"Ooooooohhhhhh!" she yelled, starting to convulse.

Charles sprang to his feet and ran back to the open door. "Someone get here now!" he shouted, just as Helen and Cordelia came running around the corner.

"What happened?" Helen asked breathlessly.

"It's Ellie. She's sick. I don't know what happened. One minute she was fine, and the next..."

They raced to her bedside. Cordelia took one look at Ellie's pathetic form and announced, "She's been poisoned."

"What?" Helen asked in horror.

"That's ludicrous," Charles said at the same time.

"I've seen this before," Cordelia said. "She's been poisoned. I'm sure of it."

"What can we do?" Helen asked.

"She'll have to be purged. Charles, bring her to the washbasin."

Charles regarded his aunt dubiously. Was he right to trust his wife's welfare to an old woman who was admittedly a touch senile? But then again, he didn't know what else to do, and even if Ellie hadn't been poisoned, Cordelia's suggestion made sense. Clearly they needed to remove whatever was in her stomach.

He picked her up, trying not to let her agonized groans affect him. She twitched violently in his arms, her spasms shaking him to the core.

He looked to Cordelia. "I think she's getting worse."

"Hurry up!"

He hurried to the washbasin and pulled Ellie's hair from her face. "Shhh, darling, it will be all right," he whispered.

Cordelia held up a quill. "Open her mouth."

"What the hell are you going to do with that?"

"Just do what I say."

Charles held Ellie's mouth open and watched in horror as Cordelia thrust the feathered end of the quill down her throat. Ellie gagged several times before she finally vomited.

Charles looked away for a moment. He couldn't help it. "Are we done?"

Cordelia ignored him. "One more time, Eleanor," she said. "You're a strong girl. You can do it. Helen, get something to rinse out her mouth when she's done."

She jammed the feather down her throat again, and Ellie released the rest of the contents of her stomach.

"That's it." Cordelia said. She took a glass of water from Helen and poured some into Ellie's mouth. "Spit that out, girl."

Ellie half spit and half let gravity pull the water from her mouth. "Don't make me do that again," she pleaded.

"At least she's talking," Cordelia said. "That's a good sign."

Charles hoped she was right, because he'd never seen a person look as green as Ellie did right then. He let Helen wipe her mouth with a damp cloth and then carried her back to the bed.

Helen picked up the dirty washbasin with shaking hands, and said, "I'll have someone take care of this," and ran from the room.

Charles picked up Ellie's hand, then turned to Cordelia and asked, "You don't really think she was poisoned?"

His aunt nodded emphatically. "What did she eat? Anything that you didn't?"

"No, except for ..."

"Except for what?"

"The custard, but I had a bite, too."

"Hmph. And how do you feel?"

Charles stared at her for a long moment, his hand moving to his stomach. "Not very well, actually."

"You see?"

"But it's nothing like what Ellie's been through. Just a little stabbing pain, as if I'd eaten something that had gone off. That's all."

"And you ate only one bite?"

Charles nodded, and then the blood drained from his face. "She ate nearly the entire pot," he whispered. "At least two-thirds."

"She'd probably be dead if she'd finished it," Cordelia stated. "Good thing she shared it with you."

Charles could scarcely believe the lack of emotion in her voice. "It must be food poisoning. That's the only explanation."

Cordelia shrugged. "My money is on the real thing."

He stared at her in disbelief. "That's impossible. Who would want to do something like this to her?"

"It's that young girl Claire, if you ask me," Cordelia replied. "Everyone knows what she did to the countess's hands."

"But that was an accident," Charles said, not wanting to believe his aunt's words. Claire could be mischievous, but she would never do something like this. "And Claire has made her peace with Ellie."

Cordelia shrugged. "Has she?"

As if on cue, Helen reappeared, dragging Claire, who was crying.

Charles turned his eyes to his cousin, trying very hard to keep any sense of accusation from his gaze.

"I didn't do this," Claire wailed. "I would never, ever. You know I wouldn't. I love Ellie now. I would never hurt her."

Charles wanted to believe her. He truly did, but Claire had been the cause of so much mischief. "Perhaps this is something you set in motion last week, before you and Ellie worked out your differences," he said gently. "Perhaps you forgot—"

"No!" Claire cried. "No, I didn't do this. I swear."

Helen put her arm around her daughter's shoulder. "I believe her, Charles."

Charles looked into Claire's red-rimmed eyes and realized that Helen was right. She was telling the truth and he felt like a heel for ever, even for a moment, considering otherwise. Claire might not be perfect, but she wouldn't poison anyone. He sighed. "It was probably just an accident. Perhaps Monsieur Belmont used bad milk in the custard."

"Bad milk?" Cordelia echoed. "It would have had to be well past rancid to do what it did to her."

Charles knew she had a valid point. Ellie had been violently, deathly ill. Could the convulsions that had shaken her small frame been caused by something as benign as bad milk? But what else could it be? Who would want to poison Ellie?