by Annis Bell
“Miss Molan poisoned Tomkins with belladonna, but Charlotte is still alive. Maybe the governess gave her something else,” said Jane.
Sir Frederick was holding on to a bedpost tightly. He shook his head. “Belladonna? She poisoned Tomkins with deadly nightshade? My God, we were sharing our home with a murderer.”
“There isn’t much I can do except make Lady Charlotte vomit, to clear out whatever poison might still be in her stomach. I am not aware of any antidote,” said the doctor. “I only know that belladonna kills by causing paralysis of the lungs.”
“Not necessarily,” said Sir Frederick, who seemed to have pulled himself together. “Deadly nightshade has been in use for centuries. I read a treatise by Friedlieb Runge in which he describes the modus by which the poison acts. He spoke of a remedy. Let me find it!” He hurried from the room.
“Send me Gladys—and Mrs. Potts. She’s still here somewhere. And then you should get something to eat, my lady,” said Dr. Cribb. “Lady Charlotte will pull through.”
The doctor was right about the food. Jane felt weak and chilled to the bone, and in that state she would soon be of no use to anyone. In the kitchen, she resolutely sent Gladys and Mrs. Potts upstairs, though they were loath to leave their own dinner, then she quickly ate some rabbit stew and a chunk of sweet bread before heading back upstairs herself. But before going back to Charlotte and the situation at hand, she first had to pay her friend a visit. Everything else would have to wait. She tapped at Alison’s door and cautiously entered.
Nora, with a happy smile on her face, came to meet her. Quietly, she said, “My lady, everything went well. She was so brave, and what a wonderful little fellow she now has! Take a look.”
Jane moved across to the cradle that Charlotte’s own children had used and peered down into the crinkled face of a newborn boy, smacking his lips softly in his sleep. “He’s beautiful!”
“Jane,” she heard a weak voice say from the bed, and she turned and hurried across to Alison.
Throwing her arms around her friend, Jane joyfully kissed her on both cheeks. Despite the trial of the birth, Alison’s complexion was rosy and she looked content.
“I’m delighted you came through it so well!” Jane said.
“Me too, believe me. Isn’t he marvelous? Thomas will burst with delight. A son!” Ally squeezed Jane’s hand. “But what’s happened, Jane? You don’t have to protect me any longer.”
Jane briefly reported the situation, then finished by saying, “And now Miss Molan has some questions to answer.”
“It all sounds so horrible. Do you think she’ll tell you anything?” Just then, Ally looked past Jane and grinned. “But I’m sure David will know how to get someone to talk, won’t he?”
“If he were here,” Jane began, frowning in confusion as Alison nodded theatrically. Slowly, she turned around.
Snow still festooned his hair and coat, and the smells of leather and horse surrounded him. “Please excuse my entering unannounced.”
Reaching his hand toward Jane, he took her in his arms. He briefly pressed her to him and kissed her forehead before letting her go again. “Alison, my compliments. I hear you now have a son!” He looked into the cradle, then kissed Alison’s hand. “Thomas will come tomorrow morning. He would gladly have accompanied me here tonight, but Lord Russell can’t get by without him just yet, it seems.”
“Who cares about a tea crisis in China? We have a son!” Alison complained jokingly. “Now go deal with that murderous woman.”
David looked at Jane in alarm, and she grimaced apologetically. “I had to do something, David, or she would have killed Charlotte.” She took him by the arm. “Come on, you have to question her.”
“What? But . . . ,” he protested feebly.
When they were outside the room, Jane explained all that had happened, and David glowered ever more darkly as she spoke. “At least you took O’Connor with you. Jane, things could have taken a very different turn! Just imagine if Tomkins—”
But Jane cut him off with a vehement shake of her head. “David, we have to talk to her now, before she gets over the shock of being found out. How did you even get here? The streets are terrible, and now they’re under snow, to boot.”
“The coachman took us as far as Belsay. From there, we rented horses. My telegram was supposed to warn you about the murderer, Jane, not encourage you to apprehend her! I had something I had to take care of myself, or I would have been here earlier.” He swept a loose strand of hair out of her eyes.
“I’m so sorry about Myron,” said Jane. “Why him?”
David’s mouth hardened, and his eyes narrowed. “Life on the streets is dangerous, and as soon as you have a bit of luck, you make enemies.”
“Captain!” called Dr. Cribb from the end of the hallway. “We’re so happy you are here. Sir Frederick is down in the library.”
They found the master of the house poring over the scientist Friedlieb Runge’s essay. After a brief greeting, Sir Frederick said, “I know what can help her: the seeds of the Calabar bean. It’s a legume from West Africa.”
“West Africa?” Jane repeated in despair.
“I know where such plants are being grown. Lord Alfred Sinclair has some. He lives just outside Ashkirk. Cribb, if I get the seeds by tomorrow evening, does Charlotte stand a chance?”
“We should leave no stone unturned, of course,” the doctor replied. “But I would put more faith in the patient’s will to live.”
“Where is Miss Molan now?” Jane asked.
“In the cellars. Lady Jane, Captain, my behavior toward Charlotte has been inexcusable.” Sir Frederick took a deep breath. “I have done her an injustice, but she also gave me every reason to. And on top of everything, my best supplier is dead. This is a horrible turn of events.”
Jane listened to Sir Frederick’s specious apologies with growing revulsion. Not a word of sympathy came out of his mouth. All he thought of was himself and his reputation, and even his attempt to obtain the antidote, she knew, was simply another way of indulging his passion for plants.
David interrupted Sir Frederick. “Sir, if you will allow me to, I would like to question the prisoner. As soon as we hand her over to the authorities, the opportunity will be lost.”
“Go ahead. I will pen a message to Lord Sinclair.” Sir Frederick had already turned back to his book. “Perhaps we could write a joint paper on the effects of the antidote, or . . .”
Cribb followed them out into the hall, where Blount was waiting. Jane was pleased to see her husband’s loyal companion again.
“My lady, we are extremely happy to see you safe and sound,” he said.
“Thank you, Blount.” Jane looked at the men around her. “I would like to be there when you interrogate her. I know some things that might be helpful.”
“Cribb?” David turned to the doctor.
The gray-haired physician nodded, his face stony. “Let us go.”
30.
As the small group led by Draycroft made their way past the kitchen, silence fell, and the kitchen maids and other servants paused in their duties and whispered among themselves. The butler opened the door leading down to the cellars, where it was noticeably colder than upstairs. In front of the first heavy wooden door, Draycroft said, “Mr. Tomkins is here. Miss Molan is up ahead.”
Jane swallowed. Miss Molan was in the same room where they had laid out Rachel. Watching her with concern, David held her trembling hand. “You don’t have to be there, Jane.”
“Yes, I do.” She took a deep breath then followed her husband into the chilly room.
Miss Molan stood bolt upright in front of a pile of boxes, a blanket slung around her shoulders. The table on which Rachel had lain had been pushed back against a wall. A chair stood beneath a slit window, and a lantern had been suspended on the wall.
“I’m freezing,” Miss Molan snapped. She lifted up her hands, which were now tied in front of her. “And what’s this?”
“For your ow
n safety. So you don’t harm yourself.” David pointed to the chair. “Please sit down, Miss Molan.”
In a low voice, Draycroft said, “I searched her pockets, just in case. If you need me, I will be in the kitchen.”
The butler departed, leaving the door open.
David turned to the prisoner. “Miss Molan, I represent the criminal investigation office in London, and if you cooperate and tell us your motives and the sequence of events as you see them, I will be able to present your testimony as mitigation before a court.”
Miss Molan seemed to consider this, and after some seconds, she sighed and sat on the chair. “If I tell you everything, may I say good-bye to the children?”
“If Sir Frederick allows it, yes.”
The young woman lifted her chin. She knew that she had lost, but she was not broken. She eyed Jane coolly. “The day you came to Winton Park was the day my misfortune began. I might have carried out my plan perfectly, but you stuck your meddling nose into everything.”
“It was Lady Alison who suspected that something strange was going on,” Jane replied.
“Oh yes, of course, our little blond princess. You fools have no idea what it means to be born without a silver spoon in your mouth.” Melissa Molan’s face twisted in loathing as she spoke.
“What did your husband do to deserve being poisoned? Your real name is Velma Satterley, isn’t it?” David asked.
Miss Molan exhaled sharply. “Peter was a failure, and a boring one at that. I would have expected more spunk, more courage when it came to taking a risk. Then I met Derek Tomkins. He was a real man. He knew the world, and he showed me what it meant to truly live!”
“You could have gotten a divorce from Peter.”
“That would have taken too long, and he wouldn’t have wanted one, in any case. He was too traditional. I know my way around plants, at least that was one thing I learned in India. There are so many wonderful plants. You can do the most surprising things with them.” She laughed hoarsely. “Belladonna is just one of many poisons I’ve made. But what matters is the dosage, isn’t it? A little here, a little there, and suddenly you start to hallucinate, act irrationally, become aggressive, seem confused . . .”
“Poor Charlotte,” Jane whispered.
“Oh, that woman is hysterical without drugs, and she’s utterly incapable of standing up to her own son. Cedric needs a firm but loving hand. We understood each other from the very start. If I were his mother, he would be his father’s pride and joy! I even found the perfect tutor for him, an old admirer of mine, but Sir Frederick didn’t want him.” At the reference to Sir Frederick, her voice softened.
“Sir Frederick is an intelligent man, but what he lacks is a strong woman beside him. I would have supported him, helped him with his flowers. He often talked to me in his greenhouse, he even let me plant my henna bush there.” Miss Molan looked up. “That was it, wasn’t it? That was my mistake. But I had to dye my hair. Somewhere, someone would have recognized me with blond hair—a chance meeting at a party, in a park . . . With brown hair, I turn into unassuming Miss Molan. Plus, Sir Frederick likes dark-haired women. His first wife had brown hair, too, like mine.”
“What about Rachel?” Jane asked.
“Such a pretty thing. Sir Frederick had his eye on her the day she arrived, and she would not have turned him down. Oh, not her! I know women like her. And then, stupidly, she saw me come out of Sir Frederick’s office after we’d . . . well, you know.” She smiled smugly.
“I don’t believe that’s true!” said Jane.
“Why not? He’s a man, after all, and I could give him what his wife wouldn’t. You don’t believe it because we kept it a secret. Otherwise, where would that have left him? With a mad wife and an affair with the governess?”
“So you forged a letter and lured Rachel out onto the moor,” said David.
“It was so easy. Rachel had been making eyes at our handsome butler, and it was child’s play to tempt her into a rendezvous with a few encouraging lines. Out in the dark, all it took was a good push, and the moor swallowed its victim.”
“Getting rid of a rival is one thing, but how does Tomkins fit into the picture?” David handed Blount his notebook and pencil.
“Derek and I were bound by a complicated story. One ought never to mix business with affairs of the heart. I traveled with him through Burma for several months, then to Madagascar, but the life he led would have killed me. Then there was Korshaw. A canny trader, that one. He met Peter and me in India, then followed what happened afterward in the newspapers. Well, like I said, he was not stupid, and he could put two and two together. That was yet another reason for me to assume a new identity and sail to England, that and the tropical climate, which was making me sick.
“Derek and I had a plan. He was a brilliant plant hunter. He had a particularly keen sense for orchids and could find the rarest kinds, which he sold at a premium. He promised me a life in America as soon as he got enough money together. Then I took the position with the Halstons, and Sir Frederick practically fell in love with Derek, who supplied him with the best orchids he could find.
“Sir Frederick, naturally, thought that Derek was working exclusively for him, but—my God!—why would he do that? Sir Frederick is miserly and does not understand that Derek was standing with one foot in the grave every time he went on his expeditions. What does he think, that the wildmen there come out singing songs and simply hand over their sacred flowers, just like that?” Miss Molan looked at the gathering around her. “Of course, Sir Frederick had no idea that Derek and I knew each other. But it wouldn’t have mattered anyway, because Derek was simply among the very best at what he did. He even managed to steal the sacred orchid of the Motilone Indians! Oh, that was good. He was able to spirit it out of the country for Sir Frederick, managing to shoot his closest rival, a man named Rudbeck, dead at the same time. Rudbeck was working for Sir Robert Parks. Derek did so much for Sir Frederick, and Sir Frederick barely thanked him for it.”
David raised his hand. “What about Korshaw? I heard that Korshaw and Derek were seen together on the docks in London.”
“Korshaw was greedy. Derek supplied him with the best-quality plants he could find, and that was fair! But when Korshaw saw me at an orchid auction in London with the Halstons, he recognized me. Well, Derek took care of that particular problem as soon as he returned to England. And since nobody knew he was here, he said he could plan our passage to New England in peace and quiet. The liar!”
Stunned, Jane could only listen as the woman—whose proper façade no one had seen through—calmly explained her murderous scheme. “What went wrong? Why did Derek Tomkins have to die? He wanted to take you with him.”
“Ha!” Miss Molan sniffed. “I thought the same. No, he came here to buy time, to stall me! Derek lived a life filled with adventure and women. Oh, yes, I knew he had other women. He was a good-looking man, funny and charming, too. At the Trout Inn, he said he’d give up his other women for me, but then he chuckled, as if he was laughing at me, and I knew he wouldn’t change his ways!”
Jane leaned closer to David. The cold was creeping into her limbs.
“At that moment, I realized which man I would choose. Sir Frederick trusted me, and he would turn to me once his wife was out of the way. He can’t stand hysterical women, and I know exactly how to handle him. I’m the right woman for him!” she declared, her hands balling into fists. “If I had been born the daughter of an aristocrat . . .” She stared at Jane, her eyes filled with hate.
“So that belladonna you used on Tomkins and Charlotte—did you give some of it to Cedric, too?” asked Dr. Cribb.
“Oh, Doctor, if only you’d spent a little more time getting to know plants. No, I would never have poisoned Cedric. I just gave him some lobelia, that’s all; a good remedy for hay fever or hives, but in bigger doses it causes nausea. I also gave him a little laudanum to make him sleep.” Miss Molan smiled knowingly.
“You let a child suffer for your
madness!” the doctor said in horror.
“Madness?” Miss Molan laughed. “A woman who takes her life into her own hands and clears away obstacles in her path isn’t mad. Farsighted is what I would call it.”
Sir Frederick’s voice was heard in the passage. “In here?”
“Yes, sir, just ahead,” said Draycroft. The two men stepped inside the makeshift prison cell.
“You two-faced, murderous witch! What have you done to my family?” Sir Frederick roared. He tried to attack Miss Molan but was held back by David and Blount.
“Frederick! How can you say that? I did it all for you! We loved each other!” As if on command, tears flowed down Miss Molan’s cheeks.
“What is this madwoman raving about?” Sir Frederick’s cheeks flushed red with fury. “She’s lying! Every word is a lie! Why did you kill Tomkins? I know that he had something extraordinary for me, so where the deuce is it?”
“Go scour the fireplace in that lovely room at the pub. Maybe you’ll find a few charred scraps of the last black orchid Derek managed to save from the shipment.” Every word she said dripped with the triumphant pride of the loser.
“No . . . no!” Sir Frederick bawled. Turning on his heel, he stalked out of the room.
The following morning, David and Jane were standing in the green drawing room waiting for Thomas to arrive. Velma Satterley, alias Melissa Molan, was still locked up in the cellars while she awaited transfer to the authorities. For the murders she had committed, death by hanging was certain.
“I am so happy that Charlotte is recovering,” Jane exclaimed. “Dr. Cribb is confident that she will be well again even without the antidote. But what will become of her and Sir Frederick? I mean, he still . . .”
David had picked up one of the colorful porcelain figurines. “That’s none of our business, Jane. Let’s leave it to Charlotte and Sir Frederick to pick up the pieces the best they can.”
“But—”
“No!” David placed the figurine back on the table. “And please, never collect anything like this.” Taking Jane’s hand, he drew her closer to kiss her, but a noise at the door caused them to pull apart.