“What did she see this time?” Elijah was as brash as he was disheveled, graying hair sprouting from his head every which way. He wore spectacles low on his nose and was still wearing an emerald robe with matching slippers while Signa already wore her corset and a pinstripe wrapper, with her hair twisted into an elegant knot at her neck. She’d have to change into a wool visiting dress before leaving the house, as to do otherwise would be met with immediate gossip and ridicule. While Signa had spent so many years longing for a place in society, she found herself becoming a bit… tired. And immensely jealous of Elijah’s lack of care and decorum.
“It was Mother.” Percy was the one who answered, still not looking up. “Blythe claimed she was in the garden with our mother.”
It made no sense that after months with both Blythe and Lillian ill, no one had suspected poison. Was the doctor truly so incompetent? “Perhaps company is exactly what she needs,” Signa said in her rage. The signs were there—the delirium, the sores, the sour stomach, coughing up blood. It was all there. It was true she knew a fair bit more about poison than the average person, but still.
“Miss Farrow—” Marjorie, who wore more rouge than usual upon her cheeks to conceal that one side of her face was still swollen, seemed ready to chide Signa before Elijah waved her off with his knife hand.
“Let her speak freely. Any rules we maintained in this home ended long ago.” He ate nearly half the scone in one bite. “State your piece, girl.” Despite his erratic behavior, Signa found she rather liked Elijah and his bluntness. In a world revolving around forced niceties and bending to the whims of others, it was refreshing. Still, she could not simply tell him that she knew of an antidote for Blythe’s illness—she had to tread these waters lightly.
“In this state, it would be a burden on her mind to be left alone with such thoughts,” Signa said. “If you don’t mind, sir, I’d like to head into town to see if I can find something that might lift her spirits. Just a small gift, should you allow me some money and your permission.”
Percy, who’d been glaring into his porridge as though it was the source of all his troubles, finally peered up at Signa with interest. Marjorie, however, was having none of it.
“If the doctor doesn’t recommend she has company,” Marjorie said, grasping a fork firmly in one hand, “we should abide by his suggestion.” As a governess, she was welcome to sit and dine with the family, but she spoke too openly for any household that hadn’t abandoned the strictures imposed by society. Too freely, and without anyone reprimanding her.
“As we did with Lillian?” Elijah asked coolly enough that several at the table shivered. “A lot of good that did my wife.”
Signa collected Elijah’s words and stored the memory away to add to her collection. One day soon, she would gather up all the pieces and lay the entire puzzle before her.
“Percy!” Elijah’s voice boomed with authority. “You will go with your cousin. See that she is safe and has what she needs.”
Percy sat straighter. “If we’re to go into town, with your permission I’d like to stop by Grey’s and check on the orders.” His voice was flat and factual, lacking even a hint of emotion to betray his earlier desperation to visit the club.
The corners of Elijah’s mouth twitched. “You will accompany your cousin on her errand, and then you’ll return.” He spoke with finality.
Percy seemed to feel it, too, for while it was clear he wanted to argue, he settled in his chair and gripped his teacup, knuckles white. “Yes, Father.” When he sank lower in his seat, Signa dared not look at him, guilt heavy in her chest. “Of course.”
Percy was far from entertaining company.
As he preferred not to ride horseback, a coach was readied for the journey into town. It wasn’t too long a ride, but Signa had never been more uncomfortable. Even traveling with Sylas, an unrelated stranger, had been easier to navigate.
Signa missed the way Percy had been yesterday, before Byron had shown up with the news of Grey’s to spoil the mood. She missed his laughter and jesting, and the feeling of his spirit vibrant with life. The Percy she was with now was not the sly and teasing man that she’d been getting to know, but one who was rigid and proper and sharp. His thumb traced circles over a leather coin purse as he glared out the coach’s window, chin jutting with great severity as he observed the passing landscape. Signa bit her tongue. It was cruel, she thought, that Elijah would not give him a chance. That he chose to ignore his son’s suffering no matter how deep it was.
“I found something, cousin,” she said, hoping to lift his spirits. “We’re not here to find Blythe pretty new gloves or stationery. We’re going into town because I’ve found her a cure.”
Only then did he rouse. “What do you mean you’ve found a cure?” His eyes were narrowed. “There hasn’t been a single doctor who’s been able to help my sister.”
“None of them knew that she was being poisoned. But we do, and I’ve found an antidote. There’s an apothecary in town, and—”
“An apothecary?” His brows shot toward the ceiling. “Signa, we cannot trust my sister’s life to an amateur. There has to be a medicine that will help her. We can speak with more doctors—”
“If the doctors haven’t caught on now, they’re either all fools or someone’s been paying them off.”
Any retorts died on his tongue. “You think that’s possible?” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Even if that is the case, some apothecary’s cure isn’t something we should be playing around with. There are safer ways to go about these matters.”
“I understand your frustration, but nothing else is working, Percy.” She took his hand, squeezing tight. “But this will, I promise. I need you to trust me.”
He looked to the carriage roof as though it held the answers and sighed when it did not share them. “Very well. If there’s a possibility, then of course we must try it. Though we cannot allow ourselves to be seen there—the entire town will talk.”
“Of course.”
Signa’s smile was not reciprocated as Percy turned his attention to the rattling cobblestone streets that were so much brighter and more open in the daylight than when she’d been here with Sylas several nights before. Now the shops that lined the street were fully awakened. Through immaculate windows, Signa spotted women in gloves and bonnets, draped in cashmere gowns as they took their tea or filtered into a shop to order warm clothes and decorations for the approaching winter.
When they passed Grey’s, Percy leaned over Signa and slammed the curtains shut. She reeled back. There was no humor in Percy’s face. No hint of anything but severity.
Signa dared not speak another word.
Percy was the first one out of the carriage when it rolled to a stop in front of a tiny green shop. Ivy stretched up and over the walls, and a window display showcased an assortment of vibrant plants hung from woven canopies. Signa was so busy staring that it took Percy clearing his throat for her to notice he was holding out his arm. Passersby surveyed them with curiosity, turning to gossip with one another and likely theorizing over Signa’s presence. Percy adjusted the small gold button on one of his brown leather gloves and paid them no mind. There was likely nothing anyone could do or say that would make Percy come across as anything but a gentleman in the public eye.