Murder at Cleeve Abbey

by Anita Davison

  While debating what to do, she barely registered the jangle of the shop bell and the rattle of the door frame that announced the arrival of another customer.

  ‘I ought to go,’ Flora said, apologetic and eager to be off at the same time. ‘I’m interrupting your work.’

  ‘Not at all,’ Reginald assured her. ‘This has proved most enlightening.’ He glanced past Flora’s shoulder to where his smile wilted at the edges. ‘Good afternoon, Mrs Mountjoy.’

  Flora swung round, her surprised gaze meeting Caroline’s serene one.

  ‘How nice to see you, Flora.’ Caroline lifted her free hand as if preparing to bestow a gesture on a minion. Her sharp eyes slid over the poison book beneath Flora’s hand and then back to Reginald. ‘I see you’ve discovered the excellent Mr Meeks.’ She cast him a flirtatious look that would have discomposed most young men. Reginald, however, returned her look coldly. Not an admirer then?

  ‘What brings you here, Flora?’ Caroline asked. ‘When there’s a perfectly adequate apothecary in Bishop’s Cleeve?’

  Flora searched for a credible response, but decided she didn’t need one. She wasn’t required to explain her actions to Caroline Mountjoy. ‘Completing a few personal errands. What brings you here?’ Buying arsenic perhaps?

  ‘Your Beecham’s Pills, Mrs Harrington.’ Reginald emerged at almost a run from behind the counter, and pressed a brown-paper-wrapped parcel into Flora’s hands. ‘I do hope your husband’s sore throat gets better soon.’

  ‘Yes, er thank you.’ Flora kept her eyes averted. Had she met his eye just then she would have burst into laughter.

  ‘Sore throats in summer are quite rare, but I suppose not unheard of.’ Mrs Mountjoy didn’t respond to Flora’s question and sashayed towards her, trailing a hand through the basket of soaps on the counter. ‘I’m glad to have run into you, Flora dear. I wanted to invite you to tea at my home tomorrow.’

  ‘Thank you, Mrs Mountjoy, although I’m not sure what my husband’s plans are. I’ll let you know when I’ve spoken to him.’

  ‘Oh no, I don’t want any men around.’ Her gazed flicked over Flora with ill-concealed scepticism. ‘No, my dear, just you and me. Besides, if Mr Harrington isn’t well, he ought to remain in bed and keep warm. Do say you’ll come.’

  Flora placed the unwanted package in her bag.

  She had to get back to the Abbey and tell them about Eddy. Then halted as she recalled his parents weren’t at home. William and Jocasta might be, as well as Bunny. But if Eddy was really sick, he would need more than her concern. He would need medical attention.

  ‘Tea, Flora,’ Caroline tapped her arm, making her jump. ‘I said is three thirty convenient?’

  ‘I, uh, I’m sorry, I must go.’ Flora moved past her. ‘Good afternoon, Mrs Mountjoy.’

  The pharmacist strode across the floor and hauled open the door with a scrape of warped wood and a harsh jangle of the bell. ‘You’re a brave woman to snub her,’ he whispered as he bowed her onto the pavement. ‘Her tentacles reach a long way.’

  ‘She doesn’t intimidate me,’ Flora murmured, then louder. ‘If you would put the Beecham’s on Lord Vaughn’s account, I’ll settle with him later.

  20

  Out on the street again, Flora debated what to do first; go for the tram, or waste another ten minutes walking to Dr Fairbrother’s office? A quick glance at the Rotunda clock behind her told her it was after three, but before she could make up her mind, she saw Caroline Mountjoy emerge from Mr Meeks’ shop.

  Unwilling to attract the woman’s attention for a second time that day, Flora ducked into the doorway of the butcher’s shop next door. Through the plate glass window a well-rounded man in a striped apron scrubbed at tiles that bore traces of blood and scraps of raw meat. He looked up when he saw her in his doorway, a look of enquiry on his round face. Flora fretted on the pavement in the afternoon sun. Her dress stuck to her skin and her hair felt damp on the back of her neck. She aimed a polite smile in the butcher’s direction before checking the road again; relieved to see Mrs Mountjoy’s carriage was no longer beside the kerb.

  She rapidly retraced her steps to the pharmacy, which was empty. Mr Meeks stood behind the counter, his head bent as he counted white pills into a bottle, the harsh clatter of the bell as she entered bringing his head up.

  ‘Back again, Mrs Harrington?’ He rested both forearms on the counter and grinned at her. ‘You’re quite safe. Mrs Mountjoy is most likely halfway home by now.’

  ‘I’m not at all concerned about Mrs Mountjoy,’ Flora snorted. ‘I’ve a favour to ask which you may think presumptuous, but please listen until I have finished.’

  ‘That sounds serious.’ Unruffled by her curt tone, his smile persisted as he returned the bottle to its place and folded his arms over the bib of his leather apron. ‘Fire away.’

  ‘I think Eddy is displaying the symptoms of arsenic poisoning.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ His smile faded and he dropped his arms to his sides. ‘No, of course you are or you wouldn’t—’ He pushed a hand through his immaculate hair, leaving it standing up on one side. ‘What can I do?’

  Flora released a relieved breath that she didn’t have to waste time persuading him.

  ‘I have to take someone with me to the Abbey who knows something about arsenic poisoning.’

  ‘What about Dr Fairbrother? He’ll be in his surgery at this time.’ He flicked a look at the clock on the wall then back at her.

  ‘I thought of him first, but changed my mind. I’m sorry if that sounds unreasonable, but he’s already got things wrong once. At least I’m pretty sure he has. I don’t want him to dismiss me as hysterical and convince Lord and Lady Vaughn I don’t know what I’m talking about. I need someone with more authority, and thought of you. Would you come back to the Abbey with me?’

  ‘Of course, but I’m not a doctor. Why would Lord Vaughn listen to me?’ He considered a moment. ‘However, there is someone we could ask, but I’m not sure how Lord Vaughn would view a woman doctor.’

  ‘You mean Dr Billings?’ Flora brightened. ‘I’ve heard of her. Do you think she would help?’ She hesitated, dismayed. ‘But, I don’t know where to find her.’

  ‘I do.’ Reginald tugged his apron over his head and slung it on a hook behind the door to the rear of the shop.

  ‘Mr Meeks, I didn’t mean you to go to all this trouble. If you could give me some directions I’m sure I could find her myself.’

  ‘Nonsense. Give me a moment to close the shop and we’ll go together. Her surgery is in Pittville Parade, which is too far to walk, so we’ll take the tram. He rummaged in a drawer, picked out a jar and placed it on the counter. ‘We’ll take this, it’s magnesium sulphate, which might help if his heart rate has become thready.’ He pulled out another bottle that joined the first. ‘Sodium bicarbonate might be useful too.’

  He went to a hook on the wall and shrugged into his jacket, slipping a jar into each of the larger pockets. Collecting his bowler hat, he guided her back to the door where he flicked the ‘Open’ sign to ‘Closed’ and ushered her onto the street. ‘Some medics make their patients chew charcoal biscuits, but in my view they do little but taste awful,’ he added, locking the door behind him.

  ‘I do appreciate this,’ Flora said as they hurried towards the tram stop.

  ‘Not at all.’ He nodded to where a tram whined to a halt. ‘You’ve made my day considerably more interesting. Not that I would wish anything bad to happen to Viscount Trent, of course. Now tell me, exactly what these symptoms are?’

  He paid the fare for both of them and when they had taken their seats, Flora described Eddy’s recent behaviour. His lethargy and lack of appetite, as well as his pale complexion which should have been tanned and healthy at this time of year.

  ‘Do you think I’m right?’ she said when she had finished.

  He nodded slowly. ‘Certainly sounds like heavy metal poisoning. How do you think it happened?’

  ‘I’m not sure, but t
he only answer is that somehow, Eddy got hold of some of the beer at the fête.’

  ‘That was nearly a month ago, he wouldn’t still be suffering now. If there was arsenic in the beer, and I’m saying ‘if’, there was nothing proved, the estate workers who drank it succumbed immediately afterwards. They recovered fully within a couple of weeks. Symptoms wouldn’t persist this long unless—’

  ‘He kept drinking it,’ Flora finished for him.

  ‘Exactly.’ He lifted one brow in admiration. ‘If he ingested tiny amounts over a long period of time he would exhibit chronic, though milder symptoms.’

  ‘I’m not certain how or when, but it’s the only thing I can think of.’

  ‘Interesting that you should suspect arsenic poisoning. Mr McCallum thought the same thing.’

  ‘Mr McCallum did?’ She hadn’t expected that. ‘When?’

  ‘Dr Fairbrother told me, and with some degree of skepticism too. Said the man had got it all wrong and it was neuritis. He didn’t like it when I said McCallum had a point either. The good doctor and I disagree on many things.’

  Flora reverted to thoughtful silence, surprised that Mr McCallum would do such a thing if it was his own brewery which would likely be held responsible. While her thoughts raced she became aware they were stationary and fidgeted on her seat. ‘What’s holding us up?’

  ‘Looks like an argument over right of way.’ Reginald strained his neck to see ahead. ‘The trams are so new to this town, no one is quite sure of the rules about positioning of other traffic on the roads. The authorities should address it before accidents happen. Ah, here we go. Don’t fret, Mrs Harrington, we’ll be there soon.’

  ‘You were saying about Mr McCallum?’ Flora asked when they got going again.

  ‘Ah yes, well Mr McCallum asked my opinion. He wondered if it could be poisoning instead. I thought it odd at the time, I mean, if I had disagreed with the good doctor, it wouldn’t have done McCallum any favours.’

  ‘That’s exactly what I think,’ Flora bit her lip. ‘Perhaps he simply wanted to make sure.’

  ‘As it happens, I didn’t contradict the neuritis diagnosis at the time. Not until your father came to me with his articles about the Manchester brewery.’

  ‘Did what he said change your mind?’

  ‘It did, actually, but the men had recovered by then, so it seemed pointless to take it further.’

  ‘But you still thought it might have been arsenic which made them ill?’

  ‘It was a possibility, yes. Though it never occurred to me Eddy Vaughn could have been affected or I would never have let the matter drop.’

  ‘You weren’t to know. I’ve been staying there and it’s taken me a few days to notice what was going on. I knew Eddy looked peaky but I didn’t consider that he might be genuinely ill. I was so focused on my father’s - accident, I went along with what everyone else thought.’

  ‘And what did everyone else think?’

  ‘Summer colds, growing pains, laziness?’ She shrugged, aware saying it aloud sounded feeble now.

  ‘Sounds about right, especially if Dr Fairbrother saw him. You were once his governess, weren’t you?’ At her nod he smiled. ‘That explains the maternal instinct. Must be difficult to turn that off simply because your life has changed.’

  ‘It is, and thank you for understanding. Sometimes even my husband finds that difficult to accept.’ She flushed at the thought she had been disloyal to Bunny, but Mr Meeks didn’t seem to notice.

  ‘That didn’t take long, did it?’ He nodded to where the Pittville Park Gates loomed in the front window of the tram. ‘This is our stop, the surgery is in Pittville Parade, which is just along the terrace there and on our right.’

  *

  No. 3, was a tall narrow, white rendered house comprised of four storeys, in the style of the properties of the Georgian kings, though it had been built in the last fifty years. A small front garden sat behind black railings, a short flight of steps led to a black front door on the upper ground floor.

  In response to Reginald’s knock, a forbidding-looking woman in a grey dress answered the door. She looked to be in late middle-age with a slab face, empty, disinterested eyes and her hair scraped back from her forehead, making her skin look shiny. If this was Dr Billings, Flora didn’t hold out much hope for a sympathetic hearing.

  ‘Is Dr Billings available?’ Mr Meeks asked.

  Flora released a relieved breath, but her next words were no more encouraging.

  ‘The doctor is not available. The surgery is closed. I suggest you come back in the morning.’ She had the door halfway closed again when Reginald braced his hand against it, forcing her backwards. ‘A moment of her time wouldn’t hurt, surely?’

  ‘This is an emergency,’ Flora pleaded. ‘Couldn’t you ask Dr Billings to at least speak to us?’

  ‘Dr Billings has finished for the day,’ the woman said, as if she had turned to more important matters. She gestured for Reginald to remove his hand, when a female voice spoke from behind her.

  ‘Who is it, Agnes?’

  ‘Some people, Doctor,’ the woman gave Flora a head-to-toe stare. ‘Not known to you,’ she added as if that settled the matter.

  ‘Really, Agnes, what have I told you about callers? I never turn away prospective patients.’ She insinuated herself in front of the servant, sending her back into the hall. ‘I’m sorry about that. I’m Dr Grace Billings, is there something you need?’

  A woman of about thirty stood on the threshold, her dark hair gathered on top of her head in a loose bun. She was not a pretty in the conventional sense, being possessed of a broad forehead, a slightly protruding chin and a thin-lipped mouth set in a straight line. Her direct dark eyes were the most animated part about her, though with a slight cast to the left one that pinned Flora with an open, candid stare. She held a small boy of about three in her arms, his thumb stuck into his pink mouth, his legs wrapped round her waist.

  ‘Allow me to introduce myself,’ Reginald removed his hat. ‘I’m Reginald Meeks from the pharmacy in Montpellier.’

  ‘I believe I’ve heard of you, Mr Meeks. Your reputation precedes you. And don’t look so apologetic. I grew up in my father’s chemist shop in Bristol, thus I appreciate the extensive knowledge required for your profession.’

  ‘It’s kind of you to say so.’ He turned an attractive shade of pink. ‘This,’ he indicated Flora, ‘is Mrs Harrington, who believes she has identified a case of arsenic poisoning.’

  ‘Two cases,’ Flora added. ‘Which have gone unnoticed for some time and need your help.’

  ‘Days or weeks?’ the lady asked without preamble.

  ‘A couple of weeks. Please, could you come?’

  Without another word, Dr Billings pressed the child she held into the housekeeper’s arms. ‘Take Frederick for me, Agnes. I have to go.’ Ignoring the boy’s whining protests, she took a light coat from a hook on the wall and shrugged into it. The little boy snuffled in the housekeeper’s arms and before closing the door behind her, his mother planted a kiss on his rounded cheek.

  ‘I brought magnesium sulphate and sodium bicarbonate,’ Reginald showed her the bottles in his pockets.

  ‘Excellent.’ The doctor held up the square leather bag she had retrieved from inside the door. ‘I’m not sure of my supplies and from what you have both said, there’s no time to lose. My gig is in the mews. It will take a few moments to hitch the horse, then we’ll be off.’

  ‘Allow me to help. I’m quite good with horses.’ Reginald moved toward the side gate.

  ‘His name is Jed. The groom, that is, not the horse,’ Dr Billings aimed a wry smile in his direction as she called after him.

  ‘It’s very kind of you to come at such short notice,’ Flora said, self-conscious to find herself alone with the doctor. ‘Especially for someone you don’t know.’

  ‘Not kind, Mrs Harrington. It’s my profession to heal the sick.’ She busied herself with fastening the buttons of her green coat, her leather
bag tucked neatly between her feet. ‘Incidentally, where exactly are the patients?’

  ‘Lord Vaughn’s residence at Cleeve Abbey. One of the boys is his son.’

  ‘I see.’ Her hands stilled on the last button for a second, then as if she made up her mind, she retrieved the bag. ‘I hope that won’t cause any problems.’

  ‘Why should it?’ Flora replied, with confidence. ‘Lord Vaughn is quite liberal-minded and one of the rare creatures who actually likes women and appreciates them as intelligent beings. He has three daughters who have played a part in that opinion.’

  ‘Suddenly I feel slightly more at ease.’ Dr Billings smiled, a gentle, knowing smile that told Flora that given the right circumstances, they could be friends.

  ‘Have you always wanted to be a doctor?’ Flora asked, fascinated. She had never met a woman who had attended a university before, which made her if not tongue-tied, then unsure where to begin as questions filled her head.

  ‘As long as I can remember. It began in my father’s chemist shop where I developed an early love for chemistry. My sister, Mary, is a doctor too.’

  Flora was about to ask what it was like to heal but was interrupted by the arrival of Mr Meeks as he pulled the gig to an abrupt halt in front of them.

  ‘I think you might be wrong, Doctor.’ He grinned before jumping down to help the women up the step. ‘The horse didn’t mind being called Jed at all.’

  Dr Billings laughed, a full throated sound that lifted the heavy atmosphere immediately. She handed Mr Meeks her bag with the aplomb of a duchess, with a curt, ‘I’ll drive.’

  *

  The two-mile journey to South Cleeve seemed to take far longer than usual, made more frustrating when the gig was passed by a tramcar on Cleeve Hill which upset the horse. Finally they reached the top of the hill and passed through the Abbey gates.