Jonesie nodded, pulling out a large knife from his belt that had been hidden by his jacket. As they began to advance, Lucy stood up, hoping to be able to ward off the impending attack.
To her great relief, though, she heard shouts in the hallway. Duncan raced into the room with two bellmen, followed by Miss Water. They stopped, trying to decipher the madness before them. Pushing past the men who were now bending over Master Clifford’s body, the constable rushed to her side. “Are you alright?” He looked at her anxiously.
“Duncan! Thank God!” Lucy exclaimed. “Adam needs help! Those men are murderers! And they were trying to kill us!” She pointed at Jonesie and Burly. “Grab them!”
The bellmen leaped on the two men. As they fought to subdue them, Lucy breathlessly explained. “They killed Tilly. They were told to do it by the Earl. Or maybe Lady Cumberland. Only she’s not a lady. And he’s not an Earl.” She could hear herself babbling. “She’s upstairs with her servant, Theresa. I think the Earl has run off!”
After hearing her accusation, Duncan was barely listening. “I’ll see to the women upstairs.”
Lucy watched the bellmen wrestle Jonesie and Burly out of the house. The room was quiet except for the muffled sound of Sulwen weeping into her hands. “We’re a pair, aren’t we?” she whispered to Adam. “Always getting set upon by murderous sorts.” The flow of blood seemed to have staunched a bit. Grimly, Lucy pulled off more of her petticoat. As she continued to wipe his face with the wine-soaked cloth, she could see great burns starting to appear by his ear. “Cook will make you a special salve,” she said softly. “Don’t you worry.”
Duncan shouting her name from somewhere upstairs broke through her rising hysterics. “Lucy! They’ve taken poison! We need an emetic.”
“What?”
“Lady Cumberland. As well as her servant. That old woman. They both took poison.”
Lucy’s mind flew to the conversation Dr. Larimer had with Sheridan, concerning Culpeper’s antidotes to poison. “Sulwen! Have you mustard seed! Or rosemary?”
“Yes, miss. We have both. In the kitchen!”
“Stay with Master Hargrave,” she ordered Sulwen. “Hold this cloth to his head, just so. Do not leave him, do you understand me?”
Though she hated to leave Adam’s side, she rushed to the kitchen. Murmuring a quick thanks that she’d paid attention when the physician had questioned his assistant, she began to grind up the rosemary and mustard and dissolved it in a bit of hot water that Sulwen already had on the fire. Lucy poured the brew into two cups, and returned to the dining room, a steaming cup in each hand. Miss Water was kneeling anxiously beside Adam as well.
As she passed by, she heard Adam groaning. “I’m alright.” He was already struggling to sit up. “I’m just having some problems hearing you.”
“Sulwen!” Lucy said. “Take this cup and come with me.” Seeing Sulwen’s dull eyes, she stamped her foot. This was no time to go into shock. “Now! Do you want your lady to die?”
Sulwen took the second cup, and her eyes seemed to clear.
“This way!” Duncan shouted. Lucy and Sulwen raced up the stairs, being careful not to spill the brew. As they neared the top of the stairs, they could hear terrible groaning and moaning behind a room at the end of the passageway. There they found Lady Cumberland and Theresa both clutching their stomachs and turning a nasty shade of purple.
Remembering how she’d seen Dr. Larimer force brew down the throats of ailing people, Lucy grabbed Lady Cumberland by the hair, yanking her head back. “Down her throat! Quickly!” she called to Sulwen, pouring the brew between the struggling woman’s clenched lips. Saying another quick prayer that she was not hastening Lady Cumberland’s death, Lucy placed her hand over the woman’s mouth, forcing her to swallow the concoction.
Despite the woman’s contortions, Lucy managed to get it all down her throat. She released her, laying her down.
“Oh no!” She heard Sulwen cry. To her dismay, she saw Theresa had knocked the cup out of Sulwen’s hands.
“Sulwen, there’s more in the kitchen! Get it!” But the girl still didn’t move, so entranced was she by the old servant’s convulsions.
Quickly, the emetic starting working on Lady Cumberland as she began to wretch violently, heaving out the contents of her stomach. Within a few moments, she stopped and lay on the ground, panting heavily and glaring at Lucy.
“Theresa!” Sulwen said. The servant stopped contorting and lay back, her face a terrible purple and her tongue black. She was dead.
22
Within thirty minutes, Adam, Lucy, and Miss Water were on their way to Master Hargrave’s home. Duncan had requisitioned a hackney cab for them with surprising swiftness, before he set off with his bellman to capture the Earl. The two-mile ride to Master Hargrave’s home was grueling. Adam’s head had stopped bleeding, but he seemed very groggy. “What happened to him?” Miss Water asked Lucy, watching her cradle Adam’s head against her shoulder to absorb the shocks of the road. “It happened so fast! Was he struck by a bullet?”
Lucy shook her head, trying to keep the tears from flowing. “I think the pistol exploded. That’s why he has gunpowder all over his face. His head might be damaged. I hope Dr. Larimer received the message from the bellman that Duncan sent! We need him desperately.” She sighed in relief when she saw the physician and Master Hargrave awaiting them in front of the magistrate’s home.
As the bellman helped Adam inside to his bedchamber, Lucy gave as succinct an account of his injuries as she could. She could barely stand to look at the magistrate, whose face had grown drawn and anxious.
For a few minutes she was not allowed in the room while the physician completed a cursory examination. She gave a quick account to Cook and Annie. Without a word, Cook set to making a salve for burns, and Lucy showed Annie how to make bandages by stripping an old sheet.
When the physician opened the door to Adam’s room, Lucy was standing there, with a basin of warm water and some clothes. “Cook is making a salve,” she said, peering into the room.
Dr. Larimer nodded approvingly at Lucy. “Good girl,” he said. “You’ve certainly been helpful.”
Lucy felt like she’d been punched in the gut. If it hadn’t been for her, Adam wouldn’t have been injured at all. She felt her eyes fill with tears, which she blinked quickly away. The physician didn’t speak again as he bandaged the left side of Adam’s head, except for a few murmurs here and there to Mister Sheridan.
They also, to Lucy’s surprise, bandaged Adam’s right hand. He must have caught a bit of the gun shrapnel when he raised his hand to protect his head.
“Adam’s hand will heal in time,” the physician explained to the magistrate. “’Tis the blow to the side of his head I’m more worried about. He seems to be having trouble hearing. Until the swelling goes down, we will not know if there has been any permanent damage.”
Still sitting on the edge of Adam’s bed, Dr. Larimer turned to Lucy then. “How did you know to create that emetic?” he asked. “A folk remedy from your mother?”
Wearily, Lucy shook her head. “Culpeper. I was there when you discussed it with Mr. Sheridan, remember?”
“Indeed. Very quick thinking. I’m not sure my good man Sheridan would have been so handy,” he said, trying to sound hearty. “He’d still be looking for the white hellebore in the kitchen stores, I’m afraid.”
“Yes, Lucy’s a good lass,” the magistrate said, distracted.
The sickening feeling that had been bubbling in Lucy’s stomach threatened upheaval. She fled, and collapsed to weep in the old bedchamber she had once shared with Annie. The shock of the last few hours finally overwhelmed her, and she fell asleep.
* * *
When Lucy awoke, she was disoriented. Looking out the unshuttered window, she could see the moon. Someone, probably Annie, had pulled a blanket over her body as she slept. Her thoughts turned to Master Aubrey, and her work in his shop. Would he dismiss her for not having returned, she wondere
d. To be honest, she didn’t know if she even cared. Right now her only concern was how Adam was doing.
She slipped quietly down the steps to Adam’s bedchamber, and knocked softly.
“Come in,” she heard Master Hargrave reply in a low voice. When she entered, she found the magistrate seated in a chair by Adam’s bed, an unopened leather-bound book in his lap, and a solitary candle lit on the table. Seeing her, he smiled. “Did you get some sleep?”
Lucy nodded, biting her lip. He continued, “I sent John over to Master Aubrey’s a few hours ago, to let him know you were here. I didn’t say much about what had happened, but I asked him to give you some leave during this family crisis.”
The enormity of the gesture almost overwhelmed Lucy. “Oh, thank you, sir. I appreciate your kindness, even though I don’t deserve it.”
Master Hargrave glanced at Adam’s sleeping form, then back at Lucy. “Why ever don’t you deserve it? I wouldn’t want Master Aubrey to release you from his employ. I know you’ve been an excellent apprentice, and keen on the work.”
She gulped. Tears threatened to overwhelm her. This is all my fault, she wanted to scream, but she couldn’t speak.
“Lucy, dear,” the magistrate said, alarmed at her tears. “You’ve been through another terrible ordeal.” He handed her his handkerchief. “Pray do not weep. I would appreciate if you could help me understand what transpired this evening. Adam’s condition has made me rather remiss in asking questions, yet I must endeavor to understand. If you would?” He indicated a small, embroidered footstool beside the bed.
Sighing, Lucy sat down before him. Earnestly, she explained all they had learned before the pistol had exploded in Master Clifford’s hands.
The magistrate closed his eyes as she spoke, listening intently to her halting narrative. When she paused, he opened his eyes. His smile a bit sad, he said, “As always, my dear, I’m enthralled by your tales.” He paused. “So let me see if I’ve gotten this straight. The luckless Amelie, a servant in the Earl’s household, and young Master Clifford fell in love and at some point she became pregnant with his child. He then took her to a small chapel in Carlisle, where they secretly wed. He gave her his father’s signet ring as a symbol of their troth. Is this all correct so far?” At Lucy’s nod, he continued. “Lady Cumberland saw the ring around Amelie’s neck and confronted her as a thief. Amelie told her the truth, and our Countess promptly threw her out of the house, because she could not bear the scandal. She spread the word that Amelie was a thief and told her own son that he had been cuckolded, that the babe was not his own. Rather than talking to his wife, Master Clifford opted to believe his mother’s wicked tales. In the meantime, Lady Cumberland had her husband’s manservant kill the priest who had performed the marriage. I’m not sure what happened next.”
“Then, not too long later, Master Clifford, in his despair, took the poison,” Lucy explained. “Lady Cumberland used this story to further hurt Amelie’s reputation.” Here, Lucy could hardly hide the contempt in her voice. “She let it be known that Amelie had tried to kill the young master, or helped someone else do it, in her anger at being cast from the house—I read the broadside that said so.” She swallowed before continuing. “I didn’t know Amelie, but I would wager that she was so sad with the faithlessness of her lover, and so weakened by her condition, her heart just broke.” Lucy sat silently for a moment. “When Ashton Hendricks returned, just before his daughter died giving birth to the baby, he went mad with grief himself, and began to try to bring down the Earl and his family, in a desperate attempt to seek revenge on his daughter’s behalf. I believe at that point he began to follow the Earl, making several failed attempts on his life.”
Master Hargrave stroked his chin thoughtfully. “You said that Tilly and Jacques were blackmailing the Earl and his son, is that correct? How do you suppose that came to be?”
“Jacques said he invited the Earl to the game, knowing of his fondness—weakness, truly—for gambling,” Lucy said, recollecting her earlier conversation with the card sharp. “The Earl said that when he was tippling down, he might have said too much. Tilly was the sort to seize upon such knowledge when a man had been taking spirits, and seek to use it to her own advantage.”
“Well, that brings us to the Cheshire Cheese, and perhaps to Tilly’s murder.”
“I think that Lady Cumberland sent Theresa to poison her, just as she had the priest killed. Maybe Burly and Jonesie were there to finish the job.” She sighed. “Hopefully the constable can sort that out.”
“But we still don’t know who killed Tahmin, do we?” the magistrate asked gently.
“Burly and Jonesie, I imagine,” Lucy said, and she explained about the Earl’s bodyguards. “Durand said Tilly had set the men on Tahmin, to let them think he was the one blackmailing the Earl. I’m certain they killed Tilly. They must have figured it out when she blackmailed them again, I suppose, and attempted to kill Durand too.”
“Perhaps,” the magistrate clucked softly. “Somehow that explanation doesn’t seem sufficient to me. But I’m tired. Maybe nothing makes sense to me in this state.”
“I’ll stay with him, sir. Please, get some sleep.”
She began to dab softly at Adam’s face, wiping away some of the beads of sweat that had formed. Behind her, she heard the door close as the magistrate headed to his own chambers down the corridor.
* * *
In the morning, Constable Duncan stopped by with some news. Lucy was in Master Hargraves drawing room, writing a letter to the magistrate’s daughter Sarah, even though she didn’t know exactly where to send the note. The last she’d heard, Sarah was still in the Massachussetts Bay Colony with the other Quakers. They could only hope that good winds and a fast ship could bring her word in a timely way.
“You’ll be glad to know that Lady Cumberland is recovering from her attempt to poison herself, thanks to you,” Duncan said.
Lucy set the letter aside. “She is? I just wish we had been able to save Theresa as well.”
“Well, Lady Cumberland is fit enough to stand trial, even though Dr. Larimer thinks her insides are burned a bit from the poison. I’ll be honest, I can’t say I’m too sorry she’s in pain. Just enough to torment her ’til she swings on the Tyburn tree. Killing a man of the cloth! Bloody hell! Burly and Jones will be standing trial too.”
“Oh, is that so?” Lucy asked.
“Indeed,” the constable explained. It seemed that Burly, the dumber of the pair, had confirmed that Theresa had poisoned Tilly first. “They claim they hadn’t meant to kill Tilly, just scare her a little, as they did Durand. Burly just struck Tilly a ‘mite too hard.’”
“Do you believe that?”
“No. Lady Cumberland had made it clear that she wanted the blackmailers dead. They’re probably hoping to escape Tyburn.”
“But why have Theresa poison her first?”
Duncan shook his head. “I’m not sure. I suspect that Lady Cumberland thought Burly and Jonesie would botch the job. Maybe it was just insurance that the job would get done.”
“What about Tahmin?” Lucy asked eagerly. “Did they confess to his murder too?”
“I tell you, Lucy. ’Tis the damndest thing.” He paced back and forth. “Surely they know they’re going to swing for killing Tilly, and attempting to murder Durand. Yet they both swear up and down they did not kill Tahmin. Roughed him up, they said. Still, they didn’t kill him. Do you believe it?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know what to believe.” She paused. “What about the Earl? Have you caught him yet?”
“Not yet,” Duncan said grimly. “But we will.”
* * *
Over the next day, Lucy stayed beside Adam as much as she dared. Dr. Larimer said that it was important that someone keep an eye on him. “Sometimes, when a man is concussed, he can slip away,” the physician warned. Moreover, despite Adam’s protests to the contrary, it was obvious he was in a lot of pain and felt quite nauseous from the blow to his head. Mast
er Hargrave had wanted to hire a woman to nurse his son, but had not said another word when the servants gently insisted that they could take care of him. John, Mary, Annie, and Lucy all took turns being beside him.
That evening, as it approached midnight, Lucy drifted off while sitting on the floor beside the bed, holding Adam’s hand in her own. She’d woken to find Master Hargrave shaking her shoulder. Jerking her hand out of Adam’s, she struggled to stand hastily. “Forgive me, sir. For all of it. It’s my fault he was injured.”
“No, Lucy,” he said firmly. “Francis Clifford wielded that pistol. He is to blame, God rest his soul.”
“But Adam would not have been there if I’d not dreamed up that silly scheme.”
“Yes, I’m the one who requested that the Earl invite you to dine. So by your reasoning I am equally, if not more, at fault.” He touched Lucy’s arm. “The Earl and his wife will be the ones to stand trial.”
“If they find the Earl.” Looking at Adam, she sighed. His face was still heavily bandaged on the left side. At least his color was no longer that ghastly gray it had been after they first scraped away the gunpowder.
The magistrate looked at her kindly. “Lucy, dear. I’m not blind. To your feelings. Or to his.” He sat down on the bed beside Adam’s sleeping form. To Lucy’s surprise, he took her hand and laid it back on top of his son’s still hand. “I hope you know I do not oppose the match. Indeed, I could not imagine a dearer daughter-in-law.”
Lucy smiled tiredly. “Thank you, sir. I’m afraid, though, there are those who would shut their doors to him should he marry a chambermaid.” The Earl’s words to his son still burned a bit in her ears. You would have ruined this family by marrying her!
“He is not afraid of closed doors, any more than you have been,” the magistrate said, after a slight pause. “You, my dear, have proved Aristotle right. ‘The educated differ from the uneducated, as much as the living from the dead.’” He chuckled. “I can see that you’re barely upright, which means you need to get a few hours sleep. I will stay with him.” Seeing her protest, he added, “I will let you know if anything changes.”
From the Charred Remains (Lucy Campion Mysteries) Page 27