Lord Iverbrook's Heir Part 11

"I can see the house now. Let me out so I can run to Aunt Sena and give her a surprise." He was

fumbling with the door catch when another seizure took him and he fell back into Iverbrook's arms, his small body convulsing violently.

For the first time in his life, the viscount knew terror.

"Faster, Tom!"

"We're almost there, m'lord. Hold on, Master Peter, your granny'll make you better, all right and tight."

They turned into the drive with screeching wheels and the horses reared as they pulled up at the front door. Tom jumped down, jerked on the bellpull and, not waiting for a response, had his hand on the latch when the door was opened from the inside by Bannister.

Iverbrook carried Peter in, the boy shrieking again and waving his arms. Mrs. Tooting appeared, and one of the housemaids, open mouthed.

"Don't stand there gaping, you fools!" he shouted. "Fetch my lady, quick!"

Chapter 10.

"Carry him to the stillroom, Iverbrook." Selena took in the situation with one glance. "All Mama's medicines are there."

"My lady's there too." Bannister suddenly looked ten years older. He put out his hand to brace himself against the wall.

Mrs. Tooting had fallen into a fit. As the viscount strode past her, Selena took charge.

"Bannister, sit down. There is nothing you can do for Peter. Doris, fetch Polly to Mrs. Tooting, then go and warn Nurse to put a warming pan in Master Peter's bed. You had best tell Cook to make plenty of barleywater, too."

"Oh miss, is he going to die?"

"I don't know what is wrong with him, Doris. We must put our trust in G.o.d and in my mother's skill. Hurry now. Bannister, are you feeling stronger?"

"Yes, Miss Selena. It's right sorry I am to be another trouble to you, when I know Mrs. Finnegan won't be much help neither. It was just the shock."

"Of course. I rely on you to see that the servants do all that is necessary. Tom, tell me what happened."

Tom Arbuckle was standing by the door, twisting his tweed cap in his hands.

"Terrible it were, miss," he said. "We drove down the lane-his lordship were driving, that is, but I could see as his mind weren't on it. Then I seen the little tyke, all covered with mud, which ain't to be wondered at, only he walked kind of funny, like he couldn't see where he were going. So we stopped and my lord jumps down and tells me to turn the carriage, the which I does, and all the time I can hear Master Peter hollering. And my lord gets him in the carriage and says he's ate poison berries, drive like the devil. Begging your pardon, miss. So I does, and if the nipper up and dies I'll always think I could of drove faster."

Selena laid her hand on his arm. "Don't say that, Tom. You did your best and I thank you for it. I expect his lordship's horses need your care. Will you see to them?"

"O'course, miss, and bless you. His lordship's hard hit, miss. I never seen him look like that."

"Thank you, Tom." As Selena turned to go to the stillroom, she recalled Hugh's white, agonised face. She had scarcely noticed it before, her attention concentrated on Peter. Yes, his lordship was hard hit. She had not supposed him to have so much sensibility.

Poison berries, Tom said. The stains about Peter's mouth were purple. That could be from blackberries, but she shuddered at the thought of the alternative: deadly nightshade!

The door of the stillroom was open. She stood there a moment, forcing herself to remain calm. Her mother was stirring a blackish powder into a gla.s.s of water. Iverbrook sat on the room's only chair, holding Peter in his lap, but when the boy saw her he slid down and ran to her, talking excitedly. His voice was slurred and she could not make out his words. She picked him up and sat down on the chair, vacated by the viscount.

"It's belladonna, Selena," said her mother, voice shaking but hands as steady as ever. "Nightshade, deadly nightshade. He had some berries in his hand. The first thing is to bring it up. Black mustard seed to make him vomit. You hold him, keep him still, while I make him drink it. Hugh, there's a basin under the table. Come, Peterkin, drink this for Grandmama, like a good boy."

Peter took a sip.

"It tastes nasty," he said clearly, then stiffened, his arms and legs flailing wildly. One arm escaped from Selena's grasp and knocked the gla.s.s from Lady Whitton's hand. It smashed on the floor and she stood for a moment looking blankly at the shards of gla.s.s and the wet spot on her skirt.

Iverbrook put his arm round her shoulders. "I shall mix some more," he said. "Tell me exactly what to do."

The seizure weakened Peter and he drank the second potion docilely.

Its effect was immediate and Iverbrook was only just in time with the basin.

As the worst of the retching pa.s.sed, the child lay back limply in his aunt's arms. Lady Whitton felt his forehead.

"Another dose, Hugh. I will prepare willowbark for the fever and powdered charcoal to absorb the poison." The sound of her own voice steadied her. She took down several jars and began to pound and stir their contents in her mortar. "Centaury as a stimulant, and some say vinegar is efficacious against belladonna. He must be kept warm."

Selena unb.u.t.toned his wet coat and took it off. She had his shirt half off when Iverbrook approached

with the second dose of mustard and water. Peter began to struggle again.

"I won't! I won't! It makes me hurt in my middle. Don't make me, Aunt Sena. I'll be a good boy, I won't eat any more berries."

"Peter, be still!" said Iverbrook sternly. "This is no way for a gentleman to behave. Drink!"

Cowed, he obeyed, and the dreadful spasms began again. They so exhausted him that he swallowed without protest the murky liquid his grandmother next pressed upon him. Iverbrook stripped off the rest

of his damp clothes, wrapped him in his own coat and, hugging him close, looked enquiringly at Lady Whitton.

"To bed?"

"To bed."

"Mama, you look worn to the bone. Hugh and Nurse will settle Peter. You come and lie down and tell

me just what we must do for him, and what to watch for. I'll join you shortly, Iverbrook."

The viscount carried his slight burden up the stairs. He was half way up the second flight when Peter twisted in his arms and cried out.

"I'm stuck, Auntie Dee! I can't get down. You'll get stuck too if you climb up. Help me! I'm going to

fall!""It's all right, Peter. Hush. I shan't let you fall. You're quite safe.""You're not Mr. Russell. Go away. Mr. Russell will help me down. Auntie Dee, come quick!" His words began to slur again, and he lapsed into lethargy.

Mrs. Finnegan had his nightshirt warming by the fire. A tiny, wrinkled old woman, she started up as

Iverbrook entered the nursery. Between them they quickly put him to bed. Nurse tucked him in and felt his flushed forehead.

"Oh my dear!" she moaned. "My poor precious lamb!"

Peter muttered and opened his eyes.

"You promised, Aunt Sena. You said I can go with you to see the lambs. But Leo is turning into a sheep!

I can't ride a sheep. Leo, stop it! You're not a sheep, you're a pony. Uncle Hugh, don't let Leo turn intoa sheep. Please! If he gets all woolly, he won't be a gentleman's horse when he's growed up."Mrs. Finnegan sank onto a chair, crossed herself, and flung her ap.r.o.n over her head.

"My baby's lost his mind!" she wailed, rocking back and forth."You have lost yours, woman!" said Iverbrook harshly. "Peter, Peter, Uncle Hugh won't let Leo turninto a sheep, I promise. You must get well quick, for he is waiting to take you for a ride."

"Leo's waiting. I have to go." Peter strained to sit up. "Jem says you must never keep a horse waiting.

Let me go. Let me go! I'm so thirsty."

Iverbrook looked around helplessly. Not even an empty cup met his eye. The old woman was sniffling to herself beneath the ap.r.o.n and it seemed useless to ask her for help, nor would he leave the child alone with her. Selena seemed to have a lot of incompetent servants, he thought angrily. Still she had explained her bailiff to him, and doubtless she had reasons as good for employing the others. In general, the household ran perfectly smoothly.

But now Peter was crying out for a drink and there was none in sight.Selena came in."How is he, Hugh?" she asked, casting an exasperated glance at Nurse."Hallucinating again, and very thirsty. He's so hot, Selena. Must we keep him covered?""Mama says to keep him warm. He is to drink as much as we can persuade him to, and I'm sure we might bathe his forehead. I shall fetch barleywater, and a cooling lotion for his head. Can you manage alone here?"

"Yes, but hurry back. I am an unpractised sickroom attendant."

"You have contrived to admiration so far. I'll be back in no time."

Selena hurried down to the kitchen, where Cook, imperturbable as ever, had barleywater ready. Polly was hovering there, so Selena asked after Mrs. Tooting.

"Me and Mr. Bannister took her to her chamber, miss, and I give her the medicine like my lady done last time. She's much better now. How's Master Peter, miss?"

"Much the same, I fear. Bless you both. What should I do without you?"

"Oh miss!" Polly crimsoned and her eyes filled with tears. Cook grunted and turned back to her stove.

"Polly, since you were so handy with Mrs. Tooting's physic, can you find me the lovage and rosemary lotion, and bring it to the nursery? I must take Peter his drink."

"Oh yes, miss. I know where my lady keeps it. I'll get it right away."

Selena sped back up the stairs. She found the viscount sitting by the bed, holding Peter's hand, his eyes fixed on the small, hot face. Peter lay motionless.

"He is in a stupor," said Iverbrook. "At least, it does not seem to me like a natural sleep."

"We must rouse him to drink. Feel how dry his skin is! Peter, here is some barleywater Cook made

specially for you. Wake up, darling. It will make you feel better."

The child half opened his eyes and reached out weakly. Iverbrook raised his shoulders and Selena held the cup to his lips. He gulped thirstily till it was all gone, but would not take more. His uncle laid him down and covered him carefully with the blue counterpane.

"What now?"

"Polly is bringing some lotion which will make him feel cooler, I hope. Finny . . . oh, she is gone!"

"I sent her away.

"I hope you were not too harsh with her. She is not a great deal of help in sickness, and Mama always