Symptoms of Death (Dr. Alexandra Gladstone Book 1) (9 page)

“And you have no idea who it was?”

“It was too dark. I couldn’t see.”

“Not even when your dog chased him away.”

“Nothing except a shadowy form.”

Nicholas was silent, a troubled frown making a deep furrow on his brow.

Alexandra picked up her cup carefully. “May I be so impertinent as to ask what you are thinking, sir?”

He glanced at her. “The same thing you
’re thinking.”

She held his gaze for a moment, then shook her head slowly. “Oh no. I
’m not thinking that at all.”

“Of course you are.”

“But what possible motive would Lord Dunsford’s killer have to kill me?”

“I think you know the answer to that as well.”

Again their gazes held while Alexandra’s thoughts spun logic. She sighed again and slumped back against the sofa. “I’ve been a bit too mouthy and free with my opinions, haven’t I?”

“I
’m afraid so,” Nicholas said, helping himself to a scone. “Someone at Montmarsh yesterday heard you say someone other than Elsie killed Eddie, and that person became frightened that you knew too much and tried to do you in. I would wager it was a man, since it would obviously take some strength to hold you still with a knife at your throat.”

“Perhaps it was a woman who hired a man to kill me.”

“Perhaps.” Nicholas brushed crumbs from his mouth with a napkin. “But you are in danger, nevertheless. I think it wise that you not take any chances by being out late at night alone, and you shouldn’t go unescorted during the day, for a while at least.”

Alexandra put her tea cup down with a bit too much force. “That
’s impossible. I have my patients to see, and I have no way of knowing what time of day or night—”

“I
’ll be your escort.”

“I have Zack.”

He glared at her. “Why wasn’t he with you last night?”

“He was with me. At the crucial moment at least.” She was beginning to feel as if she was in the witness box defending herself.

He stood, towering over her. “I’m afraid that’s not good enough. You must understand, Dr. Gladstone, that your life is in danger. I
will
be your escort.”

Alexandra stood as well and faced him with simmering anger. “I won
’t deny that I was frightened, Mr. Forsythe, and of course I understand the necessity for caution, but I don’t need—”

“Ah, you
’re such a gentleman, Mr. Forsythe.” Nancy had suddenly reappeared with another plate of scones. “These are troubled times, and a lady can’t be too careful, so of course the good doctor will appreciate your assistance. Will that be all, Miss?”

“That will be quite enough,” Alexandra said.

Nancy made another little curtsey and left.

Nicholas turned to her. “So it
’s settled, then. What time will we leave for your rounds?”

“Of course it
’s not settled. Nancy doesn’t make decisions for…” Alexandra saw the determined expression on Nicholas’s face. “Oh, very well, then. As soon as I’ve put up my hair.” She turned quickly and walked toward the staircase.

“Your hair is lovely when it
’s loose,” Nicholas said to her back.

She hesitated only slightly, glad that her back was turned, so that he could not see her face, and hurried up the stairs.

Nicholas drove her on her rounds in another one of the carriages he had purloined from Montmarsh. At each stop, he waited in the carriage like a hired man because Alexandra had insisted that she see her patients in privacy. The talk at each stop was of Elsie’s arrest. As before, her patients, like the entire parish, were divided as to whether or not the girl’s incarceration was warranted.

When they arrived at the Blackburns
’ at the edge of the parish, and their last stop, Seth Blackburn was outdoors chopping wood while his older son played with the dog a few feet away.

Seth removed his hat and wiped his brow with his arm when he saw the carriage. Alexandra saw immediately the pallor of his skin and the dark circles under his eyes and knew that he had not slept.

“Dr. Gladstone.” Seth’s voice sounded weary, and he gave Nicholas a quick, curious glance.

“Good morning, Seth. This is Nicholas Forsythe, a friend who is accompanying me on my rounds today.”

Seth ignored the introduction and looked straight at Alexandra. “She doesn’t fare well, my Priscilla. I fear for her, Miss. You must help her.” Then he added as an afterthought, “You’ve met with an accident, Miss.”

“A clumsy fall,” Alexandra said, reaching for her bag. That was the story she
’d given all of her curious patients. “Does Priscilla eat?” she added, eager to change the subject.

Seth shook his head sadly. “A scarce mite, and she
’s weakening. She needs care, I know, but I ought to be in the fields. ’Tis my labor that keeps us alive, Miss. I know not what to do. Her mother and her sisters are fifty leagues away.”

“Then we must find someone to care for her,” Alexandra said as she moved quickly toward the house.

“I cannot pay, Miss, I don’t—”

“Payment will not be necessary.” She spoke in curt tones, throwing the words over her shoulder.

Priscilla lay in bed, pale and drawn, holding the screaming baby to her breast. She spoke in a weak, lifeless voice. “He’ll not suckle.”

Alexandra took the baby from her arms and tried to quiet him. She suspected that the reason the baby would not suckle was because there was no milk. Priscilla was too weak. She would have to find a wet nurse for the baby, but there was little she could do for Priscilla. Her body would need time to rebuild itself, if she was not already too far gone.

After examining Priscilla and the baby, she left Seth with the instructions to continue the iron, quinia, and beef broth, then asked Nicholas to stop at a house in the village where Dairus Simmons lived. Alexandra gave her two pounds to nurse the Blackburn baby and care for the mother.

“I saw you pay that woman,” Nicholas said after they had delivered Darius to the
Blackburn’s home. “Do you always spend more to care for a patient than you are paid?”

“Of course not. Otherwise, how would I live in such luxury?”

Nicholas glanced at her, and a faint, knowing smile brushed his lips as he flicked the reins to urge the horse to move faster.

“Where are we going?” Alexandra asked when she saw they had passed the road to her house.

“We’re going to the gaol.”

She glanced at him. “To see Elsie.” A statement, not a question.

“To report the attack last night to the constable,” he said without looking at her.

“Are you sure it
’s necessary? I really don’t think—”

“Of course it
’s necessary. You don’t want whomever it was attacking other women, do you?”

Alexandra hesitated. “Since you put it that way… But still, I
’m not sure—”

“And you
’re right.” Nicholas seemed determined not to give her an opportunity to object. “I want to see Elsie, but if the constable is astute enough, neither of us will be allowed to see her, since we are both witnesses. Still, I’d like to know whether she knows anything about that attempt on your life.” He frowned as he spoke, concentrating on driving the carriage.

“What makes you think she would?”

He shook his head. “I’m afraid I don’t have a logical reason. It’s just a feeling I have that Elsie isn’t telling us everything she knows.”

Chapter
Eight

Constable Snow was the only police officer in the
village of Newton-Upon-Sea. His office was located on the ground floor of the local gaol in a narrow wooden building, two stories high, which, over the past century had developed a decided tilt inward toward the street. Across the street was the Blue Ram, housed on the ground floor of the village inn that had been in the same location for three centuries.

The inn also tilted toward the street, forming a broken arch with the gaol, and giving the impression of two decrepit and impoverished courtiers bowing to each other.

Robert Snow was sitting at his desk, pouring over a mound of reports he was obliged to write when Nicholas opened the door for Alexandra to enter.

Alexa
ndra read his face which was punctuated with surprise. He stood awkwardly, knocking over a dry inkwell but quickly regained his composure. “Dr. Gladstone!” He gave her a slight bow while his long hand deftly set the inkwell upright. “Mr. Forsythe,” he said, turning to Nicholas. “A pleasant surprise.” In contrast to his awkwardness a few seconds before, he moved with an odd grace around his desk to pull a chair forward for Alexandra. “Please be seated, Doctor. And may I offer you tea?”

“Thank you, but no,” Alexandra said. “We
’ve come to see Elsie.”

Nicholas spoke at the same time. “We
’ve come to report an incident.”

“I see.” Snow sat down at his desk, decidedly more at ease now, and picked up a pen. He glanced up at them. “What sort of an incident
?” Obviously he had chosen to ignore Alexandra’s request, for the moment, at least.

“An attempt on Dr. Gladstone
’s life,” Nicholas said.

There was the slightest change in Snow
’s eyes. Was it surprise or alarm? “That explains the bandage at your throat, then.” His tone was matter-of-fact.

Alexandra
’s right hand went inadvertently to her throat. She thought she had done a sufficient job of covering the bandage with the light shawl she’d wrapped around her neck.

“Explain please,” Snow said in his schoolmaster voice. He was looking directly at Alexandra.

“Someone attacked me in my stables as I was returning from delivering Priscilla Blackburn’s baby last night. I’m afraid it was rather late.”

Snow wrote something on a notepad. “Did you recognize your attacker?”

“Of course not.”

“You saw his face?”

“I’m afraid I didn’t. It was quite dark, as you might imagine.”

“You were not seriously injured, I trust.”

“No.” Alexandra saw Nicholas start to protest, but she gave him a warning look, and he said nothing.

“A thief perhaps.” Snow put down his pen and leaned back in his chair. “We
’ve had a spate of burglaries recently. I suspect a gang of young toughs who seem to have come here from Chemlsford.”

“You
’ve actually seen these young toughs? Or are you only speculating?” Nicholas moved toward him with an air of confidence as he spoke, looking and sounding very much like a barrister.

Snow
’s answer was a short and curt, “Yes,” leaving Alexandra and Nicholas to wonder which question he’d answered. He turned back to Alexandra. “I assume you were able to frighten the attacker away, Dr. Gladstone?”

“Zack, my dog, frightened him.”

“Ah yes, the Newfoundland. I suggest you take him with you from now on when you find it necessary to be out late.” He stood up and walked around his desk. “I shall do my best to apprehend the attacker, Dr. Gladstone, but you must understand that it will be difficult without a description of the suspect.”

“Perhaps you could question the young toughs from Chemlsford.” Nicholas
’s suggestion might have been innocuous except for the hard edge of sarcasm to his voice.

Snow
’s face reddened as he turned toward Nicholas, and Alexandra spoke quickly in an attempt to diffuse the situation. “We’ve another mission here, Constable. We’ve come to see Elsie.”

Snow turned to her. “Ah yes.” His head bobbed slightly while he clasped his hands behind his back, and fixed his eyes on a spot just below the ceiling. He rocked slightly, back and forth, on his heels. It was a stance Alexandra had seen many times before when, in those days when he was still a schoolmaster, he was either pondering a question his student had asked, or was waiting for the correct answer to a question he had asked. She had been his student because her father had hired him to come to t
he house regularly to tutor her. Females were not allowed to attend the local school. After Nancy came to live with them, she sat in on the lessons as well. Her father hired Snow because he recognized him as an intelligent man and a gifted teacher. And Snow had come daily, after working until mid-afternoon at the school, without ever once complaining of being tired.

He had taken the job as constable only a few years ago, presumably for higher wages. He had no family of his own, but, according to the gossips, he sent money regularly to a woman in
London.

Snow dropped his gaze to Alexandra and then Nicholas. “It would certainly be out of order for me to allow either of you to see her, since you are to be witnesses at her trial.”

Nicholas approached him, slightly aggressive in his movements. “I understand that, of course, but since Dr. Gladstone is—”

Snow turned to Alexandra and spoke to her, interrupting Nicholas in mid-sentence. “She is—not well.”

“Not well?” Alexandra was alarmed.

Snow frowned, a troubled expression. “I am referring to her mind. It is disturbed.”

“She’s hardly more than a child, and she’s been accused of murder, I should think one would be disturbed.” Nicholas said.

Snow ignored him again as he spoke to Alexandra. “She appears to be hallucinating.”

“Indeed!” Alexandra was now both curious and alarmed.

“Yes. She seems to think young
Stirling speaks to her from the grave.”

Alexandra relaxed somewhat. “A common phenomenon when one is grieving.”

“Yes, of course,” Snow said, as if he’d been trying to coax the right answer from her all along. “Perhaps, under the circumstances, you, being a physician, should be allowed to see her.” This time he turned to Nicholas, as if for confirmation that his questionable decision could pass the test of legality.

“Certainly,” Nicholas said. “And I—”

“Will not be allowed to see her,” Snow said.

“But…” Nicholas managed to make that one word sound indignant.

Alexandra put a hand gently on his arm. “Allow me to be alone with her for a few minutes.”

“But…”

“This way, please, Dr. Gladstone.” Snow led Alexandra toward the back of the building and unlocked a door to a large room with two small, narrow windows near the ceiling. It had the musty odor of rodent droppings mixed with the stench of human bodies. There were no individual cells in the country gaol. Instead, all prisoners who were awaiting trial were kept together in one room, where they slept on blankets on the floor. However, since it was mandatory that males and females not be kept together, Elsie was not with the three men who stared at Alexandra with hollow-eyed lechery as she passed through their cell to a narrow, heavy doorway. The short train of her skirts picked up black grime from the dirt floor as she walked.

Snow chose a key from a large ring he wore attached to his belt and unlocked the door. As soon as it was open, Alexandra saw a rat scurry across the small room and disappear into a crevice where the wall joined the floor. The window in this room was little more than a narrow hole mid-way up the wall.

Elsie, who had been lying on a blanket on the bare floor, sat suddenly upright and stared at the two of them with frightened, sleep-blurred eyes. She cringed and seemed to be trying to make herself disappear into the wall just as the rat had.

“Dr. Gladstone wants to talk to you a moment, Elsie,” Snow said in a voice that was not unkind
. It was, in fact, devoid of emotion. He stood aside for Alexandra to enter. “I shall wait outside while you examine her,” he said. “But you must not speak of the charges against her. You need only to call out to me when you’re finished.”

When Snow left and the door was closed, Elsie stopped her cowering, and her eyes lost some of their fear, but she remained cautious. “What is it ye wants with me, Miss?”

“I just want to talk to you, Elsie. I see no need for a physical examination.”

“I got nothing to say.”

“First of all, I want to assure you again I had nothing to do with your arrest. I did not lead the constable—”

Elsie interrupted her. “I know that, Miss. I was scairt when I accused you of that. Too scairt to think straight.” There was a long silence while Elsie stared at nothing. Alexandra could hear the sound of her own breathing, but Elsie hardly seemed to be breathing at all.

She dropped her head. “They’ll be hanging me, won’t they, Miss?”

“I don
’t know,” Alexandra said. She sat down beside Elsie on the blanket, manipulating her skirts with some difficulty, then unfastened her small ribbon-trimmed hat and leaned her back against the wall. She was mindful of Snow’s warning about not discussing the case, but, she rationalized, she could not properly examine her mental state without discussing it.

Elsie turned her face toward her with a quick movement. “Ye
’ll ruin them fancy things yer wearin’.”

“There
’s nothing fancy about them, so never mind.” Alexandra had few frocks that could be labeled fancy. Most of her dresses, which Nancy made for her, were of cotton for summer and wool for winter. However, in spite of the fact that Alexandra tried to discourage her for practical reasons, Nancy still insisted on trimming them with pleated or draped overskirts, sometimes gathered into a bustle at the back, and occasionally adding a bit of lace or lawn ruching at the neck or cuffs.

Elsie
’s eyes took in Alexandra’s pale green cotton dress with its ivory, dirt-stained underskirt and straw bonnet, which Nancy had trimmed with matching ribbons. There was, for the briefest moment, a look of longing in her eyes.

“Are ye really a doctor, Miss?” she asked, bringing her gaze back to meet Alexandra
’s eyes.

“Yes.” Alexandra spoke quietly.

Elsie squinted her eyes and wrinkled her nose in a puzzled gesture. “How can that be? I mean, ye bein’ a woman and all?”

“My father taught me.”

“And have you not heard ’tis not proper for a lady like you to be doin’ such things?”

“I
’ve heard that, yes.”

There was another long silence until Elsie spoke again, and this time there was a coldness in her voice. “Me own bleedin
’ father taught me nothing except the feel of the back of his hand across me jaw. Until I was grown. And then ’twas the feel of his bleedin’ pecker bangin’ away that he taught me.”

Alexandra felt a tightness in her chest and a longing to take the poor child in her arms. In spite of her talk of being grown, she couldn
’t be more than fifteen. But she said nothing. She merely kept her eyes on Elsie’s face, inviting her to say more. Elsie looked away.

“Elsie…”

She responded with a hate-hardened laugh, and there was something in her eyes that made her look older than her young, smooth face implied. “Don’t pity me, Miss. Ye think me the only one what got stuck by ’er old man? Well, I ain’t. If ye’ve not learned already, ’tis time ye know. They’s all alike, men is. Wouldn’t give ye a farthing for a single one of ’em, I wouldn’t.”

“Except George Stirling.”

Elsie jerked her head around to look at Alexandra. “What do ye know about Georgie?”

“I know nothing about him, except that he
’s dead. You said that yourself that night at Montmarsh.”

Elsie dropped her eyes again. “Aye,
’e’s dead all right.” She spoke in a hoarse whisper. “Seen ’em take his body away with his face gone blue, I did.” She raised her eyes to look at Alexandra. “But I heard ’im calling to me one night, just outside the window ’ere. It was Georgie’s voice callin’ to me from the grave, I’ll tell you that. I’d know that voice if I was in the grave meself.”

Alexandra reached to touch Elsie
’s hand, and, to her surprise, Elsie didn’t shrink away. “Elsie, sometimes when we’re grieving—”

This time Elsie did jerk her hand away quickly. “I know what yer thinkin
’. Yer thinkin’ I’ve gone loony.”

“I think nothing of the kind, Elsie. It
’s just that you should understand that when a person is grieving, she might—”

“
’E come back from the grave, ’e did. Come back to warn me.” Elsie’s voice trembled.

Alexandra stood and started to reach a hand toward her again, but thought it best not to risk alarming her. “To warn you of what?”

“To warn me of my death.”

The poor child was frightened by the prospect of hanging, along with grieving for her lover and trying to cope with the scars of her past. It was enough to make anyone slip into madness. Alexandra knew she was beyond any help she could pull from her medical bag.