her website. The more I read, the more I disliked the woman. I also watched some video clips and they made my skin crawl. Sheâs as cold as the White Witch of Narnia. You should hear how gleefully she describes the manner in which certain poisonous plants affect peopleâshe truly admires their power to injure or to kill. And one only has to watch her for a few minutes to tell that she didnât give a fig about the fate of the poor souls who came into contact with these plants.â
âMaybe itâs all for show,â Jane suggested.
Raising her index finger, Mrs. Hubbard said, âShe bears watching, Jane. Trust me.â
Jane reached out and took Mrs. Hubbardâs hand. âAfter what happened here during the Romancing the Reader convention, I wouldnât dream of ignoring your instincts. Iâll keep a close eye on her. I promise.â
âThereâs something else.â
âYes?â Jane asked, feeling an inexplicable sense of dread.
Mrs. Hubbard squeezed Janeâs hand for emphasis. âDonât let that witch within a mile of my kitchens. Or near any food, for that matter. She knows a hundred different ways to kill someone using plants. And many of those plants are now growing right outside our back door.â
TWO
As much as Jane wanted to view Mrs. Hubbardâs behavior as purely theatrical, she didnât dare. Ever since Uncle Aloysius and Aunt Octavia had informed her that Edwin Alcott was a notorious book thief, Jane had started to doubt her own ability to form character judgments.
Edwinâs secret profession wasnât the only thing that had turned Jane into a more suspicious person. As the Guardian of Storyton Hall, she was responsible for protecting the hidden library located in the tallest tower. And if a duplicitous potential lover and an invaluable collection of books, documents, and scrolls werenât enough to keep Jane on alert all the time, the fact that several murders had occurred at Storyton Hall since sheâd become the resortâs manager certainly had.
âThatâs over with now,â she told herself en route to her office. âThis week is all about nature lovers. History buffs, gardeners, and foodies. What could be more peaceful than a bunch of events attended by people who spend their free time studying, growing, and using herbs?â
And yet Jane felt compelled to visit Constance Meredithâs website. At first glance, the site was unremarkable. The moss green background and black font were easy on the eye, and there was a banner that said THE POISON PRINCESS, surrounded by delicate roses. Constanceâs photograph, which revealed her to be a raven-haired beauty with pale skin and dark, impenetrable eyes, looked more like a Broadway headshot than the photograph of a renowned botanist. Jane reasoned that with Constanceâs numerous television appearances, she probably saw herself as the botanical version of Dr. Oz. To capitalize on that image, she marketed herself as a celebrity professor.
Jane clicked on a link called âPoison Plants by Zoneâ and was startled when the roses around the banner turned from pink to brown and the thorns grew dangerously sharp and pointy. A quote floated to the top of the screen.
Within the infant rind of this weak flower
Poison hath residence and medicine power.
âShakespeare,â Jane said and tried to recall which play. She could picture a portly friar explaining that the flower in his hand had the power to heal or to kill. âThe flower had the power to poison,â she murmured. âIt foreshadowed the doom of two young lovers.
Romeo and Juliet.
â
Scrolling farther down the page, Jane found several video clips of the Poison Princess at work. One showed her reviewing a patientâs mysterious medical symptoms with a physician. Mrs. Hubbard was right. Constance Meredith described the symptoms, some of which were quite gruesome, with ill-disguised