Beloved and Unseemly

by K. B. Owen

  Concordia stayed Charlotte’s protest, putting a hand to her arm. “Tell us one thing, at least. Do you have this drug in the infirmary?”

  “I do not. The infirmary’s primary function is to serve the medical needs of the students. No one of that age suffers from bradycardia.”

  Concordia stood, as did Charlotte. “Thank you.”

  Miss Jenkins nodded, her deeply lined face creased in regret. “I wish I could have helped you.”

  “That got us nowhere,” Charlotte said miserably, as they left the building.

  “At least we know it could not have been taken from the infirmary,” Concordia said. “That’s something.” She stopped.

  “What is it?” Charlotte asked.

  “Wait here for me. I have one more question for Miss Jenkins.” Concordia ran back inside.

  “Yes, Concordia?” Miss Jenkins called out impatiently.

  “I have a general question that could help us know where to look, without violating patient confidentiality.”

  Miss Jenkins gave a sigh. “I’m listening.”

  “What characteristics would a person have if he or she needed this…atropine? I assume it would be an older person, but what else?”

  Miss Jenkins studied her for a long moment before answering. “You certainly are persistent. All right, then. One use is for chronic bronchial congestion. It dries up the secretions. Mr. Langdon took it when he suffered from the lingering effects of pneumonia last year. Someone with a breathing problem may take it. Its primary use, however, is treating bradycardia. Many factors can create that condition: a heart weakened by old age, a heart blockage, rheumatic fever, or a sedentary lifestyle.”

  Concordia bit back her disappointment. By that description, every sedentary academic with health problems could be a candidate. “Is it only men who have this condition?”

  Miss Jenkins shook her head. “It is more common in men, but there are women who have it, too. Doctors think that we inherit a predisposition for it. The risk increases with age.”

  Concordia was silent, thinking. It was looking more and more unlikely that Sanbourne had such a condition.

  “Does that help?” Miss Jenkins asked.

  “I don’t know,” Concordia said.

  Charlotte anxiously waited outside.

  Concordia checked her watch. “Mr. Bradley should be in the Chemistry laboratory.”

  Chapter 38

  Week 13, Instructor Calendar December 1898

  Love without trust is without respect, and if a lover has not respected his fiancée, he will never respect his wife. ~Mrs. John Sherwood

  “I’m sorry, Miss Wells, but Mr. Bradley has already gone,” a student said. She was drying the last of the glass beakers beside the sink. “With so few of us left attending class, we finished up early. I volunteered to clean up.”

  “How kind of you,” Concordia said. “Do you know where he has gone?”

  The girl shrugged and gestured to the newspaper flung on his desk. “He was reading that—the boy just brought in the mail—and suddenly said he had to leave.”

  Concordia picked up the paper. Her stomach clenched.

  Dean of Women’s College Arrested for Sanbourne Murder

  Wordlessly, she passed it over.

  “We are too late,” Charlotte whispered.

  Concordia blew out a breath. “They must have printed a special edition.” Was this the death knell for the college? “David must be looking for me in order to break the news. We’ll try the farmhouse.”

  They huffed back up the snow-covered cart tracks of Rook’s Hill.

  They were just in time. David was stepping off the porch, pulling up the collar of his dark-gray woolen overcoat. Concordia felt the knots in her stomach loosen at the sight of him.

  A short yip brought her attention to the dog jumping beside him, trying to catch snowflakes.

  “Bandit? What’s he doing here?” Concordia asked. David dropped the leash and the dog bounded towards them.

  “I volunteered to take him off my mother’s hands for the day. They are preparing for a dinner party.” Worry clouded David’s deep brown eyes. “I thought I’d missed you. I have news.”

  Charlotte crouched down to rub Bandit’s belly. “We know. One of your students showed us the newspaper.”

  “Bad news travels fast.”

  Concordia shivered. “Let’s go inside.”

  They settled in the kitchen, closing the door to the students in the common room. Bandit curled up on the rag rug in front of the stove as Concordia got the kettle going. Soon they had hot, fragrant tea in front of them.

  She warmed her chilled fingers around her cup.

  “So you already knew about the arrest,” David said. “I did not need to come rushing up here.” He refilled his cup. “Good tea.” He winked at Concordia, who wrinkled her nose at him. Making tea was not cooking.

  “We were looking for you, in fact,” Charlotte said. “We need your help.”

  David sat back. “I am at your disposal, ladies. What can I do?”

  As outwardly composed as Charlotte appeared at first glance, Concordia saw the rigidity of her jaw and the lines of worry creasing her forehead. She put a reassuring hand on the girl’s forearm. “I’ll tell him.” Turning to David, she said, “You’re not going to like this, but we believe it is our only recourse.” She explained their scheme to search Sanbourne’s laboratory.

  David’s dark brows nearly met his hairline. “You’re right. I do not like it at all. You wish to break in to Sanbourne’s laboratory? Are you mad?”

  Concordia crossed her arms and glared. “I am quite in possession of my faculties. If you do not want to help…well then, never mind.”

  “I am certainly not going to leave you to do this alone.” His jaw tightened.

  “The problem is when could we do it?” Charlotte asked.

  “Good point,” David said. “Since the death of his wife, the man practically lives in his laboratory.”

  “Actually, he is going out this evening,” a voice broke in.

  Miss Lovelace stood in the kitchen doorway, Miss Smedley close behind. The dog lifted his head at the newcomers, then settled back with a sigh.

  Concordia smothered a groan. Of all students to walk in on them now. “This is not for your ears, ladies.”

  Maisie Lovelace shook her head. “Too late.” She regarded the group with narrowed eyes. “Why do you want to search Mr. Sanbourne’s workshop?” She gestured for Miss Smedley to close the door. They both stood in front of it.

  Concordia, David, and Charlotte exchanged glances. David shrugged. “You had better tell them.”

  Concordia waved them into chairs. “This must stay confidential. Do you promise?”

  The girls nodded. She proceeded to explain the dean’s arrest and the evidence against him. When she got to the point of describing the search for another suspect, Miss Lovelace shook her head vigorously. “No. Not Mr. Sanbourne. How can you think that? He has lost his assistant and his wife, the two people he was closest to in…in…the world.” Her voice trembled.

  “We merely want to look in his alcove, where he would most likely keep medicine, if he has any,” Concordia said gently. “We will be very careful not to disturb a thing. If we find nothing, then we will know he is innocent of his wife’s death. We can eliminate him and move on.” Although who they would consider next was beyond her.

  Alison put her arm around her friend’s shoulders. “If you’re sure he is innocent, then where is the harm?”

  Maisie sniffed.

  “You said Mr. Sanbourne is out tonight,” Concordia said. “Where is he going?”

  “Uncle George said they have a meeting at the Plaza Hotel. Assistant Secretary Allen is in town to get a report on the progress of the project. Given the recent...circumstances, Mr. Sanbourne will be requesting an extension.”

  “Tonight sounds as good a time as any, then,” Charlotte said.

  “But how are we to get in?” David asked.
>
  Maisie dabbed at her eyes with Alison’s handkerchief. “I recently discovered a way. I’ll show you, if you bring me along.” In the stunned silence that followed, she added, “I promise, I won’t give you away. I just want to see for myself what is going on.”

  “I suppose that is fair,” Charlotte said.

  Concordia rolled her eyes. “Four of us, sneaking around Mr. Sanbourne’s laboratory? Oh no, that will not attract attention in the least.”

  “Not four, Miss Wells,” Miss Smedley said, leaning forward. “Five. I am coming, too.”

  Maisie Lovelace clasped Alison’s hand, her eyes shining in gratitude.

  Concordia sighed. “Why not?”

  Chapter 39

  Week 13, Instructor Calendar December 1898

  In America a woman can go anywhere and do almost anything without fear of insult. ~Mrs. John Sherwood

  Concordia firmly suppressed a sudden urge to giggle as she crept close behind Miss Lovelace, who held the partly shuttered lantern. The five of them—plus the dog, which was David’s idea—circled to the back of the building, hunched low in the shadows, like some parody of a gang of burglars. It had stopped snowing at last, leaving a crunchy few inches underfoot. The wind was picking up. She pulled her dark hood closer to her neck and ears.

  Miss Lovelace passed her the lantern. “Hold it up to the latch,” she whispered. Concordia did so as Miss Lovelace felt in her pocket for the file.

  David leaned closer to look. “What are you doing?” He kept his voice low.

  “I noticed the latch had become misaligned with the strike-plate,” Miss Lovelace whispered back. “Wood settling, I expect. Unless one firmly pushes it closed, it won’t completely lock. If I can just lift it a little—” They heard a slight scrape. With a sigh of satisfaction, the girl slowly eased it open. They slipped inside.

  “Leave the electric lights off,” Concordia warned. “They’ll be visible from the gatehouse.”

  “How are we to see?” Miss Smedley protested.

  Concordia looked up at the high windows, out of reach. “I think we can safely use lanterns, if we keep them low.” She set her light on the floor and fully opened the shutter. “There must be another lamp in here.” She groped around Sanbourne’s alcove.

  Charlotte was searching the laboratory. “Found one! On a nail beside the door.” She hurried back with it, crashing into a cart.

  They froze.

  Bandit started barking. David quieted him down.

  “Sorry,” Charlotte said in a subdued voice.

  Concordia cracked open the door and peeked out. No one coming out of the gatehouse, barely visible on the slope. “Perhaps we are too far away to be heard.” She looked around the tiny living space, equipped with sink, dresser, cot, and a coat rack. “We cannot all search. Miss Lovelace, hold onto Bandit and listen here by the back door. Alert us if someone comes. Miss Smedley, you do the same at the front door of the laboratory. Miss Crandall, Mr. Bradley, and I will search.”

  David grinned. “One would think you’d done this before, Madam Ringleader.”

  She ignored him.

  The three of them pulled out every drawer, groped under the cot, went through the pockets of Sanbourne’s laboratory coat and the spare jacket hanging on the coat rack, and even checked the waste bin. They found receipts, scraps of notes and reminders, toiletries, a tin of throat lozenges. No medicine bottles or vials of liquid. Prospects for clearing Mr. Maynard were looking bleaker by the minute, as was the expression on Charlotte’s face, visible in the dim light.

  “Well, Miss Lovelace,” Concordia began, swinging the lantern in her direction as David and Charlotte made sure everything was back in place before they left, “you see? Mr. Sanbourne is innocent—” She broke off when she noticed Miss Lovelace on her knees by the door lintel with the dog crouched beside her, his nose quivering. “What on earth are you doing?”

  “Miss Wells, there’s something here!” Miss Lovelace’s voice was high-pitched with the excitement of the hunt. “Bandit started sniffing and pawing at this spot.”

  “A medicine bottle?” Concordia asked, bringing the lantern closer. The trim had pulled away from the wall. Miss Lovelace had her fingers in the gap.

  “No. It feels like…paper.” The young lady grunted, stretching her reach farther. “Ah.” She gently slid it out between two fingers.

  Charlotte and David joined them, frowning over the long, tightly rolled paper. “It’s in poor shape,” he said.

  Concordia had to agree. One end was rumpled and the entire back was scuffed. David cleared a space on the floor and helped Miss Lovelace unroll it. The girl sucked in a sharp breath.

  “What is it?” Concordia leaned closer.

  David sat back on his heels, expression grim. “You recognize this?” he asked Miss Lovelace.

  The girl swallowed. “The missing blueprint.”

  Chapter 40

  Week 13, Instructor Calendar December 1898

  The rogues, the pretenders, the adventurers who push into the penetralia of our social circles are many. ~Mrs. John Sherwood

  “Blueprint!” Concordia exclaimed. “For the Blue Arrow project? But Guryev made off with it. Poor Mr. Sanbourne has been working for weeks, reconstructing the plans from his notes.”

  David pointed to the left edge of the paper. “Shine the light here.”

  Concordia did so, and leaned in for a closer look. The edges were crumpled and torn. Ink spots spattered that side.

  Wait…not ink spots.

  Concordia’s heart beat wildly.

  Blood. That must have been what the dog had detected.

  Miss Lovelace swayed. “I cannot believe….”

  Charlotte pulled the girl over to the cot and sat her down. “Breathe. Slowly.”

  Concordia’s quivering lantern cast erratic shadows on the wall.

  “I need more light,” David said impatiently, pushing Bandit’s head out of the way. She brought it closer, her thoughts in a whirl. They were here to search for proof that Sanbourne might have murdered his wife. Instead, they had found...she struggled to make the mental shift, feeling as if she had set out to play lawn tennis equipped with a bicycle instead of a racquet.

  She took a breath. “Sanbourne murdered Oster?”

  He nodded. “The conclusion is unavoidable, I am afraid.”

  “And then he took back the blueprint but pretended it was missing.”

  David reached for the lantern and anchored a curling edge with it. “No doubt Sanbourne didn’t realize at the time that a ripped scrap remained in Oster’s hand. And with blood on the paper, he would have to keep it hidden anyway.”

  “What about Guryev? Did Sanbourne kill him as well?”

  “I don’t know.”

  She shuddered. Scandal upon scandal was being heaped upon the school, and they were nowhere closer to clearing Maynard of blame in Mrs. Sanbourne’s death.

  Unless...had Rachel Sanbourne learned her husband’s secret? Was he forced to kill her to keep her quiet?

  Charlotte left Miss Lovelace on the cot and crouched next to them on the floor. “What do we do now?” she asked quietly.

  Miss Lovelace let out a strangled sob.

  “First, we should get her home,” Concordia said.

  David carefully rolled up the paper. “Good idea. You all go on ahead. I want to find a cylinder to keep this in.”

  Charlotte helped an unsteady Maisie Lovelace to her feet while Concordia stepped into the laboratory. “Miss Smedley,” she called, “it is time to go.”

  Alison Smedley hurried over. “Did you find anything?”

  “Miss Crandall will explain.” Concordia turned to Charlotte and passed her the leash. “Wait for us at the farmhouse. Get Miss Lovelace to bed. Mr. Bradley and I will finish here in a moment. We’ll go to Sycamore House and telephone for the police from there.”

  The young ladies left, along with the dog. Concordia carefully made her way in the dim light back to David, who held the lantern o
ver a worktable. “No tube?”

  He straightened. “Sorry, I became distracted.” He pointed to a large sheet of tracing paper spread across the table. “Sanbourne has nearly finished re-copying the blueprint. For the sake of appearances, I suppose. He certainly would not want anyone laying eyes upon the other.” He shook his head. “The design is quite clever. What a shame such a talent became corrupted.”

  Concordia was about to reply, then stiffened. Was that a sound outside?

  Her stomach fluttered with unease. “I don’t think we should stay much longer.”

  “You’re right.” He rolled the paper more tightly. “We shall have to make do without a tube. Let’s go.”

  No sooner were the words spoken when they heard the crunch of footsteps in the snow.

  David quickly extinguished the lantern.

  They stayed motionless. She hardly dared to breathe. Perhaps the person would move on. It could not be Sanbourne. Only an hour had passed since he had left for town.

  Unless the appointment had been postponed.

  If it was Sanbourne...Concordia’s heart sank when she remembered the snow. He would know someone—several people and a dog—had been in here. They had left any number of footprints to give them away.

  The sounds stopped at the front door of the building. They heard the key in the lock. She glanced at David, who nodded grimly and set the blueprint aside, freeing his hands. He crept over to the door.

  She felt a rush of gratitude that he was here. No matter what may come, they were in this together.

  Chapter 41

  Week 13, Instructor Calendar December 1898

  A woman is allowed much less freedom of posture than a man. ~Mrs. John Sherwood

  David jumped Sanbourne as soon as he entered. The struggle seemed to take forever, the pair painfully colliding with a tool-laden workbench, a utility sink, and a table rigged with pointed knobs that gave a faint hiss in protest. Concordia scrambled in the dark for some implement that would help. Finally, she gave up on ladylike propriety and launched herself like a banshee upon Sanbourne’s back, knocking them all to the floor. David subdued him with a twist of an arm and a chokehold around his neck.