“Of course not.” Ellen sniffled and wiped her nose on her sleeve, evidently too wretched to care. “He would never have agreed. That’s why I needed the book. I was going to persuade him, you know, the way women persuade men. Only I don’t know how.”
“And you won’t need to,” Rose said through gritted teeth. Ellen was her friend, and she’d promised Kit she’d watch over her. He wouldn’t want to see his sister like this—especially knowing he’d had a hand in causing her distress. “I’m afraid you’re not getting that book back, Ellen.”
The girl’s face hardened, though she didn’t refuse the handkerchief Rose offered. She blew her nose loudly. “Perhaps I had the right idea with the tansy.”
Though Rose didn’t think Ellen was serious, she was glad no more tansy oil remained in the house. Thankfully, her friend seemed to be out of danger. A little color had sneaked back into her cheeks. Though her face was wet with tears, her forehead was no longer slicked with sweat. Her body had stopped shuddering.
All Ellen needed was rest. And hope.
Rose got to her feet, bringing Ellen up with her, and wrapped her into a fierce hug. “You will not sacrifice your virtue,” she decreed into Ellen’s wavy dark hair. Drawing away, she offered a shaky smile. “And you will marry Thomas.”
“Kit won’t—”
“Kit will. I shall talk to him.”
Ellen stepped back, startled. “And tell him what?”
“Everything,” Rose said firmly. “But first, we send for the doctor.”
THIRTY-FIVE
“GOOD AFTERNOON, Mr. Martyn,” the guard at Windsor Castle’s gate greeted.
“Afternoon,” Kit muttered back.
After all, there was nothing good about it.
He’d arrived at Harold Washburn’s meager rooms on Peascod Street only to find them empty. The only neighbor he could locate informed him that Washburn had carted his belongings out days before.
Of course. As he walked from the Lower Ward to the Upper, Kit cursed himself
