Shadows of Madness

by Tracy L. Ward

  “No,” she said bluntly before snapping her hand back and hurrying away.

  The woman called after her but Margaret rushed down High Street. Three blocks later Margaret realized the lavender oil, which had added a sticky feeling to her palm, was still there. In a panic she rubbed her hand on the fabric of her skirt, eager to be rid of it.

  As she quickened her pace toward home, she tried to clear her mind of all thoughts. The fear. The panic. The denial. By the time she made it within one block of the house she couldn’t deny it a moment longer. The nausea. The fatigue. The tightening of her clothes. It all added up to one thing. She was carrying a baby.

  Jonas’s baby.

  ***

  Margaret was so flustered, so shocked, she didn’t notice a man standing next to a carriage at the kerb outside Jonas’s house. She was two steps to the door when he called out to her.

  “Margaret? Margaret, it’s me.”

  Margaret used the iron railing to steady herself as she turned.

  “Blair?”

  He flashed an easy smile and then ran a hand through his hair after removing his hat. His congenial manner had not been lost in the last few months, even after the tragedy that struck his family.

  He advanced forward and took her hand to help guide her the rest of the way up the steps.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked, suddenly aware how out of breath she was.

  “I called at Marshall House and was told you and Peter had come to Edinburgh.” He lifted the newspaper that was folded in his other hand. “It wasn’t until I saw the papers that I knew why you had come.”

  “Why have you come, though?” she asked.

  He licked his lips and gave a half smile. “I’ve come to see you, of course.”

  He turned the knob and moved aside so Margaret could enter first.

  “I don’t fault you and Peter for wanting to come and help our doctor friend,” he continued as they filed into the foyer.

  “Doctor Davies,” Margaret said as a reminder.

  “Yes, of course. There must be some explanation. I don’t believe the good doctor is capable.”

  “He’s innocent,” Margaret said reflectively. She could feel her skin warming in Blair’s presence and sweat accumulating on her brow. The flutter in her stomach worsened.

  “I know you have come to prove your point, to deliver Dr. Davies from his predicament, but it would be remiss of me to allow you to do it on your own.”

  Margaret grew warmer as he spoke but she pushed on. “How thoughtful.” She could only manage a few words before her throat grew dry. She used the stair bannister to keep herself vertical.

  Jonas appeared at the top of the stairs.

  “There’s the man!” Blair said. “You have my full support, good sir.” He turned back to Margaret and smiled. “Anyone who has won over Miss Marshall has won over me.”

  Jonas came down the stairs, a look of discomfort on his features.

  “Tell me what you need of me, and I shall do it without the hint of hesitation,” Blair said.

  Eye to eye, they smiled at each other but beneath it existed a challenge, with the winner walking away with Margaret’s heart.

  Blair’s features alighted with an idea. “A character reference, perhaps. I can wire my father directly if you feel the word of a duke has more clout than that of his son.” He looked to Margaret apologetically. “I am in no hurry for the position. There are many more interesting things that demand my attention at the moment.”

  Margaret’s stomach tightened at his words. He was so sincere, so smitten, and she had done nothing but lead him on for months. He was a good man who needed no help setting Margaret on a pedestal.

  “You don’t look well, Margaret,” Jonas said.

  She waved off his concern. “I’m merely recovering from the cold. The wind is rather biting today.” She pulled at the strings of her reticule. “I did succeed in my task,” she said. She allowed him a look into her bag but did not bother to pull out the frame. “Is Peter not back yet?”

  “Not yet.”

  She reached for Jonas’s arm. “You should know about Mr. Locke.”

  “Is something the matter? Is it his health?” Jonas looked alarmed.

  “No, nothing like that. I believe Eloise may have poisoned him against you.”

  Jonas’s expression was steady but Margaret knew it affected him. She wanted to embrace him and perhaps say more but Blair was at their side. “But she did allow me to bring you this,” Margaret said, turning the larger frame over and laying it in Jonas’s hands. “I thought you might appreciate having it.”

  She could feel the surprise emanating from Jonas’s body. His jaw tightened and his hands shook slightly as he took it.

  “She let you have this?”

  “Yes, I asked her if I might take it. She doesn’t expect it to be returned.”

  Jonas nodded stoically but Margaret knew he was overcome.

  “Excuse me, just a minute, please.”

  He disappeared upstairs and Margaret wished she could follow him, to help him through the grief for his mother that he was no doubt feeling because of the picture. She found herself wishing Blair had not come, that such a complication to her life did not exist. Things were becoming complicated enough without Blair surprising her so suddenly.

  “Was it a childhood memory?” Blair asked.

  “Something of the sort.” Margaret closed her eyes against the dizziness that waved over her. “Forgive me,” she said. “Do you mind if we sit down?” She guided him into the parlour while taking a few concentrated breaths to slow her rapid heart rate. She could feel her forehead grow cold but the sweat worsened.

  Blair was happy to head into the room but turned to her almost immediately. “Margaret, now that we are alone, there is something I feel compelled to tell you.” His smile betrayed his nervousness. “I’ve actually known this for a while but circumstances being as they were …”

  Margaret used the back of her wrist to feel her forehead. She was hot to the touch and growing weaker and dizzier. Thankfully, Blair took her hand.

  “Nothing need be done straightaway,” he explained. “I just couldn’t live another minute without knowing your answer to my simple question.”

  She could feel her stomach tighten.

  “It would mean so much to me to know that you feel what I feel and …”

  The room began to spin and Margaret’s vision blurred. She pulled at the scarf at her neck and was thankful for the cool air that reached her skin. When she opened her eyes she found Blair had dropped to one knee.

  “Margaret, my darling, would you do me the honour of being my wife?”

  Blair waited as Margaret swayed, unable to respond or speak. She reached behind her for the chair she knew was there but could not find it. She hit the floor with a thud and everything went black.

  Chapter 25

  Jonas was in his room when he heard the thud and knew instantly something was wrong. He rushed downstairs and saw Margaret’s body crumpled on the rug of the parlour, her one arm inches from the chair. Blair was on his knees, pulling her head up from the floor.

  “What happened?” Jonas snapped, pulling Margaret’s body from him. Something about seeing the man touch Margaret so intimately made his blood curdle like sour milk.

  “I don’t know,” Blair stammered. “She just collapsed.”

  Jonas placed his hands at her neck, felt her jawline, and then pulled her mouth open to peer inside. The front door opened and Ainsley appeared in the hall.

  “Oh, good God! Margaret!”

  Jonas pulled back Margaret’s scarf and threw it to the chair. He motioned for Ainsley to hold her head.

  “I believe she fainted,” Blair said, by way of explanation. He looked back to Margaret’s motionless body.

  “Did she say anything? Anything at all?” Jonas asked.

  “Er … no. She was pale and nervous,” Blair said, panic lacing his words. “Is she going to be all right?”r />
  Ainsley held two fingers to her throat. “Her pulse is weak.”

  “I need my medical bag.” Without asking for assistance, Jonas gathered Margaret in his arms and went straight for the stairs. Both Ainsley and Blair followed at his heels. In the hall, Ainsley stepped forward to push open the door to his room. Both Blair and Ainsley stood back while Jonas deposited her on the top of the blankets.

  As soon as he let her down, Margaret convulsed. Her back arched and her hand went to her stomach but she still did not open her eyes.

  “She’s going to choke!” Jonas said. He rolled her onto her side at the edge of the bed.

  Ainsley pulled the washbasin from its stand and placed it on the floor beneath her.

  “Mr. Thornton, my medical bag.” Jonas snapped his fingers and motioned for him to go to the next room.

  Ainsley looked to Jonas in alarm. “Do you think it could be Eloise?” he asked. “Could she have given Margaret something?”

  Jonas pressed his lips together in frustration. “I would not put it past her. Her father is a chemist. If anyone knows how to poison someone, it’s her.”

  Blair returned with the bag and clumsily thrust it at Jonas.

  Jonas pulled a mercury thermometer from his things and held her head steady so he could place it beneath her tongue.

  Drawn to the second floor by the commotion, Mrs. Crane and John peered around the doorframe. The housekeeper gasped when she saw Margaret in such a state. “Merciful heavens!”

  “Mrs. Crane, bring some ice from the cellar, if you please. We need to bring her fever down this instant. Mr. Thornton, go with her. I need as big a bucket as you can carry.”

  The housekeeper disappeared with Blair Thornton at her heels.

  “What do you think Eloise gave her?” Ainsley asked, coming along to the other side of the bed.

  “I don’t know,” Jonas answered. He pressed his ear to her chest and closed his eyes. Her heart was behaving erratically and her chest heaved as if it took a great deal of effort to breathe.

  His worst fear had been realized. The woman who possessed an unnatural attachment to him had done harm to the woman he loved. He should never have let her go. He’d risk the gallows a thousand times over than have Margaret in such a state.

  Without control, Margaret heaved the contents of her stomach into the washbasin. Her body shuddered and then grew cold in Jonas’s grasp. Blair returned with the bucket of ice, chipped away from the brick in the cellar, and a clean washbasin. Mrs. Crane filed in behind him with some clean cloths and a pitcher of water.

  Jonas dumped some of the ice into the enamel basin and then poured water over it. He wet one of the cloths, wrung it out and placed it on Margaret’s head. He did the same thing again, placing cloths against her armpits and her throat.

  “How fortunate we are to have you here, Dr. Davies,” Blair said from his unsure position at the other side of the room.

  Ainsley left the room and returned moments later with Margaret’s reticule. He pulled back the drawstrings and pulled out the small frame with the picture of Eloise. “Damn this blasted thing,” he said, tossing it to the bureau without much care.

  Jonas mirrored his sentiment. If that photograph had never been needed Margaret would most certainly not be in her current state.

  “What’s this?” Ainsley pulled a round tin from Margaret’s bag and held it up so Jonas could see as he looked over his shoulder. Jonas was quick to snatch it from Ainsley’s hand and twisted off the top. The thick lotion was tinted to look like skin colour. Jonas held the tin to his nose and sniffed it, but there were no clues that he could derive from its scent. When he looked back to Margaret, he pulled back the compress on her neck and saw that the dampness of the cloth pulled the lotion away from her skin.

  “It’s something that penetrates the skin,” Ainsley said. He gathered both pieces of the tin, replaced the lid and turned to John, who looked on quietly at the door. “Test this,” Ainsley said.

  “What am I looking for?” John asked.

  “I don’t know. Anything that causes convulsions and fever.”

  For a moment it looked as if John was not willing to take on the task. He looked about the room, taking in the faces of the three men desperate to save Margaret’s life and then nodded. “All right,” he said.

  Shortly after John left, Margaret stirred.

  “It’s all right, Margaret,” Jonas said, snatching her hand and pulling himself closer to her face so she could see him. “Peter and I are going to help you. What happened while you were out?”

  Margaret had a difficult time focusing on him. Her eyes moved erratically as if unable to see what was directly in front of her.

  Ainsley drew in close. “Did you eat anything or sip some tea?” he asked.

  Margaret shook her head and closed her eyes. “You told me not to,” she said softly.

  “The ointment. Did she give you the ointment?” Ainsley asked. “Margaret?” He reached out and touched her shoulder, shaking her gently. “Where did you get the ointment?”

  “It was behind the counter,” Margaret managed to say. “I bought it before Eloise knew I was there.” She looked tired and weak, unable to move her arms or lift her head. “I feel so stiff, Peter. Everything hurts.”

  Jonas forced her head toward him so she would look at him. “Margaret, you’ve been given something and it’s making you very sick. Did anyone give you anything to eat?”

  “No.” Her voice matched the weakness in her body.

  It didn’t make sense. Margaret was the picture of health that morning, without any complaints.

  “Did anyone touch you or rub something into your skin?”

  Margaret’s eyes closed and she licked her dry lips. “The … beggar … woman.” She overturned her free hand to reveal the grease mark on her palm.

  Ainsley took her hand and lifted it into the light.

  “What is it?” Jonas leaned over to touch her palm. He found it greasy to the touch. “The beggar woman?”

  “We met her at the train station when we first arrived,” Ainsley said.

  “She’s harmless,” Jonas said. “I’ve seen her many times myself.”

  “Could Eloise have bribed her? Could she have given her something and told her to rub it into Margaret’s hand?” Ainsley sneered at the thought. He began to pace the room in an effort to control a forthcoming outburst.

  “Who’s Eloise?” Blair asked from the foot of the bed.

  Both Jonas and Ainsley allowed his question to go unanswered.

  Mrs. Crane clicked her tongue. “A dangerous woman, I can tell, if she makes Dr. Davies here nervous.”

  “Would Eloise go to such lengths?” Ainsley asked.

  “I told you, she followed me everywhere for a year. Nothing is too great a task where Eloise is concerned.”

  “She sets you up for murder and then attacks Margaret.” Ainsley growled at the thought. He took a long look at Margaret in her sickbed. He pulled the tiny frame and photo from the dresser and looked down at it with disgust. “First thing I am going to do is prove she did it, and then I’m going to hang the woman myself.” His vow of vengeance hung in the air as he charged from the room.

  “Peter. Peter!” Jonas stood. He couldn’t bring himself to go after him, not when Margaret needed him.

  As if sensing his internal struggle, Blair stepped forward. “Go with him. If you don’t go, he’ll do something reckless.” He went toward Margaret. “We’ll look after her until your return.”

  Mrs. Crane nodded behind him.

  They heard the front door slam, signalling Ainsley’s departure.

  “Go!”

  Jonas nodded and clasped Blair on the shoulder. “Keep her cool. Get her out of those clothes and make sure she doesn’t choke.” Blair and Mrs. Crane nodded their assurance while Jonas planted a quick but loving kiss on Margaret’s hand. “I won’t be long,” he said softly, before running to catch up with Peter.

  ***

  By the
time Jonas made it out to the street Ainsley was already at the end of the block. Night was falling fast as dark clouds rolled in over the city, blotting out the last hour of daylight. Jonas ran along the pavement to catch up, dodging puddles as he went. “Peter!”

  Ainsley was determined. If he heard Jonas call out his name he made no indication of it. He scarcely even acknowledged his friend as he came running up alongside him. “We have to find out what that woman gave her,” Ainsley said, without taking his eyes from the path ahead of them.

  “Peter, you’re angry. Now is not the time.” Jonas tried to pull him back but Ainsley shook off his grasp.

  “Now is exactly the time.” Ainsley checked for carriage traffic before darting across a wide road. When Jonas caught up to him he began speaking again. “I’ll bet a thousand to one that woman is behind all this. She poisoned Margaret and she got the old woman to do it too. If we can discover what she rubbed into Margaret’s hand, we can devise a cure. And after Eloise hangs, you will be rid of her forever.” Ainsley stopped, pushed back Jonas’s shoulder, and forced him to look him in the eye. “You want that, don’t you?”

  Jonas hesitated. He hated to think that the daughter of someone so dear to him was capable of such evil. It did not seem right that a man so kind could raise someone so afflicted by madness. “Yes,” he said at last. “I want to stop looking over my shoulder.”

  Ainsley led the way to The White Wolf pub, which was teeming with raucous patrons. He went straight for the barkeep and produced the photograph of Eloise while Jonas held back. A few people glared at him and kept a wide berth, which only served to make him more uncomfortable. He should be back at the house helping Margaret, not risking a public beating like this.

  “Was this the woman you saw with my friend?” Ainsley asked, yelling over the din of the room. He leaned into the counter and held the photograph inches from the barkeeps nose.

  “Ainsley, let’s go.” Jonas tugged on Ainsley’s arm as the mood in the room grew hostile.

  Inundated with patrons, the barkeep pushed the frame to the side but Ainsley repositioned it. “Look at it!”

  The man paused begrudgingly but this time Jonas saw him focus his eyes on the image. After a moment, he shook his head. “Nah,” he said. “Weren’t her.”