Florence Nightingale Comedy Mysteries Box Set

by Barbara Silkstone

On Florence’s instructions I nipped out the door of the shop and motioned for Lord M to leave the carriage and step out of the women’s hearing. Roger stood not an arm’s length away from me panting like an overheated sheepdog and smelling just as bad. Whoever he borrowed his costume from could use a good scrubbing.

  “Is Miss Nightingale safe?” Lord Melbourne glanced over my head peering at the shop.

  “She is unharmed but we must make haste. The footmen should be ordered to aid Miss Nightingale in removing Miss Nancy; she is a Chartist whom we bound and gagged.” His Lordship frowned causing the lines in his face to deepen into grooves. “You have caught your first Chartist? I am not sure whether that is good or bad.”

  As His Lordship moved past me, I reached out to him. “There is more,” I tried to whisper but with Roger breathing in my face it was a challenge. “There is a body in the cellar. We believe it is Mrs. Dupree. The seamstresses will become even more frightened if they learn of her death.”

  Lord Melbourne sighed so deeply, I thought my heart would break. There was something about seeing him sad, that cut into me like the knife that had ended poor Julia’s life. He seemed to take every loss of life as an act he could have prevented.

  “Send the footmen into the shop with me,” I said. “We will wrap the body in a suitably sturdy fabric, perhaps a brocade. Florence will provide a distraction for the seamstresses if she brings Miss Nancy out nicely knotted and holds her on the far side of the carriage while we carry the bundled corpse along this side.”

  I thought about it for an instant longer. It was a crazy idea but I was fresh out of sanity. “The footmen will put the cloth wrapped corpse on the roof of the carriage and fasten it securely. That should work. But we must be quick as there is a chance that Mr. Harley may return.”

  “What about me?” Roger whined. Goodness he tried my patience.

  “You stand on the far side of the carriage and pretend you have something important to say to the women.” It was the only thing I could think of.

  “But what should I say?” he asked. “Who are they?”

  “That’s it exactly. You take their names.” For a would-be hero Roger Broadribbs had no imagination. “If you can’t remember that then just mumble something nonsensical; but keep the women looking out that side of the carriage.”

  I waved for Moon and the second footman, David, to follow me. We dashed into the shop and helped Florence guide the hobbled faux seamstress out the door. The fury that shot from Miss Nancy’s eyes was reminiscent of a fire-breathing dragon.

  As Florence led the way with the two men supporting the string-bound woman, Lord Melbourne stepped forward. Silently, he guided her along with her prisoner to the far side of the coach. The seamstresses were silent at first and then began to buzz like a hive of bees.

  Tilting my head toward the shop I indicated to Moon that we had to return. With David accompanying us we entered the darkened shop. The lone candle I had left on the entry table had all but gone out, it rested in a puddle of tallow that smelt like rancid meat.

  I placed my hands up in a halting motion and the two men who walked on either side of me, stopped short.

  “We are going into the cellar,” I said in a soft voice. “There is a dead body down there. The lady who owns this shop was been murdered. We must bring Mrs. Dupree back to the Palace for the coroner’s inspection.”

  Moon stood his ground, but David gulped and inched back fearfully. With a loud thud he hit the floor. Surely he hadn’t fainted?

  The candle flickered and then as if snuffed, it went out. My blood turned to ice and my heart thrummed so loudly I was certain Moon could hear it.

  “Who are you and whose body is in the cellar?” a man growled from the darkness. It was a familiar voice. I held my breath waiting to hear him speak again but instead I heard what sounded like the cocking of a gun. What had I gotten poor Moon into?

  “Is that you Bailey?” I asked. Having only heard the butler speak a few lines, I couldn’t be certain, all I could do was pray I had guessed correctly.

  “Who wants to know?” The voice asked, confirming my suspicion. It was the butler.

  “It’s me, Miss Throckmorten. We were here earlier today. I have brought help.” Despite the fact that Moon and David were in livery it was too dark for anyone to know they were from the Palace. I extended my hand. “Step towards me, Bailey. I have something to tell you. And shut off your gun.”

  “It’s not loaded,” he said. “I only brought it in case Mr. Harley came back. I was made redundant today, but I snuck back tonight. I know he is out and about enlisting converts but he could return at any moment.” I felt his hand touch mine. “I came back to try and find out what happened to Mrs. Dupree. She has to be here somewhere. They must have her locked up. I have to save her.”

  It was up to me to break the sad news. My mouth turned dry, like I had been sucking a piece of muslin.

  Chapter 28

  It was hard to say the words and yet the butler must be told. “Mrs. Dupree is dead. Sadly, she was murdered.”

  “I knew it!!” Bailey re-cocked his gun. “Such a good lady! His fury bubbled over into a mass of confusion. Where is she?”

  It was when I told him she was in the cellar that the poor man lost control of his emotions. “She was here in the shop all the time? Was she alive? Could I have helped her?”

  We had no time for talk; I was forced to cut him off. “We don’t know yet. Please control yourself for the time being. We can use your help. Stay up here and keep watch for Mr. Harley. Moon and David will fetch Mrs. Dupree. We have a carriage waiting outside. Do you have a fresh candle and a match?”

  The butler was slow to answer, as if he were in a dream. “I will bring you a light. Did she suffer?” he asked as he turned to go.

  Eventually the truth would come out. I found the best answer was to delay. “The doctor who examines her will be able to inform us. Meet me tomorrow at sunset in the sanctuary at St. Peter’s Church. I will tell you all I find out and you must share with me all that you know.”

  Bailey stood in the dark at the top of the stairs watching as I followed Moon and David into the cellar. If my mother could see me now she would lock me up and throw away the key.

  The candlelight flickered on the form of Mrs. Dupree. It was evident she had struggled to free herself as her bindings had cut into her wrists. Bailey and the seamstresses would be beside themselves when they learn what happened to her.

  Somehow in the dark, I located a bolt of thick brocade and brought it to Moon and David. They wrapped the corpse and secured it with a ribbon. Rolled up like she was, Mrs. Dupree might have been a length of cloth. It was awkward at first but they managed to carry her up the stairs.

  The butler held the door while tears pooled in his eyes. He followed our strange parade to the coach. I cautioned him not to let the women see him for his face would tell that which we wished to keep from them—that their much-liked employer was dead.

  By the half-light of a streetlamp I could see Roger standing on the far side of the carriage talking to the women who seemed to all be facing away from the near side as we approached. Lord Melbourne nodded solemnly as Moon, David, and Bailey secured Mrs. Dupree to the top of the coach. There was a certain amount of curiosity on the part of the women about the bolt of fabric, but they did not recognize Bailey and their anxiety regarding Mr. Harley’s returning increased.

  Florence had tied Miss Nancy to the outside of the coach, but now that it was time to leave, the choice was either to stuff her into the coach or find a place for her with the footmen. “I can handle her,” Moon said. And so the thread-bound Chartist woman rode with the footmen perched on their seat. The eight ladies, Lord Melbourne, and Florence squeezed into the coach while I spent a few moments adjusting Roger’s ego.

  “Roger, I am so proud of you. You did a wonderful job distracting those poor women while the corpse was placed on the carriage top.”

  His eyes became so large I thought they might
pop out of his head. Poor thing was unaccustomed to receiving compliments from me. “That bolt of fabric really is a dead body?”

  I put my fingers to my lips. “Keep your voice down! Now you must get away while we take these ladies to a safe haven and then deal with the corpse.”

  Out of the corner of my eye I watched Bailey walking off, his head down and his hand in his coat pocket, undoubtedly on his pistol. I said a silent prayer that he did not seek out Mr. Harley or any of his compatriots. There would be time enough for proper warrants once we had informed the Queen.

  Our strange party left the street in front of the dress shop and took the short trip to St. James’s Palace. Once there, Lord Melbourne gallantly led the ladies inside and made arrangements for them to stay until further notice. Florence and I tagged behind them knowing the presence of a woman was more comforting that the courtly manners of the handsome man. If they knew Lord Melbourne was the Prime Minister of England they would faint dead away. As it was, their being escorted into such a fine building had rendered them speechless.

  I stood on the steps of St. James’s Palace, taking deep soothing breaths. I had not dared to breathe during the ride for much as I would have enjoyed the nearness of Moon, the idea of sitting any longer than necessary under a corpse lacked a certain sense of savoir-faire.

  His Lordship instructed the steward, “No one is to know these women are here. They are to have no contact with the outside world. I am holding you responsible.”

  The manservant nodded. “They are to be given suitable quarters perhaps two to a room for comfort. They have been through a difficult evening, see that they are cared for.”

  If I were one of the ladies I would have imagined I had walked in my sleep or perhaps been the victim of some sort of magic trick. One minute they were clambering out of a water closet window and the next they were being housed in a Palace. Not once did they ask the whys or the wherefores, for they were truly dumbfounded.

  Before reentering the carriage Lord Melbourne stood between Florence and me, the three of us looking up at the starry heavens. What a night it had been. I could never in a million years have imagined my friendship with Miss Nightingale would lead to this.

  Exchanging comforting glances with Moon, I climbed into the coach followed by Florence and Lord Melbourne. We rode the short distance to Buckingham Palace in silence for there was so very much to say that there were no words that would capture it all.

  Florence looked at the watch she kept pinned under her cloak. Only then did it occur to me that I had not seen Athena during the entire escapade. I patted my dress pocket and cut my mentor a questioning look.

  She mouthed the word Granny, and I nodded too tired to respond. I hoped the owlet did not give my grandmother any trouble as Athena had never been left with an owl-sitter before.

  We pulled close to the Palace guardhouse where we turned the bound Miss Nancy over to the sentry on duty. Lord Melbourne instructed him to untie her and place her in one of the two jails. She would be dealt with in due course.

  The coachman then drove up to the front entrance of the Palace and came to a full stop. Moon jumped down and opened the door. Was it a sign from heaven or a mere coincidence that the first ray of dawn fell on his smiling face?

  Chapter 29

  I managed to fall face up into my bed but try as I might I could not sleep. My nerves were like violin strings, taught and shrill. Joining Florence, we paced the room together after taking a loving peek at Granny and Athena. The owlet stood on my grandmother’s headboard with her huge bird eyes wide open staring unblinkingly—fast asleep. “They are both sleeping.” Florence whispered. “It is almost time for breakfast. I intend to get at least one hour’s rest before I observe that imbecile of a coroner when he examines Mrs. Dupree.”

  Florence’s wish list was the sort of thing that normally sent me to my journal—but I was supremely exhausted. Making a mental note to jot down the day’s plans, I glanced longingly at my bed. Perhaps I could try once more to catch a dream or two?

  A soft knock on our door set my heart racing. The day ahead would be harsh—it was much too early for it to begin. Even though Florence and I would not be directly involved in the politics of our nation, an upheaval was brewing and we could most certainly be caught up in it.

  It felt like the walls were drawing in on us and we were running out of time. Besides Florence determining the cause of Mrs. Dupree’s death and confirming the identity of Lady Julia’s killer; there was the Chartist cell to be dealt with, and eight traumatized seamstresses to be questioned. The longer we took to solve the mysteries, the closer Queen Victoria came to death.

  A groan escaped my lips as I remembered I had promised Bailey I would meet him to reveal how Mrs. Dupree had met her end—but would I know? We had so many mysteries to solve and so little time. The knock came again. Were we being summoned this early in the morning to the Queen’s parlor? We had only just arrived at the Palace after being on a mission for the Crown—all night. Please Your Majesty let us sleep a bit longer.

  I glanced at Florence, who sighed and nodded at me to answer the door.

  I expected to be greeted by a curtseying maid; I even anticipated the possibility that Lord Melbourne had come to get us. I was not prepared for Mrs. Cecile Ponsonby. She pushed her way into our chambers without an invitation. Florence had stepped to Granny’s bed in a protective move, scooping up Athena and placing her in her pocket. I had only a moment to see what an owlet looks like when wakened from a deep sleep. It was rather sweet. On the other hand Granny awoke with a sputter and a growl. She sat up in bed looking rattled by the sight of the human butterfly now standing in the center of our bedroom, hands on her hips and a frown to beat all frowns.

  “I cannot find Lord Melbourne and the Queen will not receive me!” Cecile barked. “I have only just learned of the murder of dear little Julia! No one will tell me anything!” She flung her arms around in wild abandon.

  “Calm down Mrs. Ponsonby,” Florence said, employing the tone she used to comfort a sick child. “I understand how painful the news of Julia’s murder must be for you.” She approached the balmy butterfly slowly, her hand over her pocket to protect Athena.

  “Painful! You have no idea. Who will I get to replace Julia?”

  Florence and I exchanged looks. That was a strange remark. We remained silent; it was another lesson I had learned—the less said, the more gained.

  The butterfly fluttered around the room, as if seeking the answer to her question in the air. “I must have someone here to watch Lord Melbourne and the Queen.” She lowered her voice while stepping so close to Florence they were almost nose-to-nose. “There is something between them and I won’t have it!”

  It seemed we were being given more details to the mystery of Lady Julia’s death. She had been placed in her position to spy on the Queen and Lord Melbourne for Mrs. Ponsonby. We could question the daft woman further but I was not up to losing any more brain cells while attempting to make sense of lunatics, and Florence had bigger pieces of the puzzle to solve. We would send Mrs. Ponsonby back to her room and deal with her later.

  Putting her hand on Cecile’s shoulder, Florence said, “I will call for a footman to escort you back to your chambers. You shouldn’t be about in your condition.” Using ego as her instrument, Florence cautioned the neurotic lady, “You look a sight. You have aged ten years since you entered this room! Stress does horrid things to the complexion.”

  Cecile Ponsonby jerked away patting her face frantically. “Is it that bad?”

  “Oh, it is indeed,” said Florence. “Go to your room. Perhaps pray for the soul of sweet Julia. It will do you a world of good to lose yourself in supplication.”

  Within minutes the butterfly had been netted and carried away to her chambers by the guard she had eluded.

  Collapsing in a chair Florence fanned herself. “Well that brings an intriguing bit to the mystery—Julia was set in the Palace to spy on the Queen and Lord M. Will the double-do
ings ever quit? I must sleep or I will not think clearly.” With that she shut her eyes and fell into a deep sleep right where she sat.

  Granny was now wide-awake and full of questions. She would have to wait. “Granny, we will speak later. I will tell you all that has happened this horrible night, but right now I need to sleep.”

  “But I have such exciting news” she said, leaping from her bed. She looked adorable in her white cotton nightie with flowers embroidered on the high collar. Her nightcap had slipped exposing her fluffy white hair giving her the appearance of a dandelion puff.

  “I won’t be here when you wake up! She chirped. “I am now apprenticed as the dresser to the queen. Her Majesty has asked me to help until she finds a lady she can trust.” She clasped her hands together. “The Queen said she always wanted a granny and I am perfect for her! Me…perfect!”

  I was certain I had fallen asleep and was having the oddest dream ever. I sat on the edge of my bed longing to lie down, and certain that the pillow was calling my name. I studied my grandmother. She did have wonderful taste in clothes although she rarely had the opportunity to purchase finery. The dear was always well turned out and never seen in public without a proper cloak, bonnet, and always gloves. She possessed a lovely collection of dainty hand-covers ranging from leather to lace, which she had carried with her from our home. They were her pride and joy. When I was younger—if I had behaved—she would allow me to take the gloves from their satin lined boxes and lay them out on her bed to admire.

  Wishing I could muster more enthusiasm I merely said, “I am so happy for you,” then tumbled over onto my pillow. This time sleep embraced me like Moon—might.

  Chapter 30

  “This will be our plan for today,” Lord Melbourne said. “As important as it is that we keep the Queen informed of all that has occurred she only, just this morning received a message that Prince Albert of Coburg will be arriving late this evening. With his coming it is now necessary to make some adjustments. Her Majesty cannot be distracted from preparations for his visit as she must decide whether to marry the Prince or look at other possibilities.”