As my senses returned, the sound of sobbing reached my ears. I glanced over my shoulder to find Annie. Perched on the edge of my bed, she sat with her back to me. Her shoulders rounded as she doubled over, clutching at her belly and weeping.
“Annie?” I gasped, my voice just above a whisper and still filled with sleep. I pushed up to sitting, turning to face her. “Annie?” I asked again.
She continued her whimpering, rocking herself back and forth as tears continued to spill down her cheeks, and she choked through sobs.
“Annie, what is it?” I questioned. In an attempt to gain her attention, I reached to her, grasping her shoulder.
Her head whipped as though on a swivel toward me. Her eyes glowed red. Tangles of black hair hung in disarray around her pale face. I removed my hand from her shoulder, pulling it quickly away.
Annie stared unblinking at me for another moment. “What is wrong?” I pushed.
Annie held her arms up as though cradling a baby. My eyes shot wide, and I leapt from the bed. “Is it Samuel? Has something happened?” I shouted, dashing to the door.
My hurried canter surprisingly produced no complaints from my ankle. I surmised the fear for my child trumped any pain I may have felt.
Before I reached the doorway, Annie blocked my path. She shook her head at me. “Stand aside!” I demanded.
Annie repeated her head shake. “Annie!” I exclaimed, my voice raising to a fever pitch. “If something has happened to Samuel, I must go to him!”
Annie shook her head a third time. “NO!” her voice boomed, reverberating through the room and knocking me onto my backside. Fury burned through me as I lay on the floor.
I struggled to stand and by the time I regained my posture, Annie resumed rocking the invisible baby with her arms. Fresh tears spilled onto her cheeks again. I ignored her, grasping the door’s handle and pulling. The door was stuck fast.
Steadying myself, I pulled with all my might. The door did not budge. I whipped around to face Annie. “Open this door at once!” I ordered.
Annie ignored me, traversing across the room and sitting on the chaise. As she sunk onto the seat, she doubled over in sobs. She clutched at her dress and rubbed her belly.
The gesture made me pause. Perhaps her actions did not refer to Samuel.
“Annie, what troubles you? It is not Samuel, is it?”
Annie continued her actions, oblivious to my question. I approached her. As I tread closer to the chaise, only then did I notice a figure in the corner of the room. Lit only by the flames of the dying fire in the fireplace, the man hid in the shadows. A log shifted in the fireplace, causing a flame to leap higher, illuminating his face. I gasped as I recognized Edwin.
As if on cue, Annie spun to face him. Edwin shrunk further back into the shadows, shriveling away from her gaze. Annie opened her mouth and an ear-splitting shriek emerged. I clasped my hands over my ears and squeezed my eyes shut, hoping the raucous sound would soon cease. “Stop, STOP!” I cried.
My entire body shook, but I refused to open my eyes or loosen the grasp on my ears. My body shook again. This time I risked a glance, popping my eyes open to find Ella standing over me.
“Wake up, Your Grace!” she called.
My brow furrowed, and I glanced around the room. No one else greeted me.
“Your Grace?” Ella questioned. Worry etched her face.
I sat up, still searching the space. “I am all right, Sinclair,” I assured her. “Though…” My voice trailed off as I struggled to the realization that what I had experienced was a dream.
“What is it, Your Grace?” Ella inquired.
“Annie…” I paused. “Has Mr. Fletcher left? Is Samuel well?”
The crease in Ella’s brow deepened as I fired questions at her. “Mr. Fletcher? Yes, I believe so. Yes, Samuel is quite well. I checked with Nanny Browne before bringing your supper. Your Grace, are you quite well?”
“What?” I questioned, my mind distracted, still processing the events. “Yes, yes, I am quite well.”
“Shall I fetch the doctor?” Ella queried.
“No, Sinclair,” I assured her, regaining my composure. “I suffered only a disturbing dream.”
“A dream, Your Grace? Was it very frightening?”
“Yes,” I admitted. “It disturbed me and continues to.”
“Perhaps I ought to fetch a toddy for your nerves,” Ella suggested. “Or request a sleeping tonic so you are not troubled by it tonight?”
I shook my head at her. “That will not be necessary.”
“You seem terribly distraught, Your Grace,” Ella answered, wringing her hands.
“No,” I disagreed. “Not distraught, disturbed.”
“Disturbed sounds far worse, Your Grace. Should I inform His Grace?”
“No,” I countered. “Something about the dream will not leave me. But what?” I asked myself.
Ella shrugged in response.
“Oh, I am sorry, Sinclair. Please, sit. Let us eat. Perhaps then my mind can come to some conclusion about why I received this message.”
Ella relaxed into the chair near my bed, taking up her tray to eat. “Message?” she questioned.
“Yes. The dream concerned Annie. And Edwin, oddly. What could it mean?”
“Perhaps nothing,” Ella suggested. “When I had a nightmare as a child, my mother assured me of that. ‘Dreams are tricky things’ she told me. They mean everything and nothing.”
I considered the statement, disagreeing that this particular dream meant nothing. “I cannot shake the experience,” I answered.
“What in particular disturbs you?” Ella asked.
I reflected on the dream as I swallowed the mouthful of stew. With a sigh, I admitted, “I am not certain. The dream was bizarre, as most are, but I cannot shake the concept that it contains a message. I awoke on the bed and heard a woman sobbing. I turned and found Annie sitting on the edge of my bed, weeping. I questioned her and she made a motion indicating a child.” I repeated the motion Annie made. “I immediately leapt to the conclusion that something had happened to Samuel. I jumped from the bed and rushed to the door.” I shook my head and rolled my eyes at my own stupidity. “I should have realized then it was a dream. My ankle gave me no pain.”
“Was Samuel well?” Ella asked.
“I never made it to the nursery. Annie prevented me from reaching the door. She shouted at me and I fell to the floor. When I regained my footing, I found the door shut tight. I insisted she let me out, but she ignored me. She returned to her weeping and cradling the imaginary baby. Then she began pawing at her dress.
“I approached her to console her, then I noticed Edwin in the corner. He hid in the shadows. Annie noticed him and began to shriek. It was then that you woke me.”
Ella pursed her lips in thought. “Perhaps your mind is burdened by your accident.”
“No,” I insisted. “There is some message. I am missing something. My mind is attempting to piece this together. But what connects Annie, Edwin, and an invisible child?”
Ella shrugged as she took another bite of dinner.
“This is the second instance involving Annie and a child. The first when she showed me the child playing near the stream. And this dream. Something disturbed her and when I questioned her, she indicated a child. But what …” My voice trailed off as my mind worked to piece together the pieces.
“What is it, Your Grace?”
My eyes rose to meet Ella’s. My mouth gaped open as realization dawned on me. “Annie… and a child…. Oh, I must speak with Dr. MacAndrews at once.”
Ella leapt to her feet, setting her dinner tray aside. “Are you ill, Your Grace? I shall send for him immediately!”
“No, wait!” I shouted, stopping her. “I am not ill. I do not require the doctor for that. I must speak with him posthaste, however, it must be in the strictest of confidences. We shall make arrangements to travel to town tomorrow to call upon him.”
“Call upon Dr. MacAndrews? Bu
t you are not ill? What are you saying, Your Grace?”
“I must speak with Dr. MacAndrews about Annie. Specifically, about her condition at the time of death.”
“Her condition?”
“Yes,” I said with a nod. “I believe she was pregnant.”
Chapter 22
The following morning, I awaited the carriage’s arrival from the drawing room. I still hobbled on my ankle, though I put on a brave front for Ella, insisting I was well enough to travel to town.
I tapped the toes of my good foot on the stone floor as I waited. The doors to the drawing room popped open. I pushed myself to standing, expecting Ella. Instead, Robert greeted me.
“Lenora,” he began. “Buchanan tells me you’ve arranged for a carriage to go into town. For what reason, may I ask?”
“I wished to see the milliner. To arrange a new hat for the christening,” I explained. It was not a complete lie. I planned to see the milliner along with the doctor. The latter was information Robert did not need.
“Is this a wise course of action? Your ankle may not yet be healed. Suppose it causes you trouble?”
“It is fine!” I insisted. I toddled about for a few steps to show. I attempted to keep any winces to a minimum, hoping the pain I still experienced was not perceptible. “And if it plays up, I shall visit the doctor immediately. The pharmacy is very near the milliner. It would be an easy trip.” I smiled broadly to add to my façade of confidence.
Robert studied me for a moment. I worried he may cancel my trip and dash any chance I had to discuss Annie in private with Dr. MacAndrews. “I could send for the milliner,” Robert suggested.
“Not necessary,” I countered. “And the fresh air will do me some good.”
Ella entered the room. “Your Graces,” she said with a curtsy. “The carriage is ready.” She glanced between us, unsure.
I gazed expectantly at Robert. “All right,” he agreed after a moment. “Sinclair, if Her Grace suffers in the least with her ankle, fetch the doctor at once.”
“Of course, Your Grace,” Ella confirmed with another curtsy.
I took care to walk steadily across the room and out to the carriage. I held back a whimper as I climbed into the carriage. As we were seated, Ella riding in the carriage with me, I breathed a sigh of relief. I had pulled it off.
“Your Grace?” Ella questioned. “I hope I did right not mentioning that you planned to see Dr. MacAndrews.”
“Yes. You did,” I assured her.
She crinkled her brow as the carriage lurched forward. “Why must we keep it secret from His Grace?” she inquired.
“I prefer to make the inquiry without disclosing it to Duke Blackmoore in case I am incorrect. I do not wish to upset him with the delicate discussion if there is no need.”
Ella nodded. “I understand.”
The carriage trundled down from the summit into town. While I planned to visit the milliner, my mind would not settle until I had spoken with Dr. MacAndrews. The carriage halted outside the pharmacy. We climbed from the conveyance and I entered the store.
“Good morning,” the pharmacist called, “may I…” His voice trailed off as he glanced up from his work. “Duchess Blackmoore! To what do I owe the pleasure? Is there something medicinal you require?”
“Good morning, sir,” I greeted him. “No, I hoped to speak with Dr. MacAndrews. Is he, by chance, still in?”
He gaped at me and swallowed hard before answering. “Yes,” he squeaked out. He pointed to a door leading to the small back office.
“Thank you,” I answered with a nod, making my way past him to the doorway.
“My pleasure!” he called as I disappeared through the door.
I entered the small room. Dr. MacAndrews bent over a table, packing his medical bag. “Good morning, Dr. MacAndrews,” I announced as I entered the room.
Dr. MacAndrews swiveled to glance behind him. “Duchess Blackmoore!” He set down his materials. “Are you feeling ill? How is your ankle?”
“I feel quite well. My ankle is improving daily. I am careful not to overdo it.”
“What may I do for you, Your Grace?” he asked.
I closed the door to the pharmacy. “I hoped to have a candid conversation with you about a sensitive issue.”
Dr. MacAndrews raised his eyebrows. “Perhaps this conversation is best had at Blackmoore Castle with Duke Blackmoore,” he suggested.
“The issue does not concern my health,” I assured him. “I prefer Duke Blackmoore remain unaware of the conversation. He may find it upsetting. I do not wish to trouble him in the event I have made an incorrect assumption.”
The doctor eyed me with some suspicion. “I must admit,” Dr. MacAndrews said, his finger pressed to his lips. “I am intrigued.”
“Then I shall proceed,” I continued. “You are the doctor who declared the former Mrs. Fletcher deceased, correct?”
The doctor’s eyebrows raised further. “Yes. I had the unfortunate distinction of having pronounced the poor woman dead.”
I nodded. He confirmed the information I received from Buchanan. “And afterward, was a postmortem performed?”
The doctor’s mouth dropped open for a moment. “Duchess Blackmoore, I must confess, to be bewildered by your inquiry. What is it you hope to gain from it?”
I contemplated my response. “Are you aware of my unique ability? Perhaps Duke Blackmoore confided it to you?”
“He did not.” The crinkle in his brow deepened.
“I will not mince my words. There is no easy way to say this. I can communicate with the dead. Because of my unique ability, my husband asked me to investigate the circumstances around Mrs. Fletcher’s death.”
Dr. MacAndrews’s eyes widened. “I must admit to being thoroughly confused, Duchess Blackmoore. First, the circumstances of the former Mrs. Fletcher’s death seem rather clear. And, forgive me, Your Grace, but… did you say you could speak with the dead?”
“No,” I corrected, “I said I can communicate with the dead. Speaking is often not as easy. I see them, I realize they are there, I can sometimes speak with them but not always.”
The doctor’s mouth hung open as he processed my words. “You see the dead?”
“Yes,” I confirmed.
“And what do they look like? Are they gruesome?”
“At times, yes. It depends on the circumstances of the death. Some of them appear quite macabre. However, some of them appear as they do in life.”
Dr. MacAndrews paced the small room, his finger still pressed to his lips. “Mmm-hmm,” he murmured. “And how long have you suffered from these… apparitions?”
I stopped myself from rolling my eyes. “I do not suffer from any apparitions, doctor. Though I have seen the dead since my birth, or at least, my very early childhood.”
“Forgive me, Duchess Blackmoore, but as a man of science, I…”
I interrupted him, holding up my hand and interjecting a comment. “As a man of science, you should understand there are things outside of our spectrum of knowledge.”
“Yet…” Dr. MacAndrews paused. “It seems too fantastic to believe.”
“All the same, I assure you, doctor, I can communicate with the dead.” He fluttered his eyelids, his eyes still wide. “They are as plain as you are in front of me. In fact, your wife is standing not five feet from you at this moment. She passed four years ago from pneumonia. She recalls your holding her hand as she took her last breath. She appreciates the sentiment you expressed before she passed. She could hear you and she feels the same.”
Dr. MacAndrews collapsed against the table containing his medical instruments. He remained silent for several breaths. I allowed him the moment. I had grown accustomed to the reaction.
“I… I am flabbergasted,” Dr. MacAndrews finally choked out. “Many people are aware I remained with my wife until her last, though no one knows the circumstances that transpired.” He searched the floor, his brow furrowing. “Is she… at peace?”
“Y
es,” I answered. “She is at peace.”
Another moment passed in silence before Dr. MacAndrews spoke again. “And Duke Blackmoore is aware of your… gift?”
“Yes,” I replied. “He learned of it through a rumor spread by a former classmate of mine. He appealed to me to help discover the circumstances of the former Mrs. Fletcher’s death. I obliged.”
“Ah,” Dr. MacAndrews said, wagging his finger in the air. “Duke Blackmoore has remained baffled by his wife’s choice to end her life.”
“Indeed,” I answered. “And I wish to end his misery and put his mind to rest.”
“I see. If you communicate with the dead, why inquire about an autopsy with me?”
“Communication with the dead can be difficult. Annie…Mrs. Fletcher has communicated with me on several occasions. However, understanding her messages has been troublesome. I am following up on a clue and hoping you can confirm some information.”
“How did you gain the information from my wife?”
“Your wife provided it easily. She died in peace. She was not troubled. When she realized I could see and hear her, she spoke freely.”
“And the former duchess does not?”
“No. It is clear her death was violent, and she is troubled by it. Communication is difficult at best. I am only just beginning to make any headway.”
“And in what way can I assist?”
“By providing me with information. I presume you performed her postmortem, assuming one was completed?”
“Yes, I did. Along with an assistant from the police. A gruesome business, but done whenever an unexpected death occurs. I can assure you, the fall killed her.”
“Thank you, though that was not the nature of my inquiry.”
The crease in Dr. MacAndrews’s forehead deepened. “Then what is?”
“Was Mrs. Fletcher with child when she passed?”
The doctor’s eyebrows shot up and he paused for a moment before he spoke. He paced around the table, ceasing his ambling behind it. He spun to face me again. “What I am about to disclose, I have revealed to no one outside of the postmortem. Including Duke Blackmoore.”
Death of a Duchess Page 24