Symptoms of Death (Dr. Alexandra Gladstone Book 1)

by Paula Paul

  Alexandra raised an eyebrow. “Along with the whisky you take with your cronies at the Blue Ram, I suppose.”

  “Medicinal it is. You said so yerself.”

  Alexandra tried to suppress a smile. “Too much will make your rheumatism worse, Mr. Beaty.”

  “And now you sounds like yer father, you does. Would never let me have me dram of whisky. Don’t be going back to his old fashioned ways, girl.”

  “You’ve done your vapor baths faithfully?” she asked, ignoring his scolding.

  He shook his head. “Makes me sweat too much, they does.”

  “The purpose is to make you sweat, Mr. Beaty.” Alexandra spoke as she gently manipulated one of his gnarled hands. “The theory is that it will sweat out some of the poison in your body that causes the rheumatism.”

  “’Tis a pity it won’t sweat the evil out of some.”

  Alexandra gave him a wary look. “I suppose you’re referring to the awful thing that happened at Montmarsh.”

  “’Twas awful all right. And the story’s on everybody’s lips, it is.”

  “Apparently.”

  “And she done it all for that no-count George Stirling. He’ll never return the favor, I’ll tell ye that much.”

  “I suppose not, since he’s dead.”

  “There’s more than one corpse that walks among the living.”

  Alexandra gave Old Beaty a quick skeptical glance while she continued to massage the twisted knot that was his hand.

  “I never knew you to be superstitious, Mr. Beaty, nor to judge another quickly. Elsie’s not proven guilty yet.”

  “Never said she was guilty, now did I, Dr. Gladstone? But I say this: if you wants to help the lass, ye’ll find that bloody corpse.”

  Alexandra stopped the massage, but still held his knot of a hand. “What are you saying, Mr. Beaty?”

  “The Blue Ram speaks you know, with a hundred voices.” He removed his hand from her grasp, carefully. “What one says, the other says the opposite, but it adds up to one thing.”

  “Which is?”

  “Which is, ye best be careful, Dr. Gladstone. If ye wants to help Elsie, ye best be careful. Ye best not be seen together.”

  “Mr. Beaty!” She took his frail shoulders in each of her hands and forced him to look at her. “I’m not certain what you’re attempting to say, but if you know where Elsie is, tell me.”

  Old Beaty shook his head. “I knows but naught.”

  “But you don’t think she killed Lord Dunsford, do you?”

  “I don’t know the lass, so how could I make a judgment? And I told ye, I knows but naught, so ye mustn’t let on that I told you but naught.” He got up from his chair, creaking and groaning, and walked toward his bed, leaning heavily on his cane. He stopped once and spoke over his shoulder. “I’ll be needin’ more of yer fine medicine, Dr. Gladstone.”

  Alexandra watched him silently for a moment then, knowing it would be futile to push him further, she picked up her bag. “I’ll bring it when I visit tomorrow.”

  She bid him goodbye, signaled to Zack to follow her, and rode Lucy back to her house. When she arrived, the surgery, which could be entered by a side door, was already beginning to fill with patients, and Nancy was doing her best to keep order. It was almost time for tea by the time the last patient left. She was very tired indeed, but a good strong cup of tea and one of Nancy’s delightful chocolate biscuits would revive her, then she would ride over to Montmarsh to confer with Mr. Forsythe.

  She was about to summon Nancy for the tea when there was a knock at her door. It opened slightly, and Nancy stuck her head around the edge.

  “There’s one more, Miss Alex.” Nancy, who had been her playmate when they were younger, had never been able to develop the habit of addressing her as Dr. Gladstone. Alexandra did nothing to discourage her chosen form of address. Truth was, she would have felt a certain loss of closeness to Nancy if she’d used the more formal title. Besides, to both of them, Dr. Gladstone would always be her father, Dr. Huntington Gladstone.

  “One more?” Alexandra could not keep the weariness from her voice.

  “I’m afraid so,” Nancy whispered. “He’s been waiting for over an hour now.”

  “Very well. Show him in.” Alexandra picked up a medical volume from her desk and went to the book shelf to put it away while she tried to shore up her energy for one more consultation and examination, knowing that it would make her too late to ride all the way to Montmarsh to visit with Nicholas Forsythe.

  She heard Nancy’s voice from outside her door. “The doctor will see you now, sir.” Her back was turned to the door while she shelved yet another volume when she heard the patient enter.

  “Loosen your clothes, please, and have a seat on the table. I’ll be with you short…” She stopped with the word unfinished as she turned around and saw that the patient was none other than Nicholas Forsythe.

  “Loosen my clothes? An interesting suggestion,” he said.

  “Mr. Forsythe! I…”

  “Perhaps you should call me Nicholas, given the fact that our relationship has so quickly evolved.”

  Alexandra felt her face grow warm, and she knew she was blushing—something that rarely happened. She had thought her profession had made her immune to it. She did her best to recover.

  “Are you ill, Mr. Forsythe?”

  “Nicholas.”

  “Very well…Nicholas.” She found it difficult to say his name. It suggested a familiarity and informality she was not sure she was ready to accept.

  “Good! And why would you think I was ill, Alexandra? If I may call you Alexandra?”

  “This is a surgery after all,” she said. She had not given him permission to use her Christian name, but she had the sense that it would do no good to protest.

  “Of course, but didn’t we agree that I would report back to you after I’d had a chance to learn something from the other guests?”

  “You do have something to report, then.” An eager excitement had crept into her voice in spite of her attempts to sound cool and detached.

  “Something rather interesting, I think. It seems that Eddie…” Nicholas stopped speaking, and his eyes grew wary as Zack ambled into the room and sniffed his feet, growling.

  Alexandra knew what that growl meant, and she spoke the dog’s name in a tone that was quiet but urgent. She was too late. Zack had already pounced. His two front paws were on Nicholas’s shoulders. Nicholas fell back against the examination table and might have tried to push the dog away, except that he had to use both hands, placed behind him, to steady himself against the table. Zack, in the meantime, was licking Nicholas’s face enthusiastically with his enormous tongue.

  Zack loved almost everyone, and the only thing intimidating about him was his size and his low growl, which was more like a soft grumbling and was meant to be friendly.

  She spoke the dog’s name again, sharper this time, and the animal turned around and settled himself at her feet, still grumbling. She glanced at Nicholas, who kept his wary eyes on the enormous black and white dog. “I was just about to ask Nancy to bring tea to the parlor,” she said. “Perhaps you’d like to join me.”

  “What? Oh, yes, of course.” Nicholas never took his eyes off of Zack as he spoke, and he made sure Alexandra and Zack left the room ahead of him.

  Nancy, in fact, was waiting just inside the parlor, as if she expected Alexandra to bring her guest there. “Shall I prepare tea, Miss Alex?” Nancy asked before Alexandra could speak.

  “Yes, please.” Alexandra tried to ignore Nancy’s little smile and raised eyebrows as, behind Nicholas’s back, she glanced first at Nicholas and then to Alexandra, as if to say I told you so.

  Only when Zack was comfortably settled once again at Alexandra’s feet and Nicholas had seated himself a safe distance away did he relax a little. “I say, interesting animal.” He nodded stiffly at Zack. “Rather like a bear, wouldn’t you say?”

  “He’s large, certainly, but it’s only his
appearance that is intimidating.” Alexandra stroked the dog’s head. “Actually, he’s as friendly as a puppy.”

  “Indeed.”

  “He seems to like you. You noticed how he licked your face.”

  “Indeed,” he repeated stiffly.

  “You were about to tell me, Mr—Nicholas, about your conversations with the other guests.”

  “Oh yes, of course.” Nicholas took his eyes off of Zack at last. “Odd thing is, I’m not certain that everyone is sincerely mourning poor Eddie’s passing.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes, it seems the chap had his own way of intimidating people.” Nicholas leaned forward eagerly. “Several people, in fact.”

  Alexandra’s interest was piqued. “What do you mean, exactly?”

  “Eddie was something of a bully when we were in school, but I assumed he’d outgrown that.” Nicholas settled back into his chair. “Of course I don’t see him as often as I once did, in spite of the fact that we are distant cousins. I was busy reading law for several years, you see, and then as a barrister I find myself quite busy.”

  “Of course.” There was an expectancy to her tone that was an invitation for him to go on speaking.

  “Perhaps bully is not quite the right word.” He frowned, thinking about it. “Eddie was always more of a manipulator. He used people, you might say. And that, apparently, made a few people rather cross with him.”

  “And some of the guests were among those who were cross?”

  “Yes, Isabel Atewater for one. According to some of the other ladies, whom I just happened to hear gossiping while I lurked outside the east wing parlor, Isabel and Eddie had been having an affair.”

  Nicholas paused as if to gauge whether or not the subject was too indelicate, but Alexandra kept her countenance and did not comment. She waited for Nicholas to continue.

  “And it seems that Eddie had broken it off.” Nicholas appeared decidedly uncomfortable.

  “I can understand that she might have been chagrined, but that hardly seems a reason to kill him. One would think it would be enough just to make him…” Alexandra suddenly understood the reason for Nicholas’s discomfort, and it had nothing to do with the indelicacy of the subject. Isabel had obviously been using Nicholas to get back at Lord Dunsford, which was, no doubt, a blow to his ego.

  “To make him jealous?” Nicholas sighed as he finished her thought for her. “One would hope that would be enough, but Isabel was seen going into Eddie’s room the night he died.”

  “Really? By whom?”

  “Lady Winningham. It seems she couldn’t sleep, and she had just stepped in the hallway on her way down to the library to fetch something to read when she saw Isabel going into Eddie’s room. She claims she was so shocked she simply ducked back into her room and never made it down to find a book.”

  “You overheard all of this while you were lurking, as you say, outside the east wing parlor?”

  Nicholas nodded.

  She paused a moment, collecting her thoughts. “Did Lady Winningham see Isabel leave Eddie’s room?”

  “Apparently not.”

  “And did she say whether or not she carried anything? A long scarf, for example, or a knife?”

  “She didn’t mention it.”

  “So Isabel could have been going to his room for a lover’s tryst.”

  Nicholas shrugged. “I suppose that’s possible.”

  “And Isabel,” Alexandra said. “Has she said anything?”

  Nicholas was about to answer when Nancy entered, carrying a tray of sandwiches, tea, and chocolate biscuits. She placed the items on the table and took a long time arranging them, then stepped back a few steps, waiting.

  “That will be all, Nancy. Thank you.” Alexandra watched as Nancy bowed slightly and walked away, but she sensed an unmistakable reluctance on Nancy’s part. Nancy loved a good story, and the recent goings on at Montmarsh would likely be the best one she’d hear in some time.

  Nicholas waited until Nancy was gone, and then said in a low voice, “Isabel took to her bed immediately after Constable Snow questioned her, and since no one will be allowed to leave for a while, she has sent for her London physician to be fetched to Montmarsh.”

  Alexandra nodded, remembering Isabel’s remarks about her lack of trust in any physician other than her own personal one. “And no one has spoken to her since?”

  “I tried, but…” Nicholas cleared his throat nervously.

  “But what?”

  “Well, you see, I thought I would steal away to her room and interview her since she and I are… Or rather, that is, we have been…” Nicholas stretched his neck as if his collar was too tight, and Alexandra noticed a film of perspiration on his upper lip. “What I’m trying to say is that we have been…”

  “I know what you’re trying to say, Nicholas. That you and Mrs. Atewater have been considerably more than friends. That you have been lovers, perhaps.” Alexandra watched as his face went from white to crimson.

  “My dear Dr. Gladstone, I assure you that nothing could be further—”

  “No need to assure me of anything, Nicholas. I have no interest in your personal affairs. Why weren’t you able to interview Mrs. Atewater as you had planned?”

  In spite of Alexandra’s well practiced detached tone, Nicholas still appeared immensely uncomfortable. “Well, it was rather awkward you see, since Jeremy never left her side.”

  “Jeremy? Mr. Atewater, you mean?”

  “Precisely.”

  “Do you have any reason to believe that Mr. Atewater had knowledge of his wife’s affair with Lord Dunsford?”

  Nicholas took out his handkerchief and mopped his brow. “I think that’s possible. Apparently everyone else knew.”

  “Except you, of course.”

  Nicholas sighed again, then after a pause said, “I see what you’re getting at. If Jeremy did know, then he had a motive to kill Eddie. The jealous husband, as you postulated earlier. And I have to admit Jeremy has been rather gloomy lately. Even before Eddie’s death, I mean.”

  “And how is he now?”

  “Gloomier than ever. As we all are.” There was a pause as Nicholas seemed deep in thought. “Well, almost all of us.”

  “Almost?” Alexandra felt as if she was trying to diagnose the illness of a particularly reticent patient.

  “Winningham,” Nicholas said. “For some reason I got the feeling he could hardly contain his joy. Oh, of course he tried to put on a sad face, but there was a certain—well, gleefulness he couldn’t seem to hide.”

  “Interesting.”

  Another silence while Nicholas considered it.

  “Any particular reason that you know of why he would be happy that Lord Dunsford is dead?” Alexandra asked.

  “Of course not,” Nicholas said, but he didn’t sound convincing.

  Alexandra tried to prompt him. “He didn’t owe Lord Dunsford money, for example?”

  Nicholas shook his head, still wearing a thoughtful expression. “Not likely. Winningham is quite wealthy in his own right.”

  “Something else then. Blackmail, perhaps.”

  Nicholas frowned with surprise. “Good lord, no. Winnie is the epitome of propriety.”

  “I see.”

  Nicholas turned his distracted gaze suddenly to focus on her. “I know what you’re thinking. The epitome of propriety is precisely the type to worry about his reputation and be vulnerable to blackmail.”

  Alexandra thought it best not to acknowledge that had been exactly what she was thinking. She simply sat and waited for him to continue his musing, which she hoped would reveal more.

  “As I said, Eddie could certainly be manipulative.” He seemed to be speaking to no one in particular, or perhaps to himself. “And those things I overheard…”

  “In the east parlor, you mean.” Alexandra said when the pause had stretched long enough that she feared he might lose his train of thought.

  “Oh no. I also lurked where the gentlemen were congregate
d.”

  “Of course.”

  “It seems there have been rumors that Eddie—well, that Eddie wasn’t above blackmail.”

  “Interesting.”

  “I never paid attention to rumors in the past, of course. But now I must admit…” There was another long pause, the kind a person might make when he or she is making a particularly difficult confession to a priest. “One might say that…” Nicholas cleared his throat. “Well, that I myself was a near victim of blackmail at his hands.”

  “A near victim? I don’t understand.”

  Nicholas gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “Oh it happened a long time ago. We were both quite young.”

  There was another long pause during which Zack, who still slept at Alexandra’s feet, began to snore loudly. She feared the noise might distract Nicholas, so she nudged the dog with her toe, which only served to make him snore even louder. Nicholas, however, seemed not to notice. He merely cleared his throat again, uneasily.

  “I was much younger, you see. Fresh out of Eton, and I had just begun to read law at Oxford, but I took a holiday and traveled to London. I happened to see Eddie, who, by then, had inherited the earldom, and had just returned from surveying his estates.”

  Alexandra nodded, encouraging him to continue.

  “I suppose we were both somewhat exhausted by our new duties, and we meant only to have a relaxing evening.”

  “Of course.”

  “It was perhaps a bit too relaxing.”

  “How so?”

  “Well…” Nicholas cleared his throat again. “I don’t know quite how to put this…”

  “You spent a night in debauchery, perhaps?” Alexandra’s voice was quiet and unemotional.

  Nicholas’s expression was a mixture of discomfort and denial. “I wouldn’t go so far as to call it…” He breathed another uneasy sigh. “Well, perhaps you’ve chosen the right word after all.”

  She tried prompting him once again. “And for this, Lord Dunsford threatened to blackmail you?”

  “He threatened to report my activity to my father unless I paid a tidy sum. I couldn’t have my father know, of course. He was not a well man. I’m sure you can see my position.”

  “Indeed.”

  Nicholas mopped his brow again. “Nothing came of it, of course, because Eddie realized he couldn’t implicate me without implicating himself. As I said, it was a long time ago, and I assumed Eddie would outgrow such tricks. But I dare say, at the time it showed a ruthless side of the old boy that surprised me.”