The Burying Ground (12 page)

“Did you travel far?” Thaddeus asked.

“Yes. All the way from Brockville. It was a tiresome journey, but I'm at my wit's end with this thing.”

By the time they reached the wellhead, Thaddeus had learned nearly everything there was to know about this woman. The most interesting development in her life, however, was the growth of the ugly tumour at her throat. He heard about the opinions of the various doctors she had seen and the pieces of advice given by various members of her family, both of which were numerous, and a history of the affliction as it pertained to the aforesaid family, several of whom were similarly stricken. It was with a sigh of relief that he watched her dip an old mug into the bucket of water and drink. Then he stepped forward for his own turn.

The water was cool, clear, and sweet, and he drank his fill. He replenished his jug and poured several mugfuls into his hat for his pony to drink. Then he boarded the buggy and trotted out of town with a farewell wave from the chatty woman.

For the first half mile or so he mentally grumbled about the folly of believing in miracles from anyone but God, the growing stridency of the Orange Lodge, and his own lack of success on the circuit thus far, but as he headed farther north, he found that his mood lifted. Even though the sun was now high overhead, the relief of his thirst and the cooling effect of the damp hat on his head improved his outlook immeasurably. Even the pain in his knee started to ease off.

As he trotted into Lansing, he felt better than he had at any point during the previous two days.

Over the course of the next few days three elegantly written notes were delivered to Dr. Christie's house, two of them addressed to Luke directly. In the first, Lavinia Van Hansel thanked Luke for attending her soiree and expressed regret that she had not had time to say goodbye to him at the end of the evening. Luke knew that it had been ungracious of him not to send a letter of thanks the day after the party, but he was determined not to have anything more to do with the Van Hansels and he was reluctant to provide any opportunity for further communication. He burned the note in the office grate and hoped that his lack of response would mark an end to the matter.

Two days later another letter arrived, in the same elegant handwriting that had graced the first. Luke carried it upstairs to his rooms and laid it, unopened, on his bureau, where it stayed until it was time for him to retire for the night. Then curiosity got the better of his caution and he ripped it open.

Dear Dr. Lewis,
the letter read.
We enjoyed your company the other evening and look forward to furthering our acquaintance. I know you are under an obligation to attend to the needs of your practice, but is it possible that you might be free for tea next Tuesday? I know our attractions are poor to an up and coming young man as yourself, but as an enticement to your attendance, I have also invited Peregrine Biddulph, the young man with whom you seemed to hit it off so nicely at our party. Please let me know if Tuesday is convenient — if not, I would be happy to select another time.

Lavinia Van Hansel

Luke felt a rush of nausea. Lavinia had noticed him leaving with Perry, in spite of the fact that they had slipped so stealthily into the garden. What had she construed from this action? Did she know about Perry, and by extension, Luke? For a moment he had a vision of his world crumbling, of vilification and ostracism, of his innermost secrets exposed for the scorn of all who cared to look. He began to shake as he imagined what could happen to him — he would be dismissed from Dr. Christie's practice, that much was sure, and quite probably hounded from Yorkville. He might even lose his licence. He had no idea where he would go if that happened. The taint would follow him everywhere, even if he returned to Huron resigned to a farmer's life. And worst of all, his father would find out, the sympathetic fellowship between them smashed beyond repair.

He threw the letter on his bed and went to the window, where he hoped the evening's breeze might calm him. He drank the air with deep gasps and eventually his breathing slowed and became more regular, the cascade of unwelcome thoughts evened out and resolved into a question.
What exactly did Lavinia mean?

He walked over to where the letter lay accusingly on the bed. Gingerly, as though the paper might be infused with a hidden poison, he picked it up by the corner and reread it. It didn't seem so sinister on the second reading.
We enjoyed your company.
A standard statement for the hostess of a party.
We look forward to furthering our acquaintance.
In his panic at the mention of Perry, Luke had overlooked this part of the sentence. As far as he was aware he had contributed absolutely nothing to the evening beyond his mere presence. He neglected to speak to Lavinia after the first greeting. He did his best to ignore the young women present. And then he bolted over the garden fence without saying goodbye. He had, in fact, been extremely rude. Why would Lavinia want to see him again after such a poor showing? On reflection, he found it very puzzling.

As for the rest of it — the mention of Perry as someone he seemed to hit it off with — he decided that he might well have read too much into the observation. It was only natural that they would have sought each other's company, wasn't it? Especially at a function that was so over-represented by young women. No, there was no reason to think that anyone suspected anything untoward. His nerves had got the better of him again, that was all.

He would not, however, respond to the invitation. With any luck, Lavinia Van Hansel would conclude that he was abomin-ably boorish and not worthy of any further consideration.

“Lavinia wants something from you,” Perry had said. Well, she wasn't going to get it. Not if it took Luke anywhere near Hands.

Two days later another letter arrived. It was apparently addressed to Dr. Christie directly, for he appeared at the office door and waved it at Luke.

“Another invitation!” he said. “Well done, Luke. You've obviously made a great impression.”

From where he sat behind the desk, Luke could see that the thin sheet of paper Christie held was covered in the same handwriting as the previous two letters.

“I didn't think I'd made any impression at all,” Luke said. “I can't imagine why I'm getting another invitation.”

“It's for Tuesday. For tea,” Christie said, “and we're both invited.”

“Oh, that's too bad. We can't both go.”

“No, we can't,” Christie agreed, and just for a moment Luke hoped that the matter was resolved, but Christie went on. “I'm relatively certain that I'm not the one the lady would like to take tea with. It's you she wants to see. You must take advantage of these opportunities, Luke. By all accounts, Phillip Van Hansel is turning heads in the business world. A mover and a shaker. If you're in his wife's good graces, he could well be in a position to help you get ahead.”

“I don't want to get ahead,” Luke said. “I'm perfectly happy here.”

“Nonsense. You won't feel that way when you have to start collecting your own accounts, trust me. Every practice needs a few patients who are well-heeled enough to pay their bills on time, and this one currently doesn't have nearly enough of them. You're a very personable young man, Luke. I think you should take advantage of this unexpected connection. Plan to take Tuesday off so you can attend. I'll hold the fort.” And with a nod of the head, Christie disappeared into the rear of the house again.

Luke wondered if he should confide his misgivings to his employer. After all, the old doctor could hardly be pleased at an association with someone who Luke knew for a fact controlled at least one brothel in the city and had been involved in several cases of fraud. But when he thought about it, Luke realized that he had no way to prove that Hands was connected with Toronto's criminal underground. He and Thaddeus had been present when Van Hansel ordered his henchmen to place two dead bodies in one coffin, but anything else they discovered about him was assumption, based on a few overheard conversations and a great deal of guesswork. And any witnesses willing to back their story were either dead or long since disappeared. After all, the matter of fraud had been investigated by the authorities, but no conclusions were reached and no charges were ever laid.

During the confrontation in the cabinetmaker's yard, Hands claimed to have the local constabulary in his pocket, which, if true, would have afforded him protection during the investigation. Now Christie described him as “a mover and a shaker in the business world.” His empire must have grown in the intervening years, his power consolidated. The investigating officials themselves could well be under his control.

Even if he were sure that Christie could be sworn to secrecy, any accusation against Hands would be a dangerous thing to make. If it ever became known, Luke could well find himself in court for defamation, and he would have no way to defend himself. And if the case were to hinge on the moral rectitude of the complainants, one hint of Luke's relationship with Ben would sink him.

He would have to go to tea on Tuesday, he decided. There was no way around it. He could only hope that a tea party wasn't the sort of thing that husbands normally attended. And, he promised himself, if he managed to get through the occasion unscathed, he would save every penny he could and return to the Huron as fast as was humanly possible.

As he was deciding this, he happened to glance over at the skeleton in the corner. He could have sworn that Mul-Sack was laughing at him.

To Luke's great relief, Lavinia Van Hansel's tea party proved to be a small and intimate affair.

He once again brushed down his jacket and removed the street dust from his shoes before he boarded an omnibus that took him down into the city. Once again a maid answered the front door as soon as he let the brass knocker fall, but this time he was not ushered into the drawing room, but into a small parlour to the left of the hall. Here a round table with a paisley cloth and six chairs stood in the centre of a cozy room filled with shelves of bric-a-brac. Lavinia was there already, as were Cherub and another young woman whom Luke didn't know, although she could well have been in attendance at the soiree and he just didn't remember her. Lavinia rose when he entered the room and ushered him to a seat beside Cherub.

“You two already know each other, so there will be no difficulty in making conversation,” she said. Luke nodded to Cherub, who rolled her eyes at Lavinia's remark.

“How are you?” he asked politely. “I trust that you have recovered from your attack?”

“An attack?” the other girl squeaked, “How thrilling!”

“It was nothing,” Cherub said. “And I am quite fine, thank you. By the way, this is Grace Thomas. Grace, this is Dr. Luke Lewis.”

“A doctor! How thrilling!” Grace said. “And where do you practise, Dr. Lewis?”

“In Yorkville. And it's not very thrilling at all actually.”

Grace looked puzzled, but his remark was rewarded by a small twitch of Cherub's lips.

Just then someone let the knocker fall against the front door and everyone's attention was diverted in expectation of the arrival of more guests. Luke tensed, prepared to duck under the tablecloth and make a pretense of tying his shoe should the newcomer turn out to be Phillip Van Hansel. He had no idea what he would do after that, but the subterfuge might at least buy him a little time. This desperate measure proved unnecessary. Two people were shown into the parlour, Perry Biddulph and a young, remarkably good-looking man with a scowl on his face. In spite of the scowl, his appearance made Luke gasp. The man had a shock of wavy chestnut hair that swept back from a wide brow and a physical presence that dominated the room. He was like a ghost risen from Luke's past, for he was like the twin of the priest who had laboured in the fever sheds at Kingston. Luke had been quite enamoured of Father Higgins, although he was disturbed by his feelings at the time; as far as he knew, the priest had been unaware of anything untoward. And Higgins had died. Surely he couldn't have come back to life.

Then as the man walked farther into the room, Luke realized his mistake. This man was taller and more heavily built. His eyes were blue, not brown. His hair wasn't quite the right shade of chestnut. And Luke began to breathe again.

He wondered if the man had been invited along with Perry, or if the two merely arrived at the same time. Then he became aware that Grace Thomas was making hasty, fluttery adjustments to the voluminous sleeves of her dress, straightening them and brushing away imaginary crumbs.

Lavinia beckoned the young man to the chair beside Grace, which only deepened his scowl. This was a matchmaking exercise, apparently, but only one of the sides seemed at all interested.

Perry remained standing, his eye assessing the china figur-ines that were lined up on the shelves. He walked over and picked one of them up to examine the potter's mark on the bottom.

“You seem to have quite a taste for shepherdesses,” he remarked. “This one is quite good, but most of the rest of it is dreadful. You might think about getting rid of a lot of it and giving this one a shelf by itself.”

It was an incredibly rude thing to say, but Lavinia laughed. “Oh, those aren't mine. Mr. Van Hansel collects them. He has terrible taste, doesn't he?” Then she turned to the guests at the table. “I don't think everyone has met our special guest yet,” she said. “Everyone, this is Dr. Luke Lewis. Dr. Lewis, this is Grace Thomas and Arthur Ryan to her left. You, of course, know Miss Ebenezer, and you met Mr. Biddulph the other evening.”

Luke was grateful for the introduction. He hadn't been told Cherub's last name before, and it seemed disrespectful to continually address her by her first name.

Perry took the seat to Luke's right. “Yes, Dr. Lewis and I had quite a charming conversation the other night. It's lovely to see you again, sir.” He smirked a little as he said it.

Luke nodded in acknowledgement and told himself to act normally.

Lavinia rang the bell that connected the parlour to the kitchens and soon two maids bustled in with a large silver tea service and plates of cakes.

As soon as the cups were filled and the plates passed, Lavinia turned to Luke. “I'm so sorry that Dr. Christie couldn't join us as well,” she said. “He seems such an interesting gentleman. A Scot, I take it from his accent, but in Canada for quite some time?”

Luke understood that Lavinia was making conversation for the benefit of her other guests. “Yes, I believe he's originally from Edinburgh, but came to Canada in the thirties. I was very fortunate to be taken into the practice, as I had just graduated.”

“And do you enjoy it?”

“Some of it is interesting. A great deal of it is pretty humdrum. Like any practice, I expect, although I originally intended to return to the Clinton area where my brothers farm. I expect medicine would be more challenging there. Machinery accidents, trees falling on people, farmers gored by bulls, that sort of thing.”

Grace Thomas gave a little squeaky gasp and Luke was suddenly aware that his statement was probably inappropriate as teatime conversation. He tried frantically to change the subject, seizing on the first thing that came to mind.

“And what do you do, Mr. Ryan?”

Ryan fixed Luke with an intent gaze. “Oh, father has a mind to put me to work in the family business. He seems to think I should develop a head for figures so he can concentrate on opening the new warehouse.”