Medium Dead: An Alexandra Gladstone Mystery (13 page)

“Feel better? Not likely. Not when there’s spirits in the house and murderers on the loose.”

Alexandra gave her a surprised look. “I hoped the light of day would help you get past your superstition. I thought, or hoped, you were as convinced as I that there were no spirits in the house.”

“No spirits, you say? Excuse me, miss, but it’s my feeling that spirits were what Zack was howling at last night. You know he’s never howled like that before.”

“I’ll admit Zack was not himself last night, but it was only because he was upset by all that was going on during the evening,” Alexandra said.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” Nancy insisted.

Alexandra shook her head. “No, no, I didn’t mean the spirits. I meant all of the people in the house last night, all of the strange noises coming from the parlor, the fact that I wouldn’t let him join you.”

“He just has himself a little pout when it’s something like that bothering him,” Nancy countered. “He doesn’t howl. He never howls. But he did last night because there were spirits in the house, I say.”

Alexandra touched her napkin to her mouth and stood. “There’s no point in arguing with you, Nancy. I can see you’re not going to listen. I suggest you take the morning to rest. I hope that will return you to your senses. I can handle the surgery, and if there’s an emergency I’ll come for you.”

Alexandra had not yet seen the first patient when Nancy appeared in the surgery wearing a fresh apron. She went to the medicine shelves to take inventory, as she did at least once a week so she would know what herbs and chemicals she would need to procure from the apothecary and what concoctions she would need to prepare in the kitchen.

“I see you didn’t heed my advice,” Alexandra asked.

“I’ll be fine,” Nancy said. Her tone was clipped, and she glanced over her shoulder as if she might see the spirit standing in the hallway that led to the main part of the house.

There was a slow but steady stream of patients with minor complaints until noon. Nancy worked with her usual competence alongside Alexandra until it was time to prepare lunch. She seemed reluctant to go back into the main house at first, but Alexandra watched as she gathered her courage, squared her shoulders, and marched into what she obviously thought was imminent danger.

“You know I must leave for my rounds now,” Alexandra said after they’d eaten. “If you’re not comfortable staying here alone, perhaps I could leave Zack here with you.”

She fully expected Nancy to protest and say that she would be perfectly all right staying at home and seeing to the surgery as she always did. She would be most likely to add that Zack wouldn’t be of any help anyway.

She didn’t say any of those things. Instead, she told Alexandra that she would appreciate having the dog with her, and then Nancy led Zack to the kitchen to bribe him with a treat, so he wouldn’t protest when Alexandra left without him.

The Beaty home was Alexandra’s first stop as she made her rounds to visit homebound patients. She usually called there no more than once a month to check on Old Beaty, since, in spite of his complaints of rheumatism that, according to him, could only be eased by his “tonic,” he was in otherwise good health. She was not so certain about how Wilma and Young Beaty were faring, however. Both were likely to be making themselves miserable over the revelations by the so-called spirit the night before.

She would not have been surprised to hear angry words and the shouting of a loud argument or, at the very least, Wilma’s sobs as she approached the house. However, she was met with nothing but silence as she waited outside the door. Even after she knocked, there was no indication of anyone being inside. She waited for several seconds and knocked again. After another long wait, she turned away and had already started up the walk to untie Lucy when she heard the door open. A disheveled Wilma stood in the doorway, looking as pale and fragile as though she herself was no more than a phantasm.

“Good Lord, Wilma, you’ve made yourself sick over this.”

Wilma made no reply. She only held the door open for Alexandra to enter.

“There’s no point in troubling over it now,” Alexandra said. “Young Beaty is out of gaol, and I believe it’s highly unlikely Constable Snow will arrest him again.”

“Yer a smart woman, Dr. Gladstone. Smart as I ever seen. Smarter than the likes of any London barrister when it comes to what you done for my Beaty, but yer no match for the devil and his evil army.” Wilma led her to the parlor and pointed out a chair for her.

“Wilma, you mustn’t think that what happened last night was anything but theatrics.”

“Nancy told you, did she?”

“I know what happened,” Alexandra said, still too embarrassed to admit her spying. “It was no more than a parlor trick, I’m sure.”

“I know what I seen and what I heard. ’Twas the spirit of that evil woman. Made Young Beaty do unspeakable things.” Wilma seemed unwilling to sit. She was pacing the floor as she spoke.

“Surely you’re not still thinking your husband is responsible for Alvina’s death,” Alexandra said.

Wilma stopped her pacing long enough to look at Alexandra. “Didn’t he tell me hisself? Didn’t he say ’twas because he had another woman and it was old Alvina? Didn’t that wicked spirit also say ’twas true?”

“That’s what he told you? That his other woman was Miss Elwold? I find that hard to believe.”

“Sure, it’s hard to believe, but she cast a spell on ’im, she did.”

“You’re overwrought, Wilma,” Alexandra said, opening her medical bag. “I’m going to give you another sedative.”

“ ’Twill only make me woozy for a time, then the bad thoughts will return. There’s no medicine to cure such foul and sinful things that’s brought on by bad spirits.”

Alexandra held the vial of laudanum for a second, then dropped it back into her bag. “Perhaps you’re right,” she said. “Perhaps the only remedy is to get to the bottom of this.”

There was no reply from Wilma. She sank into a chair and covered her face with her hands.

“I must see Young Beaty before I leave,” Alexandra said. “I know he must be as upset as you are. I want to make sure he doesn’t need medication.”

“Oh, ’e needs it, ’e does,” Wilma said, looking up at Alexandra with a tear-dampened face. “But, ’e ain’t here. Said ’e was going to the oyster shed, but if you ask me, ’e’s at the Blue Ram, finding his own remedy in a glass or two of whiskey.”

Alexandra nodded her acceptance. Unlike his father, Young Beaty was a man of moderation and wouldn’t be likely to take his drinking to excess.

She went to Wilma and took both of her hands in hers. “I have a better medicine for you than the sedative you so wisely turned down. I want you to go see Nancy. She’s not likely to be terribly busy in the surgery until I return. She’ll give you tea and some of her scones with that jam she makes. You don’t have to talk about the so-called spirit. Just talk. It will do you good. Especially if it’s Nancy who’s doing the listening.”

Wilma nodded and gave her a weak smile. Alexandra saw herself to the door and rode Lucy to her next stop. There were only a handful of patients to see, and she had decided Montmarsh would be her last stop. She’d taken over Lady Forsythe’s care completely since the lady’s own personal physician had sent word that he was indisposed and would not be able to make the journey to Newton-upon-Sea. If the queen’s physician was there, he was obviously too occupied with the queen to see to Lady Forsythe or even to be seen himself.

As she rode toward Montmarsh, she was surprised to see a horseman riding toward her. He was still several yards away when she recognized the rider as Nicholas. He was astride the black Arabian gelding rather than riding in his usual fine carriage. He rode with ease and confidence, she noticed. It was obvious he’d had the best instructors his considerable wealth could buy, but a certain natural talent was also apparent. It occurred to Alexandra as she watched him approach that Lady Forsythe’s condition may have worsened, and he was on his way to fetch her. He waved to her and spurred his horse to close the distance between them.

“I was on my way to find you,” he said as he approached. “I didn’t know whether or not you planned to come to see Her Ladyship, and I wanted to catch you before you got too busy in the surgery.”

“Something is wrong?”

“Oh, something is certainly wrong,” Nicholas said, turning his horse to ride beside her. Lucy nickered at the gelding and quickened her step as if to move away from him.

“Her Ladyship has worsened?”

“Not in the way you might think.”

“Then what—”

“She’s been out scratching around in the graveyard again. She got out of her bed after you left last night, and I followed her.”

“You didn’t try to stop her?”

“I wanted to see what she was up to, and I thought as long as I was nearby she would be all right.”

“And what was she up to?” Alexandra asked, growing more and more concerned.

“I’m not certain, but I don’t think her talk of a murderer in the house was all foolishness. My mother knows more about Miss Elwold’s murder than she’d like us to believe.”

Nicholas refused to supply any details until the two of them had ridden back to Montmarsh. They were once again alone in the library. This time Nicholas did not order tea. Instead, he locked the doors and spoke in a hushed tone.

“I had no idea she could handle a carriage like that without help, especially at night. And before you ask, neither do I have any idea why she would do that.”

“Perhaps the bromide I gave her…”

“It was supposed to make her sleep,” Nicholas said.

“That’s what I had hoped, and I gave it to her because I was worried about too much laudanum. However, it can cause nausea that keeps a person awake.” Alexandra frowned. “You say she was digging the soil, just as the constable said?”

“Yes. It was all quite strange. She got out of the carriage and struck a lucifer to light a lantern, then she proceeded to scratch around on the ground near the grave.”

“That is indeed quite strange,” Alexandra said.

“I say, mental derangement doesn’t go along with this shingles ailment she has, does it?”

“No, of course not.”

“Do you think she has completely lost her mind by some other cause?” Nicholas looked worried.

“No,” Alexandra said, contemplating it. “I don’t think that’s the case at all.”

“Then what—”

“It could have something to do with the medication. There’s so much my profession doesn’t know about certain drugs…but truthfully, I think this has something to do with the queen.”

“Something to do with Her Majesty? I don’t understand.”

“Neither do I, actually. But the only way I see to understand any of this is to question Her Ladyship.”

“You’ll get nowhere there,” Nicholas said with a scoff. “She’s not going to admit to you that Her Majesty was ever here on the premises, in spite of the fact that everyone in Newton knows it by now.”

“Still, I’d like to try to talk to her,” Alexandra said.

“You’re certainly welcome to try, but as I said, even if she’s awake, I doubt you’ll get anywhere.”

Alexandra picked up her bag from where she’d left it on a table. “If you’ll unlock the door, I’ll go up now, before anyone has time to announce my arrival. Don’t look at me that way, Nicholas. There are certain liberties I can take as a doctor.”

“Then by all means, proceed,” Nicholas said, still with a note of uncertainty in his voice. He unlocked the door and followed her out of the room and up the grand staircase.

At the top of the stairs, Lancaster appeared out of nowhere. He had that expression on his face that made Alexandra think he smelled something unpleasant.

“Excuse me?” he said, making the phrase more of a question than a polite expression.

“We are on our way to see Her Ladyship,” Nicholas said. “Dr. Gladstone wishes to examine—”

“Lady Forsythe has left instructions that she will see no one today,” Lancaster said, interrupting Nicholas.

“But Dr. Gladstone—”

“I’m terribly sorry, my lord, but Lady Forsythe is indisposed.” He looked and sounded apologetic, something Alexandra had never witnessed before. Undoubtedly, it was because he was addressing the lord of the estate.

“I assure you that you won’t be held at fault,” Nicholas said, working his way around Lancaster to the door to his mother’s room.

Alexandra followed and could hear the murmur of voices coming from inside the bedroom. The voices belonged to Lady Forsythe and Madam Cudney. It was difficult to understand Her Ladyship’s voice, except to note that she sounded frightened. Madam Cudney’s voice was louder. She, too, sounded upset.

Alexandra could catch a word now and then. “You must not…the queen…”

The voices stopped when Nicholas knocked on the door. Behind them, Lancaster fidgeted uncomfortably.

“It’s Nicholas. I must see you.”

Now there was nothing but silence on the other side of the door.

Nicholas tapped on the door again. “My lady?”

After another silence of several seconds, the door opened, and Madam Cudney stood in the doorway.

“Lady Forsythe is not feeling well.” Her voice was hushed. “Please come back later,” she said, closing the door behind her.

“I heard her just now, and she sounded well enough to shout,” Nicholas protested, trying to see around Madam Cudney’s generous figure.

“You must let her rest,” Madam Cudney said, standing firm.

Lady Forsythe’s voice, weak and trembling, came from inside the room. “Please, Nicky, not now. I’m not well. I’ll see you later in the day.”

Nicholas hesitated and glanced at Alexandra. His look seemed to communicate the same thing she was thinking—that the weakness in Her Ladyship’s voice was feigned. She had sounded much more robust when she was speaking—or was it arguing?—with Madam Cudney a few minutes earlier.

Madam Cudney didn’t move from her position in front of Lady Forsythe’s closed door until the two of them turned away. Just as they reached the top of the stairs, Alexandra heard the door to Lady Forsythe’s room open and saw Madam Cudney disappear inside.

“Now, that was curious,” Nicholas whispered, taking Alexandra’s arm.

“I have to agree,” Alexandra said, “but Her Ladyship did say she would see you later in the day. Perhaps you can learn something about all of this.”

“You can rest assured I’m going to try,” Nicholas said. “It sounded to me as if the two of them were arguing. Something about the queen.”

“So it seemed.”

“Can’t imagine what the significance of that might be,” Nicholas said. “What is really curious, though, is the simple fact that they seemed to be arguing. Highly unusual for anyone to argue with my mother. Particularly someone of Madam Cudney’s status.”

“I can well imagine that to be true.”

“Do you think she’s all right? MaMa, I mean. I still can’t help worrying that she may have gone a little batty.”

“She is obviously not herself, but I wouldn’t jump to conclusions about her being batty, my lord. I
would
like to examine her again, though. If she’ll allow it.”

“I’ll see that she does allow it. And for the millionth time, it’s Nicholas, not ‘my lord.’ ” He was about to open the door for Alexandra when Lancaster appeared and quickly stepped in front of him to open the door himself.

“Thank you, Lancaster,” Alexandra said. She gave Nicholas a nod and a polite smile as she walked away toward Lucy.

“You’re uncommonly quiet,” Nancy said later in the day as she and Alexandra worked side by side in the surgery. They had just finished setting a broken arm for a young boy who had fallen after slipping on a patch of ice. “One of the patients you saw on your rounds not doing well?” Nancy added.

“I’m not sure,” Alexandra said. “Lady Forsythe is acting strangely, but I’m not certain it has anything to do with her having shingles.”

Nancy looked up from the bandage she was rolling. “Still fretting over the royal visit?”

“It’s all quite odd,” Alexandra said, and told her about the exchange she’d overheard between Lady Forsythe and Madam Cudney, as well as what Nicholas saw when he followed Her Ladyship to the cemetery.

“ ’Tis odd indeed,” Nancy said as she placed a basket of bandages on a shelf. In the process she knocked something to the floor. Nancy stooped to pick it up, and Alexandra saw dozens of sparkling lights escaping. Nancy was holding what appeared to be a diamond brooch.

“Where did you get that?” Alexandra was entranced by the brilliant display.

“Lucas,” Nancy said. “He brought it by the surgery today to show it off. Poor idiot chap, he was upset when I told him he couldn’t keep it. I was going to show it to you later and ask if you might know whose it might be.”

Alexandra took the ornament from Nancy and examined it. “These are diamonds. It must be worth a fortune.”

“Diamonds? Not glass?”

“Not glass, no. I think these are real gems. How did Lucas come to have this in his possession?”

“Claims he found it,” Nancy said.

“Found it?”

“In the graveyard.”

Nicholas was seated in the great hall on one of the immensely uncomfortable brocade chairs, pretending to be engrossed in a book. He had chosen the chair because of its position in the hall that gave him a clear view of the stairway Madam Cudney would descend on her way to her room for her afternoon nap. She was not housed in the servants’ quarters, but since it would not be fitting for her to be in the family wing where the queen was lodged, she was relegated to a presentable but seldom-used wing of the house. Nicholas had observed her retreat to her room on several occasions when his mother napped, so he knew the route she would take.

Finally, after what seemed to be an inordinately long wait, he saw her coming down the stairs. He buried his nose in the book, the title of which he’d never bothered to learn. He saw Madam Cudney descend the main staircase and move out of sight on her way to the lesser stairway in another wing of the house. He made his way upstairs to Lady Forsythe’s room and knocked on the door.

“Who’s there?” his mother said at the first knock. Her voice sounded decidedly stronger than it had earlier when she was putting on her show of weakness for him and Alexandra.

“Hello, MaMa,” Nicholas said as he walked all the way into the room without waiting for permission to open the door.

“Oh, it’s you.”

“Just the kind of greeting a son wants from his mother.”

Lady Forsythe turned her face away from him. “Sorry, Nicky, but you know I’m not feeling well.”

“Are you in pain? I’m sure Dr. Gladstone could give you something to help if you’ll allow—”

She turned her face back to Nicholas, suddenly agitated. “I don’t want to see Dr. Gladstone!”

“May I ask why not?” Nicholas tried to keep his voice as even as possible.

“Because I’m afraid.” She turned her face away from him again, as if she regretted the words she’d just uttered.

“You’re shaking. Please tell me what’s wrong. Why are you afraid? Perhaps it’s just the weather. Have you noticed how dark and gloomy it has become? There’s a storm brewing out at sea.”

She turned her face away. “It’s not the storm. It’s…nothing.”

“Obviously you’re upset,” Nicholas said. “Is Her Majesty’s visit that upsetting for you? If it is, I’ll find a way to send her—”

Lady Forsythe raised herself momentarily, almost to a sitting position. “Don’t say that, Nicholas.” She collapsed against the pillow again. “Don’t use her name at all. No one must know she’s here.”

“Calm yourself, my lady. No one need know anything at all,” Nicholas said, deciding not to tell her just how widespread the word of Her Majesty’s visit had become. “Is it that Cudney person who’s upsetting you? She seemed to be arguing with you.”

“You were spying on us!” She sounded even more agitated.

“Well, it was hard not to hear your loud voices.” Nicholas was still trying to keep a calm demeanor. “And what’s this about a brooch?”

“Nothing! Nothing at all.”

“Do I see tears in your eyes?”

“Oh, Nicholas, I miss your father so much. He would know what to do.”

“Perhaps he would, but he’s not here. Allow me to help you.”

“If only—”

“I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s troubling you,” Nicholas said.

“Now you sound just like him. Your father, I mean.” She took a deep breath. “I have to speak to someone, really I do, and that dreadful Madam Cudney…” She trailed off, staring at nothing.

“Dreadful Madam Cudney? I thought you liked her.”

“I thought so, too,” Lady Forsythe said. “No, I mean, of course I like her. She can be so very kind when she’s not…Well, why does she have to be so bossy and insistent about that damned brooch? After all, I’m not the one who lost it.”

Nicholas was momentarily stunned at his mother’s use of a swear word, but all he said was, “What damned brooch?”

“Oh, Nicky, it’s all so awful.” Her voice was tearful and quivered with emotion. “I don’t understand why I should have to be involved with some dead woman who got herself murdered. I want nothing to do with it, really, and it makes my condition worse when I think about it.”

“What on earth are you talking about, MaMa? Just how are you involved with the murdered woman, and what does a brooch have to do with it? Are you talking about a brooch that belongs to you, or someone else?”

Lady Forsythe wiped her eyes with the edge of the sheet. “Why, it belonged to me, of course. You know the one I’m talking about. It’s been in my family for generations. My grandmother passed it down to me. You remember, I’m sure. The one with all the diamonds.”

Nicholas had never paid much attention to his mother’s jewelry, but he nodded as if he knew the piece exactly. “Go on.”

“I never should have loaned it to her, that’s all.”

Nicholas frowned. “You loaned your brooch to Miss Elwold?”

“Miss who?”

“The dead woman.”

Lady Forsythe gasped. “Don’t be ridiculous, Nicholas. I would never loan my diamond brooch to a dead woman. I loaned it to Her Majesty, and if you don’t mind my saying so, it was careless of her to lose it when she went to the graveyard.”

For a moment, Nicholas was too stunned to speak. He pulled up a chair next to his mother’s bedside and sat down. “Her Majesty went to the graveyard. She was wearing your brooch, and she lost it while she was there.” He spoke in a measured tone as much to keep his mind from whirling out of control as to make certain he’d heard his mother correctly.

“Yes, and now Madam Cudney insists that I find it. You’d think it was
her
brooch that was lost or that I—”

“Hold on a moment, please,” Nicholas said, interrupting her. “Before we get to Madam Cudney, you must tell me why the queen went to the graveyard in the first place.”

Lady Forsythe frowned and looked at her son as if he might be daft. “Why, to kill that woman, of course.”