Inheritance and succession -- Fiction; Scotland -- Fiction
The paper must have fallen out of the pocket of some coat Andrew had
been packing up--how easily it might not so have fallen! How easily
she might not have noticed it! A facile wonder obscured real thought,
and, as usual in such sudden crises, concrete determination hid itself
under one general determination to frustrate the machinations of the
enemy, if possible. She did not even ask herself how this was to be
done; all she told herself was that it _must_ be done.
So, rousing to a sense that afternoon was passing to evening, and that
it was time for her to be in attendance at the castle, she went
thither, feeling vaguely that if it was necessary to kill the woman,
even that must be done, sooner than she should be allowed to hamper
Marmaduke's young life.
Fantine Le Grand had not yet come up from her daily duty of amusing
Lord Drummuir, so Marrion mechanically began, as usual, to prepare for
the evening's toilette, She found all the valuables gone from the
jewel-case, and, after a hasty search, discovered them in a tiny
valise, ready packed hidden away behind laces and ribbons in a drawer.
So she had been right. Fantine Le Grand meant to give them the slip.
Ere she had time to consider a fretful voice came from the boudoir.
"Marrion, Marrion! I do hope the girl's there. Just like 'em if she
isn't. Ah," as Marrion appeared at the door, "for heaven's sake, girl,
take off my shoes and bring me my dressing-gown! That wretched old man
has worn me out. I shall be fit for nothing! Oh, lord, it was too
bad--nothing would please him! What o'clock is it? Six o'clock! Good
gracious, I shall hardly have time before dinner! I won't go down;
there's no one to go down for now Marmaduke's gone. Lord, what a
relief it will be! Tell them to bring dinner up here at eight and give
me my sleeping drops. Not too much, as I don't want to sleep too long;
but I have such a headache, I shan't be fit for anything without a
rest."
Fantine Le Grand did not see her attendant's face. Had she done so,
she would have been startled. The colour had left it, every feature
was set and hard. For she had found the clue. Even if an overdose
killed the woman, she must be made to sleep sound.
"Yes, madam," she replied, "but a rest will take your headache away, I
hope."
She poured out the narcotic without a tremble, doubling the double
dose. It was a risk, of course; but risks must be run.
"That is very strong--how much did you give me?" asked Fantine, as,
with a sigh of content, she snuggled down under the _duvet_.
"Only as much as was necessary," replied Marrion steadily.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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