“Be that as it may,” averred Wilson, “there is, as yet, no evidence of a crime. Not that I doubt your word, Mrs. Woolroy. Should our endeavor prove fruitful, then we may be in a position to remedy your husband’s condition and perhaps bring this heathen to account. You said that your husband awakens each morning invigorated?”
The zeal quickly faded from Mrs. Woolroy’s face, leaving sorrow in its place. “Not as much as that, I am afraid. But he does arouse stronger than when he retires.”
Seeing that they had all divested themselves of their outer garments, she gestured for them to follow her into the parlor. The somewhat stately room was much warmer than the foyer and adorned with green growing things, a number of which were in bloom. Altogether it made for a rather welcome change from the drab grey of the winter scene outside. The faint scent of orchids trailed behind Mrs. Woolroy as she led the way. A floral cacophony erupted upon the men, surrounding them with exotic scents and a vibrancy which few would expect within such a drab domicile.
“And his eating habits? Is he consuming fair proportions?” asked Wilson, continuing his line of inquiry as he pressed his kerchief to his nose in an effort to assist the adjustment of his equilibrium.
“As much as one might expect for one so ill.” Mrs. Woolroy carefully arranged her skirts and seated herself in a chair by the window. She motioned for the troupe to take seats on the burgundy and mahogany settee and the various matching chairs that ringed the room.
“What of the content? Is he eating a balance of substance; meats, vegetables?” Wilson sat down next to the woman, leaning in to ask his questions.
“He consumes mostly broth,” said Mrs. Woolroy, “with some softer vegetables and tender meats, but he is far too weak for a proper meal.”
“He is well hydrated, yes?”
“Yes, sir, he is. I keep a fresh pot of tea beside him at all hours. It seems to sooth him as he weakens with the day.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Woolroy,” said Wilson, leaning back and folding his arms. “You appear to be doing all that a wife can in these times. I am certain that your efforts are appreciated.”
She nodded her head in acknowledgement of his words. “I only pray that there is more that I can do to further Mr. Woolroy’s speed toward health.”
“Do you have additional questions for Mrs. Woolroy, Rufus?”
“No, I do not,” said the other physician, his chin cupped thoughtfully within his hand. “Your interview thus far has been quite thorough. Perhaps it is time that see to the patient.”
“Quite right,” said Wilson, rising from his chair. His compatriots followed his lead. “If you would be so kind then as to lead the way, Mrs. Woolroy.”
“Certainly, sir. Allow me just one moment to fetch a tray from the kitchen. I recently finished serving Mr. Woolroy his midday meal, and his tea needs to be refreshed.” She left the five men where they stood and returned shortly after.
“I could not help but notice the variety of plants which you have around your home," said Friedrich as he stepped forward. “I am familiar with botany myself, but many of these flowers are new to me. You must have spent many years procuring these specimens. I admit that it is an excellent collection.”
“Thank you, Mr. Von Helsing,” said she, a hint of pride in her voice. “I had nearly forgotten that this is the first time I have hosted you in my home. You are correct though, one of the few luxuries that Mr. Woolroy has allowed me is my plants. I have a deep love of them, and study them closely, though I would not deign to call myself studied, as you refined gentlemen are.”
The lines of worry eased from her face as she looked around the room, her eyes resting here and there on several of the blossoms. “There is not much that I have besides them. They have become more than a passion to me.” With the word passion, she cast her eyes down modestly—almost coyly. As a hint of color came to her cheeks, she looked something of a flower in winter herself.
“I have not been in a position to tend to them as of late, for obvious reasons. My Cattleya orchids need to be pruned, but with my husband upstairs …” She shook her head. “I can hardly bring myself to walk the garden. I do try though, as it brings me peace to be with my flowers, even in their dormant state. They have long been a comfort to me, and I trust that they will bring me through this difficult ordeal, but I still feel ungrateful seeking peace and solace while my husband wastes away above me.”
“My apologies, Mrs. Woolroy,” said Friedrich, dipping his head. “I did not intend to cause you any discomfort. I meant only to compliment your skills.”
“I know this, sir, and I thank you. You have all been a comfort.” She took in them all with a glance. “Simply knowing that my husband has friends who are concerned enough for his health as to assist in this manner … that is comfort enough.”
She raised her head and looked firmly into Friedrich’s eyes. No longer seeming a delicate bloom, her straight back spoke of her resolve and of a certain strength of character. This was a woman who would survive whatever followed. That glimpse of strength was, however, fleeting. She cast her gaze to the ground once more as she led the men up the stairs, down the hall, and to a room within which lay the infirmed Timothy Woolroy. He lay upon a chaise lounge, which had been positioned before the hearth. The room was warm, despite the curtains having been drawn to allow entrance to what little of the winter sun could be found. Mr. Woolroy was well bundled in a rather decent robe and several blankets. Beside him was a table with a tea tray and the remnants of an austere lunch.
“Husband, there are guests to see you,” Mrs. Woolroy said, preceding them.
Woolroy did little to respond to their presence. Instead, his entire mien seemed turned inward, as if he pondered some deep quandary that occupied the whole of his thought and perception. His eyes were unfocused and his lips parted slightly. His breath, when it came and went, rattled ever so slightly.
“He is having a day, I am afraid,” Mrs. Woolroy said kindly over her shoulder as she made toward the table whereupon she replaced the tray. “The vigor of the morning has already dissipated. He is lucid on occasion, but he has become increasingly withdrawn over the last two days. He has become paranoid. In one moment he will refuse to eat, and then he will break down into tears or a burst of rage, only to forget the whole ordeal and consume his food as though nothing had happened. I would be ashamed to divulge these behaviors to you if I were not certain of your discretion. It is bad enough that my husband has been afflicted in this manner. It would be worse still if his good name were to be ruined by the effects of this illness.”
“You are quite right, Mrs. Woolroy,” said Weyland, as she poured for her husband a fresh cup of hot tea. The odor told the men that this was no popper tea, but rather an herbal infusion or tisane. At least it had very little of the tannic scent of true Camellia sinesis. “In times such as these, discretion is required in order to preserve both a man’s reputation and dignity. It is good that Mr. Woolroy has a wife such as you to see to his needs with a concern for all that might affect a man’s name.”
Timothy Woolroy had taken notice of their presence and, as if to confirm his wife’s previous words, looked to her as though she were a stranger. It was a look of mixed emotion, which included both bewilderment and fear. For that matter, he seemed perturbed by the presence of his friends as well. It was as though he failed to recognize the world around him for what it actually was. Wilson, who had continued his observations of the ill man, was reminded of a patient who had suffered from frequent and severe seizures.
Mrs. Woolroy smiled, not noticing her husband. “It is as you say, sir, but I cannot take full credit. I can only serve him as best I can and trust in the Lord to see to his greater disposition. I have full confidence that the Lord is caring for my husband as he deserves.” This last was spoken not as by one seeking comfort in words, but with the zeal of and devotion of unwavering Faith.
Rather than looking comforted by his wife’s words, the sick man’s eyes widened with each asse
rtion of conviction. Perhaps his wife was unaware of the nature and scope of his sins, but even in his addled state it seemed that Timothy Woolroy knew exactly what sort of reward he might expect from the hand of a just God.
Taking a chair from a nearby desk and placing it near the chaise lounge, Wilson sat beside the man. “Timothy, old chap, it is I, William.” The doctor’s eyes were keen as he examined every feature of the ill man’s face.
The pallor of his skin was marked, and sweat beaded regularly across his brow, giving it an even sheen. The faint odor of illness hung about the man, but he seemed unaware of the effect he had on others. Wilson leaned in closer, holding the kerchief over his mouth and nose. Observation was critical, as even something as miniscule as the twitch of an eyelid could speak volumes to one who was properly trained.
“Do you remember me? Good, good. I am here with Rufus and the others. We are concerned and thought that we might be of some assistance. I am going to perform an examination. If I bother you in any way, let me know. Can you open your mouth for me? Good, good …”
With an apprehensive expression, Mrs. Woolroy stood near the door. Weyland joined her, speaking softly so as to not to be a disturbance to Wilson as he continued his examination. “What more can you tell me of the Romani?”
“What more can I tell?” Her jaw clenched, and once again anger was plainly written upon her face, hardening her fair features. “The woman was wild, a harlot to be certain. Pardon me for saying, but she was as much a beast as not. As I think upon it now, I can almost smell the stench of sin upon her. She was positively cloaked in transgression.”
“And have you any idea where she might be found?”
“Certainly not!” said she. Casting a quick glance toward her husband, she continued more softly. As she did so, her eyes darted as though to suggest of coy naiveté. “I hear that they tend to travel. I would not know where to begin looking for one such as her. I imagine there are places that one such as she might frequent, but I certainly wouldn’t know of them.”
Weyland nodded, tapping his lips thoughtfully. “And where did you say that you were when you encountered this Gypsy?”
“We were … out.” She looked down, avoiding his eyes. Her words were halting and quiet, almost a mutter. “My husband and I had dined out for the evening and decided to take in the night air. I dare say that we lost track of our exact whereabouts, and the ordeal was so overwhelming … I am sorry, sir, but thinking back to that evening is causing me to feel faint!”
“Please forgive my manners.” Weyland took her hand in his and gave it a reassuring pat. “I had not thought to consider the toll that this ordeal might have upon you. You handle your husband’s condition with such poise I had forgotten your delicate constitution. I forgot myself and beg your forgiveness.”
“It is quite all right, Mr. Weyland,” Mrs. Woolroy said, her face flushed as she blinked rapidly. “I know that your heart is in the right place. You are a good Christian, sir, and you do us an honor by coming here.”
Weyland smiled with sincere warmth. “I appreciate your kindness, madam, and I am most hesitant to persist, but finding this woman may be a matter of importance in identifying the best means to assist your husband. Any information you can provide about the ordeal is important.”
“I understand, sir, I do.” She retrieved her hand from his grasp. “I am just … so …”
“Take all the time that you require,” said Friedrich as he joined the pair in the doorway.
Mrs. Woolroy nodded and gave him a tight-lipped smile. After a deep breath, she resumed her tale. “When she spoke, it was hateful. She was angry at us both, gesturing wildly and yelling.”
“Do you recall the words that she used,” said Friedrich, “or perhaps you can identify the language? Weyland and I hope to identify the specific curse, in the event that we may be able to identify a remedy for the effects.”
She gave her head a little shake. “I cannot. Not for either. The words were foreign, but that it all that I can say. I am sorry. It was all just too much.” She turned away from them, facing out into the hallway as she covered her mouth with her hand as if to hold back further words. Her shoulders shook gently.
Weyland shared a knowing glance with Friedrich, who frowned and then shrugged. Clearly, the woman was overwhelmed with emotion, and while there was something which had been left unsaid, if she did not wish to speak further on the subject then there was little they could do.
“Again,” said Weyland, “I apologize for pressing the matter. We will, of course, respect your privacy and allow you a respite from our onslaught. Look here, Wilson has finished with your husband and is approaching us now. What have you to say to the matter, old chap?”
Wilson sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “He is worse than I was lead to believe. The hysteria which you describe appears to be the result of a cumulative effect, but of what I do not know. I fear that his condition will only worsen, and likely at an accelerated rate. What does your physician say on the matter?”
Mrs. Woolroy turned to face them, slipping a linen handkerchief into her pocket as she did so. “Doctor Thomas has not called upon this house in two days. When he was here last, my husband was considerably better. I shall say that he discounted any notion of a curse and prescribed nothing more than rest and a full stomach. It was he who suggested that we administer a medicinal tea.”
“Might I see that cup before you depart?” Wilson gestured to the soiled contents of the tray. With her consent, he thanked Mrs. Woolroy and lifted the cup to his nose. He sniffed the contents and observed the surface of the cold tea as he swirled it softly before replacing it on the tray. He turned his eyes then to Mrs. Woolroy. “Is this the same tea that you have brewed for him presently?”
“It is.”
“And where have you procured the ingredients?”
Looking past him into her husband’s sick room, her eyebrows drew up together in concern. “Doctor Thomas provided a liquid to be added sparingly to each pot. He also suggested an assortment of herbs and mints, which I have been able to procure from my garden. I have blended and steeped the mixture just as the Doctor instructed.”
Wilson glanced at Rufus, who hearing the conversation from where he sat, steepled his fingers and brought them to his lips. “How long do you allow the pot to sit tepid before you replace it?”
“Why, not long at all, sir,” said she with a hint of defensive indignation. “I take a degree of pride in my tea, as anyone knows. And a good wife never serves cold tea.”
Wilson smiled. “Of course not, Mrs. Woolroy, I did not intend to suggest otherwise. If it is the same with you, I would like to examine your husband more thoroughly in private. There are some procedures which are simply too explicit for a woman of dignity.”
Mrs. Woolroy raised a hand to the cross hanging around her neck. “Of course, sir. I trust that you can proceed appropriately. I leave you to your task.”
She departed from the room, pulling the door firmly shut. Wilson walked up to the door and laid an ear against it. With a nod, he confirmed that the woman’s footsteps had proceeded down the hall and then the stairs. The five men of The Fellowship were left alone then with Timothy Woolroy.
Entry Five
As the door closed, Wilson turned to Rufus. “Did you observe the swelling of his glands and the white tint of his tongue?”
“I did indeed,” said Rufus as he nodded sagely.
“And the tea cup,” Wilson continued, his voice quiet but intent, “did you have a chance to see the contents before she collected it? When I examined it I found that there was a slight residue along the rim. In addition, there was a trace amount of copper.”
“That I did not see.” Rufus folded his arms and frowned. “Though the copper does not surprise me. This is not the home of a family of great means. But the residue … you couldn’t possibly … do you think?”
“I do think. If one rules out the implausible, such as the supernatural, and instead seeks the mun
dane and methodical answer, then it is the only conclusion at which one can arrive.”
Rufus raised his eyebrows and exhaled, slowly. “This is most disturbing, most disturbing indeed.”
Niles sternly interjected, “Well, speak plainly then. What is it at which that you hint so cryptically?”
Wilson looked to his friend and stated simply, “Vegetable alkaloids.”
“I don’t understand,” said Niles, absently pulling his pipe from his waistcoat pocket.
“I don’t see why you would,” said Friedrich, standing against the wall. “It is not a matter with which you are likely to be familiar, despite the pedigree of your studies.” Turning then to Wilson he said, “Are you certain?”
Bristling at being dismissed so easily, Niles straightened his vest and turned to look at the stricken man.
“Certain enough to suggest that we inform the constable,” answered Wilson. He glanced around the room at each of the Fellows, looking for support.
Rufus cleared his throat. “That may be a bit premature. The presence of alkaloids may be easily explained. I suggest that we first speak with Doctor Thomas and verify the account which has been given to us. I have the acquaintance of the good doctor and know him to be a competent physician. It may well be that this effect is incidental.”
As his fellow physician spoke, Wilson strode to the window and looked outward, drumming his fingers impatiently on the glass. Outside, the snow began falling more earnestly, blanketing the street and the city beyond.
Niles stabbed at the air with the stem of his unlit pipe. “For the love of all that is good, will you include me in your process?”
“My apologies, Niles. We had no idea you cared. I believe,” said Wilson over his shoulder, “that Timothy Woolroy may have been poisoned. Whether it be incidental or intentional is yet to be seen.”
Rufus interjected once more. “We risk great harm to Mrs. Woolroy’s reputation if we speak improperly. It is best that we confirm the hypothesis before we contact the authorities.”
The Dandy Boys Mysteries (Vengeance Book 0) Page 3