Laura laughed. “James would no doubt say that about a number of things. James can be quite foolish that way.”
She startled a laugh from the young man, but he shrugged. “I do it to pass the time. University is so boring, you see. I rather like history, but philosophy and Latin . . .” His face turned gloomy.
“Those things do sound dull.”
“They are.” Walter perked up a bit at her agreement. “Now, knights or cavaliers are ever so much more interesting.”
“Is that what you write about? Days of yore?”
“Well . . . yes, sometimes.” He blushed again. “A couple of them.”
“How many have you written?”
“I don’t know. A few. That’s what I do instead of studying most times. Well, or helping the other chaps with pranks.”
“Do you ever let anyone read them? I’d like to read one.”
“You would?” He gaped at her. “Really? Yes, of course, that would be grand! I mean, if you really want to.”
“Of course.” Laura smiled at his eagerness. Walter could not, absolutely could not, be the person who had tried to kill James. “Walter . . . when you used to fetch James’s medicine from the apothecary . . . were you always the one to pick it up?”
“I think so. I like getting out. It’s easy to think when I’m riding or walking. I suppose one of the servants might have gone sometimes if I wasn’t around.”
“When you brought it home, did you put it away in that cabinet in his room?”
“If his door was open, I set it on his dresser. If not, I’d put it on the table outside his room—didn’t want to disturb him, you see.” His brow knitted. “Why? James asked me the same question.” He leaned forward. “You don’t think—was there something wrong with the medicine? You can’t think someone, well, tampered with it. Do you?”
“There would be little reason for it,” Laura said, avoiding his question.
“No, of course not. The servants like James well enough, I think.” He looked thoughtful. “I can’t imagine Barkens would have anything against James, either; couldn’t be him.”
“Who?”
“The apothecary. His name’s Barkens. He seems a good enough chap. Claude and Archie and I played cards with him awhile back.”
“Oh, yes, I remember.” Laura hoped she had hidden her start of surprise at his words. “He’s one of the men Claude plays cards with in the village.”
“Yes. Poor play. Old Arch was disappointed, I’ll tell you.” Walter let out a crack of laughter. “But, you know, not much choice in the village.”
Laura struggled to think of some other topic to distract Walter before he could think too much about the apothecary and Claude. Fortunately, Patricia stormed into the sitting room at that moment, drawing everyone’s attention.
“Where is he?” As the occupants of the room swung toward her, Patricia waved the straw bonnet in her hand at the women on the couch. “Look at this! He ruined my new hat! And don’t you dare try to tell me he didn’t mean to. Robbie’s an absolute menace with that slingshot, always creeping about taking potshots at everything! He could have taken out my eye, you know, instead of crushing my hat. I bought this in London just last winter,” she ended in a moan.
Adelaide sprang to her feet, her eyes flashing, but before she could say anything, Tessa exclaimed, “Oh, my dear, your lovely bonnet!” She curved an arm around her daughter’s waist, taking the hat to examine it. “No wonder you’re upset. But, look, see, it’s not crushed. The dent comes right out and we can replace this feather and the grapes easily enough.”
“That still doesn’t excuse that little brat for—”
“Now, now, Patsy.” Tessa overrode her daughter’s voice, steering her toward the door and walking with her to it. “I know Adelaide is devastated about this.”
Laura thought Adelaide looked more furious than devastated, but Adelaide forced her face into a smile and said, “Yes, of course. I shall speak to Robbie about it, I promise. It’s very naughty of him to be playing with that slingshot so close to people. No doubt he’s run away to hide in shame over what he did. He wouldn’t harm you for the world, Patricia. You’re his favorite aunt.”
Laura suspected that was true, since Patricia was Claude’s only sister, but this statement seemed to mollify Patricia, for she let her mother propel her out of the room.
“Poor Robbie.” Adelaide turned back. “I’m sure he is most distraught over this.”