Nobody's Secret

by Michaela MacColl

  Vinnie’s keen eyes had seen it all. “You know what happened, don’t you?”

  “Almost,” Emily said absently, watching the reluctant progress of the Langstons toward the law’s representative.

  “Who did it?” Vinnie said. “I hope it’s not Henry.”

  Emily held up a hand to forestall her sister. “I need proof before I tell you.”

  “That’s just cruel of you. Now that Dr. Gridley is back and is talking with the constable, it’s no longer your responsibility.”

  “I’ve run out of time,” Emily said resentfully. “It’s so unfair.”

  “That’s just prideful, Emily Elizabeth Dickinson!” Vinnie scolded.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “The important thing is that your precious Mr. Nobody gets justice—not who obtains it for him.”

  Emily glared at her sister. Of course it mattered, she thought. “Mr. Nobody and I talked about our lives having a purpose. Getting justice for his murder is my life’s meaning right now.”

  Mr. and Mrs. Langston were almost at the church door when Ursula broke away and walked rapidly around the corner of the church into the College grounds. Intent on the upcoming interview, none of her family members appeared to notice her departure.

  Emily gave her sister a scant moment of attention. “Tell Mother I felt faint and went home,” she said. And she set off to follow Ursula.

  “Emily!” She heard Vinnie behind her. “What are you doing?”

  “Getting my proof!”

  For each beloved hour

  Sharp pittances of years,

  Bitter contested farthings

  And coffers heaped with tears.

  CHAPTER 21

  Emily half-ran, keeping Ursula’s gray dress in her sights. Emily’s breath grew shallow in her chest. She coughed, and when she took her hand away from her mouth she saw specks of blood on her white glove. The truth she was chasing didn’t frighten her as much as those drops of blood, but she forced herself to keep moving. Her weakness would not prevent her from catching a murderer.

  Ursula detoured around the College dormitory and then made her way back to her house, which she entered by the front door. Emily snuck around back to the flower room. Through the window, she saw Ursula shoving fragments of foxgloves into an old sack, to which she added the contents of a jar filled with oblong white tablets.

  As though she sensed she was being watched, Ursula froze and glanced toward the window. Emily ducked behind a large lilac bush. A moment later, the back door banged open and Emily watched as Ursula ran to the shed next to the barn and hid the sack. Emily wondered if Ursula knew that was also Horace’s hiding place.

  Ursula returned to the house, adjusting her hair and fixing her bodice. Emily waited a moment, and then went to the front door and knocked.

  “Miss Dickinson!” It was Bridget, her face full of consternation when she saw who was calling. “The young master gave me a talking-to something fierce after you were here yesterday. You can’t come in now; Miss Ursula is here!.

  “I know she is,” Emily reassured her. “Announce me, please.”

  A moment later, a red-faced Bridget ushered Emily into the parlor. Ursula was perched on a settee, doing embroidery. She looked up, put aside her hoop, and stood to greet Emily.

  “Good morning,” she said. “I’m surprised to see you here. Shouldn’t you be in church?”

  “I could ask you the same thing,” Emily said, watching her closely.

  Ursula hesitated. Emily was sure she was contemplating a lie. Finally Ursula said, “I did accompany my parents and Henry to church, but as soon as I saw Reverend Colton, I felt a massive headache coming on. That man does boom so; it’s like being in an artillery battle.” She sat down, gesturing for Emily to join her. “But I’m sure you understand, being plagued by ill health yourself. I daresay you missed half of last term at Amherst Academy to nurse your coughs.”

  “Thank you for your concern,” Emily said, nettled. She saw her bouts of illness as no one’s business but her own.

  “Can I offer you some elderberry wine?” Ursula asked.

  The wine from James’s flask was still sticky on Emily’s glove. She hastily declined.

  Ursula’s eyes narrowed, but she said agreeably enough, “Then some tea.” Without waiting for Emily to answer, she called Bridget and gave her the order.

  “I’m sorry to intrude at what must be a time of terrible grief,” Emily said. Ursula’s face was as blank as the next piece of paper in Emily’s notebook. “Your cousin’s death?” Emily prompted.

  “Why, yes, I didn’t realize that was general knowledge,” Ursula said. “It was very sad. He drowned.”

  “I’m afraid that’s not true,” Emily said offhandedly, as if it weren’t of the most vital importance.

  “I beg your pardon?” Ursula said. Emily could see unease come into her pretty amber eyes.

  “It was made to look like he drowned, but in fact he died when his heart stopped.”

  “I’m surprised to hear you say that.” Ursula’s fingers tightened on her embroidery hoop. “No other members of my family, who surely are in a better position to know, have said so.”

  “Your family is exceedingly good at keeping secrets from one another,” Emily mused. “Much better than mine. My mother always seems to know everything, and Vinnie seems to have a sixth sense whenever I’m doing something I’d rather do alone. I expect she’ll follow me here in a minute.”

  Ursula opened her mouth to speak but was forestalled by the arrival of Bridget with a tray. “Leave it here,” Ursula said. “I’ll pour.” She turned her back to Emily and fussed with the cups. “Sugar?” she asked.

  “Yes, please, one lump,” Emily answered, trying to watch Ursula’s hands.

  Ursula handed Emily a cup. “Let us say you are right and Cousin James’s heart stopped. The authorities would consider it a natural death. Why don’t you?”

  “I met your cousin, and I liked him very much. He didn’t deserve what happened to him.” Emily paused. “And as for the authorities, I think they are becoming more knowledgeable every minute.”

  There was a long silence while Ursula took a sip of tea. She seemed unconcerned, but her cup trembled. “And what knowledge do you think they are acquiring?” Her voice was tight.

  “That you filled your cousin’s flask with elderberry wine. A cousinly gesture. But what he didn’t know was that the wine was laced with your uncle’s heart medication.”

  “That’s not true,” Ursula protested weakly.

  “You used the medication you made from the foxgloves in your own garden,” Emily said. “Shame on you, Ursula, for using your healing skills to kill.”

  “I didn’t,” Ursula said in a tense voice. “Do you have any proof of this ridiculous accusation?”

  Emily lifted her cup to her lips, deciding how much information to reveal. She looked over its rim at Ursula, who was watching her avidly. Without drinking, Emily deliberately returned her cup to its saucer.

  “Proof enough,” Emily said. “I have the flask filled with wine you gave him. There are still bits of foxglove floating in it.”

  Ursula was still.

  “Not compelling enough? I have an eyewitness who saw James drink from it and then complain that the world around him had turned green. Dr. Gridley . . .” Ursula looked alert at the mention of the doctor’s name. “He tells me that this is a symptom of foxglove poisoning.”

  “A tragic mistake,” Ursula said. “Somehow my uncle’s medicine got into the wine.”

  “Into the flask that you filled? Under what circumstances could that have happened? And if that was the case, then why did you just hide the foxglove and the pills in your back shed?”

  Ursula’s eyes darted in the direction of the shed. With an obvious effort she brought her gaze back to the tea tray. She checked the p
ot of tea, acting the polite hostess in a way that Emily found more unnerving than if Ursula had gone into hysterics.

  “You haven’t drunk your tea, Emily,” she said. “Is it not to your liking?”

  “It’s fine. A little hot, perhaps,” Emily said, playing along as an honored guest.

  There was a long silence, finally broken when Ursula asked, “Surely you aren’t suggesting that I somehow transported my cousin into your pond?”

  “Oh no, I don’t think that at all,” Emily assured her. “That was when your murder got tangled up with other people’s attempts to cover up their crimes.”

  “I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

  Emily thought that was probably true. “Your Uncle Sam and your hired man put James’s body in the pond. But your parents were complicit. It was their idea to change James’s clothes so that he looked more like a hired hand than a member of the family. None of them could afford any questions about a living heir to the fortune they had already stolen—excuse me, arranged to inherit themselves.”

  Ursula stared, shocked. Emily was certain that this was the first she had heard of the aftermath of her cousin’s death. This was a secretive family indeed.

  “It must have been so confusing for you,” Emily mused, “when James’s body wasn’t found. And then for it not to be identified. Through a wild stroke of fortune, you must have thought you had gotten away with it.”

  “I don’t know what you mean,” Ursula said. “You are talking more nonsense than you usually do.” She stood up and approached Emily. “Your tea must be cold. Let me pour you another.”

  Without a word, Emily handed Ursula her untouched cup.

  “But why did you do it?” Emily said. “Was it just for the money?” She couldn’t help it, but her voice reflected her disdain for such a base motive.

  “Just the money?” Ursula asked bitterly, still holding Emily’s cup. She went to the window and stared unseeingly into the ornate garden. “The mighty Dickinsons don’t know what it’s like not to have money. And even if you were poor, with your history and education, you would still be accepted in this town. The founders of Amherst College! You have everything. Without that money, we had nothing.”

  Suddenly the door flew open. Henry, his tie askew and his face red with running, burst in. Vinnie followed close on his heels. Henry’s eyes went first to Emily and then to his sister.

  “Emily,” he said, panting. “Are you all right?”

  “Of course,” she said. She hesitated, knowing that she was about to bring ruin to Henry’s family. “I was just telling Ursula that I’ve given Dr. Gridley the proof that she poisoned her cousin. No doubt he and the constable are interviewing your parents right now.”

  “Your sister told me about Gridley and the constable.” Henry didn’t take his eyes off Ursula. “Suddenly I understood what happened to Cousin James.”

  “I think perhaps you always suspected it,” Emily said softly.

  “I feared it.” He went to his sister and took her hands. “Ursula, you’ve done such a wicked thing. Why?”

  “It was all that money.” Her eyes were unfocused, and she spoke in fits and starts. “Before we inheriited the money, everything was going wrong. Father’s business failed. You had to leave Yale. The dressmakers wouldn’t give me credit anymore. Mother said we would have to move in with Uncle Samuel in that smelly old house. I wouldn’t have been able to go to school. That money meant my life.”

  “Your parents stole it from James,” Emily said.

  “So?” Ursula retorted. “He didn’t need it—and we did.”

  “How could you bear to profit from a lie?” Vinnie asked. Ursula stared at her, as though she was noticing her arrival for the first time.

  “If you can resist taking everything you’ve ever wanted, then you can sneer at me,” Ursula said with a snarl.

  “But to kill, Ursy?” Tears ran down Henry’s cheeks. “James was family.”

  Ursula didn’t say anything, but she twisted the rings on her long fingers as though her life depended on it.

  “The worst thing of all is that it wasn’t necessary,” Emily said sadly. “James wasn’t going to prosecute. He didn’t even want the money back. You did it all for nothing.”

  The color drained from Ursula’s face. “You’re lying,” she spat. “At school you always thought you were better than me. Smarter. I won’t let you fool me.”

  “It’s true, Ursy,” Henry said, rubbing his cheek with the back of his hand.

  Ursula staggered away from her brother, grabbing the back of a chair to steady herself. She stared at Emily with cold eyes. “I was always jealous of you. But maybe not so much now.”

  “Why not?” Emily said warily.

  “Because you will have to live with this, and I will not.” Ursula grabbed the teacup that had been Emily’s. Before anyone could stop her, she gulped the contents.

  “Henry, there’s poison in the cup!” Emily cried.

  “Ursula!” he shouted. He rushed to his sister and she clung to his arms. He carried her to the sofa and laid her down.

  “Henry, I’m so sorry,” Ursula said.

  Vinnie began to sob. Emily held her tightly, hiding her sister’s eyes from what was happening.

  “Everything is green . . .” Ursula said. Then she slumped into her brother’s arms.

  “Fetch the doctor,” he cried.

  Vinnie, relieved to be of use, said, “I’ll go!”

  “It won’t matter,” Emily said. “Ursula knew how much to dose the tea.”

  Vinnie flashed her a stricken look. “Emily!”

  “Go, Vinnie; fetch Dr. Gridley,” Emily said. “But it’s already too late. Death won’t wait for him.”

  Epilogue

  Emily retreated to her room for several days with only Vinnie and a succession of cats for company. By the time she emerged, her father had returned. He lectured Emily about taking risks. For once, she didn’t resent his warnings. Life continued at the Dickinson home as though James Wentworth had never existed—or been murdered.

  Shortly afterwards, Emily received a note from Henry. He wrote that he was about to leave town and begged to speak to her before his departure.

  She met him in front of the stagecoach stop at the Amherst House Hotel in the center of town and sat on a bench on the hotel’s second-floor veranda.

  At first their conversation was about his journey. The coach would take him to Northampton, where he would board a train to New Haven. Travel in the summer was often dusty. He might break his journey in Hartford.

  Without warning, Henry asked, “Did you know my sister would try to kill you?”

  Emily sighed with relief that they were finally talking about things that mattered. “I did wonder,” she said. “Especially after she offered me elderberry wine. And then she was so insistent that I drink the tea. Of course, I never had any intention of drinking anything she might give me.”

  “It is so hard to believe that my own sister could do such a thing.”

  “Reverend Colton warned me that if someone has killed, he is even more dangerous afterward. He—or she—will always see murder as a solution again.”

  “My own sister,” he repeated.

  Neither said anything. Finally, Emily began to speak. “Horace has been cleared of any wrongdoing. The authorities seem to think he is simple; he was just following orders.”

  Henry remained silent.

  “My father has dismissed Mr. Ripley but has declined to prosecute him,” she continued. “Father says that Mr. Ripley was just greedy and weak-minded. Not criminally culpable like . . .”

  “My parents?” Henry supplied.

  Emily shrugged. It was a fact. “What will happen to them?” she asked.

  “My father has taken full responsibility for the fraud. He will probably go to prison for some time
. My mother is moving back to Boston to be with her family.”

  “I’m sure they will offer her the solace she needs,” Emily said politely.

  “And what does your father have to say about your investigations?”

  “He’s pretending that I had nothing to do with solving your cousin’s death. My mother, as always, toes whatever line my father draws.” Emily paused, not liking the bitterness in her own voice. “The important thing is that justice was done.”

  “I suppose,” Henry said, although Emily suspected his heart wasn’t in it.

  “And you?” she asked. “Will you go back to school as though nothing has happened?”

  “I’ve written to the president of the university, and he agrees that for now it’s the best plan. You see, I didn’t know anything until after the fact.”

  Emily nodded. “And once you did, you were in an impossible position. How can you expose a criminal who’s a member of your own family?”

  “What would you have done?” Henry asked.

  “I don’t know,” Emily admitted. “I love each member of my family so dearly that I think it would kill me to make that choice.”

  “I pray to God you never have to.”

  They were silent, watching the townspeople below go about their business. The stagecoach arrived from Northampton and the driver jumped down to water the horses for the return trip. They didn’t have much time.

  “What will happen to James’s fortune?” Emily asked.

  “My mother has forfeited her right to inherit,” Henry said. “So it comes to Sam and me.”

  “Convenient,” Emily said drily.

  “If I refuse it,” Henry defended himself, “then it goes to the state. How does that help anyone? I’ll need it to begin a new life and have a career untainted by my family’s crimes.”