Charity's Burden

by Edith Maxwell

  Elias, Virtue, and Ransom stood in a line in the parlor. Despite the spacious nature of the lamplit room, it felt confining. Stuffy, full of grief. Elias sniffed frequently and wiped tears from the corners of his eyes as he greeted visitors expressing their condolences. Ransom shifted from one foot to another, ran his finger between his collar and his neck, and patted his brow with a handkerchief every chance he got. Virtue, in contrast to them both, never lost her straight bearing nor her apparent resolve not to plaster her emotions on her sleeve.

  I clasped Charity’s father’s hand in both of mine after Orpha had spoken with him in a low voice and moved on to Virtue.

  “Elias,” I began, “I—”

  He interrupted me. “Rose, tell me she wasn’t in pain at the end.” His low voice creaked. “Can thee tell me that?”

  “In truth, I don’t believe she was in pain. I am just so sorry none of us could save her. Modern medicine goes only so far.” I squeezed his hand and released it. At least now he was showing grief rather than anger toward his son-in-law.

  He stared at the floor for a moment before looking up. “I know.” He shot a glance sideways, but I could tell it skipped Virtue and was directed toward Ransom. Elias leaned toward me. “I think he killed her,” he whispered.

  I inhaled sharply, then swallowed. “I’m sure the authorities are looking into every possibility. But right now thee has an obligation to thy guests.” I peered over my spectacles with a small smile.

  “Yes, of course. I apologize. This is all just so very difficult …” His voice broke as he patted away tears again.

  The poor man. It seemed his sorrow moved him to grasp at answers to his daughter’s death. It was one thing to dislike one’s son-in-law and quite another to believe him a murderer. I didn’t know if Ransom had been violent toward Charity during their marriage, but it was possible. Elias might have felt frustrated at not being able to stop it. Maybe Ransom had been a ne’er-do-well before he’d married Charity and her parents disliked him for not being a better supporter. Or Elias could have forbade Charity to marry Ransom and since she’d refused to comply, he’d held a grudge against the couple. A stubborn parent often experienced additional grief at not reconciling with an adult child before his or her death. The finality of that sorrow, that bitter pill, could easily be expressed as anger.

  “It’s difficult for all of us. Be well, Elias. I hold Charity’s released soul in the Light of God, and thee and Virtue, as well.”

  I moved on to Virtue, who simply thanked me for coming. It must have been painful for her to stand next to Ransom, but etiquette demanded it, no matter her feelings about him as Charity’s husband. Did Virtue share her husband’s opinion of Ransom as the man responsible for Charity’s death? Her behavior the day her daughter died had indicated she might. I moved on to Ransom.

  “How does thee fare, Ransom?” I kept my expression kindly and concerned, hoping to encourage an honest response.

  “I just want all this to be over.” He waved vaguely at the room and the many visitors. “I want to settle in with my children, return to my job, and not be reminded at every turn of my poor wife’s death.” His fingers rubbed his thumbs on both hands, over and over.

  Over his shoulder I spied Kevin standing in a corner of the room. He was close enough to hear most of what the family said. He held a small plate of food in his hands but wasn’t eating. To my eyes he was clearly on duty, but to others he probably appeared to be just one more mourner. I hoped I could grab him alone for a minute and report what Elias had said about Ransom. To whom I now returned my attention. “It will take some time.”

  Ransom’s shoulders slumped. “I suppose so.”

  “Hello, Rose,” a small voice piped up. “Thank thee for coming.” Priscilla was next in line.

  I patted Ransom’s shoulder and stepped in front of the child. “Priscilla, thee is also greeting the guests?”

  “Yes, of course. Granny said I should. It’s the proper thing to do.” Her face was pale but her erect carriage was a miniature version of her grandmother’s. Her manners were, too.

  I knelt and took her small hand in mine. “Thee is doing very nicely. But I’m sure thee can leave and run play with thy sisters and brother if thee wishes.”

  “I shan’t be playing any longer.” Her words were those of a much older girl, but her lips quavered as she spoke. “I’m the lady of the house now.”

  As I had feared. She shouldn’t have to go through this ordeal. “I’ll speak to thy grandmother. Go on upstairs and play now. It’s fine.”

  “May I truly?” Her face lit up like the nine-year-old she was.

  “Of course.”

  She glanced up at Ransom, who nodded.

  I watched her slip out of the room and heard footsteps trotting upwards. Myself, I slipped into the dining room and filled a plate with small sandwiches, a portion of creamed oysters, and a slice of coffee cake.

  Orpha sat in a chair at the periphery. My interest was piqued when I saw the person in the next seat was none other than Savoire, a plate of food balanced on her lap. She’d folded her lace mantilla back over her head, and wore yet another flowing gown, this one in black.

  Had she and Orpha already known each other? Given my knowledge of Orpha, I wouldn’t be surprised. Savoire might well have been one of the abortionists Orpha had referred to. I sidled in their direction, munching a sandwich as I went. But instead of talking about abortifacients as I’d expected, they were chatting about what they intended to plant in their herb gardens come spring. Most midwives, myself included, grew as many of our own herbs as we could. Talk of herbs could certainly double as talk of abortifacients, I realized.

  “A sad occasion, Savoire,” I said.

  Orpha opened her eyes wide. “You two know each other, then.”

  “Miss Carroll paid me a visit recently,” Savoire said. She gave me a perfunctory smile.

  “Rose was my last apprentice,” Orpha said. “And my best student.”

  “Savoire, I thought thee told me thee didn’t know Charity Skells.” Or had she?

  The tall herbalist swallowed. “I came to pay my respects to a poor victim of malice.”

  “And very thoughtful of you, it was,” Orpha told her.

  “It was murder, wasn’t it?” Savoire asked. “That’s what everyone is saying.”

  “I can’t speak to what everyone is saying.” I popped the last bit of sandwich in my mouth as Orpha gave me the slightest wink of approval.

  “Charity’s death might have been the result of incompetence.” I watched Savoire, but the only sign of a reaction was her nostrils flaring ever so slightly. “Did Delia come here with you?”

  Savoire didn’t hide her surprised reaction to this. “You know my daughter?”

  “I’ve had the occasion to meet her, yes, at the boat shop.”

  Savoire nodded once. “Delia works with Mr. Skells and met his wife at the workplace. My daughter and Mr. Skells are friendly. Paying our respects to the family was the decent thing to do.”

  “Quite rightly so,” Orpha said. She glanced up at me. “You’re not in a hurry to leave, are you?”

  “No, not if thee isn’t.”

  “I’m quite enjoying myself, as improper as that sounds. I don’t get out as much these days, you see.” She directed her words at Savoire.

  I smiled at Orpha. She thrived on being with a wide range of people, something her midwifery practice had afforded her but no longer did. “Then I’ll be back in a little while to see if thee is ready. Good day, Savoire.”

  Savoire gave a little wave but didn’t speak. She definitely didn’t smile.

  forty-four

  I wandered into the comfortable sitting room where I’d been received several days earlier and accepted a cup of tea from a uniformed maid. Clumps of people stood here and there talking, sipping sherry or tea, nibbling the proff
ered delicacies. Quite a crowd had turned out to pay their respects. I spied a few faces I was positive had not attended the memorial meeting. I wasn’t surprised. Many who attend more conventional religious services were uncomfortable in the absence of familiar ritual. Virtue and Elias must have let their friends and business associates know it would be fine to skip the memorial meeting and instead come directly to this gathering.

  I felt increasingly frustrated at not yet having discovered the identity of Charity’s killer. Tomorrow would be completely taken up with Meeting for Worship followed by the happy Meeting for Marriage, with David by my side. I wouldn’t have a moment free for sleuthing, and rightly so. But the more time that passed since Charity’s death, the more difficult the crime would be to solve. Who else could I talk to here? What else could I discover now while I had the chance? Joey surely was here, although I hadn’t seen him yet. For all I knew, he was somewhere sleeping off his morning inebriation.

  I moved into the foyer, thinking I could peek into the parlor and maybe grab a minute with Kevin before he left. Instead, he stood with arms folded leaning against a wall, not even pretending he wasn’t watching who came and went. In the corner nearest the door stood a uniformed officer, hands behind his back in the “at ease” position. Except he was at full attention and didn’t look a bit at ease. Kevin beckoned me over when he caught sight of me.

  “A heartfelt gathering, wouldn’t you say, Miss Rose?”

  I doubted anyone within earshot but me caught the sardonic note in his voice. I faced him. “Or not,” I murmured. “Was thee able to uncover information on Wallace Buckham?”

  “No, I haven’t, more’s the pity.”

  “David did. He said the American Medical Society censured Wallace for ethical lapses, and he can no longer operate at the hospital.”

  “What were the lapses?” he asked.

  Sophie strode into the hall and Bertie followed at a saunter. “If it isn’t the detective and the midwife.” Bertie smiled at us.

  “A mechanical abortion,” I quickly whispered to Kevin.

  He stared at me in alarm.

  “Yes,” I murmured.

  Kevin whistled, then turned his attention to my friends. “Good afternoon, Miss Winslow, Miss Ribeiro,” Kevin said.

  “Are you off?” I asked them.

  “Soon,” Sophie answered. “I’ve been looking for you, Detective Donovan.”

  “Is that so, Miss Ribeiro? How can I help you?”

  “I am the lawyer for an estate connected in complicated ways with this family. I was hoping for a definitive accusation of the guilty party in the recent death of Mrs. Skells. It’s possible the outcome could affect our settlement.”

  Bertie grinned and rolled her eyes. “Once a lawyer, always a lawyer,” she whispered to me.

  I wondered if an arrest would, in fact, affect the conditions of Joseph’s will, or if Sophie was simply curious about the case.

  Kevin cleared his throat. “I’m afraid we’re not yet in a position to supply that, Counselor. With any luck, it’ll be soon. Very soon.”

  “Please inform my office when you are.” She drew a calling card from her reticule and handed it to him.

  “Happy to oblige. Travel safely home.”

  Bertie bussed my cheek and slid into the coat Sophie held for her. When they opened the door I was startled to see night had nearly fallen. I had lamps on the buggy but should be getting Orpha home soon, regardless.

  “Thee saw Madame Restante and her daughter appear at the Meetinghouse,” I said in a soft voice to Kevin after the door closed behind Sophie and Bertie. “The former is in the dining room conversing with Orpha. I haven’t yet seen the latter.”

  “I have.” He also kept his tone low but used his eyebrows to gesture toward the parlor. “She appears to be lying in wait to catch a moment alone with the grieving widower.” His expression looked like he’d tasted a bite of spoiled cabbage.

  “Speaking of same,” I said. “When I spoke with Elias Swift in the receiving line, he confided in me he thinks Ransom killed his wife.”

  “Did he now? Those two have never reconciled their differences. To wit, the disturbance in your holy place just this afternoon.”

  “I know. That was most shocking, but truly not a surprise to hear.” I was about to continue when the front door swung open.

  “Jus’ the two I been lookin’ for,” a hatless Joey Swift said in a jovial tone, bursting in from the outside in a rush of cold air and swirling snow. His breath reeked, as usual, of smoke and liquor.

  “The door, Swift.” Kevin’s voice brokered no rebellion as he pointed toward the wide-open door.

  So Kevin and Joey were acquainted. Because of past criminal behavior by Joey, I supposed.

  “Right you are, Detective. Right you are.” Joey turned to slam the door and then faced us again, hands in pockets, cheeks flushed, apparently not caring that melting snow trickled its way down his face.

  “Why was thee looking for us, Joey?” I asked.

  “It appears I’m in possession of an important piece of evidence in regards to my poor cousin’s demise.” He rocked back and forth on his heels with a satisfied expression.

  “And what might that be?” Kevin frowned at him.

  Joey leaned in toward Kevin, who inclined farther back toward the wall. I wouldn’t want Joey’s foul expirations in my face, either.

  “What might it be worth to you, copper?” Joey asked, leering.

  Kevin stepped neatly to the side. “Do you or do you not have evidence in the murder of your cousin?” His voice was stern, his face sterner, but I thought I detected a soft sigh after he spoke. I knew he was eager to get home to his family.

  “I might, if it’s worth a dollar or two.”

  Kevin laid a hand on Joey’s arm. “Joseph Swift, I charge you with withholding evidence in a homicide case. You are coming to the station with me. Perhaps then we can convince you to share this valuable information you might have in your possession.” The touch of his hand turned into a grip. “Officer?” Kevin glanced at the man next to the door, who hurried over to clasp Joey’s other arm.

  “You can’t do this!” Joey protested. “I’m here mourning my poor dead cousin.”

  “Indeed we can.” Kevin’s expression was grim. “You have the rest of your life to mourn Mrs. Skells. She’s not coming back.”

  forty-five

  I stared at the front door in the suddenly empty foyer. Kevin charging Joey with withholding evidence seemed an extreme measure. But Kevin had to be even more frustrated than I at the lack of progress in the case. Joey’s asking for money in exchange for information might have been the last straw for the detective. Or maybe it was Joey’s general disrespect for the law. Either way, the arrest meant Kevin would miss even more family time. I wouldn’t want to be married to a homicide detective, but Emmaline must be used to it by now.

  I roused myself to fetch Orpha and get ourselves home. As I turned to head into the sitting room, I caught a furtive movement farther down the hall under the stairs. I flattened myself against the wall and peered in that direction. All I saw was a black feather exactly like the one on Delia’s fanciful hat. What was she doing under the stairs? A man’s voice spoke from the same place. I quieted my breathing to listen.

  “I just can’t.”

  My eyes widened. It was Ransom’s voice.

  “But we had an understanding,” Delia replied with a plaintive note. “You said you loved me.”

  “It’s true. I adore you. But I can’t do this anymore. Don’t you see?”

  The two were clearly having a dalliance, as Jonathan and the neighbor woman had suggested, and Ransom was trying to break it off. My lips pressed together. Why now? Why not end it when his poor wife was home with a half dozen children and another on the way? I did not like this man, nor Delia for consorting with him.

>   “No, I don’t see.” Delia’s tone turned harsh. “Wasn’t I the reason you—”

  “Hush, now.” Ransom spoke equally harshly. “Don’t speak of that.”

  “I might just need to talk to that policeman who is here. Don’t you think he’d want to know?”

  “You can’t do that!”

  “Oh, can’t I?” she taunted.

  “You’ll ruin me. Think of my children, Delia.”

  “Maybe you should have thought of them back when you first kissed me. Let go of my arm, now.”

  “Don’t tell him, please.”

  A moment later Delia emerged into the hall proper and swept toward me. I didn’t have time to even turn away before she saw me and stopped short.

  Her nostrils flared and she set her fists on her hips. “What are you doing there? Were you spying on me?”

  Caught in the act. Could I extricate myself? “Hello, Delia,” I said. “I was just, ah, looking for my cloak. Are there hooks there under the stairs?”

  She snorted. “Somehow I doubt that’s what you were doing. I don’t care.” She tossed her head. “Tell me, where’s that detective you’re so chummy with? I have something juicy to tell him.”

  “Kevin Donovan?”

  She nodded.

  “He left a few minutes ago.”

  “Damnation.” She must have seen my reaction, because she added, “Excuse my language.” The apology did not sound sincere in the slightest.

  “What does thee need to tell him?”

  “Like I’d share that with you, Miss Proper Quaker.” She tossed her head and flounced into the sitting room.

  I was torn between wanting to follow her and wishing to speak with Ransom. I chose the latter and continued down the hall. I found the space where the two had conversed, indeed a nook where coats and jackets hung from hooks and hats rested on a shelf above. But Ransom had vanished. I peered down the hallway, which likely led to the kitchen. I sighed. I wasn’t going to chase him through the house. I went back into the foyer and was about to head off in search of Orpha when I heard rustling from the stairs. I looked up to see Priscilla perched about ten steps up, her chin resting on her knees. Had she heard everything?