"Would you like some wine, Your Grace ?" our maidservant, Kelly, asked while carrying around a flask of red wine. I shook my head, smiling thinly.

     "No need for that, Kelly," I told her nonchalantly. She nodded as she moved on to Cecily, and proceeded to pour the wine into Cecily's silver goblet. The dark red liquid filled the goblet fast, and it began to overflow, dripping down onto the white tablecloth.

    "That is enough, Kelly," I reprimanded, but she did not stop. She continued to pour, and out of the flask fell long, fleshy intestines, pale pink and shiny, splashing into the goblet. The wine had turned into clotted blood, falling down in huge chunks, the awful stench of it filling the entire hall.

      "What a wonderful scent!" my uncle the general remarked, holding his own goblet under his nose.

     "Yes, milord. We McCarthy's take great pride in our winery, and someday our little Bartholomew would continue the family business!" the Baron replied proudly, gesturing at his hyperactive son, who was running around in circles. 

     "I want wine!" he screeched like a demon that escaped from hell, pouncing on anyone he saw, attempting to yank the goblets out of their hands. When he saw Cecily's goblet, overflowing with chunks of blood and stringy intestines, his eyes lit up as if he had seen the light of heaven, and he quickly rushed over, snatching it away before she could barely blink.

       "Don't drink that!" I wanted to shout, but for some reason my lips were locked, and I could only watch in horror as little Bartholomew opened his mouth wide and poured the goblet's contents down his throat. His teeth gnashed through the chunks of blood, and he slurped the intestines as if they were noodles.

       " It is so delicious, Duchess !" he said cheerfully, clasping his hands together like an innocent child. "Give me yours too!"

I frowned in confusion and glanced at my goblet of water, and a scream abruptly escaped my lips. The contents had transformed into chunks of congealed, black blood and bits of chewed up food, all swimming inside a pool of bile. I quickly threw the goblet onto the floor, and it fell with a resounding clang, the contents splattering all over the white marble. 

      "Thank you, Duchess!" the boy giggled as he bent down like an animal, and began to lick the splattered blood on the floor and picked the bits of food with his fingers. He was unable to finish it however, as not a moment later, he fell down, uncontrollably vomiting up blood. It was red and liquidy at first, but it gradually became more and more solid, and it eventually formed a black, slimy serpent that crawled out of little Bartholomew's mouth. 

The serpent was about as thick as my arm, and it began to encircle the little boy's neck, cutting off all circulation, and his face changed from white to purple. 

      "Duchess.. It hurts.." he murmured painfully, his brown eyes staring straight into mine, tears slowly beginning to form. "Why didn't you stop me? You knew it was poisoned!"

His voice, which initially sounded like that of a little boy, became demonic as he repeatedly chanted, "You knew, you knew, you knew, YOU KNEW!"

        "You knew and you let me die!"

        "You knew and you let me die!"

        "You knew and you let me die!"

I shook my head incessantly, sobbing uncontrollably. "I did not know that you were going to drink it!"

His face, now as red as hellfire, glared at me with immeasureable fury. "Liar! You simply let me take it because you wanted to see me dead! Dead like Leanne!"

      "Murderer!"

      "Murderer!"

      "Murderer!"

Voices around me began to chant without stop, closing in on me, filling my head and suffocating my chest. "No! Go away!"

            "Murderer!"    

           "Murderer!"

The ashen face of little Bartholomew appeared in my mind, followed by the golden smile of Prince George, and his mother the beautiful Queen Helene came swiftly behind. Her sister the Lady Grace Ainsworth smiled radiantly, her eyes sweetly curved and cheeks adorably red. It was the look of someone in love. Her rival, Leanne, was not as radiant as her, since she was too busy tending to her unborn child rather than herself, and she was already so far along at the time, probably the same as me. All these people had died because of me, all because of a single Anne. 

I killed them. Killed them all.

        "Anne!" 

       "Wake up Anne!" 

Cold fingers wrapped around my face, patting my cheeks gently, slowly waking me up. The moment I opened my eyes, I saw Edmund's worried face looming over mine, and he looked as if he had aged ten years overnight. 

        "Did you have a nightmare, Annie ?" he asked softly as he stroked my hair soothingly. I reluctantly nodded, feeling the tears that I shed before slowly return.

        "I could have stopped him," I murmured. "I knew that someone had poisoned the wine, but I did nothing.."

Edmund shook his head. "No, Annie. You did nothing wrong. But why didn't you tell anyone that the wine was poisoned?"

        "Cecily was the one who first noticed it. I told her not to drink it, and she mustn't tell anyone about it either. Whoever put the poison there must've been in the same room, and I wanted to see who it was. I did not expect for the McCarthy boy to snatch the goblet away," I explained tearfully. 

       "But who would poison Cecily, and why ?" Edmund questioned in confusion. "She poses no threat to others, and never does anything to ire anyone."

       "I don't know either," I sighed. "Forgive me, for how long was I asleep ?"

       "You fainted the moment we left the hall, and you slept all through the night, Annie. Your father ordered his soldiers to surround the house so that no one could escape, and everyone shall remain here until the person who laced Cecily's wine with poison confesses."

I glanced through the window, and indeed there were approximately a hundred soldiers standing in the courtyard, and I was certain that there were many more of them.

      "And the boy's corpse?" 

      "Sent out to be embalmed," Edmund replied.

I tiredly exhaled through my lips, not wanting to think about the awful tragedy anymore. "I think I know who that person is. The one who tried to poison Cecily."

      After bathing and changing into fresh clothes, I quickly went down, wanting to see what was going on. There were around twenty soldiers barricading the entrance to the dining hall, and right near the fireplace, I saw my father conversing with a small man with a long red beard, our province's Chief Justice. 

        "Although it is for precaution, you cannot keep them here forever, Cassian. It is against the law!" he exclaimed, brown eyes ablaze with distaste.

        "I cannot afford to be lenient, Gustave. One of these people tried to poison my daughter-in-law right under my nose, and dear god, you wouldn't want to see what the poison did to that poor boy!" my father explained exasperatedly. "Understandably, the McCarthy's want to press charges, but who is to blame ?"

The Chief Justice's face darkened, and he leaned closer towards my father, and said in a low tone, "I heard that they are suspecting your daughter, the Duchess. She was right next to the Lady Cecily when it happened, and if I remember correctly, she knew that the wine was poisoned, but she did not warn the boy at all. Although she was not the one who put poison into that cup, she can still be held accountable due to her inaction. In a way, Cassian, the Duchess contributed to that boy's death."

        "I am sure that you can deal with this, Gustave," my father said coldly, his long purple eyes narrowing into sharp slits. "Besides, are we not close friends ? Your dear son Ronan doing quite well as a majistrate, and I might promote him to a higher rank, but then again there is also Jacobi of the Westland family."

        "Are you threatening me, Cassian ?"

My father smiled shrewdly as he shook his head non-threateningly. "Of course not. I am merely informing you of your son's prowess! While he is very smart, he is a bit too uptight. Now I know where he gets it from."

         "I will see what I can do," the small man said as he stroked his long beard. "First we must identify what poison it was, and who is most likely to easily obtain it. Now, I need you to tell me what were the symptoms that the boy had before he died."

          "He bled excessively almost immediately, sir," I spoke, casually making my way towards them. The older man's eyes widened as he quickly greeted me, muttering, "Good day, Your Grace."

         "Are you sure that you will be fine recounting all that, Annie ? The Duke said that you were not feeling well," my father asked out of concern. 

        "I think I am well enough, Father. The sooner we settle this matter, the better," I said calmly. 

Chief Justice Gustave Montgomery whipped out a notepad, a pen and a pot of ink, and he said to me, "Whenever you are ready, Your Grace."

And so I told him, told him all about what had happened. The discoloured silver, the young master McCarthy's thirst for wine, Cecily trying to warn them but was shot down, and the boy's eventual death. 

        "Poisons that cause rectal bleeding aren't that rare, but this one reacts incredibly fast. According to you, Your Grace, the young master McCarthy was dead within ten minutes ?" he questioned.

         "That is correct."

The chief justice stared at his notepad, his face taut and grim. "I think I know which poison was used. It is indeed vicious, and only used with the intent to kill. Whoever it was, they wanted the Lady Cecily to be dead, and young master McCarthy.." he paused and sigh, "was a victim of the circumstances."

          "Would my failure to warn him hold me accountable for his death ?" I questioned briskly, and the small man quickly shook his head, his eyebrows shooting up in shock.

          "No, of course not, Your Grace. If anyone should be to blame, it is his parents who failed to look after him," he said, brushing off my question.

That evening, the hall's entrance was reopened to let the investigators in, and oddly, I could not hear the Baroness's wails anymore.

      I gingerly stepped inside, and I could see the McCarthy's all huddled in one corner except for the mother, who sat near the puddle of blood where her son had died, her face blank and expressionless. 

My Moreau cousins were also locked inside, their relation to our family not at all playing a role to save them. The moment my uncle, the Earl of Aldridge saw me, he leapt to his feet and rushed towards me.

       "Anne, tell your father to release us! How can he suspect that we poisoned that disfigured princess ?" he said exasperatedly.

Although I was disgusted by the fact that he referred to Cecily as 'disfigured princess', I did not let it show on my face. "You mustn't worry, uncle. Once you are proven to be not guilty of all accusations, you shall have your freedom back. Only if you are not guilty, that is," I said sharply, staring intently at my cousin Corinne. She was huddled next to her mother, her beautiful face now ashen and full of anxiety. She sweated profusely, which is understandable since it was summer and the windows were all closed shut, but no one was sweating as much as her, and Corinne never sweated so excessively before.

       "You don't seem to be quite well, cousin. Should I send for some fresh clothes for you ?"

She grew even more pallid in an instant, and she hastily shook her head. "No, I am quite alright," she said, a bit too quickly. 

        "Is that so ?" I said amusedly. "Oh right, Sir Montgomery! Have the investigators arrived yet ? I think that besides examining the scene, everyone should have their bodies searched."

The old judge nodded briskly, eager to please. "Of course, Your Grace," he murmured in reply.

The Moreaus all turned as pale as a sheet, their dark eyes wide as they stared at me in disbelief. My uncle let out a prideful scoff and he rolled his eyes at me.

        "How dare you subject us to such treatment! We will not be handled like lowly slaves!" he barked loudly, face red in anger.

        "Not only do I dare, but it is what must be done," I said in an equally loud tone, ensuring that everyone heard what I was saying. "Yesterday, someone attempted to poison my sister-in-law, the Lady Cecily. By accident unfortunately, the young master McCarthy ingested the poison instead, which led to his death. We, the House of Winterbourne, are not holding you captive here on purpose. You are here because we have yet to discover the perpetrator, and to grant justice to the McCarthy family who have lost their beloved child. So please, I implore you all to cooperate."

The team of investigators arrived several moments later, led by my incredibly overbearing brother. "Make sure that you don't miss a thing! If that murderer gets off scot-free because you can't be bothered to look under her wig, I swear I will send you off to work at a farm instead, Mortimer!"

The already frazzled Mortimer shrugged tiredly as he quickly ripped off my aunt's tall powdered wig, and she reacted with a loud, ear-piercing shriek.

        "There's nothing over here, Lord Winterbourne. The wig smells nasty though," he replied, his voice sharp and somewhat nasally. 

        "You must be joking," my brother guffawed. "There's got to be at least five or six lizards crawling in there, and perhaps a few birdnests too!"

However, as Mortimer had said, there was nothing under or in the Countess's wig, and he casually returned the smelly hazelnut coloured wig to my mortified aunt who was trying to hide her receding hairline.

I noticed that the McCarthy's were strangely calm though, which was unexpected of them. They were usually loud and rambunctious, so I thought that they would kick up a fuss, but they did not. The Baroness remained completely silent while her body was searched, her expression blank and her eyes dead.

While it was odd, it was also disturbing. I had seen the exact same expression many years ago, on the face of the long dead Queen Helene who also lost her son. It was the face of someone who had completely surrendered, one who no longer has the will to fight. 

        "Who do you think it was, Anne ? The one who tried to poison Sissie," Gilbert said to me, his expression sour and filled with contempt.

         "Judging by what the poison had done to that poor boy, a person who really wants her to die, and very painfully at that," I sighed. "They've already examined the goblet, so I suppose we will be able to know what poison it was sooner or later."

         "But truly Anne, I have never witnessed such a terrible death, even in the battlefields. The horrific pain, all the bleeding, the convulsions.. To think that that person wanted Sissie to go through all that," he said through gritted teeth, his long fingers tightening around the hilt of his sword.

          "You seem to be very concerned with her, Gil. Who would've thought, after all these years, after all those tantrums," I giggled heartily, trying to forget about the bitter reality that surrounded us for a brief moment.

          "I promised her that I would protect her," he spoke. "I did not dare to promise her love, since I'm not sure if I'll ever love her, but I can promise her protection."

I scoffed at his flowery words and retorted, "Since when did you become so romantic, Gil? By the way, where is Cecily?"

           "I told her to rest in bed. She was awfully traumatised by what she saw yesterday, and she would not stop crying all night," my brother said. "She kept muttering 'Auntie, Auntie.' Do you reckon that she might be calling out for Queen Jane? I suppose not, since Sissie hates her, enormously."

           "I think it might Grace Ainsworth, Gil. Not the queen," I said somberly, quickly reminding him of the murder that took place years ago.  "She still doesn't know that I was the one who poisoned her aunt, the Lady Grace, does she?" I whispered in a low tone, careful in ensuring that no one else would hear.

             "She does not. It is best if we keep it that way. That information will destroy her. For now, I shall keep her away from all the investigations that are going on, and away from all our relatives, including Mother."

I furrowed my brows in confusion. "Mother ? She might be a bit sharp-tongued, but Mother is harmless, Gil!"

             "You were far away at Blytherock Castle, Anne. You had no idea what was going on back home, and regretfully, I had no idea too at first. I obliviously went to the barracks each month, thinking that Mother would treat my wife well, but soon I began to notice odd things. Her feet were blistered, her arms full of pinchmarks, her scalp streaked with blood from having her hair pulled.. She always had excuses though, no matter how outlandish they seem. Once, her shoes supposedly tore up while she was strolling in the garden and she had to walk barefoot back inside. On another occasion her hair got stuck on a tree branch and she pulled on it too hard, causing it to bleed. But when caning marks began to appear on her calves, she could not explain it. Well, she doesn't even need to explain."

Of course I knew why. I remember it as clear as day. When we were little children of nine to ten, our mother often caned us, and her favourite spot was the back of our calves. My flesh would split and bleed for days on end, and she refused to let us get medication either. My father was horrified, but my mother tried to justify the treatment, saying that it was tradition in her military family, claiming that it would toughen us up. But truly, all it had done was to make us resent her, up until this very day.

         "Was it severe ?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

         "Well, if I hadn't decided to return home earlier, she would have lost her legs. The sores had become infected and her flesh was beginning to rot, but Mother denied her medicine. Instead, she forced Sissie to carry water with the servants when she could barely stand," Gilbert explained, his eyes gradually turning dark with repressed fury. "I was thinking of assigning two of my best soldiers to protect her, and now it seems that I must hire food-testers too."

I glanced at my brother's cool and calm demeanor, a small smirk slowly forming on my lips. He claimed that he did not love her, that he was protecting her out of obligation, but this was not the behaviour of someone merely fulfilling his duties. He sincerely cared for her, no, he wanted to care for her. Although my oblivious brother has not realised it yet, I was fully certain that he had grown to love Cecily. 

      "Lady Corinne, please cooperate with me. I dislike this situation as much as you do, so let us get this over with so that I can go home, hm?" I heard Mortimer sigh.

       "No! I will not let you touch me with your grimy hands!" my cousin shrieked indignantly, shying away from him.

        "With all due respect, Lady Corinne Moreau, I am simply doing my task and if you truly must know, I would rather not put my grimy hands anywhere near you either. Now, can you please cooperate with me?"

While my cousin truly was arrogant unreasonable, her behaviour today was quite odd, as if it were forced. Her chin was raised high, nose up in the air, but her lips were tightly pursed anxiously, her eyes blinking a bit too frequently. 

        "I am a noble lady! If you don't want to have your home burnt down, you better run off!"

Mortimer smirked in amusement, not at all fazed by my cousin's poor attitude. "As I live here, you might have to rethink that. I don't think that the Earl would be very pleased to see this grand, magnificent castle being razed to the grounds, milady."

Corinne however, still refused to relent. She screamed and shouted at her father for help, but the retired general had lost his sting a very long time ago. I sighed and motioned at two young soldiers who were standing near the door, simply gawking at the spectacle, to go and help poor Mortimer. Corinne ended up having her arms restrained and her feet bound together as she was searched, and she shrieked and cursed the entire time, attempting to bite the soldiers restraining her. 

Her shoes were removed and cut open, her jewelry taken off to be inspected, and her dress torn apart in case there were any concealed pockets.

       "That is enough!" the Earl of Aldridge shouted, seeing that Corinne was stripped down to her inner garments at the moment. "Can't you see that she is not hiding anything? Why are you so suspicious of your own blood cousin, Anne?"

I ignored him, and I gestured at Mortimer to continue. Corinne thrashed around, now even more aggressive than even, futilely attempting to break free. 

         "The sooner this is finished, the sooner you can leave, Cousin," I sighed tiredly. 

But of course, this was Corinne, and she reacted even more harshly than before. Her dark brown eyes met mine, deep and full of hatred, but not towards me. There was fear too, slowly intermingling with all that hate, tossing her into a state of panic and denial. 

Mortimer had pulled off one of her white stockings, and as he lifted it up, a small crystal vial slipped onto the floor with a faint clang, but thankfully it did not break.

        "Oh, I wonder what this may be," I said as I received the vial from Mortimer's hand, placing it in the palm of my hand so that I could see it clearly. The vial was almost empty, with only a little remaining liquid left, which was transparent with a slight pearly glow.

        "It is my medication," Corinne said loudly in an attempt to sound threatening, but the tremble in her voice did not go unnoticed. 

        "I did not know that you were ill. What kind of sickness is it, dear cousin?"

Corinne's eyes darted to ceiling for a brief moment before flickering back into mine, and she stammered out, "It is a rare illness, so I doubt that you would know of it. It is quite severe, and you putting me through these things might have worsened it."

I scoffed and glanced at the almost empty vial in my palm. There was not much left, only about a single gulp, but that would be more than enough. "Is that so ?" I said sympathetically. "Then you should have your medicine!"

Her eyes became wide like saucers as she hastily stepped back, shaking her head wildly. "N-no, there is no need for me to take it now!"

       "Did you not just say you are suffering from a rare, severe disease? You should take your medicine, dear cousin, lest it might worsen," I said remorsefully, showing as much false concern as I possibly could. 

I called over Mortimer and handed him the vial. "Let the Lady Corinne drink this. Oh, she hasn't had her medicine for so long, poor Corinne!"

Mortimer nodded and rushed back to my cousin, ordering the two soldiers to restrain her properly as he uncapped the vial. "No! Please stop!" my cousin shrieked in pure horror as Mortimer prepared to pour it into her mouth.

        "She is becoming delirious! Oh, Mortimer, do hurry up and feed it to her!" I rushed, almost taking delight in Corinne's panicked fear. She had seen what the poison could do, and now the same poison was mere inches away from her mouth. 

       "I confess! I confess!" she screamed, with tears rolling down her cheeks like a waterfall and snot continuously flowing from her nostrils. "I confess, Anne! Please make them stop!"

I motioned at Mortimer to stop, and Corinne immediately relaxed upon seeing the vial being capped again. "Anne, I will tell you all about what had happened, but rest assure that I have never ever tried to harm you. We are cousins, aren't we?"

Ignoring her, I turned towards Mortimer and said, "Send that vial to the investigators, and see if it matches with the poison on the goblet. Also, tell the butler to arrange for carriages to take the McCarthy's back home."

       "What about your poor old uncle, Anne? Are you going to keep us here forever?" the Earl said beseechingly, so I smiled sweetly at him and said, "Of course not. A carriage will be arranged for you too, but sadly Corinne cannot go with you."

My aunt gasped in disbelief. "But why? So what if the McCarthy boy died? She is your cousin and that is what matters most!"

Luckily her daughter-in-laws were still grieving with their family, or else they would have burst into tears after listening to the Countess's heartless comment. 

        "She will be put on trial, dear aunt and uncle, for the death of Bartholomew McCarthy and attempted murder of my sister-in-law, the Lady Cecily."

Hi! If you liked this story, try checking out my other story, which is set in the early 1700s, Catarina and The Prince ! And please vote and comment, it means a lot to me 🥰