Felicia and Percy rode back to Tavy Castle in a carriage but Theodore walked in a companionable silence alongside his wife. Neither of them minded the rain, although Adelia made a few muttered remarks about the humidity and the state of her hair. As it was well hidden under a bonnet, he didn’t think it mattered.
“There’s that Oscar,” she whispered as they went past the gatehouse. He was standing inside, looking out through the window. He raised one pale hand to them and they both waved back.
“Unnerving,” Theodore replied.
“Very much so. I hope we are not to have a repeat of last Sunday’s events.”
Theodore felt Adelia press against him. “Are you really concerned?” he asked.
“I think it’s just the anxiety that I am feeling about Felicia. What can be done for her?”
“Rest, and care, and good food,” Theodore replied. “And we must watch her.”
“I wish there was a pill or draught she might take that would cure her.”
“So do I. But it is hard to find a cure when you are not sure of the cause.”
THE CARRIAGE CARRYING Percy and Felicia had arrived far in advance of Theodore and Adelia. They entered Tavy Castle, and he was glad of the thick stone walls which made the air in the great hall cool and welcoming. He no longer noticed any issue with the sewers or drains, and had quite forgotten to raise the matter with Percy. He had discussed it with Adelia and she felt that Percy would be unconcerned with anything to do with the household or improvements to the castle. Theodore could not understand why that was so.
“Is Lady Buckshaw downstairs?” Adelia asked Mrs Rush as Theodore let go of her arm and gazed about himself.
Mrs Rush looked grave as she replied, “Sadly, my lady has had a turn for the worse on her return from church and she has retired immediately to her room.”
Theodore was already halfway up the stairs and Adelia followed him. He encountered Percy who was just leaving Felicia’s rooms, and buttonholed him straight away. “What’s happened?”
“She collapsed as we stepped over the threshold, as if she were a puppet and her strings had been cut – I only just managed to catch her.”
“Good heavens! And now?”
“I have put her to bed and given her a little of that calming draught you recommended yesterday. Would you like to see her? She is already asleep, however.”
Theodore peeked in and Percy was telling the truth. Theodore’s poor daughter lay curled under the covers in a tight ball, her hair loose on the pillow, her face scrunched up in a mask of pain and anguish. She was not sleeping an easy, restful slumber.
Percy stood next to him. When Theodore glanced up, Percy was tight-lipped. He caught Theodore’s eye, shook his head slightly, and stalked away, saying nothing.
Neither Felicia nor Percy appeared at dinner that Sunday night.
THEODORE WOKE UP EARLY. Adelia still slumbered deeply and he slipped out of bed, trying not to disturb her. He paced to the window. There was a low mist obscuring the view and not a breath of wind seemed to ruffle the ivy tendrils that hung alongside the window outside. He thought about Oscar Brodie. They’d both been watching the young man as carefully as they could, and asking all the staff about any changes in his behaviour, but no useful information had presented itself. Theodore began to wonder if he could search the gatehouse. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but he would know it if he saw it. He’d need to get Adelia to agree to the plan; she’d be essential for drawing Lady Katharine out of the house. Brodie needed to be out, too, if possible. He couldn’t imagine what she’d do to manage that. Perhaps the night of the Floating Ball offered the best opportunity? He wasn’t even sure if Lady Katharine was planning to attend the ball; her reclusive nature suggested not. Could Adelia persuade her? He sighed and rubbed his forehead. He had a headache just gathering pressure behind his temples and he wasn’t sure if it were caused by the oppressive weather or the stress of his daughter’s illness or the apparent dead-end he was facing regarding Hartley Knight’s murder.
He had to prioritise where to put his energies, he admitted to himself, at last. And that priority was Felicia. It rankled him exceedingly that he had to put aside the investigation, but the case was going nowhere and he didn’t think anyone else was at risk. He had to admit defeat – defeat! Ugh! – and move on to the matters that were closer to home, and closer to his heart.
He picked up a paisley-pattered housecoat and put it on over his long cotton nightshirt. He thought he’d be able to sneak into the breakfast room and pick up a pot of coffee and perhaps some fresh, warm bread, and bring it all back to the bedroom to indulge himself in privacy. It would be a nice surprise for Adelia when she woke up, too. There was no harm in playing the part of the dutiful husband and it was worth it to see her sudden smile.
As he crept out onto the corridor of the wing they were inhabiting, the usual early-morning hush that blanketed the castle was torn apart by high-pitched screaming from the floor above, and it seemed also to be coming from the main part of the castle. He ran like he himself had been shot. He was joined, as he went, by servants streaming out of hidden corners and doors, all following the sound of the relentless screaming. He knew, he just knew, it was Felicia. Her shouts were high and rent with anguish. As he thundered up the stairs, he could hear her words in between the screams.
“Percy! Percy! Percy! No!”
He turned the corner.
Ahead of him
