Florence Nightingale Comedy Mysteries Box Set

by Barbara Silkstone

  An impish smile showed from under Mr. Averoff’s mustache. “I discovered this stone while sailing the Nile. It was an amazing thing as if willed by the gods. We were surveying, searching for a place to widen a channel, when our boat struck something. As the river was low, we thought we had hit a rock. When two of my men slipped into the muddy water, they drew up a box that looked as if it was made from some unrecognizable kind of metal. It was only when we brought the find on board and poured clear water over it that we discovered it was made of gold. Inside was a figure of the goddess Isis. And at her feet lay this emerald. You can only imagine how excited I was. The deity had given me a gift.”

  Looking around the table I was certain there was not a closed mouth in the group. Dr. Carbuncle looked as if he had fallen victim to one of his own trances. Lord Melbourne displayed a range of emotions from stunned surprise to deep concern. Roger was aghast, while Mr. Olsen’s eyes sparkled with excitement.

  Mr. Averoff grinned like a child who had just pleased his parents as he looked at Florence. “Because of the unrest in Egypt and the possible invasion by the Ottoman army, I have hidden most of my valuables. Regarding this emerald, I had the thought to message your lovely queen for what better act could there be than to take a gift from a goddess of Egypt and pass it to a young lady who would someday be a goddess of mercy. Such an act would be a blessing on my house.”

  Florence raised her hand to her throat. “Sir, I am no goddess if that is your meaning. However this beautiful stone came to be, know that it will be used to educate many nurses and see to the improvement of hospitals.” She softened her words with a touch of humor, “The next time you communicate with your goddess please thank her for me.”

  From under his bushy mustache a sweet smile could be seen. “I will do that. When Queen Victoria sells the emerald—perhaps to a diamond cartel in London—it will supply more than enough money for the construction and maintenance of the Nightingale Training School for Nurses. The goddess will be pleased.”

  Although we expected to return with a gift, I imagine none of us, save perhaps Lord Melbourne, had given much thought as to its shape or size other than that it would be a trunk full of coins. This was an unexpected, humbling surprise. Having once seen some of the royal jewels on display, this emerald was every bit as striking as any of the Queen’s finest baubles.

  I had never seen Florence cry and yet now tears pooled in her eyes. Imagine expecting an endowment in the form of the coin of the realm, which is in many ways a dispassionate currency, and instead receiving something so amazing, so exotic you can barely comprehend what you are looking at. It took long minutes for the reality of what lay before us to sink into our stunned minds.

  Lord Melbourne was the first to find his voice. “That magnificent stone is a real emerald? It is stunning.” His fingers nervously drummed the table. I could guess what he was thinking—such a small item could be easily stolen.

  “It is,” Averoff said. “I have had it appraised and it is worth considerably more than the sum I originally promised her highness. It is my sincerest wish that this stone and all the value attached to it, be used to set the stage for a new age in medicine. We shall begin an era that will benefit not only England and Greece, but the vast hordes of needy in Egypt.”

  “Thank you, sir. With this gift we shall be able to save many lives.” Florence spoke softly as she extended her left hand to touch Mr. Averoff. He did not take her hand, but rather placed the stone in her palm. The emerald caught the candlelight and sent sparks of green light darting through the room.

  “What I imagined I might see by the end of my lifetime you have made possible now,” Florence said. “Within a year our school shall be training ladies to treat the sick, and with God’s help we shall shortly thereafter place nursing teachers here and in Egypt.”

  The excitement in her voice must have roused the owl for a sweet little chirping sound came from her pocket. Mr. Averoff raised one eyebrow and looked above Florence’s head as if a bird had entered the room and was flying about. The chirping became even more frantic.

  Florence carefully laid the emerald back on the satin bag, and then waggled her finger at Mr. Averoff beckoning him to look in her pocket. With a bewildered expression he leaned over and she sat back in order to expose her little stowaway. “Her name is Athena,” she whispered.

  “How delightful! A most petite traveler, so suitable for Miss Nightingale,” he matched her whisper. He wiggled his fingers at the owl as Florence closed her pocket in the folds of her skirt.

  “But now we must secure the stone.” Mr. Averoff glanced about the group, a look of consternation on his face. If I were he, I would be considering that I had revealed too much, too soon and in front of too many witnesses. “Lord Melbourne, Miss Nightingale, and Miss Poppy please to accompany me to my study as you will be essential in safeguarding the emerald.”

  Mr. Averoff put the gem back in the bag and slipping the cord over his head he tucked the treasure into the opening of his shirt. The three of us stood to join him.

  “And of course, you will wish me to attend you,” said Dr. Carbuncle. He rose from his chair, his belly catching on the edge of the table and jarring it. He seemed more sluggish than usual—if that was possible.

  “I do not think it is wise to lay such responsibility on a man who is gifted in mesmerizing,” Mr. Averoff said. “Your talents are better left with the hypnosis of patients and not the guarding of a rare jewel. I observe that Mrs. Carbuncle is in need of your attention. Tomorrow we will meet and you will explain to me this mesmerizing. Please.” The words were a thinly disguised refusal of the doctor’s assumption.

  Lord Melbourne gave Dr. Carbuncle a stern look, which he returned in kind, for he was not happy about being excluded, but there was little he could do. In an effort to retain his dignity, he said, “I shall take my wife to our rooms. We will see you in the morning.”

  Roger remained in his seat looking terribly disappointed, as did Mr. Olsen, who with his large round eyeglasses, fuzzy upper lip, and abandoned expression reminded me of Florence’s baby owl. Granny immediately began to pout, but there was nothing for it. Only essential persons were allowed in this meeting—and I was now essential.

  The excitement of the moment wedged my heart in my throat. I was part of the inner sanctum and would be a member of the group entrusted with the safe keeping of the treasure. My mother would be green with envy for I was a lady of the future, trusted by these very important men. I reached in my pocket to confirm my weapon was in its place. The India rubber ball could inflict a good deal of pain provided there were sufficiently hard surfaces around for it relied on the power of the ricochet.

  Chapter 24

  Captain Wainwright, the commander of the Dragoons, joined Lord Melbourne, Florence, and me in Mr. Averoff’s study, while the remaining five soldiers stood outside the door creating an imposing wall of British military might.

  The study was calculated to blend with the other rooms in the house as it had the same whitewashed walls and pristine stone floors. But this chamber was windowless, which I allowed must make it the safe room in Mr. Averoff’s estate. The Captain gave the setting a quick inspection, looking under the desk and behind the cabinets before proclaiming it secure. I felt unnerved by the sudden need for security; we had altered from a cozy little group to a paranoid gathering.

  “Please take a chair,” Averoff said. Melbourne, Florence, and I sat in a semicircle within whispering distance of the clutter-free but ornate desk that dominated one corner of the room. The carvings on the furniture reminded me of illustrations I had seen in books on the pharaohs. Captain Wainright stood behind us, his arms at his side, but giving the impression he would leap into action at the slightest provocation.

  George Averoff’s dark brows formed a wedge as he once again pulled his spectacles into position, stretching them to fit over the bridge of his nose. “Perhaps I should have been more discreet with the jewel,” he shook his head. “It is a flaw in my
nature that I wish to see everyone smiling; often too quickly. It may not be the wisest way of conducting the giving of such a gift, but it made us both happy, did it not sweet lady?” He nodded at Florence. “You take back to your country an Egyptian emerald and a Grecian owl. It will have been a most successful venture.”

  Lord Melbourne cleared his throat. “How would you suggest we proceed, for I am concerned about having it in our possession. Will you keep it until we depart?”

  Averoff shook his head. “It is my wish that you take possession of it this night for with your Dragoons you are better equipped to safeguard the gem.”

  I judged what must have been going through Lord M’s mind. If we accepted the emerald, then we should leave as soon as possible for London. It would not be safe to dally with the fortune in our keeping. Oh fuddle! I had wished to see some if not all of the sights of Athens. To return to London after only a day or so would be both exhausting and rude.

  Judging from the movement of Florence’s cheek, she was chewing on the inside of her mouth—funny how you learn to read the little idiosyncrasies of your friends. She had every right to be concerned, for the valuable gift was being given on her behalf. But there were important plans to be detailed between the donor and the recipient. Surely there should be a public thank you for such a wonderful gift. We could not just take the emerald and leave. And yet, Mr. Averoff was a private citizen and not required to make a public showing of his generosity.

  “You and I must spend some time together,” Florence said to Mr. Averoff. “We have much to discuss—plans for the school, both the construction and the curriculum. I would welcome your ideas and I would like to see the university you are building here.” Her voice grew tighter.

  This change in plans was frustrating my friend. Florence Nightingale was the type of person who relied on constancy. She did not like change as it caused her to become agitated. “Where did you keep it before this evening? Surely it was safe enough before we arrived?”

  George Averoff’s ears turned red and his chin dipped down. “I have worn the little sack for almost two months. No one knew of its existence because no one looked.”

  The poor man seemed uncomfortable. “I do not have servants who wait on me personally as you do in your great country; it is a custom I have never understood but then men do not require special attentions as do the ladies. There are but a few members of my household, and none who sees me intimately. No one saw the sack. But now, in my excitement, I have given away my closely guarded secret. Please do not think me to be a blabbering fool, for I am condemning myself enough for all of you.”

  Silence fell like the curtain on a stage performance. Our host was correct, he had been indiscreet and now we must maintain our guard and cut short our trip. I thought to make note of this in my journal. I would refer to it as the loose lips syndrome.

  Squeal… The odd sound cut through the stillness.

  Lord Melbourne cast a startled look at Florence. “Are you ill, Miss Nightingale?”

  Mr. Averoff chuckled. “It would seem little Athena is hungry. The urn you requested is in your chambers.”

  “Who?” Lord Melbourne said, tilting his head to the side.

  Florence and I exchanged a laugh for who was the perfect choice of words.

  “Who! Indeed,” she said.

  “Lord M! The expression on your face is absolutely priceless.” He looked puzzled for he had been engaged in conversation with Dr. Carbuncle at the time Florence allowed Mr. Averoff to see her little foundling. He had evidently not been fully aware of little Athena, despite knowing Florence had left the carriage to rescue the bird. I imagined he thought she had set it free.

  Cupping the owl’s belly in the palm of her hand, Florence put the little creature in her lap and allowed it to chew on the tip of her pinkie finger. “Her name is Athena and she is coming back to England with us.”

  “That is the owl you rescued from those rowdies. For a moment I thought you might have been suffering the after effects of Mr. Averoff’s surprise.” Florence and I chuckled. Lord Melbourne rarely jested, but this seemed like an attempt at humor.

  “I am concerned for the safekeeping of the emerald,” he said, addressing Florence and Mr. Averoff. “Let us put a simple plan in place for tonight and tomorrow we will make more secure arrangements. “If you wish me to accept your gift this evening, then I will need to wear the sack containing the emerald just as you have worn it, securely around my neck.”

  He turned to Captain Wainright. “Without explaining why, you will place a guard at the entrance to my sleeping chamber and another outside beneath the windows. Have them be as obtrusive as possible; let it be known we are guarding this gem with the full force of Her Majesty’s Dragoons.”

  “Yes, your lordship,” the captain said. “The men have seen the emerald and will know it is in your possession, so it is wise to make a show of force.”

  Lord Melbourne looked perturbed. “That is exactly what I intend. But tell me, do you trust them—one and all?”

  “They would not be Dragoons if I had any doubt that they would lay down their lives for queen and country. I will assign the first watch immediately.

  “Then I will rely on you. Nothing must happen to this amazing stone.”

  With a respectful nod, the commander left Mr. Averoff’s study. I pressed my palm to my heart and with a touch of drama said, “Those Dragoons with their muskets make me a wee bit nervous. I am glad they will be spending the night on your doorstep and not ours, Lord M.”

  Florence stopped petting the owl long enough to wiggle her eyebrows at me. “Lord M’s room is immediately across from ours. We shall share his Dragoons.” A smile played around the corners of her mouth. “There will be no midnight adventures for you Miss Throckmorten.”

  I wished she had not said that, despite it being true. I was given to a form of wide-awake sleepwalking—something to do with the more mischievous side of my brain not wishing to go to sleep. I had not had an event during our travels, perhaps because the constant motion of the boats and trains kept me from drifting, or conceivably deep down inside I was fearful that Roger would follow me on one of my nightly sojourns.

  Chapter 25

  Lord Melbourne took the satin sack from Mr. Averoff, opened it to verify that the emerald was in place, and then slipped the cord around his neck, tucking the jewel securely behind his ascot.

  “Must we shorten the length of our visit in Athens?” Florence asked.

  Lord Melbourne nodded his head. “I believe with the diligence of Captain Wainwright’s men we can allow for a stay of at least a few days, but no longer. I appreciate there are many concepts you wish to share with Mr. Averoff and much you would like to see.”

  He smiled at our host. “You understand that it is only because of the treasure that we must shorten the length of our stay. I realize that it sounds odd but a huge chest would be easier to protect than this amazing emerald, and yet to place it in a large chest would be bizarre. I would ask to create a secure setting, but now that it is in my possession I feel the responsibility to see it safely to London. I shall dispatch a message to the Queen this evening anticipating our early return.”

  His shoulders slumping, poor George Averoff said, “I have only myself to blame. I should have been careful. I shall make up for the lost time by taking you all on a most inclusive tour of both the university and the new museum, tomorrow. We will leave in the morning after you have enjoyed a delicious Greek breakfast. And then, please linger as long as you feel comfortable for the gift was meant to bring us together, and not to send you running back home!” His mustache bobbed as he spoke.

  My thoughts lay with our dear Queen. She was relying upon us to bring Mr. Averoff’s endowment to the royal treasury without incident. My intuition told me there would be nothing more pleasing to nasty Lord Cumberland, than to see the young Queen fail in such an important duty that would benefit her subjects and Britain’s growing alliance with Greece.

  “Then s
o be it,” Florence stood, startling Lord Melbourne by her abruptness. “I have an owl to feed. She has been more than patient.” She adjusted the folds of her dress taking care to align her pocket so Athena was comfortable. We left the study intending to prepare for the first night of proper sleep in weeks.

  Roger met us at the foot of the staircase. “Your grandmother has gone up to your chambers as our travel has finally done her in,” Roger whispered. “Mr. Olsen grew tired of waiting and thought perhaps he might interview Dr. Carbuncle.” He shrugged. “Would you join me for a chat before we retire? We have barely spoken during this entire trip. I miss you.”

  “Honestly Roger, you have the most awful timing. We are guests here and our host has just called it a day. If you require a chat before turning in, I am sure you can engage Mr. Olsen in conversation; he has a keen interest in everybody’s business.”

  Roger drew his lips into a tight line and frowned so fiercely I warned him that his face might set that way, permanently. But he did not give up. “I’ll be right down here, at the end of this hall somewhere, should you need me, Poppy,” Roger called as he watched us ascend the short staircase to our chambers.

  Mr. Olsen dashed down the stairs towards us, pulling up short as he stood one step above us. The reporter gave an impatient snort. “An interview with Carbuncle is pointless. He can’t conjure a simple sentence,” he said, pressing his attaché case to his chest. “I thought I would be up all night writing a scandalous piece of gossip, but I reckon I shall turn in early. Goodnight ladies.”

  I must admit a part of me was relieved. I squeezed my reticule confirming my journal was still inside. Let Olsen squeeze out what gossip he could, it would not affect my story for I was in possession of the inside information. I was one of the essential people.