Florence Nightingale Comedy Mysteries Box Set

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Florence Nightingale Comedy Mysteries Box Set Page 27

by Barbara Silkstone


  “We have kept the lady in the far wing and those who serve her have been instructed not to engage her in conversation. We are told she is running out of patience and has threatened to leap from a turret if she is not freed,” the Queen said with a bit of a smirk. “I imagine that is her choice. Tantrums are such pointless indulgences.”

  Her Majesty was becoming more and more of a wit, in a wicked way.

  “Let me propose the following with Your Majesty’s approval,” Florence said. “I will accompany Lord Melbourne to Mrs. Ponsonby’s quarters for there is sure to be a scene when she is informed of Lady Julia’s murder. There is no sense in upsetting the quietude of these rooms; we will endure the theatrics in the far wing. Further I can protect His Lordship from her clutches.”

  “I will meet with her alone—” Lord Melbourne began.

  It was amusing to observe Florence give him one of her best haughty looks. “Sir, you may be the Prime Minister of England, but that flighty woman has you wrapped around her finger like a little gold band. No. I will accompany you.” She rose and he joined her.

  Looking at Florence for confirmation that I was to join them, she motioned me to be seated. “We will reconvene here as soon as our tasks are completed…if that pleases Your Majesty.” A sigh of relief escaped my lips as I watched Florence and his Lordship leave our company. I did not wish to be part of the drama that was sure to ensue when they broke the sad news to Mrs. Ponsonby.

  Chapter 21

  Granny and I looked at the Queen for direction. She patted the settee and called to her spaniel. Dash leaped up and she took him into her arms burying her face in his silky coat. The only sound in the room were the footsteps of Florence and Lord Melbourne fading in the distance as they left to break the news of Lady Julia’s death to Cecile Ponsonby.

  Wishing to avoid further instructions regarding Lady Beryl, I delayed by asking a question that had been scratching at the corners of my mind. “Your Majesty, if I may be so bold, my curiosity can’t be contained. What has happened to Mr. Olson or Mr. Plotter or whatever name he goes by. Has his punishment been determined?” We had left Athens in June with the jewel thief under the Dragoon guard.

  Her Majesty threw back her shoulders as if to relieve a great weight. “He has not been sentenced yet, but only because the torment of an unknown fate is often worse than the fate itself. Let him wonder as to what end his heinous crime has brought him.” She kissed the top of Dash’s head.

  “And Dr. Carbuncle?” I asked recalling how clearly set the cranky old physician was against Florence establishing a school for women in medicine.

  “The doctor no longer practices medicine. He has taken to teaching young men to be physicians and mesmerizing patients,” Queen Victoria shook her head in disgust. “He is determined to fill the ranks of medical practitioners with men and to discourage women at all costs.”

  “The doctor’s thinking is so antiquated!” If he were present I would bounce my India rubber ball off the top of his balding pate so irritated was I.

  The Queen lowered her voice, forcing me to draw in closer to hear her words. “The reason a buyer for the emerald which will fund Miss Nightingale’s school has not yet been found is because there is a rumor circulating that the jewel is cursed. We are of the firm belief that Dr. Carbuncle has created the false story. If we had proof, we would command him to correct this falsehood and confess his motivation before Parliament.” She scratched behind one of Dash’s floppy ears.” We would also need witnesses who are willing to stand against him.”

  She eased the dog off her lap and stood. “But now, Miss Poppy, I believe your singular investigative talents are required in Lady Beryl’s chambers. Mrs. Throckmorten, please join me in the herb garden. Let us see what delightful aromas are in bloom.” Nodding to Granny, she clapped her hands and a Dragoon appeared at the far end of the parlor.

  “We would have two guards accompany us into the herb gardens. And please allow Miss Throckmorten to pass into the corridors. Let no one hinder her as she is on a royal errand.”

  I curtseyed and stepped away concealing a chuckle at Granny’s delighted reaction to being invited to spend time with the Queen. The silent laugh soon became a stricture in my throat as I entered the corridor heading in the general direction of the quarters for the ladies-in-waiting. Lady Beryl remained the key suspect in the murder of Lady Julia and that did nothing to ease my nerves.

  Stopping in frustration, it was evident I did not have a clue as to where I was going. I was considering retracing my steps to the Queen’s parlor to ask the guards for directions, when my blue-eyed guardian angel appeared. “Psst!” Moon stood in an alcove curling one finger in a come-hither motion. Since I was lost and needed help—it sounded like a reasonable excuse to compromise my reputation—I came towards him, slipping into the recess.

  The footman hesitated, almost but not quite touching me as such an offense by a servant would be unpardonable; but since we had become old hands at unpardonable affection I looked forward to his hand on my arm. “Please be careful, Miss Throckmorten. After what happened to Lady Julia, until we find the killer no lady is safe.” His eyes held such tenderness I all but melted.

  “May I escort you?” he asked.

  A sigh of relief escaped my lips. I should have thought to request a guard. It was foolish of me to wander the dimly lit halls on my way to a murderess’s chambers with a killer on the loose. Perhaps I was in double jeopardy?

  “Please do accompany me. I am on my way to Lady Beryl’s room.”

  “Is she not a —” Moon’s words were cut off by a nasally voice.

  “Excuse me, Miss Throckmorten but I could not help but overhear your conversation.” Lord Cumberland’s wife, Duchess Frederica towered over me. “I am on my way to my chambers and would enjoy a turn about the mezzanine. It will give us a chance to get better acquainted. I can show you to Lady Beryl’s rooms.”

  The Duchess turned on Moon and without asking my permission, dismissed him. I felt like a child who had almost grasped a sweet only to have it pulled away. Moon stepped back with a bow while I reluctantly joined the Duchess of Cumberland also known as the Queen of Hanover. How did she keep her titles organized for I had heard at least two more mentioned in conversation? I was glad to be plain little Miss Poppy Throckmorten.

  “So tell me about yourself, Miss Throckmorten,” Her Highness asked. It seemed an innocent enough question. She was not like the sniffy supercilious woman I had at first encountered. Her new behavior put me immediately on guard for a raven does not change its spots.

  “There is not much to tell,” I spoke to humor her. “I assist Miss Nightingale as she makes ready to establish a school for nurses. Other than that I am your average sixteen-year-old girl. I have no designs on marriage and no particular talents.” I reached in my pocket and squeezed my India rubber ball for reassurance.

  The Duchess looked down at me with a certain fondness—like a snake exhibiting affection toward a baby mouse. “Do you know Lady Beryl well?”

  She was prying and I was determined not to give way. “I don’t really know her at all, but I do feel sorry for her. You must know she discovered Lady Julia’s body.” I studied the expression on her face to see if she was swallowing my story of pity for Lady Beryl.

  “I have heard of the murder of young Julia. I was away from the Palace when it occurred but was shaken to the core to learn it happened just outside the Queen’s parlor door. Gossip has it that Miss Nightingale has been asked to find the killer. Is your friend skilled in such matters?”

  Tread cautiously, I told myself saying the first thing that came into my mind. “Florence has an instinct for such things.” Instincts are like ghosts; the listener must accept their existence without details.

  Frederica was not put off—a talent possessed by most chronically nosey people. “Does your mentor have a thought as to who plunged the blade into the back of that darling girl?”

  Pretending I didn’t hear her question I glanced ove
r my shoulder sensing we were being followed. To my great relief I saw the bright blue eyes of Moon. There is something about me that compels men to want to protect me. Moon was now behaving like Roger.

  It was a comfort to find him watching us for although Florence was certain Lady Beryl was the killer, who knew what other evildoers lurked in these hallowed halls? I looked up at the huge portraits that lined the walls; the haughty eyes of each titled lord or lady seemed to be watching me.

  Chapter 22

  The Duchess remained silent. The obedient side of me felt obliged to give her some answer no matter how inadequate. “Often I am unaware of how Miss Nightingale’s instincts are directing her,” I tried to catch a peek at Frederica’s face to see if she was swallowing my answer. “All I can do is observe and learn. Florence is the teacher. I am the student.”

  Frederica adjusted the rings on her fingers as if trying to decide whether to confide in me. Her next words sent me reeling. “Take care not to be alone with Lady Beryl for I have my doubts about the woman.”

  I looked up at her, the candlelight glinting off the gray-blonde hair that curved down over each of her powdered cheeks making her look every bit her sixty years. When someone warns me, I do try to pay attention although I am not always successful. This time I really tried. “Please share the details that prompt such a warning,” I requested.

  She put a bejeweled finger to her thin rouged lips. “Let it go no further, but Lady Beryl’s uncle was a notorious highway man who is known to have killed women as well as men. Things run in families you know.” Her whispered words cut through me like an ice-cold wind.

  “Well here we are,” she said, indicating a set of dark wooden doors. “These are my chambers, hardly befitting the Queen of Hanover. Lord Cumberland is a king in our country and rightfully should be the King of England. But he is a man with a good heart and as such he will support his niece, even though she is naïve and unfit to wear the crown.” With that she opened the door to her room, at the same time pointing further down the hall. “Take that walkway to the next atrium and from there you will see a branching. Take the branch to the right and you will come to the ladies’ quarters.

  Certain she had mentioned Lady Beryl’s room was near hers; I felt she had manipulated me. I would be on guard next time. Perhaps I had learned something, at the least I had learned more about Lady Beryl. It might be common knowledge but nonetheless I would be sure to tell Florence.

  “That was a bit of a walkabout the Duchess of Cumberland took you on.” Moon appeared from the shadows and matched his steps with mine. “You were closer to the rooms occupied by the ladies-in-waiting before she decided to take you on a stroll. I imagine she was prodding you with questions. She is a nosey one, that one is.”

  Relieved to have him at my side again, I said nothing but simply smiled.

  “I will see you safely to the Lady Beryl’s room, but then must leave you for a bit. I am required to spend my time below stairs as I am on call. Once I make my presence known to my superior I will return and wait outside the door for you. It is worrisome that you are visiting the key suspect in Lady Julia’s murder. Have you a weapon hidden in the folds of your dress? A derringer in your garters, perhaps?”

  I gasped. I was rendered breathless and certain that my face was flushed. When I caught my breath I noticed the mischievous smile on Moon’s face. He was much too cheeky. “How dare you say that word in my presence!

  “Garters?” He said, grinning like my brother Archie when he thinks he has pulled a trick on me. “Garters. Garters!” he teased.

  “Hush!” I waved my hand to quiet him. Taking my command he ceased talking and assumed a serious demeanor. We walked the length of the hall and then into one branch of a passageway.

  “Well, do you carry a weapon? You should you know. The guards cannot be everywhere in the Palace.” He stepped ahead of me and with a quirky grin said, “I did see you whip that little India rubber ball once. You can be deadly accurate or was that just an accident?”

  “Why would I let you know my dearest secrets?” I said.

  “If that is your best secret then I am more taken with you than you can imagine.”

  He fell back into step at my side. “The first time I saw you plummet from the carriage in front of the Palace, I was smitten. You are one delightful surprise after another. But please stay on your guard.”

  He looked ahead, allowing a heavy sigh. “I worry about your meeting with Lady Beryl but if you are on a mission—which I assume you are—then she shan’t attempt anything. The Queen, Lord Melbourne, and Miss Nightingale must know what you are about.”

  “It is this door to the right. I will wait until you are safely inside and then return as quickly as I can.”

  It was with a cold sinking feeling that I gathered myself, preparing to act the part of someone wishing to befriend a killer. I reminded myself that one of my assignments was to see if Lady Beryl had a blotter or anything similar on her desk that matched the enameled blade used to kill Lady Julia. The only proof of her guilt was the blood on her hands which was not conclusive—not enough to see her hang. Hang! I shuddered as I knocked on her door.

  Chapter 23

  A maid greeted me at the door—a maid for a lady’s maid. The woman permitted me entrance but asked that I wait in the tiny foyer. While left alone I subtly peered into the sitting room. Pinpointing the location of a writing desk I determined to see if it held any clues.

  As I stood there my nerves began to race out of control. I practiced deep breathing as Florence had taught me. By the time Lady Beryl appeared beckoning me to enter the room, I had huffed so hard that I came close to passing out. I was certain I looked a mess. The suspected killer—Lady Beryl—insisted I take a seat in a tapestried chair. At least she wasn’t threatening me and she hadn’t whipped out a blade, so far so good. Perhaps instead of an offer of friendship I should play the pity card?

  Once the dizzy spell passed I decided it was best to follow Florence’s instructions and so I began my barely rehearsed speech about concern for the situation Lady Beryl found herself in. “I cannot stop dwelling on how horrific it must have been for you to come upon Lady Julia, her body still warm and the killer nearby. I thought you might like some company.” There. That sounded believable.

  The look on her face can only be described as bemused. I was certain she was considering whether I was testing her in a completely inadequate manner or perhaps was the most gullible witness at the scene of the crime.

  “Finding Julia’s body haunts me. I have re-experienced it many times since the night before last.” As she spoke she waved her maid from the sitting room. “But tell me, why are you really here? You did not exactly exude friendship when I was coerced into accompanying you to Brocket Hall. And then to be shunted aside with that awful Mrs. Ponsonby!” She shook herself like an agitated dog.

  Since her eyes were fixed upon me as she read my reactions I thought it wise not to be obvious in my spying. “I am sorry if I was rude in any way. It was not intentional. My concern was—” here I hesitated as I could not give away the Queen’s worries for Lord Melbourne—“about my manners. I am but a simple country girl and not accustomed to the etiquettes at court. Whenever I have a moment, I find myself reevaluating my most recent performances.”

  “I do understand,” she said in a curiously sincere manner. “I come from a background I would prefer not to discuss but there have been many times when, how shall I put it, I fear my petticoat is showing? I have a feeling I do not fit in with the other ladies who attend the Queen, although Her Majesty did choose me to be her personal dresser. It is an honor I do not take lightly.”

  Now I began to feel a teeny bit sorry for the woman. Could she really be a cold-blooded killer when she chatted so freely and openly confessed her self-doubts? She was so open with me.

  “I will try to be nicer to you in the future. If you ever need anything, please just ask me.” I had set the stage for my request which I hoped would send her f
rom the room long enough to have a look at her desk.

  “Let us be friends then,” she said. “If there is anything you need during your stay or if I can advise you, you have only to ask.”

  Placing the back of my hand on my forehead, I feigned dizziness. “May I take advantage of your offer and ask for a cup of water? I don’t feel very well.”

  “If that is all you ever ask of me Miss Throckmorten, I should consider it an easy bargain we have struck.” She called for her maid but when the girl did not respond, I increased my performance even convincing myself that I was about to faint.

  Lady Beryl rose from her chair and left the room in pursuit of water. As soon as the door to what must have been the adjoining bedroom closed, I jumped from my seat and dashed to her desk. Perhaps dashed isn’t the best word as in my eagerness I tripped over the hem of my skirt and teetered against the small table next to my chair. Happily my expert timing and experience in such matters allowed me to grab the candlestick before it fell over.

  Holding my breath I righted the drippy wax taper and finished my rush to the desk. Handheld blotters are usually left out on the top of the desk as they carry a smudge of ink that requires air-drying. Aside from a small vase of flowers, there was nothing on the top of the desk. I looked in all the open compartments at the back but saw no writing implements. Lady Beryl would be returning any minute. I felt beads of moisture soaking through my chemise. Dare I look in the drawers?

  Florence would be disappointed if I failed to complete my assignment. Lord Melbourne might be present when she asked and that would double my humiliation. All this ran through my head like a herd of ants at a picnic.

  I opened the center drawer cringing as it creaked. There lay a wooden ink blotter and matching letter opener side by side. The murder weapon did not belong to Lady Beryl—but the voice behind me did.

 

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