The Soldier's Poisoned Heart

"Not one bit," the cook answered.

"Excellent," he said distractedly.

It seemed there was nothing more to be done. He would do his best to make it through the wedding, but unless something changed in the next couple of weeks, John Paul knew, he had little hope for a long and prosperous future with his new bride. The best he had to hope for was that he could leave her and her family in a good position for the future, with plenty of money to survive on as long as they could.

"Thomas," he said softly, as the cook returned with a plate of sandwiches that he set down the table beside his employer. "Will you sit and talk with me a few moments?"

The cook wiped his hands on his apron and sat.

"Is everything alright?"

"My fiancee. You've spent some time with her, cooking lessons or some such, is that right?"

"Certainly," he said, though he looked uncertain where the line of questions was going.

"Was she a good cook, did you think?"

Thomas smiled and looked at his hands for a moment before he answered.

"Without a doubt, sir. She's smart, capable of doing what she needed to do, and she works hard. You know she's cooked several meals for you. Gives me a nice night off, so I don't mind."

"I know," John Paul said, thinking.

"Why do you ask?"

The colonel didn't answer right away. He looked out the window; a bird was landing on the stables across the road, and another came up beside it and perched down as well. Then a third, and a fourth, and before he knew it there was a dozen or more of them, then they flew away as suddenly as they'd come.

"I don't think I've just been ill, Thomas."

"What do you mean?"

"I think that someone's been trying to make me ill."

"What?"

"I don't know who it could be. It couldn't have been Lydia, could it?"

"No," Thomas agreed. He replied forcefully enough that John Paul looked at him for a moment before he continued.

"Her brother owes me some money, so I had initially thought that it might be related to that."

"That seems unlikely," Thomas said, making a face. "I didn't even know she had a brother; I certainly don't think he could have been making you sick without ever stepping foot in the house. Not the way you've gotten sick."

"No, it doesn't seem likely. Indeed, given that we had no visitors over the winter whatsoever, it stands to reason that it absolutely must have been someone in the house. Doesn't it?"

Thomas frowned.

"I'm not sure what you're trying to say. I had nothing to do with anything at all, sir."

"Is that right," the colonel answered, ruminantly. He shook his head. "I don't know any more. I don't know who it could be."

"I just make enough food for the lot of us, plus a little, and Henry comes and takes your food to you. You don't think…"

"You're eating the same food I am, Thomas."

"Absolutely, sir."

"But why on earth would Henry have any reason to do anything against me? I've never raised a hand against the boy. Indeed, I raised him up out of who knows what sort of life he'd had before, gave him a good home and a very reasonable allowance."