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the table and knocked the spoon away, the broth flying out to spatter over Franchise.
    “Sir Frederick!” wailed the girl. “My gown!”
    “Why did you do that?” asked Harriet, standing. “What is it? What has happened?”
    Frederick ignored both young women. “Madame, I fear an opiate. Perhaps worse. Will you please empty your stomach of what you have eaten? I think Yves has been drugged by the brandy which I was also expected to drink and now you are the only one to eat of that soup, which I recall the landlord saying had been especially prepared for your delectation. Please, will you do as I ask and empty your stomach?”
    Madame stood up. “Come Harriet. You must help me.” She crossed the room. Suddenly she doubled over, clutching her middle. She groaned. The spasm passed and she looked fiercely at Frederick. “Not an opiate, Sir Frederick. If I die, promise me you’ll see my granddaughter to safety.”
    “I promise,” said Sir Frederick already at her side. “But do not concern yourself with such morbid thoughts. You ate very little. However little it was, you’ll now have to accept some embarrassment,” he added grimly when she again bent with the pain. He helped her to lean down and put his finger into her mouth, forcing it back until he achieved a gag reflex. The next few minutes were not pleasant, but were, he believed, necessary. Harriet worked in concert with him. Madame did not object, already suffering pain more intense than any she’d ever endured.
    When they had cleared her stomach twice more, making her drink from the common coffeepot in between induced vomiting, Sir Frederick picked the weak and very sick old woman up in his arms. He carried her from the room and looked sardonically around at the wide-eyed servants clustered in the hall. “You may tell your master,” said Sir Frederick, “that he requires a new cook. The food has not agreed with our lady’s system—as you will see.” He forced a path through the crowd, found the landlord hovering near the stairs and stared at him for a long moment before carrying Madame on up to her room. Behind came Harriet and Françoise.
    Monsieur de Bartigues brought up the rear carrying the basket of rolls. He had a notion they might all require something to eat before the night was ended, and the bread seemed to him the safest item on the table!
    Madame’s maids and Harriet settled Madame into her bed. Once leaning back on her pillows, the old woman insisted she must see Sir Frederick. To quiet her, Harriet reluctantly called him in. “You have saved me, I think,” said Madame in a whispery voice.
    “I certainly hope we have. But it was Miss Cole who knew what should be done. I merely helped her.”
    “It was you who guessed there was something wrong. I cannot remember if you promised me you’d see my granddaughter safely on to England...”
    “I did.”
    “Good. We will see how I do in the morning. But for this night? She will be safe?”
    “Monsieur de Bartigues and I had already laid plans for your protection, Madame. We have set up a rota of guards and have found the positions where they will stand. They will be armed and alert. You may be calm, Madame. Although we rid you of much of the poison, some will have gotten into your system. You must rest now.”
    “Yes. Now I will rest.” She closed her eyes.
    Harriet accompanied Sir Frederick to the door. “Is there no more we may do for her?”
    “I know of nothing.”
    “Shouldn’t we send for a doctor?”
    “I fear we’ll be unable to trust any doctor we might find in the immediate neighborhood.”
    Harriet bit her lip. “I’d not thought of that. She looks so terribly pale. She’s so weak.”
    “I believe she will recover, Miss Cole,” Sir Frederick reassured her. “We’ll see how she does in the morning. If she is well enough to travel we will take her to her goddaughter. If she is not...”
    Harriet chuckled although there was the slightest touch of hysteria in it.