Death Comes to London

by Catherine Lloyd

  “And I suppose she was. She just happened to give the poison to the wrong person. Herself.” Robert stood up. “This is all pure speculation, of course. I just wanted to give your thoughts another direction to consider rather than worrying about Oliver.”

  “That’s very good of you, Kurland. You’ve been very kind to me and my family over the past week.” He swallowed hard. “I suppose if Oliver won’t confess, and Dr. Redmond can’t identify exactly what killed my grandmother, we will never know what happened, will we?”

  “Unfortunately not. Have you considered that such a scenario might be for the best?”

  “I suppose it might, but I hate injustice, you know that. I’d much rather see the culprit suffer.”

  “Even if it is your brother?”

  “Even then, although I suspect my father might have something to say about that. He would probably prefer to keep it quiet and take Oliver back to India with him.”

  “Naturally.”

  Broughton’s smile was tight. “I don’t expect you to understand that, Kurland, but to my father our family name means everything.”

  “Then perhaps it would be better if we could prove the dowager poisoned herself after all.” Robert headed for the door. “Good night, Broughton.”

  Deep in thought, Robert made his way down the stairs into the front hall and then down the servants’ stairs to the kitchen. As he entered the kitchen, a sudden scraping back of chairs and of conversations shut off greeted him. He cursed under his breath when he realized the staff was eating their dinner and that he had disturbed them.

  He remained by the door as the butler bowed to him, and Foley, who was seated at the butler’s right hand, pretended not to notice his existence.

  “Major Kurland, how may we help you?”

  Robert waved a hand at them all to sit down again. “I apologize for bothering you at this time of night. I wanted to speak to the dowager’s maid. Is she still employed here?”

  One of the women stood up again. “I was the dowager’s maid, sir.”

  Robert nodded at her. “After you’ve finished your dinner, could you come and speak to me in my room? Thank you.”

  He turned and retreated as quickly as he could as the conversation returned and his interruption was either quickly forgotten or was being avidly discussed. He’d meant to speak to the dowager’s maid earlier in the week and had forgotten to do so. Switching his cane into his right hand, he slowly mounted the stairs and headed for his bedchamber. At the pace he went, the maid would probably beat him upstairs. It was interesting that Broughton had reacted to the idea that the dowager might have poisoned herself without ridicule. Perhaps Miss Harrington’s idea wasn’t quite as far-fetched as he’d first thought.

  Robert grimaced as he finally reached the top of the staircase and waited for his left leg to recover. Miss Harrington would appreciate that.

  “You wanted to see me, Major Kurland?” The maid curtsied. “I’m Hester Macleod.”

  “Thank you for coming. I apologize for interrupting your dinner.”

  “Think nothing of it, sir.” She gave him a competent smile. She was far younger than he’d anticipated and hardly a suitable companion for an elderly lady. “How can I help you?”

  “I wanted to ask you about your duties. Did you serve as the dowager’s abigail or were you with her for most of the day?”

  “When my mother died I took over her job as the dowager’s abigail, sir. As the dowager grew older, my duties expanded to include accompanying her around the house and offering my help when needed.”

  “I’ll wager she didn’t accept help too easily.”

  “That’s true, sir, but she is to be commended for refusing to allow her age to stop her from enjoying life to the fullest.”

  “Did you aid her in the stillroom as well?”

  “Yes, sir. Her eyes were failing. I often had to read out the ingredients from the herbal and make sure she was certain of the dosage required before she started handing out potions to the household.” Hester cast a furtive look behind her and continued in a low voice. “There was one incident recently when she insisted the whole household needed to take her worming medicine. Everyone who did so became ill. After that Lieutenant Broughton insisted she had to have someone with her in the stillroom at all times.”

  “Which was usually you.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I assume she didn’t take well to Lieutenant Broughton’s decree.”

  A faint flush appeared on the maid’s cheeks. “Not really, sir. She said there was nothing wrong with her potions and that the younger generation were a bunch of lily-livered weaklings.”

  “Do you remember what kind of potions the dowager was brewing in the last week of her life?”

  “I’m not really sure, sir.”

  “Come now, if you were responsible for reading the instructions out to the dowager, you must remember what you were making. Lieutenant Broughton was counting on you to keep the household safe.”

  “Sometimes she refused to let me see what she was brewing up and made me leave the room.” Hester swallowed hard. “I was afraid not to do what she told me in case I lost my position.”

  “I understand. But can you remember anything you helped her make recently?”

  “We made face cream for the countess, and some pills to help Master Oliver sleep, and some rat poison and—”

  “Did you also make cough syrup for Master Oliver?”

  “I believe he came in for some, sir, but we brewed that particular remedy all through the winter months and not just for him. Everyone gets a bit of a cold now and again, don’t they?”

  “Indeed, they do. Did Master Oliver ever help out in the stillroom?”

  “Sometimes he came in to speak with the dowager countess and he’d ask me questions about the potions while he waited for his grandmother to attend to him. He never stayed long. They did tend to annoy each other.”

  “So I’ve heard.” Robert thought about how to ask his next questions. “Do you know what was in the sleeping pills the dowager made for Oliver?”

  “The usual things, sir, valerian, lavender, and feverfew for his headaches.”

  “And what about the rat poison?”

  “It depended on what we had on hand, sir. The dowager always said there were hundreds of ways to get rid of vermin. She loved to tell me stories of famous folk who used poison to get rid of somebody important.”

  “Did she ever tell you which her favorite poisons were?”

  “She liked the strength of the privet berries, sir, and the fact that lily of the valley was considered such a sweet virginal plant when it was actually quite deadly.” She paused. “With all due respect, sir, is there any particular reason why you’re asking me all these questions? You don’t think I did anything wrong, do you?”

  “Not at all. Did you think the dowager was becoming frailer?”

  “I wouldn’t say that. She seemed full of vim and vigor to me.”

  “I understand that she had a bad heart and that she took her own concoctions to help herself.”

  “She did, sir.” Hester paused. “You don’t think she brewed up something too strong when I wasn’t looking and did something bad to her heart? I can’t be held responsible if she ordered me out of the stillroom, can I? That wouldn’t be fair.”

  Robert considered the trembling woman. If he told Broughton that the dowager’s maid had left her to brew potions by herself, Hester’s career would be over, and like Silas Smith she would be cast off as untrustworthy and without a reference.

  “I certainly don’t think that’s the case, Miss Macleod, and it certainly wouldn’t be fair. I’m sure you did everything in your power to keep the dowager countess safe.”

  “Thank you, sir.” She bobbed a curtsy. “Can I go now, Major Kurland? I have to help Connie put her ladyship to bed.”

  “Of course, and thank you for your help.”

  Robert remained sitting by the fire and ran the conversation back throu
gh his head. It seemed that everyone had access to the stillroom and that Oliver was rarely there, but had shown an interest in what was being produced. But the dowager herself had already accidentally poisoned the whole household once. Was it too far-fetched to believe that Miss Harrington was right and that she might have made a more vital mistake and poisoned herself?

  Chapter 12

  “Come along, Anna, the countess is expecting us.”

  Lucy picked up her skirts and went up the steps of the Broughton town house. After some thought, she’d decided it was far better to bring Anna with her to help out than to go alone. Anna was an excellent and tireless worker, and might prove useful if Lucy needed to lure Lieutenant Broughton away.

  After establishing that the countess was still in bed, but was more than willing for Lucy to begin cataloguing the dowager’s possessions, the sisters found themselves in the lofty apartment of the deceased dowager. It seemed that she had never relinquished the countess’s formal apartment, forcing her son and daughter-in-law to occupy a far more modest suite on the other side of the house.

  “Good Lord,” Anna breathed. “This will take forever! Why on earth did you offer to help?”

  Lucy had to agree. The suite of rooms was filled with large, old-fashioned, walnut and teak furniture from a different, more formal century. Boxes were stacked against the walls, and trunks were overfilled with gowns and petticoats made of brightly colored silks and satins that had long gone out of fashion. She opened the curtains, dislodging a week or so’s worth of accumulated dust and brownish snuff and sneezed. To be truthful, the thought of finally being active and useful far outweighed her desire to discover anything she hoped to find.

  “Well, we’d better make a start then, hadn’t we? Do you have pen and paper?”

  Anna cleared a space on the desk under the window and laid her paper out. “Where do you want to begin?”

  Lucy considered the huge rooms. “I wonder if we should speak to the dowager’s maid and ascertain where her mistress kept her valuables? I suspect Lady Broughton would like us to start with those, don’t you?”

  Three hours later, when they’d employed the help of both the dowager’s abigail and one of the maids, Lieutenant Broughton put his head around the door.

  “Good morning, Miss Harrington, Miss Anna Harrington.” He bowed. Lucy was pleased to see that he appeared to be regaining his health. “I was hoping to persuade you to share a nuncheon with my mother and myself.” He smiled. “We cannot have you overworking on our behalf, although we are both incredibly thankful for your generous help.”

  “Thank you, Lieutenant. I was feeling rather peckish and I’m sure Anna is, too.” Lucy dusted down the front of her brown Indian muslin gown and stood back as Anna went forward to greet Broughton.

  “Are you really feeling better, Lieutenant?” Anna asked.

  “Yes, Miss Anna, I am.” He took her hand and brought it to his lips.

  “And how is your brother? Major Kurland said he had been quite ill as well.”

  Broughton tucked Anna’s hand into the crook of his elbow and patted it. “Oliver is recovering quite well. It is so kind of you to be so concerned about us all.”

  Lucy followed along behind the engrossed pair and down to the dining room where the countess already awaited them. There was no sign of Major Kurland. Had he returned to his hotel? She could hardly ask. That would be displaying far too much of an interest in the man.

  After the meal, Broughton suggested a stroll in the garden. It was a remarkably clear day without the usual biting chill of a harsh spring, so both ladies acquiesced. Lucy was happy to listen to Anna and Broughton talk while she considered fresh places to search for the missing Bentley rubies.

  The dowager did have a document listing some of her jewelry, but the list wasn’t complete and the Bentley jewelry was not on it. When she returned to the dowager’s rooms, Lucy decided to concentrate on discovering all the places she might have hidden any valuables that were not already accounted for.

  She realized Broughton was leading them toward the second building in the garden and hurried to catch up. It was a shame he’d neglected to take them to the stillroom. She’d rather hoped to take another peek at the dowager’s herbal.

  “Ladies.” Broughton stood back to allow the sisters to pass into the building. “This used to be the dairy. I had it converted into a laboratory.”

  “You are truly a man of science, Lieutenant Broughton,” Lucy commented as she studied the long wooden benches and tiled floors of the austere space. It was as unlike the dowager’s stillroom as the sun and the moon. Everything had its place and was labeled and sorted into regimental straight lines. Major Kurland would approve.

  “I aspire to be a man of knowledge and learning, Miss Harrington. I wouldn’t consider myself a true expert, but I do my best to keep abreast of the latest scientific and botanical theories.”

  “You are to be commended, Lieutenant. Our father is of a similar bent.”

  Lucy moved farther into the room, noticing the sharp tang of lye soap and a hint of something that smelled like rotten eggs. She wrinkled her nose and turned to see the lieutenant smiling down at Anna. Swallowing down her next question, she caught a flutter of motion in one of the cages that lined the back wall, and went over to investigate. She found herself staring into the small black eyes of a sparrow. Other cages contained mice, rabbits, and her least favorite pest of all, rats. She wasn’t sure if it was their pink tails or their red eyes that offended her most.

  “Are you admiring my test subjects, Miss Harrington?”

  Broughton had obviously finished gazing into Anna’s eyes and had come up behind her.

  “Test subjects?”

  “These creatures help resolve the mysteries of the human condition.”

  “Which I assume means that you test your theories on them?”

  “Exactly.”

  Anna shivered. “That doesn’t seem very fair. Why should these creatures have to suffer to prove a scientific theory?”

  “Unfortunately, Miss Anna, in order to progress as a species, we have to use whatever is at our disposal.” Broughton spoke gently, but there was an underlying note of purpose in his words. “These dumb animals don’t feel as we do, or experience pain in the same way. They are merely a tool to be utilized for the benefit of mankind.”

  Anna turned away. “I still don’t think it’s very fair, Lieutenant.” She glanced over at Lucy. “Is it time for us to return to the house? I believe we should be getting on.”

  Without another word she turned on her heel and went toward the door, her lower lip caught in her teeth. Beside Lucy, Broughton sighed.

  “I’ve offended her, haven’t I?”

  “My sister has always had a very soft heart, sir.”

  “But surely she has to see that in order to prove a theory one has to make sacrifices?”

  “I don’t suppose she thinks about it quite like that,” Lucy said diplomatically. “Shall we go after her? It is getting rather late.”

  “Of course, Miss Harrington.” He locked the door behind him and offered her his arm. “I was hoping that you and your sister would accompany me to an alfresco event on Friday.”

  “Are you sure you are well enough to resume your social activities, Lieutenant?”

  He chuckled. “Indeed, I feel that if I don’t get out of this house soon, I’ll become quite unbearable. I’m not used to being caged up inside.”

  Lucy forbore to comment that the creatures in his laboratory might harbor similar feelings, and followed him into the house. She hated being cooped up herself. Apparently a young unmarried lady was not allowed to walk anywhere in London without being accompanied by at least a maid, if not a footman, which irritated Lucy immensely.

  When Broughton set off to speak to his mother, she continued on upstairs to find Anna already busy unpacking one of the dowager’s chests.

  “Are you all right, Anna?” Lucy noted the vigor with which her sister was dumping the c
ontents of the chest out onto the carpet. “Lieutenant Broughton was concerned that he had offended you.”

  Anna looked up at Lucy, a silken opera cloak clutched to her chest. “How could he treat those animals so?”

  “He is a man of science.”

  “He is cruel.”

  Lucy sank down on her knees beside her sister. “Our father hunts foxes and shoots game birds, as do all gentlemen, why is this any different?”

  “I don’t know. It just feels so much more detached, as if he doesn’t gain enjoyment from it, only knowledge.”

  “I still fail to see the difference. Is it better to enjoy the killing? The poor creature is still dead at the end of it.”

  Anna hunched a shoulder. “You lack sensibility, Lucy. I have often remarked upon it.”

  “Because I’m a pragmatist and you are a romantic. And I didn’t think Lieutenant Broughton was completely detached about his experiments. He sounded quite fervent about them, actually.”

  “Which just makes it worse.”

  Lucy sighed and considered the contents of the chest. “Shall I write the list while you repack the chest?”

  The alfresco event was held in a large mansion that sloped down toward a series of shallow man-made ponds that eventually fed into the River Thames. Lucy sat with Mrs. Hathaway while Anna chatted to Julia, and Sophia took the opportunity to walk her little dog around the gardens with Mr. Stanford.

  During the luncheon, she spotted Lady Bentley and discreetly made her way over to where the lady was sitting. She was spotted at once and waved into the vacant seat.

  “Miss Harrington, what a pleasant surprise.”

  “Lady Bentley. Isn’t it a beautiful day for such an event?”

  “Indeed, it is. Are you here with your aunt?”

  “No, she had a slight chill and decided not to come out today. My sister and I came with the Hathaways and Lieutenant Broughton.”

  “Broughton, eh? I heard a rumor that both he and his younger brother had been brought to their beds since the dowager’s death.”

  “They have both been unwell.”