A Death Along the River Fleet

by Susanna Calkins

  “Oh?” Mrs. Larimer asked, her brow rising. “How odd.”

  “I find it a sensible notion,” Dr. Larimer said. “Lucy can show you where the woman was found. Besides, she has proved to be a very observant lass. She may see something else of interest.”

  Mrs. Larimer gaped at her husband. She drew him away from the others, but Lucy could still hear her whisper to him, “Have we not employed Lucy to look after Miss Belasysse?”

  “Molly can watch her for a spell,” he assured his wife. For him, the matter was decided. “And Mr. Sheridan should be finished with his patients, should Miss Belasysse need a physick. Truly, my dear, it is in all our best interests to get this matter resolved.”

  “What if it turns out that we have been harboring a murderess?” Mrs. Larimer hissed back.

  “Then the easier it will be for me to breach my compact with her, as her physician,” he replied. To Lucy and Adam, he said, “Go inform Molly that she must keep an eye on our patient. I have given you a few hours’ leave.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Lucy replied, before heading off to find Molly.

  She found the servant polishing silverware, in preparation for the Easter dinner. Although Molly greeted her with a smile, that smile fell away when Lucy stated her request. “It will be just a short while, I promise,” Lucy said.

  But Molly was unconvinced. “Devil duty,” she muttered. “That is what you are asking of me! It is not natural. Accursed, she is.”

  Lucy, however, was prepared for this resistance. She sidled closer to Molly. “How about for a red ribbon?”

  Molly’s eyes lit up, but remained wary.

  “Two?” Lucy asked, looking quickly around. “They will look very pretty in your hair. You could wear them to Easter service. ’Tis a day for finery, after all.”

  Molly held out her hand, looking triumphant. Lucy hid a smile. She had another ribbon in her pocket and a penny as well, which she had been prepared to give up had Molly held out for more.

  15

  As Adam and Lucy walked to the burnt-out area, she was glad that for once the sun was beaming down, bringing a rare brightness to the day. She commented on that, and he remarked on the relief of better weather after the long dreary winter. Then they lapsed into silence, their earlier conversation still hanging oddly between them.

  “You are quiet,” he finally observed. “Are you being overworked by the Larimers?”

  “Oh, no!” she said. “Indeed it is nothing like when I worked for—” She broke off.

  “My father,” he said, finishing her thought with a sigh. “Which reminds me. I imagine that my sister is halfway to the New World by now, and preparing to scold the magistrates there.” Though he chuckled, he looked serious. “To be honest, although I cannot say I agree to their methods, there is something about the Quakers that I admire.”

  “What is that?” Lucy asked.

  “Their insistence on following their conscience, to do what is right,” Adam replied. “They are not shackled by convention and social niceties. They are only shackled, well, by the stocks and irons that seek to suppress them. They do not hesitate to rot in jail, should their conscience bid them to do so. That there is no man above another, that all should show deference only to the Lord—that is something that I admire.”

  Lucy glanced at him in surprise. She had heard him speak favorably of the sect before, but never with such admiration. “Adam?” she asked. “Has your conscience moved you to join the Quakers?” She gulped. “To set off to the New World, like Sarah has done?”

  He gave a short laugh. “Ah, my poor father. Whatever would he do if both his children were lost to the Friends?”

  But Lucy noticed that he did not answer her, and she did not press him. She was grateful when they arrived at Holborn Bridge shortly afterward.

  “There I first encountered Miss Belasysse,” she said, pointing to the approximate spot along the old river. “Over there”—she pointed again—“Constable Duncan and I found the small campfire and Miss Belasysse’s dress.” She led the way to the site and squinted as she peered in all directions. “I think that the man’s body was found just over there,” she said, “from what Constable Duncan told me.”

  Adam climbed on top of a pile of rubble and stared around. “Let us go that way,” he said, pointing in a northeasterly direction. “I see some old homes that have not been cleared. Perhaps we can discover someone in the debris there.”

  Moving carefully, ever wary of breaking an ankle, they climbed over the rubble. Lucy was glad she was not wearing one of her few better dresses.

  Beside another stone wall, Lucy found a mound that looked like a campfire. Indeed, there was a small tin cup pointing out of the ground. “Adam, I think someone might have been living here.”

  Kneeling down, Lucy carefully pushed the dirt around, and a warm ember touched her skin and she drew her hand back. “Someone had a fire here, early this morning.”

  Suddenly the desolate nature of the ruins began to affect her. Maybe feeling the same odd sensation, Adam drew closer to her. Lucy felt grateful for his nearness. She was about to speak when a flutter by another nearby ruin caught her attention. “Adam,” she whispered, “I think someone is watching us.” She crooked her finger very slightly. “Just over there.”

  “Who is there?” Adam demanded, standing in front of Lucy. “Show yourself!”

  No one moved. Lucy still felt shivers of anxiety running up and down her back. It did not help that the wind picked up then, chilling her further.

  Then an old woman emerged from the ruins. She was all in black, and her clothes were tattered and worn. She looked to have been living in the ruins for quite some time, although she seemed nothing like the Gypsies who sometimes roamed along the edges of London, with their colorful weavings and strange haunting songs. She looked more like the squatters who had taken up residence outside Covent Garden, likely forced there after the Great Fire destroyed so much of the city.

  She stared at them now, arms crossed, eyes dark. “What’s your sort doing here?” she asked. “Trying to send me off, are you? Not hurting anyone, am I?”

  “We are not trying to run you off, madam,” Adam said, with a slight bow. “Rather we seek information, about an event you might have witnessed, maybe a week ago. A man was killed very near here, and we would like to know more about how the act transpired.”

  The woman shrugged, not mollified by the gesture of respect. “Dunno nothing of that.”

  As she turned away, her tattered cloak parted, revealing an object tied about her neck. “Please,” Lucy said, pointing to it. “What is that?”

  The woman touched the piece. “Nothing to you, that is for certain.”

  “I saw something just like it on the woman I am now trying to help,” Lucy called after her. “She is in great danger, I fear. Perchance you know something that might help her.”

  The woman paused abruptly at Lucy’s words. Though she did not look at Lucy, she had cocked her ear and appeared to be waiting.

  Lucy touched Adam’s arm. “Will you stay here? I would like to speak to her alone.”

  When he nodded, Lucy approached the woman, who was still looking away. “I found a woman here, distraught and upset.”

  “What did you do to her?” the woman asked sharply. “Have her thrown in jail? Put her in the stocks?” There was a bitterness there. “What did you do with the amulet?”

  “You know about the amulet!” Lucy exclaimed. “You knew the woman of whom I spoke.”

  The old woman grunted. She seemed to be waiting for an answer from Lucy before she would speak.

  “She still has the amulet,” Lucy replied. “She is resting, in the care of a physician. No—I do not jest,” she said at the woman’s incredulous look. “Truly, I have been requested to nurse her to health myself.”

  “Hmph,” the woman muttered. “There is much wrong with that lass. More than a physician can cure.”

  “Did you see what happened to her?” Lucy asked. “Ple
ase, it is important. You must know that.”

  The woman shook her head. “No.” She scrabbled at the ground with her stick. “It was easy enough to guess that she had been set upon.”

  “So you did not see what happened. Do you think anyone did?”

  The woman shook her head. “I do not know. There are a few others who live out here, but like me, they move about. Keep to themselves. I can tell you this, though. If they saw something, not a one will come forward. The Lord Mayor’s not going to set them up in some fancy place to live as their reward, is he? No, they will keep their mouths shut.”

  “Why are you talking to me now, then?” Lucy asked.

  The woman stayed silent.

  “You took care of her, didn’t you?” Lucy pressed. “Why?”

  “I do not know why. Reminded me of my daughter, I suppose. She came to me out of nowhere. So confused. Then she had one of those fits. Like my own daughter used to have. I thought she was the angel of my daughter coming to see me.” She swallowed. “She was wearing them both around her neck.” She held up her own amulet. “She took this one off and gave it to me. Said I was her protector and wanted me to have it.”

  “How did you help her?” Lucy asked.

  “Thought she should hide the shine of wealth. Covered her amulet over with the scrap of taffeta. Put a bit of rosemary in first.”

  “Why? To help her remember?”

  “Not to remember what had happened to her. To remember her name. And to help her with the demon inside her, bringing on her fits. Thought the rosemary would help.”

  Lucy nodded, making a note of this piece of information. This meant Miss Belasysse had already lost her memory when she came upon this dweller in the ruins.

  The woman continued. “I made her take that blue dress off, too. Did not want to attract attention with all the blood. Besides, she seemed anxious-like. I started to burn the dress, but the flames got too high too quick, and I thought it might bring the wrong sorts a-visiting. So I doused it with some water I had planned to use to make a bit of rat broth.”

  Lucy gagged at the idea of eating rats. Seeing this, the old woman chuckled. “Cannot choose the delicacies we eat out here, now can we?”

  “Never mind that,” Lucy said, swallowing down the bile that had risen in her throat. “What happened to the woman? Why did you leave her?”

  The woman sighed. “I went to beg for a bite to eat for me and her. From the market. I left her sleeping in a bundle of blankets. When I returned, she was gone. I searched all over for her.”

  “That must be when I found her,” Lucy said, trying to reconstruct the events.

  The woman nodded again. Then she placed a gnarled hand on Lucy’s hand. “Please, miss. You seem a decent sort. That lass is not right in the head, anyone could see that. She does not deserve to be hanged. Not when there are sorts who would take advantage of a poor addled lass like that.”

  “Will you give your name? Testify on her behalf?” Lucy asked, a bit helplessly.

  At that the woman gave a harsh chuckle. “I have nothing to say, do I? She was worse even when I found her. Looked more guilty than innocent, that is the only thing I could swear to. Just take care of her,” she said. “Lord forgive us all our sins.” With that she hobbled off, and Lucy did not detain her again.

  Adam approached Lucy. “Did you learn anything?”

  She started to recount what the woman had told her. However, before she had gotten very far, Adam held up his hand. “Do not tell me any more. Such hearsay can be read into evidence and will damn the woman for sure.”

  After that, they continued to search the ruins for anyone who might have known something about what happened to the woman, to no avail. Not another soul stepped forward, although Lucy sometimes felt that there were others hiding and watching.

  Finally, after an hour, Lucy said, “I must get back.”

  As they walked, Adam said, “From what I can determine, there remain several great questions.” Ticking off his fingers, he said, “One, what is the identity of the man who was killed?”

  “And who murdered him,” Lucy interrupted.

  He nodded. “Yes, two. Who murdered him? Three—”

  “Did Miss Belasysse know the murdered man or not? Has she forgotten him? Was she lying?” Lucy interrupted again.

  “Yes. And four…” He looked at her expectantly, a slight smile on his face.

  Lucy thought about it. “Four. Well, the question we’ve had since we first realized that she lost her memory. Where has Miss Belasysse been this last year?”

  “Precisely. We do not yet know how to answer the first three questions. I think we should focus on the one we might be able to answer. At least we have access to the source.”

  “She cannot remember anything,” Lucy reminded him doubtfully.

  “Well, then we need to pay attention to what she says. She may reveal more than she intends to.” He began to walk more purposefully. “Tomorrow, when we speak to the Belassyses, we must find out what else they know. Someone is hiding something about her disappearance, that much is certain. And at least they cannot claim to have lost their memory.”

  16

  The Easter-morning church bells had been ringing, calling sinners to their fold with each chime. Lucy, however, was to stay home from the service and tend to Miss Belasysse. Dr. Larimer did not believe that the frail woman could handle the press of people, or, as Lucy suspected, the interminable length of one of the minister’s sermons. “All we need is for Miss Belasysse to have one of her fits while praying in the presence of the Lord,” she had overheard the physician say grimly to Mr. Sheridan, “and she’ll be strung up, to be sure.”

  Lucy had shivered, but inwardly agreed. Even though it was unlikely that the congregation would actually hurt a patient who was under the protection of Dr. Larimer, certainly their goodwill would not last should they witness one of the frenzies in which the devil himself seemed to have taken hold of her wits and body.

  As the bells continued to chime, Lucy felt a qualm pass over her. It was strange to stay home from church, particularly on Easter Sunday. Even a few years ago, when the flush and chills of a distempering fever had been heavy upon her, she had been present to hear the minister’s words. Only in the most dismal days during the plague had she not attended church, and she prayed now that the Lord would forgive her this absence from his house. Hopefully, he would also forgive her the secret joy she had felt when informed she had been excused from sitting on the numbingly hard pews for the entirety of the morning service.

  As was the custom every Sunday, everyone in Dr. Larimer’s household would walk to church together, and all but Mrs. Larimer and Miss Belasysse had already assembled. Being Easter, everyone looked noticeably cleaner, having all bathed in lilac water last night, each one having his or her turn in the tub. Now all were wearing their best church-going clothes. Molly was wearing the red ribbons that Lucy had just given her. As Lucy had suspected, the Larimers had overlooked this girlish indulgence. Mr. Sheridan looked a bit tidier than usual, although he had not discarded his common dour expression. He was tapping his foot now as if eager to be off.

  Finally, the two women arrived. Dr. Larimer called out to Miss Belasysse as she approached them. “Ah, Miss Belaysse,” he said. “Your family will be joining us this afternoon for a late Easter dinner.”

  Lucy watched her warily, to see whether that announcement would provoke any distress. But the woman just nodded and asked, “Has there been any news of my brother?”

  “None, I am afraid.”

  “I am very much looking forward to resuming my acquaintance with your mother and uncle tonight, my dear,” Mrs. Larimer said to Miss Belasysse. “Dear me, your sister-in-law is so very young, is she not?”

  “My brother married her when she was but thirteen,” Miss Belasysse said. “At the urging of her parents, he complied.” She turned to Lucy. “I hope you will be on hand for Easter dinner this afternoon?”

  “Oh, yes, Lucy has kind
ly agreed to help serve,” Mrs. Larimer said.

  “Help serve?” Miss Belasysse asked, looking at Lucy in great surprise. “I am very much hoping that Lucy will be seated with us for Easter dinner.”

  “Oh,” the physician’s wife said, looking embarrassed. “I do not know that”—she lowered her voice as if doing so would keep Lucy from overhearing her words—“it would be quite proper if Lucy joined us at our table. Your mother will be there. As a baroness, I hardly think, dear, that Lucy is quite the right company—”

  “I need Lucy at my side,” Miss Belassyse interrupted. “I do not want her to serve me. I want her seated alongside me.”

  “Oh, dear,” Mrs. Larimer said. She looked at her husband, who just shrugged. He was clearly not going to get involved. “Very well. Lucy,” she said in a loud voice, “I should very much like you to join us for dinner.” Her voice was strangled. “Will your brother be dining with us as well?”

  Lucy hid a smile. It was clear that the thought of being joined by another person in trade was not particularly palatable to Mrs. Larimer. “I did receive a note from my brother that he planned to spend Easter with Master Aubrey and Lach. They are heading to the Swan. But”—she hesitated—“I had hoped that he would be able to keep Constable Duncan company.”

  “Constable Duncan?” Mrs. Larimer repeated, looking at her husband.

  “Yes, I consented to this yesterday,” Dr. Larimer said, starting to tap his feet. “Let us go now before we are late for the service.”

  “The constable? Oh!” Lucy could hear Mrs. Larimer say as they began to walk down the street. “What ever will Lady Belasysse think?”

  * * *

  Once everyone else had left, Miss Belasysse tugged at the embroidery that Mrs. Larimer had left for her. When Lucy set a cup of hot mead down beside her, she was surprised to see how quickly knots had formed in the delicate material.

  “Miss, may I be of service?” Lucy asked, gently taking the wooden hoop from her. “The threads ought to go thusly.” She began to show her the proper method.