Belladonna

IT WAS FORTUNATE FOR PERCY THAT SIGNA HAD A SINGLE DOSE LEFT of the Calabar bean.

They left Warwick in charge of escorting everyone from Thorn Grove. Signa had never disliked people more than when she’d overheard whispers that perhaps Percy had been too taken with liquor, like his father. She bristled at the very thought of it, for how rude these people were to cast judgment upon the man who had invited them so graciously into their home. Surely, their gossip was not that of polite society; Elijah hadn’t so much as had one drink that evening.

Holed up with her in Elijah’s room, away from prying guests, Marjorie and Elijah allowed Signa to work without protest when she said she could reverse Percy’s illness just as she’d reversed Blythe’s. Her anger made it easier for Signa to beat the rest of the Calabar bean into a fine powder, which she’d stirred into a glass of water and administered to a trembling, gasping Percy as thick beads of sweat rolled down his neck. Marjorie and Elijah watched with grim eyes, neither daring to speak.

Percy, fortunately, was quick to throw up the poison, and within the hour he was breathing easier. Death, who’d been crouched at his bedside all the while, still and waiting, finally nodded once and then was gone. Instantly, the tension in Signa’s shoulders eased.

“How did this happen?” Elijah looked to Signa and the remnants of the milky-white antidote on the nightstand.

Signa had no answer. She’d seen Sylas for only seconds before she followed Elijah and Marjorie into the room, though in that time he swore he’d seen nothing out of the ordinary. No matter how she twisted her brain to rearrange the pieces, it was a puzzle that made no sense. One by one the Hawthornes were falling ill from belladonna—but why? For their money? Signa had been suspicious of both Byron and Marjorie since the night she and Sylas went to Grey’s. Yes, Byron wanted his brother to cease his hold on Grey’s, but would he hurt Percy to do it? And what might Marjorie’s involvement be?

Signa raked her fingers through her hair as her frustration mounted. Percy had been fine when he’d escorted her to the party, and she’d seen him smiling and dancing. Even in those final moments before his fall, he’d looked happy, chatting with Charlotte and Eliza. But Byron had been there too. Byron, whose words Signa recalled from that night at Grey’s with Sylas.

If he won’t give the business to Percy, convince him to give it to me. There’d been such bitterness in those words. Such rage. I’d take better care of it anyway, just as I would have taken better care of her.

“Where’s Byron?” Signa asked. “He and Percy were together moments before he collapsed.”

Elijah sat on his knees at Percy’s bedside, watching the slow rise and fall of his son’s chest. “You think my brother is responsible for this?”

Signa couldn’t be sure, and she knew it was best not to answer rashly. Byron had made it clear that he wanted nothing more than for Grey’s to stay in the family, and though he’d been advocating for Percy that night, could there have been more to his interest?

“It’s possible he saw something.” The truth sat on the tip of Signa’s tongue, daring to be spoken aloud. She wanted, very much, to tell Elijah and Marjorie the truth about what was happening. Yet the more people who knew, the more likely the information was to get out. It also wasn’t out of the realm of possibility that they might know more than they were letting on. Too many times Signa’s mind had wandered to Marjorie and the strange situations her governess shouldn’t have been in. Situations that made no sense, no matter how much Signa rearranged the puzzle pieces in her mind.

She needed answers—quickly. Before it was too late.

“I’m just glad this remedy is working,” Signa said. “It’s meant to cure ailments of the stomach, but that was the last of it.” She felt fragile admitting it aloud and hugged herself. They nearly lost Percy tonight. One more incident, and that would be the end of him, Blythe, or whatever other Hawthorne might be targeted next.

“This is no disease, is it?” Elijah said. “This is no coincidence. Someone is targeting my family.”

Elijah was delicate as crystal. Not wanting to give him a reason to shatter, Signa whispered, “Anything is possible.”

Marjorie said nothing as she tucked the blankets around Percy and placed a dampened cloth on his forehead. Worry was etched into every line of her face.

All Signa could think of was Percy’s laughter as they’d danced together during her lessons. How he’d taken to bringing her scones and pastries late in the evening, when he couldn’t sleep or was making himself sick worrying over Grey’s. There was Blythe to think about, too. Blythe, whose laughter Signa wanted to hear more often. She was tired of seeing Blythe struggle—for breath, for comfort, for life.

It was time to put an end to this.

“There’s nothing more I can do for him tonight.” Signa stood, skirts in hand. “He needs rest.”

Elijah nodded. “I’ll find a way to procure more of this medicine,” he promised her. “Marjorie, see if you can find Byron and bring him to me. We might as well see if he knows anything.”

“Of course, sir.” Marjorie’s eyes were glossy as she watched Elijah lean in, his hand trembling as he pressed it gently upon his son’s cheek.

Whoever was behind the poisonings was clever, always one step ahead. Now it was time for Signa to be cleverer.