Fifteen
Drew and Madeline followed the maid up the stairs and to the end of a long hallway. They waited as she tapped on the door and then opened it.
“Mr. Farthering and Miss Parker.”
The room was large and airy, papered in a pale blue and cream stripe with a border of marching ducklings, every fifth or sixth one wearing a newspaper hat. Peter lay on the bed, sound asleep, purple smudges under his eyes, his dark-gold lashes resting on his pale cheeks, and a stuffed rabbit under the covers and grappled to his chest. Miss Winston was sitting in a chair beside him, a discarded book in her lap and, like the maid, a handkerchief crushed in her hand.
“Good afternoon.” Drew kept his voice low. “How is the little fellow?”
She started to stand, but he shook his head.
“No need to get up. You look rather all in.”
“I’m all right,” she said with a teary smile. “I’m just glad he’s still here for me to look after.”
“He’s not still in danger, is he?” Madeline asked, and Miss Winston shook her head.
“Only recovering now, thank God. Since we knew what it was, the doctor knew exactly what to do. Good thing he lives just round the corner.” She shuddered. “Cyanide of all things, and it acts so quickly.”
“I suppose in your nursing work you’ve seen a cyanide poisoning case like this,” Drew said, watching her expression.
“I never saw anyone affected by cyanide before, but we were taught about it when I was in training during the war. There was some use of it as a weapon, but it was evidently not very effective. I never heard of any casualties from it, at any rate. But I did remember what I was told about it, the symptoms and all, and that faint almondy smell.” Tears came into her eyes, and she stroked the boy’s fair hair. “And him suddenly turning red, poor angel, and gasping for breath and all the rest of the horrible symptoms. Thank God what I knew about cyanide came back to me just then. He wouldn’t have lasted much longer if he hadn’t had treatment right away.”
“How did he get into the chocolates?” Drew asked.
“It’s all my fault.” The nurse’s face contorted as she struggled to compose herself. “They were up on a shelf in Mrs. Landis’s sitting room downstairs. Peter knows he’s not allowed in there, and he knows he’s not to take his mother’s candy without permission. She didn’t like him to have it at all, in fact, which is why she put it up.” She turned up her nose. “She never much let anyone have any, even though Mr. Landis might snatch a piece or two when she’s not by. You wouldn’t think it to look at her, but she’s a perfect fiend for the stuff, and he often has her some sent out.”
“How often?” Madeline asked.
Miss Winston shrugged. “Every five or six weeks, I suppose. Sometimes not that often. They were never large boxes, just enough to make her happy. Anyway, I was taking Peter out to play in the garden, and I realized I had forgotten his hat and gloves. So I told him to stay right where he was, that was in the downstairs hallway, and I hurried up to get his things and came right back down. I couldn’t have been gone but a few minutes. But the door to the sitting room was open, and Peter knows what comes in those little white boxes.” Tears sprang to her eyes again. “He’s always been a terrible climber. Since he could barely toddle, he climbed everything he could. I got back to the sitting room and found him halfway up the shelf, with the candy box open and two pieces in his mouth.” She squeezed her eyes shut and pressed the handkerchief against them.
“Mrs. Landis says someone is trying to kill her,” Drew said after a moment, his voice soft. “And one is forced to come to that conclusion, given the circumstances. Do you know who might wish to do that?”
Miss Winston gave a startled laugh. “Shall I write you out a list?”
Drew glanced at Madeline, then turned again to the nurse. “And who would you put on that list?”
Miss Winston gaped at him, and her face went red. “I didn’t mean a literal list.”
“But if you were to make one out?” Drew pressed.
“Well, I’m not sure. I suppose the wife of that actor, that Simone Cullimore. Or that Mr. Benton. Hasn’t he insisted all along that Fleur was guilty? That’s what the newspaper says. I don’t know who would want to kill her. I just know that she’s a wretched excuse for a wife and mother. I . . .” She stopped herself, pressing her lips into a tight line. “I don’t know who I would put on that list.”
“Yourself?”
Her eyes flashed, and then to his surprise, she nodded. “All right, since we’re talking about wishes, I can’t say the idea never crossed my mind. Well, not killing her, actually, but wishing I knew how to make her just go away.” She looked at the still-sleeping child, the defiance in her features softening into fondness. “He’s such a dear boy. He ought to have a proper mother.”
“Yes,” Madeline agreed. “He should.”
Drew considered both women. Madeline was sleek-limbed and stylish, pert and pretty and whip smart. Adele Winston, on the other hand, was hardly beautiful. She was pleasant enough, to be sure. Tidy and fit and quite intelligent, she was what he would call a sturdy woman. Unflappable in a crisis, immovable once she had decided upon a course of action, absolutely loyal. Both of them had steel underneath the softness. And what else?
“In what ways is Mrs. Landis not a proper mother?” he asked.
“That may have been a bit harsh on my part.” The nurse looked down at the floor. “She’s hardly any different from most women in society, I suppose. So many of them are too busy to be the mothers their little ones need. I’ve never thought it right.”
“I daresay that’s true.”
Miss Winston laughed half under her breath. “But then I suppose if every woman mothered her own children, I would be rather out of a job.”
Drew smiled just the slightest bit. “And Peter? What does he think of his mother?”
“I think he’s a bit afraid of her.”
Drew narrowed his eyes. “She isn’t rough with the boy, is she?”
“Good heavens, no. I never meant to imply anything of the sort. It’s just that she hardly spends any time with him, and when she does, she seems rather put out the whole while. I shouldn’t have said Peter is afraid of her. Awed may be a better word to describe it, as if some rare bird of paradise landed on the breakfast table. Mr. Landis, now, will take him for his walks or play with him before his bedtime, and he takes him to church now and again.” Miss Winston’s fond smile returned then. “It makes Peter feel awfully grown up, you know, to go out with Daddy alone.”
“Was Mrs. Landis there when Peter ate the candy?”
Miss Winston turned pale. “She came into the room right after I did. I thought she was going to have a screaming fit when she saw Peter had gotten into the candy. Well, she did a bit, in fact. She was shrieking at me to do something when I was doing everything I could already. I thought she’d pull the bell wire right down before Sullivan could get in there. Sullivan’s the parlormaid. She’s the one who called the doctor to let him know we were coming and what was wrong with Peter.”
“The girl who let us in?” Madeline asked.
“Yes, that’s right. I was rather proud of her, in fact. Mrs. Landis was screeching at her, and Sullivan told her, as polite and respectful as you please, to sit down and shut up.”
“So Mrs. Landis didn’t see Peter when he was climbing up to get the candy?” Drew asked.
“No. She had gone up to her bedroom to get her address book. She came back in just as I was taking the candy away from Peter.”
“She didn’t actually see him eat it, then.”
“No,” Miss Winston replied. “She came in just after, and right away started screaming. I had just realized something was wrong. There was that smell, you know. And then the poor lamb couldn’t breathe.” She swallowed painfully. “But, thank God, it all came right in the end.”
Drew nodded. “Yes, thank God. And where was Mr. Landis? Was he out?”
“No, he ha
d just come in and gone up to change for dinner. I’m sure he heard all the commotion and came down to see what it was.”
Drew glanced at Madeline. “That loud, was it?”
The nurse snorted. “You know Mrs. Landis was in the theater not so long ago. Her voice certainly carries to the back of the audience when she wants it to.”
“What was Mr. Landis’s reaction when he saw what was happening?” Madeline asked.
“White as a ghost, poor man,” Miss Winston said. “Little Peter is his moon and stars, you know. He stood there watching me trying to get Peter breathing again, and Mrs. Landis was hanging on him, wailing and telling him to do something. He tried to soothe her, tried to be strong in front of her, but I think he was rather relieved when I told him we’d have to get the boy over to the doctor’s right away and Mrs. Landis said she couldn’t bear to come. She was that upset, and she made Sullivan bring her the nerve medicine her doctor gives her. Pure alcohol, if you ask me, but there’s something else in it too, I suppose, because she goes right to sleep when she takes it. Anyway, Mr. Landis and I took Peter to the doctor. It was a near thing, but Peter hadn’t done much more than pop the candy into his mouth when I caught him at it. Good thing too. The police said . . .” Seeing the boy stir, she abruptly put her finger to her lips and shushed them.
“Winnie?”
She placed her hand on his forehead. “How are you feeling, Peter, dear?”
“Can I get up now? It’s light outside.”
She smiled at him. “Not quite yet, love. But you can sit up. You have some visitors. Isn’t that nice?”
He blinked, noticing Drew and Madeline for the first time. “Mr. Drew. Miss Madeline.”
He sat up, and Drew put a hand on his shoulder to keep him in bed. “Steady on, old man. You know the chain of command on this ship. Barring the captain and his lady, First Officer Winston is in charge. And if she says you’re to stay in bed, then you’ll stay in bed. Right?”
Peter giggled. “You betcha.”
Drew sat on the bed next to him. “Now, Midshipman Landis, tell us. Is everything shipshape and Bristol fashion?”
The boy wrinkled his forehead. “Huh?”
“He means,” Madeline said, “are you feeling better?”
“I feel better.” Peter frowned. “I don’t think I want any more of that candy.”
Miss Winston crossed her arms over her chest. “Maybe you’ll remember that the next time you want to take something you’ve been forbidden.”
“I’m sure he won’t ever do it again,” Madeline said, caressing the boy’s pale face.
“I don’t think I like candy anymore,” Peter said.
Drew gave him a wink. “I have a feeling that won’t last long. But I am nevertheless happy to report that this package does not contain candy of any variety.” He let a smile crinkle the corners of his eyes as he laid the package on the bed next to the boy. “Mr. Chambers couldn’t come along with us to see you, so he sent us out to get you that instead.”
Peter looked at his nurse, and she nodded her approval. In an instant he had the paper off and was beaming at a little stuffed cat made of white muslin.
“It looks like him,” he crowed, poking one finger into the cat’s embroidered blue eye. “Is he mine, Mr. Drew? Can I keep him?”
Drew nodded. “He’d be most awfully unhappy if you didn’t. Mr. Chambers told us to give him very strict instructions to look after you and Miss Winston, too.”
Peter snatched up the cat and hugged it close, his rabbit temporarily forgotten. “What’s his name? Are he and Mr. Chambers friends?”
“Oh, certainly. But you’ll have to ask him what his name is. He wouldn’t tell me. He said you were to be his little boy from now on, and the matter of names was between the two of you.”
Peter nodded, his face solemn.
“And you’ll let me know when you find out, will you?”
Again the boy nodded.
Drew gave him a warm smile and got him to lie back again. “Now, you get well, and we’ll have you out to see Mr. Chambers again. How would that be?”
“I’d like that, Mr. Drew.”
“Good man. See you soon,” Drew said.
Madeline leaned down to kiss the boy’s forehead. “Goodbye, darling. You will come see us again, won’t you?”
Peter nodded. “Can I come see you even after you and Mr. Drew get married?”
“Of course you can. We’d be very happy to have you.”
“Even if you have your own little boy?”
Drew smiled at her, though she managed to keep a straight face. “Well, that wouldn’t be for quite a while yet, but yes, anytime. Now you and your new kitty go back to sleep, and make sure he doesn’t wake up your rabbit.”
Peter’s drooping eyes popped open again. “Do you think he might?”
“Nonsense,” Drew told him. “They’ll be the greatest of friends by teatime. Now, best have your rest.”
The boy yawned and nestled down in his pillows, and Drew and Madeline hurried to the bedroom door.
“Thank you for coming to see him,” Miss Winston whispered, going with them. “I know it made him very happy.” She looked back at the bed. “Look, he’s already asleep again. I’ll walk you down to the front door.”
She led them down the stairs. “I do hope Peter wasn’t too impertinent asking you about children and all, Miss Parker.”
Madeline laughed softly. “Oh, no. That’s always the next question, isn’t it? First it’s when are you going steady? Then when will you get engaged? When will the wedding be? And you’ve no sooner said ‘I do’ than they want to know the names of your first five children.”
Miss Winston nodded. “That is the way, isn’t it?”
“What about you?” Drew asked. “You seem rather a wonder with the little chap, and one might think you’d want children of your own.”
She stopped on the stairway, and there was a touch of rue in her smile. “I’m thirty-two, Mr. Farthering. I’m afraid my chances of marriage and children grow dimmer by the day.”
“Oh, but surely a woman like you must have prospects.”
“I could have settled.” She shrugged. “But, no. No husband is better than the wrong one. And it seems all the men worth anything have already been snapped up.” There was a sudden defiance in her eyes. “And I have Peter to look after. At least until he’s old enough to be sent to school. I couldn’t wish for a better child, my own or not. Besides, now that Mr. Landis has come into his money, I’m certain Mrs. Landis will be more popular than ever with the haut monde, and she doesn’t have time for the boy as it is.”
“Come into his money?” Madeline asked.
“I take it Landis’s uncle has passed on, then?” Drew glanced at Madeline. “You remember, darling. The uncle who was adamant about not having a scandal touch the family. I suppose the news of Mrs. Landis’s . . . difficulties with the police never reached his ears.”
“I believe he was very ill in his last days,” Miss Winston said. “I doubt his doctors would have allowed such news to upset him at that point. Even if he had been told, I think it most unlikely that he would have been able to hear or understand the words. At any rate, I believe Mr. Landis’s solicitor has assured him that the will names him as his uncle’s chief heir apart from a few bequests.”
“I see,” Drew said. “How does Mr. Landis feel about that?”
“I wouldn’t know,” she admitted. “I don’t think, with everything else that’s been going on, he’s had much chance to think about it. I have a feeling he wants to put most of the money away for Peter. For his education and all, you know.”
“And how does Mrs. Landis feel about it?” Madeline asked.
The nursemaid scoffed. “I’m afraid I wouldn’t know about that, either. But I don’t expect she’s pleased about it.”
Madeline looked down into the foyer with its marble floor and thick Persian rug. “She seems rather well cared for as it is.”
“I couldn’
t say,” Miss Winston said, starting to walk again. “There are some who would throw aside what others would find most satisfactory.”
The parlormaid Sullivan was waiting at the door with their things.
“Thank you for letting us come up,” Drew told Miss Winston as he helped Madeline into her coat. “We wanted to make sure the little fellow was safe and on the mend.”
The nurse shook her head. “I’ll never forgive myself for taking my eyes off him. It won’t happen again, I can promise you that. I won’t let it.”
“I’m sure you won’t.”
She took hold of Drew’s arm, earnestness in her eyes. “Mr. Farthering, you must find out what is going on. I can’t bear the thought of something like this happening again. We might not have so happy an outcome.”
“I will. I promise.” Drew patted her hand and put on his own coat and then his hat. “Thanks again. Do bring the boy to visit us once he’s fully recovered.”
“We’d love to see him,” Madeline added.
Drew tipped his hat and then stopped. “Oh, I was just wondering, Miss Winston, do you know where Mr. Landis happened to get the idea that his wife would like that particular cloak? The one with the tassels.”
The nursemaid blinked. “Well, uh, yes, actually it was from me. But only because he asked me what I thought she might like, and she had mentioned wanting that particular one. She mentioned it two or three times, now I come to think of it. I . . . I didn’t think anything of it.”
“No, of course not. Thank you very much.”
With another tip of his hat, Drew escorted Madeline out the front door and back to the car.
“So, what did you think?” Drew asked after they had driven for a few minutes in silence, heading south toward Farthering Place. “Decidedly an accident.”
Madeline raised both eyebrows at him. “Chocolates laced with cyanide? Hardly an accident. And it wasn’t meant as a practical joke, that’s for certain.”
“An accident that the boy got into them, I think,” Drew amended. “I don’t believe whoever poisoned the chocolates meant them for Peter, but do you think they were meant for Mrs. Landis?”
Murder at the Mikado Page 19