Florence Nightingale Comedy Mysteries Box Set

by Barbara Silkstone

  “When was the last time you saw Lady Julia?”

  “Earlier in the day, perhaps just after breakfast,” she sniffled her response, again dabbing at her nose.

  Dash began to bark so the Queen settled him in her lap, where he reduced his sound to a low growl. His agitation caused the hairs on my arms to rise. Because he had placed his furry paws over his head I could not see where he was looking.

  Florence continued to stroke Athena as she approached the two ladies sitting at the Queen’s feet. “Lady Anne, have you any knowledge as to Lady Julia’s whereabouts within the last few hours?”

  Removing a lock of auburn hair that had fallen into her eyes, Lady Anne spoke fearfully. Her voice was hardly above a whisper as she said; “I saw her leaving the palace on foot—alone; it was just before lunch.”

  “Was Lady Julia sent on an errand?” Florence asked the Queen, who denied having dispatched her; she then queried the person most likely to send the apprentice on a mission. “Lady Beryl, did you send Julia?”

  Beryl put aside her weeping long enough to take umbrage at the question. “I would never send one of the ladies unescorted and without a carriage. She had no reason to be out of the palace.”

  I noticed that Marianne seemed to be fading into the wallpaper, which was one of the behavioral clues Florence taught me to observe. It was a sign of withholding information.

  “Miss Nightingale, I believe Lady Marianne has some information she would like to share,” I said trying to sound like a professional assistant detective. Stricken, the woman looked like a child caught with her hand on the pastry tray.

  Florence pinned Lady Marianne with an icy glare. The look was so chilling that the woman immediately gave up what she knew. “Lady Julia was on her way to the Queen’s dressmaker—in Westminster.”

  “But why would she go there when we always summon the dressmaker to the palace? We do not go to tradespeople; they come to us.” The Queen was offended and did not attempt to hide her feelings.

  Marianne chewed on her lower lip fighting back tears. “Julia’s father recently sent her extra pin money.” She faced the Queen. “It was her wish to buy something special for Your Majesty. She intended it to be a surprise, some ribbons you might wear for luck when you meet Prince Albert; that was why she wished to go alone. She only told me because I pressed her to reveal her intentions.” Having given her handkerchief to Lady Beryl, Marianne resorted to a series of sniffles.

  Bringing Athena up to her lips as if to kiss the owlet, Florence drew all attention to her face thus being able to observe the expressions of the four ladies as they watched her. “Did you see her when she returned from the dressmaker?” Her question was addressed to Marianne, but her eyes darted from one lady-in-waiting to another.

  Marianne shook her head slowly, tears pooling in her dark eyes.

  Florence paced up and down, her dark blue cape swirling with each turn. I concentrated on the faces of the silent women. Lady Anne and Lady Jane looked up at my mentor’s imposing figure as she stomped back and forth. Beryl seemed fixated on the Queen, while Marianne stared at her hands refusing to meet anyone’s eyes. She knows more than she is telling. I made a mental note to inform Florence.

  “Does anyone have anything else to add?” Queen Victoria asked. “Is there a shadow of recollection of seeing Lady Julia this afternoon? Did anyone see her when she returned from the dressmaker? If not, you may be excused to prepare yourselves for mourning.”

  The four ladies-in-waiting left the room, each shaken to the core. They made a wide detour around the spot where Lady Julia’s body had been.

  Florence settled on the ottoman at the Queen’s feet. It was a familiar thing to do, not entirely proper, but not improper. The furrow between Victoria’s dark brows had deepened, and there was—I hesitated to think this—a look of pleading in her blue eyes.

  “Your Majesty, say nothing other than words of comfort to your ladies. I will speak again in private to Lady Marianne for she is withholding something.”

  I need not have worried about Marianne for Florence never misses a trick.

  “The dressmaker may know something. Is she a person of trust?” Florence asked.

  “Mrs. Dupree has been our royal dressmaker since before we ascended to the throne. We have no reason to distrust her.”

  “Dupree? She is French?” Florence asked, one brow lifted.

  “Not all the French are our enemies. I believe her mother was English; but bother that.”

  “With Your Majesty’s permission we will visit Mrs. Dupree’s shop tomorrow. We will go on the pretext of having her design a gown for me,” Florence said. “Perhaps we can learn something concerning Lady Julia’s visit.”

  The Queen’s lips turned up at the corners. I was certain she was thinking what I was thinking, that Florence could never carry off the pretense of ordering a gown as she clearly did not look like she gave a fig about fashion. Happily, before I could muster a sassy comment, Granny chimed in. She had been quiet for so long I almost forgot she was in the room.

  “Let me be the client!” Granny looked hopefully from Florence to the Queen. “I had hoped to have a gown made while we were in London. It will be a perfect excuse.” Her face lit up at the prospect of playing detective. “I will keep my eyes and ears open as they pin me. Dressmakers are a chatty lot and people find me a good listener. I should make a jolly good detective for no one ever suspects little old ladies.”

  Queen Victoria smiled. “So be it. And please tell Mrs. Dupree to put the cost on my account.”

  “I think it best if we do not indicate we are there on your behalf, Your Majesty,” Florence said. “We will be three ladies from Derbyshire staying at…hmm…where can we be reached besides the Palace?”

  This was turning into a right proper investigation. I could not contain my excitement despite the death of Lady Julia. “Can we pretend to be staying at Brown’s Hotel as befits women who can afford to visit the Queen’s dressmaker? It is rumored to be the finest hotel in London.” Reality for me can be like a soap bubble, it grows and grows and then floats on a breeze, dancing away. Florence gave me one of her bubble-bursting looks but said nothing. Perhaps I was not taking our detective work seriously.

  “We will make arrangements to have you registered at Brown’s under your name, Mrs. Throckmorten. Mrs. Dupree can leave messages there for you if Miss Nightingale feels that would be appropriate. However, we wish you to leave in the morning for Brocket Hall. Lord Melbourne must be informed of Lady Julia’s murder. The disturbing news should come from you and not by courier. We are certain he will wish to be here for us.”

  In all the mayhem I had forgotten about Lord Melbourne. He was the reason we had come to London.

  Chapter 5

  Florence lowered her voice despite the fact that we were alone with the Queen. “I will need time this evening for a private chat with Lady Marianne. Would Your Majesty be so kind as to have her sent to our rooms late this evening? May I request that the other ladies not be made aware of her meeting with us?”

  Queen Victoria nodded wearily, the full impact of the day finally affecting her demeanor. “Perhaps Captain Wainright will have discovered the murderer by then.”

  The expression on Florence’s face said she doubted the Captain would be successful.

  With a few more words of bewilderment concerning the tragedy of the day, the Queen excused us and we were off to our chambers, following a servant who was regrettably not Moon.

  Immediately upon entering our suite, Florence requested fresh well water, a small stiff brush, and the strongest soap available. The maid quickly returned with a pitcher, a brush, and a cake of white soap. She filled a hand bowl and stood by while Florence scrubbed her hands with the brush, soaking and re-soaking her hands. After about one-quarter of an hour, she allowed the maid to pour the remaining water over her hands.

  I wondered how my friend had endured the thought of the things her hands had touched. Satisfied that she had removed m
ost of the germs, Florence settled in to wait for Marianne.

  Lady Marianne perched in a chair in the small parlor off the bedchambers Florence, Granny, and I now occupied. I had yet to see the footman who made my toes tingle, and I dared not ask about him, despite the knot of anticipation that grew in my stomach. Was he still employed by the Queen or had he been sent elsewhere?

  In an effort to put Marianne at ease, Florence requested a decanter of sherry and a plate of madeleines. Granny and I sat bolt upright on a light green settee, while Florence took the other button-backed chair close to the lady-in-waiting. Acting as hostess, she poured sherry into a dainty crystal glass and offered it to the shivering Marianne. After hesitating, the woman accepted it with a quavering hand.

  Florence poured a second glass and offered it to Granny. Rather than sully her own reputation as a teetotaler and in turn affecting mine, she did not pour for us.

  “Lady Marianne, I know more than you think I know,” Florence said.

  I loved when she bluffed as it often worked. The woman looked stricken.

  “You spoke to Lady Julia when she returned from the dressmaker. Tell me what she said.”

  Marianne took a tiny sip of the sherry, and then surrendering to what she knew must be the inevitable, she bolted down the entire glass of amber liquid and prepared to recount what she knew. Drawing in her lower lip, she stared first into the glass and then as the sherry warmed her she shared her story.

  “What I tell you must not leave this room for I have a bad feeling that knowing anything about poor Lady Julia would surely bring the same fate upon me.”

  Granny inched closer, her breath hot against my neck.

  “It was not exactly what Julia said, but how she said it,” Marianne whispered. “Lady Julia was terrified by something she overheard at the dressmaker’s shop. She said she must tell the Queen immediately.”

  “And that was why she was outside the Queen’s parlor?” Florence asked.

  “I don’t know. We spoke for barely a moment and then she hurried away.” Marianne put her hands to her face hiding from the memory.

  “Do you have any idea what she heard? Did she give a hint as to what upset her?”

  “No. That was the last time I saw her—alive. I should have gone with her.”

  “Could she have shared her secret with anyone else?” Florence asked.

  “Perhaps. She was in a tizzy and I had a pillowslip I was embroidering. I returned to my work as Lady Julia ran off. I shall always regret not accompanying her but she did insist what she heard was a hush-hush. I am responsible for her death, I might have protected her.”

  “If she felt threatened she could have called for a guard or asked you to accompany her. You are not to blame for her death.” Florence patted Marianne on the shoulder, while urging her to stand. “You may leave us but first let Poppy see if the way is clear. Let our meeting remain undisclosed.”

  Knowing an order when I heard one, I went to the door, eased it open and looked about. The way was clear. Motioning to Lady Marianne, I let her slip by and gently closed the door, thinking it wise to lock it.

  Granny poured herself another spot of sherry and nibbled on her third madeleine. I resumed my place waiting to hear what if any conclusions Florence might share.

  “I am now fairly certain of the murder’s identity after hearing Marianne’s bits, but I have not worked out the why of it. I shall not keep the name of the killer to myself for it would be a danger to the Queen,” Florence said. It worried me that she had reached her conclusion so quickly. I mulled over the things we had seen and heard, nurturing an inkling as to the identity of Julia’s slayer.

  “Put on your cloaks for the halls will be chilly.” Florence walked toward the door. “We are going to see the Queen to inform her of the most cold-blooded of killers.”

  Chapter 6

  Holding Granny’s hand, as much for my comfort as hers, we followed Florence to the Queen’s quarters where two Dragoons met us, each wearing an expression that gave me the wobbles. They crossed their lances to demonstrate that they were barring our way, but we were not deterred. I donned my most fierce expression and reached in my pocket to confirm my India rubber ball was handy.

  “We have urgent business with the Queen,” Florence said.

  “The Queen has retired for the night. She has forbidden anyone to call upon her,” the taller of the guards growled.

  “Who attends her at this moment?” Florence asked, locking eyes with the man.

  “Baroness Lehzen,” the guard answered, his tone mollified by Florence’s forcefulness.

  “Then summon the Baroness to summon the Queen. It is a matter of the greatest urgency.”

  After much falderal, and a whispered word to Victoria’s former governess we were admitted to the Queen’s sitting room. Florence circled the room looking for suspicious bits and bobs, anything that might spell hidden danger or heaven forbid—germs.

  After what seemed like forever, the Queen entered the room accompanied by her watchdog and former governess, the Baroness Lehzen—a stern woman who wore peevishness like a mantle. Victoria appeared every bit a young girl with her hair hanging in loose ringlets down her back and a slight flush to her cheeks. Her pale pink robe concealed all but the lace trim at the bottom of her nightgown.

  The Baroness showed her concern for our late night call by placing her hands on her hips, and darting her eyes over each one of us as if we meant the Queen harm, despite our words of danger to Victoria.

  Florence executed a half curtsy, while Granny and I performed our usual fumbling. I must remember to stand away from my grandmother when bowing; despite our diminutive frames we both required more elbowroom than the average female.

  Her Majesty studied Florence’s demeanor and stated the obvious. “You have learned something of importance from Lady Marianne. Tell us, I mean me.”

  “Apologies Your Majesty, but this cannot wait until morning. You must be made aware of the possible identity of the murderer in our midst,” Florence said. We had yet to sit for the urgency of the matter did not allow us the opportunity to take a seat.

  “I am most certain Julia’s killer was Lady Beryl,” Florence said in a low voice. “My instincts told me something was out of place when she first entered the room in a cloud of histrionics. I saw that despite her state of mind, she took the time to tuck her handkerchief in her sleeve. Before she put the cloth out of sight, I noticed that it bore two tiny red stains. I was immediately alerted.”

  Florence has eyes like a hungry hawk. She can see the spots on a ladybug from a meter a way. Okay, that might be a teeny exaggeration.

  The Queen’s face took on a peculiar look. I had never seen the full force of her anger and braced myself for screams of off with her head! She surprised me by remaining silent.

  “Making it a point to take Lady Beryl’s hands in a gesture of comfort, I detected a stickiness and a small line of blood under two of her nails,” Florence continued. “It was best not to remark on that but to let her think it was not noticeable. I wished to allow her to create a web which might entrap her.”

  “What motive could Lady Beryl have to murder Julia?” Victoria asked her tone so deadly cool; I wondered if Florence had gone too far and upset the monarch with her accusation. “If you are wrong, her family will make quite a public cry of my having wrongfully condemned one of my closest companions and a woman long respected at court.”

  “I distinctly asked her if she touched the body and she said no. If she spoke the truth then why did she have blood on her hands? If she did not touch the body, why did she hide her stained handkerchief in her sleeve? Instead of using her own cloth, she borrowed Marianne’s to staunch her tears. Her behavior marks her as either a liar or a murderess—more likely the latter. She had nothing to gain by denying the fact that she lay her hands on the body of a friend to see if she was truly dead.”

  Baroness Lehzen was staring at Victoria. “Leibling, you are much too pale, I fear you may faint.
You must be seated.”

  I had suspected Lady Beryl from the first but I am only an assistant and new to this dead body investigating business. A feeling of satisfaction filled me for I had been right. At the Queen’s request we each took a chair.

  Florence continued to reveal her thoughts after we were all seated while dear Granny looked nervously over her shoulder. If Lady Beryl was the killer had she gone stark raving crazy?

  “I doubt Lady Beryl was taken with a sudden streak of madness as I saw no sign of it in her eyes,” Florence said as if reading my thoughts. “There is a greater malevolence afoot; and what could be more evil than the taking of our beloved Queen’s life to put another on the throne?”

  The Baroness clutched at her chest. “I forbid you to talk of such things in the Queen’s presence, for it will give her nightmares!”

  “Hush!” Victoria said, tamping the air with her hand. “Lehzen, we are in the middle of a nightmare—talking is the only way out.” She directed her next words to Florence, “The coroner delivered his written report—it told me nothing but the obvious. Lady Julia died from a knife wound in the back. Her death was immediate. We must be certain before we condemn Lady Beryl. I cannot imagine such violence coming from any of my ladies, there is more behind this—it may well be the work of Lord Cumberland for he lingers too long at court. Let us make a plan.”

  “We do need a scheme, Your Majesty,” Florence said. “If Lady Beryl’s attack was not the result of a…”

  “Hissy fit!” I volunteered and was rewarded with a condescending look from the group.

  “An impulsive act—then there is a plot with a puzzle, a piece of which can be found at your dressmaker’s shop,” Florence said. “Marianne confirmed that Julia had overheard something while there; words so horrible she felt she must immediately bring them to your attention.”

  One of the guards rapped in a rhythmic pattern, and then stuck his head in the door. “Lady Beryl has come to attend the Queen. I told her you were not to be disturbed. When she heard voices, she inquired as to whether it was Miss Nightingale.”