Page 80 of The Virtuoso

“Valentine?”

“What?”

“There is another use for pennyroyal.” Nick’s tone was thoughtful. “It settles the digestion, true, but women use it to bring on their menses.”

“Why would a woman want to do that?” Val asked as they headed toward the carriage house. “Seems to me the ladies are always complaining about the cramps, the mess, and the inconvenience of it all.”

“Let me put this less delicately. Women use it to bring on menses that arelate, sometimes very late.”

“To abort?” Val shot a curious glance at his friend. “Lord above, Nick, the wicked things you know will never cease to appall me. Is this an old wives’ tale or documented science?”

“I don’t know as science had gotten around to considering the subject, but I know of many women who swear by it, if used early in the pregnancy. I also know of one who died from overusing the herb too late in her pregnancy.”

“So this plant is a poison. Just what we need.”

“What do we need?” Darius asked from the porch of the carriage house, “and where are our pet heathen?”

“Laying out supper,” Val replied. “Somebody left a poison plant on Ellen’s counter.”

“Pennyroyal,” Nick added. “And she pitched it out the window while Day and Phil watched.”

“Ellen pitched aplant? She was offended, I take it? I didn’t know the stuff was poison. I thought pennyroyal was for bringing on menses and settling the digestion.”

Val rolled his eyes. “Does everybody but me know these things? Let’s go get dinner before the locusts devour all in their path. And Nick, I elect you to go fetch Ellen.”

“Yes, Your Grace.” Nick bowed extravagantly and spun on his heel, while Darius—the lout—guffawed loudly.

Dinner was good, the hampers having been prodigiously full, owing to the addition of Nick to the assemblage. Ellen didn’t say much, but she did eat, mostly because Nick pestered and teased and dared her into taking each bite. Val sat back and watched, wishing he could do something besides feed the woman and put a roof over her head. Those were necessities, things Freddy Markham should have been doing out of sheer duty, things Francis had intended Ellen never want for again.

Hoof beats disturbed the meal, and Val got up and went to the door of the springhouse. A rider was trotting up the lane on a winded, lathered horse. The man swung down and approached Val directly.

“Are you Valentine Windham?” He was a grizzled little gnome, and he looked vaguely familiar.

“I am Windham.”

“This be fer you.” The man thrust a sealed envelope into Val’s hands. “I’m to wait for a reply, but I’ll be walking me horse while I do. Poor blighter’s about done in with this heat.”

“There’s water in the stable.” Val eyed the envelope—no return address, but he recognized the hand. “We’ve a groom who can walk the beast. Yell for Sean and then hold your ears while he cusses a blue streak. When you’ve seen to the horse, come to the springhouse, and we’ll find you some tucker.”

“Obliged.” The man nodded once and led his horse toward the stables.

“We have callers?” Darius asked, emerging from the springhouse.

“A courier from Hazlit.” Val eyed the packet dubiously.

“The snoop? I didn’t know you used him.”

“Needs must.” Val tapped the edge of the envelope against his lips. “And he’s an investigator, not a snoop. Moreover, he was critical in securing your sister’s safety, so have some respect.”

“Val?”

He glared at Darius in response.

“Ellen is safe now,” Darius said gently. “I know you want to break somebody’s head, but how about not mine, at least not until I’ve updated you on your home farm?”

“This is not good news, I take it?”

“Not good or bad. The storm did us the courtesy of removing most of the roof remaining on the hay barn. The Bragdolls and I spent Sunday morning getting it tarpaulined, but another steady blow, and that won’t serve.”