by Paula Paul
Nicholas interrupted her. “My dear, walking is not even to be considered.”
“I insist, my lord. I will place no weight on the leg. I believe it will be better for the healing process to exercise my body at least for a short time,” Alexandra said.
“But…” Nicholas began.
“She claims ’tis a medical experiment,” Nancy said, “and as you mentioned, there’s no point in arguing with her.”
Alexandra was already standing and steadying herself by holding the bedpost. “I cannot do it without help.”
Nicholas and Constable Snow hurried to her, each bracing an arm for her. She took a tentative step and then another and another, hopping on one foot and holding the other so as not to put weight on the leg.
“I believe I was wrong about attempting to walk all the way to the stairs,” Alexandra said. “I shall need to be lifted in that sling you mentioned before I reach them.”
“Never mind that,” Nicholas said, and scooped her into his arms. Before Alexandra could protest, he turned to Nancy. “Hurry down ahead of us and tell Stokes to see that the carriage is ready.”
Nicholas carried her in his arms all the way downstairs to the library, where he placed her on a sofa to wait for the carriage.
“I appreciate your concern about me,” she said to Nicholas, “but I hope you understand that I do not wish to be treated like an invalid.”
“I should like to say that because you are the doctor, you know best, but I’m afraid I can’t agree with you in this case, nor can I allow—”
“No point in arguing with her, my lord,” Nancy reminded him as she entered the library after informing Stokes about the carriage. “She’ll do what she pleases in the long run.”
“Nevertheless,” Nicholas said, “I do believe—”
“No point,” Nancy said again.
Nicholas took a deep breath and remained silent for the few seconds before Constable Snow appeared in the doorway. “I shall leave you in the care of Nancy and Lord Dunsford,” Snow said. “I must return to the village and prepare to meet the constable from Foulness.”
“I would like to examine Dr. Abercrombie’s body,” Alexandra said.
All three of the others in the room looked at her with surprise. Constable Snow spoke first. “Excuse me, Dr. Gladstone, but I don’t believe it is advisable for you to do that. It would require your going to the mortuary.”
“I shall be there later today, Constable Snow. I must have a little rest first, however.”
“My dear Alexandra—” Nicholas began.
“Was Dr. Abercrombie also wearing his Masonic apron when he died?” Alexandra asked.
Snow didn’t answer at fist. Finally, he spoke one curt word. “Yes.”
“Was it smeared with blood?” Alexandra asked.
“It was.”
“The same as the other men who died.”
Snow nodded, his expression stern.
“I shall examine the body,” Alexandra said.
Nancy only breathed a heavy sigh.
“Are you quite sure?” Snow asked, and then scowled when Alexandra assured him that she was, indeed.
—
Alexandra and Nancy had just finished their late-afternoon tea when Nicholas returned in his carriage to transport Alexandra to the mortuary in the village. Nancy insisted on going along to see after Alexandra.
“You can rest assured that Zack will want to come along with us as well,” Nancy said. “ ’Tis not likely he’ll let Miss Alex out of his sight after what she’s been through.”
“I’m still against this,” Nicholas said. “I fail to see how you’re going to be able to stand to do any sort of examination.”
“I shall need help, of course,” Alexandra said.
“She can use walking slings,” Nancy said. She showed Nicholas the two long sticks that fit under each arm with slings made of leather to support weight.
“Ah, yes,” he said. “Those contraptions the Americans made popular during their Civil War. A sort of crutch to aid wounded soldiers, I believe. Someone should patent that, you know.”
“They’re not as easy to use as one might think,” Nancy said, as she helped Alexandra place one under each arm. “And you must be careful,” she said to Alexandra. “You must allow me on one side and Lord Dunsford on ’tother.”
Alexandra didn’t protest, and she allowed Nancy and Nicholas to stand on either side of her as she hobbled to the door. Zack was close behind. As soon as the door opened, he raced outside with a bellowing alarm, coming close to knocking Alexandra off her feet.
Nancy scolded him in a loud, angry voice. “Zack! Stop that!”
Zack ignored her and thumped across the grounds, still with his maniacal bark. Alexandra saw what had excited him. A cat! She had never owned a cat, and they were seldom seen around her home.
“Look!” she said, when she recognized the creature. “That’s one of Mrs. Fontaine’s cats. What’s it doing so far from home?”
“There!” Nicholas cried when he saw someone hurrying away and disappearing into the long shadows of the late afternoon.
“Oh!” Alexandra cried, and leaned heavier on Nicholas.
“What is it?” he asked.
“That looked like…I believe that is the same figure who was chasing me when I fell.”
“You said that was a man,” Nicholas said.
“I’m not sure,” Alexandra said.
“Could it have been a woman? Someone with cats?”
“You mean ’tis Mrs. Fontaine?” Nancy asked.
Alexandra frowned and shook her head. “I can’t say.”
Nicholas pushed harder. “But it’s possible.”
“Anything’s possible,” Alexandra said, regaining some of her composure. “It’s too late to pursue whoever it was. Please, take me to the mortuary so I can examine the doctor’s body, then I suggest we proceed on to Mrs. Fontaine’s home.”
Alexandra had to be helped in and out of the carriage, and she was reluctant to admit how painful it was. By the time they arrived at the mortuary, her leg was aching, but she didn’t complain and managed to make it all the way inside with the aid of the slings. Both Percy Gibbs and Constable Snow were waiting for her.
“Are you quite sure you’re up to this?” Snow asked.
“Most certainly,” Alexandra replied.
“Pride goeth before a fall,” Percy said.
“I should like Nancy to accompany me,” Alexandra said.
“Very well,” Snow said. “Under the circumstances, I believe that is a wise decision. I shall accompany you as well, in case—”
“You needn’t trouble yourself,” Alexandra said. “I shall be quite all right.”
“Nevertheless, I shall accompany you for the sake of the investigation,” Snow said.
Alexandra nodded her consent, although she had hoped to examine the corpse outside of Snow’s presence, since his concerns about the propriety of how much of the body she examined would most likely interfere.
As usual, Percy led all of them to the back room and then removed the sheet from the body. Alexandra noted the familiar odor as soon as the sheet was removed. Since the doctor’s shirt had not yet been removed, she noted a stain on the front and leaned over to whiff it. It yielded another familiar scent—that of vomit.
“Dr. Abercrombie has been poisoned,” Alexandra said.
“Are you quite certain?” Snow asked. That seemed to be his favorite question to ask her.
“I can’t be absolutely sure without an examination of the organs,” she admitted, “but based on what I have seen when I examined the other victims, I am reasonably certain they all died of poisoning,” she said.
Snow frowned. “Most unusual,” he said. “Where would anyone obtain that much poison?”
“I suspect it came from someone’s flower garden,” she said.
Snow’s face was pale. “Flower garden, indeed.”
“A number of flowers commonly grown in our gardens are po
isonous,” Alexandra told him.
“And there are hundreds of flower gardens in Newton-upon-Sea,” Snow said. “I’m afraid that doesn’t pin the source down very well.”
“I agree,” Alexandra said. “However, it wasn’t the flower that provided the poison directly. It was honey made from the flowers. The poisoned honey made each victim vomit, and it also damaged vital organs. Damaged them enough to kill.” Alexandra didn’t bother to tell Constable Snow that there was one garden in particular that she suspected. She didn’t want another Are you quite certain? from the constable.
“Can you tell me the particular type of flower you suspect?” he asked.
Alexandra hesitated before she decided upon her answer. “Not without an examination of the organs.”
“I’m afraid that’s out of the question under the circumstances,” Snow said.
Alexandra nodded but said nothing.
“Very well,” Snow said. “Thank you for your help. I shall send a telegram to Colchester requesting the doctor to perform the procedure.”
“The last time you sent a telegram requesting a doctor—Dr. Abercrombie, I believe—he never appeared in Newton-upon-Sea,” Alexandra said. She didn’t mention that she was glad he hadn’t.
Snow looked at her, but he didn’t speak. For the briefest of moments he looked as if he might be blushing, but he soon returned to himself. “I was called away before I could contact him,” he said, then dismissed the matter in the next sentence. “I must get to work immediately. I shall ask Lord Dunsford to help you make your way out and into the carriage.”
Alexandra nodded again. As soon as he was out of the room, Nancy spoke to her.
“Called away, was he? Ha! My guess ’twas some wo—” She stopped speaking when she saw the stern look on Alexandra’s face and changed the subject. “You know the flower in question, of course,” Nancy said. “ ’Tis rhododendron. I suspect you know the source as well. ’Tis Mrs. Fontaine’s garden.”
“There are more than likely rhododendrons growing in Mrs. Fontaine’s garden, but I would not be surprised to find them in other gardens in the parish.”
“But honeybees. Who else has honeybees? And the cat…”
“Precisely,” Alexandra said.
“I’m happy that you finished so quickly,” Nicholas said, striding into the room. “Now let’s get you home so you can rest.”
“Nancy and I were just agreeing that we’d like you to drive us to Mrs. Fontaine’s home first, as we suggested earlier,” Alexandra said.
Nicholas frowned. “That’s unwise.”
“Not at all,” Alexandra said, ignoring the pain in her leg. “I can manage well enough if you will again provide your carriage.”
“Of course I’ll provide the carriage, but I want you to know I strongly object to your doing this,” Nicholas said.
“Duly noted,” Alexandra said as she made her way out of the back room of the mortuary and to the reception area in the front, where Percy was still standing. “Thank you, Percy. I’ve finished my work.”
“Murder, though it hath no tongue, will speak,” Percy said.
“You’ve quoted Shakespeare this time, not the Bible,” Alexandra said as she hobbled past him.
Percy spoke to Alexandra’s back as she left the room. “Are you quite certain?”
—
By the time the carriage arrived at Mrs. Fontaine’s cottage, Alexandra had given Nicholas her theory about the poisoned honey.
“You came to that conclusion simply by looking at Dr. Abercrombie’s body?” he asked.
“Not entirely,” she said. “It finally occurred to me that I was seeing signs of poison in Deputy Poole’s organs without realizing what I was seeing at first. Then I realized that all of the victims had exhibited the same mixture of a sweet odor and a foul smell—honey and the soured contents of their stomachs when they vomited. I haven’t examined George Payne’s body, but I suspect I’d find the same thing. Also, I’ve done rather a lot of reading on the matter of poisons in the medical texts my father left me. And I’ve compared that information to what I was seeing under the microscope. I’ll admit it took some time for me to understand, but medical knowledge is always evolving, as you know.”
“And you suspect Mrs. Fontaine? Absurd! You may as well think she’s the legendary horseman!”
“Not impossible,” Nancy said. “Even at her age, you’d be surprised at what the human body can do, when properly maintained over the years.”
“You and Nancy thought a man was pursuing you. Who do you surmise that to be?”
“I’m not ready to say yet.”
—
As they approached Mrs. Fontaine’s cottage, Alexandra could see through one of the windows that she sat in her chair, alone but for her cats. She stared straight ahead, apparently at nothing.
When Nicholas knocked on the door, she didn’t move, except to place a hand on the cat that rested in her lap.
“Mrs. Fontaine,” Alexandra called, leaning heavily on her crutch after making her way to the door.
Still no verbal response.
Nicholas knocked again and this time gave the door a gentle push. Not locked, it opened slightly. “Excuse me,” Nicholas said, opening the door a little wider. “May we come in?”
When she failed to reply, he repeated the question.
“If you must,” she said, without getting out of her chair. She most certainly was not her usual welcoming self.
“Are you not well?” Alexandra asked.
“Well enough,” she said. Alexandra thought it odd that she had not remarked on the fact that she was limping on slings. It was as if she had expected it.
“We would like to ask you some questions,” Nicholas said.
Mrs. Fontaine looked at Nancy for a brief moment and seemed as if she would comment. Instead, she turned to Nicholas.
“What is it you wish to ask me, my lord?”
“Were you at the Gladstone house earlier today?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said, but nothing more.
Nicholas pushed harder. “May I ask why?”
Again, she didn’t answer.
“Did you come hoping to see me in the surgery?” Alexandra asked. “You’re in need of medication, perhaps?”
After an uncomfortably long pause, she asked, “What is the real question you want to ask?”
Alexandra took a deep breath. “We came to ask what you know about the recent rash of deaths of Freemasons in Newton-upon-Sea.”
“I know a great deal,” she said. It seemed for a moment that she would say no more, but then she added, “I killed them. All of them.”
Chapter 20
At this shocking confession, Alexandra regarded the woman she long knew with something akin to anger. Finally she spoke. “You, who once told me God gave us life and it should be nourished in all creatures.”
Mrs. Fontaine didn’t respond.
Finally, Alexandra spoke again. “Please tell me how you came to murdering anyone and why.”
Mrs. Fontaine’s face crumpled slightly. “It doesn’t matter, does it? The only thing that matters is that I confess that I’m guilty.”
Nancy moved closer to Mrs. Fontaine’s chair and knelt beside her. “Excuse me, but we have reason to believe the deaths are connected to the mysterious Templar horseman. That could not have possibly been you.”
Mrs. Fontaine’s expression changed again. This time, Alexandra saw fear.
“Of course I am no horseman. That was only some poor soul looking for the treasure that’s buried under the temple.” Her mood abruptly changed now from fear to nervous agitation. “It’s really there, you know. Part of the Templars’ treasure. No one knows how much, but…More than one man has come here wanting to take it. Perhaps this one was a bit overly dramatic. I suggest you ignore the whole thing.”
“Mrs. Fontaine,” Nicholas said, his voice quiet, “I’m truly sorry to do this, but I must go for Constable Snow and bring him back here. He will arrest y
ou, of course.”
“Of course,” Mrs. Fontaine said. “I’m ready.”
“Don’t go yet,” Alexandra said. “Mrs. Fontaine needs to answer one more question.” She turned toward her. “Why are you protecting the killer?”
“Protecting? I don’t understand.”
“You didn’t kill anyone,” Alexandra said, “but you know who did.”
“My dear, I have no need to protect anyone, and I just told you, I am the guilty one.” She was still stroking the cat in her lap, who had fallen asleep and was snoring loudly.
“You are not the killer, but you should tell us who is,” Alexandra said.
“What are you saying?” said a flabbergasted Nicholas. “Who is she taking the blame for?”
“It’s someone she’s known for a long time,” Alexandra answered. “Though I don’t understand why this person would allow Mrs. Fontaine to take the blame. It seems a cruel and heartless thing to do to someone who has been so kind to everyone in the village, but then, of course, we must accept that anyone capable of murder is capable of anything.”
“Stop trying to blame someone else.” Mrs. Fontaine’s voice was choked. “I killed those people.”
“Very well,” Alexandra said. “If that’s the case, tell me why.”
Mrs. Fontaine looked up at Alexandra, confusion mixed with her tears. “Why? They were all bad men.”
“You don’t really believe that,” Alexandra said. “You’ve had good things to say about almost all of them in the past.”
Mrs. Fontaine took a shuddering breath. “There are things I know about all of them that no one else knows.” Her expression was something akin to pleading. She wanted to be believed.
Alexandra studied her face for a moment. “All right, my lord,” she said, turning to Nicholas. “Bring the constable here. And bring Judith Payne as well. She will want to know who killed her father.”
“Don’t bring her here!” Mrs. Fontaine’s voice trembled. “Leave her alone. She’s suffered enough.”
Nicholas hesitated for a moment before a hint of understanding came into his eyes, and he moved toward the door.
In the meantime, Nancy picked up the cat sleeping in the chair next to Mrs. Fontaine’s chair and sat down. Holding the silver, silky creature in her lap, she leaned toward Mrs. Fontaine. “I must ask you a question unrelated to all of this.” She spoke in a quiet voice as if she wanted the conversation to be confidential.
