by Paula Paul
“Don’t apologize,” Alexandra said. “A relaxing conversation with a pleasant companion will be good for her, and she’s not the first of my patients to give me a curt dismissal. It’s a good sign. Usually means they’re feeling better when they do that. Although, I must say, I am concerned about how agitated she was when we arrived.”
“What a thankless job you have.”
“I find it rewarding enough,” she said.
“I don’t see why. You’re not even allowed to use your rightful title of physician. You have to be content with doctor.”
Alexandra shrugged. “Women aren’t allowed to complete all the courses and requirements for that title.”
“Precisely,” Nicholas said. “But I dare say you’ve attained the knowledge and the skill on your own to compete with the best of our so-called physicians.”
“You flatter me,” Alexandra said. “And I have to give my late father credit for teaching me the skills of a physician, even if they aren’t recognized by Her Majesty’s government.”
“I call it a shame that the government won’t give you credit, and an equal shame that people like my mother are so reluctant to accept a woman as a physician.” Nicholas still held her arm.
“But it seems she did accept me after all,” Alexandra said. “At least to some extent.”
“I have my doubts,” Nicholas said. “I’m afraid my mother thinks women shouldn’t have a profession, unless, of course, they’re in service, or in some cases can contact the dead, like the poor woman found dead in the graveyard.”
Alexandra stopped halfway down the long staircase to glance at Nicholas in surprise. “Lady Forsythe believes in spiritualists?”
Before Nicholas could answer, Alexandra heard a loud knocking at the front door. From the stairwell, she saw Crawford appear to open the door. She was surprised to see that it was Constable Snow who stood just outside. She heard his voice but couldn’t understand his words. Crawford’s words were unmistakable, however.
“Lady Forsythe is indisposed and is unable to see anyone.”
The constable took a step forward as if he would force his way inside. At the same time, he glanced at the staircase, and Alexandra was quite sure he saw her as well as Nicholas as they continued down the stairs.
“It matters not whether you are the local constable or the Lord Mayor of London. Lady Forsythe will not be disturbed.” With those words, Crawford closed the door, leaving Constable Snow quite literally out in the cold.
“Where does MaMa find these creatures?” Nicholas said as they both watched Crawford strutting away. “I can only hope none of the other locals come to the door until she leaves and takes him with her.”
“I don’t think the locals come to Montmarsh with any regularity,” Alexandra said. “We’ve all got used to no one being here except the few servants who remain all year. Mrs. Pickwick being one of them, and, I might add, one who seems to fit quite well into the life of the parish.”
“Perhaps I should give some thought to living the life of a country gentleman, the lord of the manor, so to speak, and spend more time here myself.”
“You’d miss your law practice.” By this time they were out of the house, and she allowed him to give her a boost into the saddle.
“Unless there was something else to keep me occupied,” he said, letting his hand linger on hers.
Alexandra looked down at him from her perch on Lucy’s back. “You are not being realistic, Lord Forsythe.”
Nicholas smiled. “May I come calling tonight, Dr. Gladstone?” he asked.
“You are hopeless,” she said with a little laugh as she turned Lucy toward the driveway.
“May I?” he asked, calling to her back.
She turned Lucy again, so that she was facing him. “If you wish,” she said.
—
“You’re a bit late, Miss Alex,” Nancy said when Alexandra arrived home. “Your lunch grew cold. I had to put it back in the pot.” She sounded disgruntled.
“Sorry, Nancy, but I never know how long my rounds will take.”
“I know that, miss. Haven’t I been working with you most of my life?”
“You have indeed.” Alexandra spoke with her back to Nancy while she stood at the kitchen sink, trying to coax the pump to bring up enough water for her to wash her hands. Nancy was usually not at all disturbed when she was late. She’d grown used to it, precisely because she had worked with her for so long. There was something else bothering her. It would come out soon enough. Nancy wasn’t one to hold anything back.
“I suppose you stopped by Montmarsh to check on Her Ladyship,” Nancy said, as she ladled something with cabbage in it onto a plate.
“Yes, I did, and I’m happy to report she’s doing better.” It’s coming, she thought, and it has something to do with Lady Forsythe or Montmarsh.
“Is it true, then? That Her Majesty is a guest at Montmarsh?”
Alexandra dropped the napkin she’d just unfolded and was preparing to spread across her lap. “Her Majesty? At Montmarsh? What a preposterous idea.”
Nancy’s response was to look at Alexandra, her head cocked slightly to one side, one hand on her hip while the other held a plate of the cabbage mixture. She waited.
Alexandra got up to fetch herself another napkin while Zack ambled out of the kitchen with the dropped napkin in his mouth. She glanced sideways at Nancy, who had not moved. She dried her hands and took the plate from Nancy. “Fill your own plate and sit down. We’ll have to open the surgery soon.”
Nancy did as she was bidden. “So it is true,” she said as she sat down across from Alexandra.
“I did not say it is true.”
“But it is. I can tell.”
They ate in silence for several seconds. Finally Alexandra spoke. “I trust you gave Mrs. Pickwick another treatment of essence of vinegar.”
Nancy kept her eyes on her plate. “Pickwick?”
“She’s the one who told you, isn’t she? And don’t try to deny it, Nancy. I can read you as easily as you read me.”
“Well, she didn’t exactly say it,” Nancy said. “She only…well, I should say hinted that there might be a royal visitor at Montmarsh.”
Alexandra took a deep breath. “You mustn’t speak of this to anyone, Nancy.”
“Of course I won’t.”
“It’s likely spread all over Newton by now anyway,” Alexandra added.
“Of course it hasn’t!” Nancy was indignant. “Pickwick isn’t one to gossip.”
Alexandra brought her napkin to her mouth quickly because she almost spewed out the bite of cabbage she’d just taken.
“Seems to me that if Her Majesty wants to keep things secret, she’d keep her staff under wraps.”
“What are you talking about?” Alexandra asked.
“There’s some dandy hanging out at the tavern drinking with the locals. Some say he works for the royal house.”
“What do you mean by dandy?” Alexandra tried to appear nonchalant as she asked.
“Fancy dresser, they say. Not many fancy dressers in this parish.”
“I wouldn’t know,” Alexandra said.
“Oh, come now, miss, of course you know. But here’s the best of the gossip. Or the worst, depending upon how you look at it: They say the bloke is a troublemaker.”
“Indeed?”
“Yes, indeed,” Nancy said. “Started a brawl at the tavern. Arguing about politics or some such nonsense, they say. A couple of them got bloody noses and showed up here. Nothing serious, I guess, but the way I see it, they’re all lucky if what they say about the knife is true.”
Alexandra put down the morsel of food she was about to bring to her mouth. “What did they say about a knife?”
“That the dandy pulled one out and was brandishing it about, but by the time Constable Snow arrived, the weapon was nowhere to be found. The dandy denied he ever had one, of course.”
“I see.”
“You’re not eating, miss. Is something w
rong with the meal?”
Alexandra was about to assure her that the food was quite good, but a knock at the front door and Zack’s accompanying bark stopped her. She and Nancy looked at each other, surprised. At this time of day, people most often came to the surgery entrance. Nancy stood and hurried toward the front, and Alexandra, deciding she’d had enough cabbage, followed her. When Nancy opened the door, Alexandra recognized the young man standing there as the one Constable Snow often used to convey messages for him, the same one who had come to fetch her to examine Alvina’s body.
“I must speak with Dr. Gladstone,” he said.
“I’m sorry,” Nancy said in her most polite voice. “The doctor is having her lunch now. Perhaps you could come back at a later—”
“Yes, what is it?” Alexandra asked, taking a step forward.
“Excuse me, miss,” the young messenger said, twisting his cap as he spoke. “Constable Snow wants you to come to his office. He must ask you some questions. I’m to tell you to come straightaway.”
“I can’t possibly do that,” Alexandra said. “I have to keep my surgery hours.”
The messenger gave his cap another twist. “Yes, Dr. Gladstone, the constable said I’m to say he’s aware of your surgery hours, but you are to allow Nancy to take care of your patients, and to remind you that Nancy can send for you at his office in the case of emergency.”
Alexandra was silent for a moment, trying to suppress her anger at Constable Snow’s presuming to tell her how to run her surgery. He had become quite used to telling her what to do when she was his student, but she was no longer a schoolgirl. She was about to protest aloud when the young man spoke again. “The constable has already summoned Lord Dunsford. He says the matter is urgent.”
His words caught Alexandra by surprise, but she realized that was why the constable had shown up at Montmarsh. “Very well,” she said. “Nancy, you will have to take over. And do as the constable suggested. Send Rob or Artie for me if there is an emergency.”
—
When the carriage sent to convey her stopped in front of the building that housed the gaol and Snow’s office, Alexandra saw Nicholas entering through the front door. She walked into the office after him, but they barely had time to speak to each other before Snow stood up from his desk and addressed them.
“One or both of you will tell me now why Lady Forsythe was seen in the graveyard last night. What was she doing at the scene of the murder?”
Chapter 5
“You’re most certainly mistaken,” Nicholas said. “Lady Forsythe is ill. She’s been confined to her bed for several days. Dr. Gladstone will attest to that.”
“Lord Dunsford is correct,” Alexandra said. “His mother has indeed been ill. It would be highly unlikely that she would leave Montmarsh.”
“Unlikely, perhaps, but not impossible.” Constable Snow motioned that the two of them should be seated in the chairs in front of his desk, then took his seat behind it.
Nicholas sat, but with some reluctance. “I should be interested in any evidence you have that Her Ladyship was anywhere outside of Montmarsh, and certainly anything that would lead you to believe something as preposterous as her being in a graveyard. Can you produce a witness?” Nicholas had assumed his barrister persona.
“I can.” Snow’s long hands rested on his desk, fingers laced. His voice was calm.
“Then I should like very much to speak with him. Or her.” Nicholas settled back in his chair with a confident air.
“You are speaking with him.”
Nicholas’s back straightened. “You?”
Snow nodded.
“You’re quite certain?”
“I would not have called you here had I not been certain,” Snow said in his schoolmaster voice.
“If that’s true, then I can’t imagine that she would be alone,” Alexandra said.
Snow locked his gaze on her in the same way he had done when he felt compelled to scold her as his student. “It is true, Dr. Gladstone, that she was not alone. She was accompanied by a carriage driver. And before you ask me for the identity of the driver, my lord,” he added, turning to Nicholas, “I cannot identify the person. I can only say that it appeared to be a man.”
“Will you describe him, please?” Nicholas once again sounded like the barrister he was.
“A rather well-built fellow, I should think,” Snow said. “As to his height, I can’t say with any confidence, since he remained seated in the carriage.”
“I see,” Nicholas said.
“Does that fit the description of your mother’s driver?” Alexandra asked.
“Perhaps,” Nicholas said. “But not precisely. There are certainly many men who would fit that description.” He turned to the constable. “I would suggest that whomever you saw could very well have been guilty of nothing more than enjoying an evening drive, since neither of them got out of the carriage.”
“I did not say, my lord, that neither of the two got out of the carriage. The driver remained seated in the carriage, but Her Ladyship was at the gravesite where Alvina Elwold’s body was found. And I should think you would agree that a graveyard is an odd place for an enjoyable evening drive.” The constable’s cool demeanor was unnerving to Alexandra.
“Then what do you suppose was her purpose for being there?” she asked, before Nicholas could speak.
“I can’t answer that,” Snow said. “I was not allowed to enter Montmarsh to interview Lady Forsythe. I could have used the full measure of the law to get myself inside, of course, but it is my duty to keep the peace, so I thought a better solution would be to call the two of you here to give me what information you have.”
“I have no information at all about this matter.” Nicholas sounded indignant. “In fact, I’m quite sure you must be mistaken about seeing Lady Forsythe.”
“I am not mistaken.” Snow’s voice was firm, his face perpetually unsmiling. “It was, without a doubt, Lady Forsythe whom I saw digging in the dirt at the top of the grave.”
Nicholas almost rose from his chair. “Digging in the dirt? MaMa, digging in the dirt? I think not.” He chuckled uneasily. “You obviously are mistaken, and you certainly don’t know my mother. She is so fastidious she would never—”
“I told you, I am not mistaken. I am quite certain,” Snow said, raising his voice slightly. Alexandra was familiar with his technique. He’d used it when either she or Nancy spoke out of turn when they were his students. It worked with Nicholas as well as it had worked with the two of them. Nicholas could only stare at the constable in disbelief and without speaking. “I am certain, and I am alarmed,” Snow continued. “The gravesite is a crime scene. It was cordoned off with ropes, and a sign was posted clearly stating that no one was to be allowed to go beyond the ropes and that anyone caught trespassing would be arrested. I was there at the particular hour that Lady Forsythe was there because it is my duty to patrol the area.”
“Why didn’t you arrest her immediately?” Nicholas sounded angry.
“I told you,” Snow said in his cold voice, “I am hired to keep the peace. It would not do for Her Ladyship to be arrested, as I’m sure you know. The repercussions in a small parish such as ours would be enormous. And, I might add, given Her Ladyship’s standing and position, the reaction in London would be equally alarming, as well as detrimental to her name.”
Nicholas appeared temporarily nonplussed. “Quite so,” he said finally.
“Therefore,” Snow continued, “in the interest of peace and decorum, it would serve all of us well if you will tell me why Her Ladyship was at the scene and disobeying the law.”
“As I told you before, I have no answer,” Nicholas said.
“And you, Dr. Gladstone?”
“I don’t understand why you think I would be privy to Lady Forsythe’s motives regarding anything,” Alexandra said.
“You were at her home earlier today.” Snow’s voice was one mark away from scolding.
“Yes. To see to her medi
cal needs,” Alexandra answered.
“Perhaps she confided in you,” Snow said.
“Only regarding the state of her health,” Alexandra said, matching Snow’s icy tone, “and as I’m sure you know, I am bound by the ethics of my profession not to divulge that to anyone.”
“Very well,” Snow said as he rose to his feet. “I had hoped to avoid it, but I have no choice but to summon Lady Forsythe here for questioning.”
Nicholas stood also. “My mother is not well. She cannot leave Montmarsh.”
“She was well enough to leave Montmarsh and go to the graveyard.”
“You have no proof that she—”
“I saw her myself, my lord.” Snow’s voice still had a sharp tone, but his shoulders relaxed slightly, and he seemed to back away from Nicholas. “I share your concern, my lord. Regardless of her physical condition, it would do neither the village nor your family any good to have her ladyship brought in for questioning.”
Nicholas also relaxed somewhat. “Of course not.”
“Nevertheless, it’s my duty to question her,” Snow added. “Unfortunately, I was denied entry to Montmarsh, where the matter could have been handled discreetly, at least in the initial stage.”
Nicholas was silent for a moment, but he didn’t move his gaze from Snow’s face. “I see,” he said. “So that is what this was about all along. It was a ploy to gain entrance to Montmarsh.”
“Not at all.” Now that he had the advantage, Snow had relaxed considerably. “It was my hope that one or both of you could provide a reasonable explanation.”
“All right,” Nicholas said after another brief silence. “I will see that you are admitted to Montmarsh, but you must give me time to prepare my mother for the visit.”
“I’m afraid I can’t allow that, my lord. You, being a barrister, should know that.”
“Very well,” Nicholas said with some reluctance. He took Alexandra’s arm to help her stand and moved toward the door. “I’ll drive you home, Alexandra,” he said, then added over his shoulder to the constable, “I shall inform the staff to expect you later in the day.”