Poison to Purge Melancholy (34 page)

“You were saying that Mr. Brennan was paid by Captain Underwood for his silence. Is that true?”

“So I believe. Furthermore, when the war began, the governing houses of Virginia sat here in Williamsburg. Next to the Congress, here were the most powerful men in America—”

“Some would say
before
Congress. The House of Burgesses themselves, certainly.”

He smiled. “Precisely why the British would locate a spy in town, madam.”

I’d brought a bite of the roast squab to my lips. Now I swallowed in haste to get my words out. “Spy, sir?”

Benjamin began to cut his food into smaller bits. “To spy upon the Virginia assemblies was, I believe, why Brennan settled here. His intelligence could have been conveyed to Tory couriers passing through.”

“I—I suppose that’s possible—”

“Yet Mr. Brennan remained here after the capitol moved. I can think of but two reasons he might do so.” Benjamin took a taste of the roast bird from his portion, chewing before proceeding. “The British had already begun to wage war in the South. Perhaps their campaign for this part of Virginia was planned out, and they wanted a man in place, ready to bring intelligence between armies. Brennan traveled on occasion in those months before Yorktown, did he not?”

Nodding as I remembered that summer, my cheeks warmed once more. I hid the emotion by bending my head to spoon pottage from bowl to mouth.

“And after the surrender, madam?”

“After?”

Benjamin took up his spoon and sipped at the pottage. “The twenty-seventh of October, the day of your husband’s death. Did Brennan travel then?”

“You’ve asked me before, Mr. Dunbar, when you first came to live here. My answer has not changed. Mr. Brennan was not away overnight. He did not speak of journeying, nor did he take so much as a haversack when he left the house early that morning. To the best of my knowledge, he was about town that day, selling his snuff—”

“But you did not see him,” Benjamin said, with the air of a child reciting a rote lesson, “and he came in very late that night.”

“He often did.” I sampled the onion pie. The crust had come tough, and I’d not used enough eggs in the filling.

Benjamin set down his fork and once more looked directly at me. “Shall I tell you where Brennan was that day, madam? He was in our camp, poisoning your husband.”

I drew in my breath, yet met his gaze. “I was told cramp colic.”

“Aye, ’tis what the doctor thought. I had my suspicions when I spied Mr. Brennan here, yet recalled seeing him in camp on the twenty-seventh. Afterward, I found shavings of the poison in Thomas’s canteen, and a lump of it where his tent stood. A certain root, a bit of which can kill a man within an hour. Today I learned that Brennan still carried a piece of that root about with him.”

I was shocked all the more. “Did he mean to use the poison again?”

“To kill? More likely to remind those in league with him that he could ruin all, and so gain by blackmail.”

I hit upon a solution. “Captain Underwood. Tom must have discovered his treachery, so the captain had him killed before—”

“Had him killed? Why should Brennan be so obliging?”

I glanced down at my table as I thought upon the matter. The stewed apples and Indian pudding now had a dull look from having gone cold. “Tom must have known also of Mr. Brennan’s involvement.”

“So Brennan went out of his way to procure rare poison?”

“No, not out of his way.” I became more animated as I reasoned it out. “The British officers who lodged here—two had done duty in the Caribbean Sea. Either might have given Mr. Brennan the root.”

Benjamin frowned, studying my face as he might a difficult passage of music. “A novel thought, madam. Here I’d presumed Brennan purchased the cassava from a sailor at the docks.”

This simpler explanation had not occurred to me and I admitted it. “My fancy was taken by your talk of spies, sir.”

His frown remained. “Still, while Underwood and Brennan may have conspired together to help the enemy, I’ll warrant the captain had nothing to do with the actual poisoning of Lieutenant Carson.”

“But if Tom knew of the treachery—”

“I think he did not. Brennan turned to murder, I believe, to forward his own plan, his true reason for remaining here when the capitol moved.” Benjamin looked down at his plate, but his face now appeared bilious. “He was quite taken with you, madam. All the more so two years ago when we came to deliver the news of Thomas.”

This time no blush came to my cheeks, but I did allow a faint laugh. “Mr. Brennan was taken by
every
woman, sir. Or more to the point, he thought us all taken by his spurious charm. I can assure you, Mr. Dunbar, I was never a fool for him.”

“No, you would not be. No fool for any man, I’ll wager. Do I guess right, Elizabeth?”

’Twas his first use of my given name and I thrilled to hear it. “I believe I could be, sir.”

“But never before? Not for Thomas?”

My husband again! I did not want to speak of him, but of myself and Mr. Dunbar. “Yes, for Tom. As I’ve said, I still grieve to think of him. Yet, but for the letters he wrote and the short leave he was granted just before Yorktown—” I faltered, for the memory brought a pang to my heart. I’d spent as much of those few days as I could in Tom’s arms. I dismissed the pain resolutely, and returned to the business at hand. “Otherwise, sir, I’ve lived as a widow these last six years. ’Tis my hope to marry again—soon.”

Benjamin smiled at that, but merely said, “You have many suitors, madam.”

“Suitors? They come not for me, Mr. Dunbar, but to court my house and land, offering little or nothing in return. All feel I should gladly hand over my property to gain a man in my bed, another mouth for my table, and more clothes for my mending basket.” I regretted my words at once, thinking they might discourage. “Not that I require wealth or estate. I want prospects. For instance, I have heard that gentry will pay forty shillings or more for one subscription of music instruction. You need not have many students to live comfortably at that wage.”

Benjamin’s smile widened so, I felt he might propose at once. To my disappointment, he said, “I should let you see to your remove, madam.”

“You’ve hardly eaten, sir.”

“I save myself for your mince pies, madam.” He stood and bowed with such grace, I regretted putting no meat in the tarts. “I shall tarry in your chambers once more, Mrs. Carson. No need to call young Tom—I shall see to the fire myself.” His eyes, I fancied, conveyed a hope that one day he’d tarry in that room to kindle a different sort of flame.

I accompanied him as far as the hall, then summoned my children to the dining room, instructing them to clear the table. “Return the food to the pots. The large pail has clean water, so you may begin to wash the plates and bowls. Wash them well, for we shall need them all for the next course. I shall take two smaller pails and fetch fresh water—”

“I can do that, Mother,” Thomas said, seeking an escape from kitchen chores, as was his wont.

“No, you would be too long about it, and I must visit the privy anyway. Make a quick, thorough job and you both may eat whatever you like from the first course.” I took up the buckets and fairly ran for the back door.

The sun was gone from the yard, the breeze now fresh, placing a stinging chill upon my face and arms. I hurried to the well, leaving the pails beside it, then continued downhill toward the privy. At the door, I glanced back at the house. Seeing no one, I lifted my hems and dashed the short distance along the bank to Tom’s tinshop, not stopping to breathe until I was safely out of sight on the far side of the building. Even so, I promptly unhooked the shutter and let myself in through the open window, cursing my full skirts for hindering my haste, yet I’d mastered the skill over the last few years, and so my clothes were neither torn nor soiled by the exercise.

The light from my window did not reach the darkest corners of the shop. No matter—I knew the place well. The tiny square room once held table, stool, and a round slice of tree trunk upon which Tom would hammer and punch his tin. The walls had boasted shelves of his work, ready for sale. When Tom went off to the army, I began to sell off his stock. After he’d been away more than a year, I’d sold all else save the tree trunk.

The room was always colder than outside. Indeed, when the creek first changed course and claimed the shop, I stored food here in summer. Yet water will bring rats, so I’d given up the practice. Now, before moving forward, I stamped upon the floorboards. An answering scuffle came from below, but not within the shop or cramped attic above. The poison I’d set out still kept the vermin at bay. However, I noticed that the boards themselves seemed to creak more as I crossed to the tree trunk near the east wall. The floor was beginning to rot from the water beneath.

The stump was knee-high and wide enough for me to stand upon. From it, I could reach the boards stretching over the low ceiling joists above. Here Tom had hinged a board to create a secret cache where he’d kept copies of documents and extra money in a small tin box he’d fashioned for the task. On my toes, I felt for the box and lifted it down. I’d spent the extra coin long ago, but the documents remained, along with the last four letters Tom had sent. I’d burned his others within a day of reading them, but kept these after his visit home, being all I had of him in his last months. Now I knew I must hide them beneath my stays and set flame to them before the next course.

The room grew suddenly dim. Startled, I nearly fell from my perch, for there at the window, blocking the light, stood Benjamin. He swung his legs over the sill before I could do more than jump down to the floor.

“I thought you’d come here, Elizabeth,” he said, face shadowed, yet a hint of anger coloring his voice. “I searched the shop today after learning that this window had been propped open. I found no loose floorboards nor unmortared bricks in the hearth, but I am a fool, for the rafters did not occur to me.” He held out his hand. “Your box, madam.”

“No, sir. This is my property and the taking of it no less than theft.”

“I shall have the contents before you’d destroy them. Long I’ve worked to find evidence of Thomas Carson’s murderer. I’ll not stand by and let you send it up a chimney flue.”

He came forward, yet before he could touch the box, I wrapped my arms tight about it and turned from him. “Upon my word, sir, you’ll find no such evidence here. Please, you must believe me.”

“Believe a poisoner? For I already have proof of that. The logs from Brennan’s room are beneath the refuse heap, where you placed them. Pockets drilled in them, containing quicksilver, had been plugged, cleverly, with pie crust. None of your lodgers, madam, have had daily access to both the firewood brought in to your hearth and your baking dough. Only you and your children. Would you have me accuse Polly or young Tom?”

“No, please.” I kept my back to him, for he’d come no closer since I turned. Still, I kept a wary eye over my shoulder. “I only sought to drive Mr. Brennan from my home. I did not believe the breathing of quicksilver could bring lunacy, but—”

“You heard Dr. Riddick speak of the possibility?”

“Yes. ’Twas desperation drove me to try it. I knew not what else to do.”

“So first you took Sam’s powders and put them into Brennan’s snuff pouch. When that was discovered and the lock affixed to Brennan’s door, you began adding mercury to his logs.” Benjamin crossed his arms over his chest in doubt. “As Brennan’s landlady, why not simply
ask
him to leave?”

“He would not go. As you said, Mr. Dunbar, he was taken with me. When I did not return his attentions—’twas that jealousy that drove him to murder my husband.”

“More than jealousy. With Thomas in his grave, Brennan could set about gaining your house and land, presuming you’d meet him at the altar to ensure his silence.”

Bile rose into my throat. “Silence?”

“A women of your sensibilities, madam, concerned above all with rising in society, may have thought to gain material advantage by assisting the British. I believe you aided Brennan in his traitorous mission.”

“Aided Brennan?” That brought a smile to my lips.

“He, in turn, killed Thomas
at your bidding
, for you would keep your husband from discovering your betrayal. You gave yourself away at dinner, madam, when you suggested that one of the Redcoats provided the poison. I did not mention ‘cassava’ before you spoke of the Caribbean. I presume, then, that the root was provided to you, not John Brennan. At what cost, I wonder?”

He could not understand. I’d saved my family and my home. And needed to do so again, now. “Your notion has holes, sir. I’ve gained no advantage, as you can see, and I did not marry Mr. Brennan.”

“You turned him lunatic instead. You knew a madman would never be believed—”

“Do not give him the box, Mother!” Polly stood at the window, her hands clutching the sill, her face pale all over. “He lies. He has lied to us from the beginning.”

“Mistress—” Benjamin turned toward her, struck to see her there.

I might have used the distraction, but I would not have my daughter involved in my troubles. “Polly! Return to the house at once!”

“No, Mother. I will not see my family destroyed.”