by Paula Paul
“Wasn’t no witch either,” Rob said. “Was only that housekeeper from up at Gull House.”
“That’s the one!” Artie said. “She’s the witch!”
Alexandra glanced from one boy to the other. “Annie? She’s the one you’re calling a witch?”
“Rob said she was.” Artie was suddenly defensive. “Said she was pure witch. Wicked and evil.”
“Rob?” Alexandra’s tone demanded an explanation.
“Well she is wicked,” Rob said. “Never a kind word for no one. Always shouting that if ye don’t get out of her way she’ll flog ye. But I swear I never called her a witch.”
“You’d best stop now, young Rob, before you dig yourself a deeper hole.” Nancy stirred the milk and gave Rob a warning glance as she spoke.
Alexandra was not inclined to worry about whether or not Rob was lying about having called Annie a witch. She was more concerned with the puzzling fact that the woman had been out so late at night, and apparently in the woods behind her house shooting at people. She glanced at Rob, who was still squirming under Nancy’s accusing eye. “Are you certain it was Annie, Rob? It’s quite dark out.”
“’Tis dark all right, Doc, but she ran past the stable and the light from our room fell upon her. It was old Annie all right. Not many women what’s big as her. Big as a ’orse, she is. Besides, I’d know that nose anywhere. Long as a wit… Quite a long nose it is. And anyway, I saw the gun.”
“She had a gun?” Alexandra was feeling more and more puzzled.
“Aye,” Rob said, eagerly watching Nancy as she poured the milk into four cups.
Alexandra frowned. “But it doesn’t make sense. Why would Annie try to kill John Killborn? She’s quite loyal to his mother. One would think she wouldn’t want to do anything to upset her.”
“Unless she thought John could harm Mrs. Orkwright somehow,” Nancy said.
Alexandra shook her head. “John is as devoted to his mother as Annie is.”
“She done it because she’s a witch, maybe,” Artie offered, then ducked his head as Rob gave him a warning look.
“Well, we’ll not solve the mystery tonight,” Nancy said. “So finish your milk now, both of you, and off to bed with you. The morrow will dawn soon enough.”
She gave the boys only a brief moment to gulp down their milk. “We’ll all be sleeping under the same roof tonight,” she said. “The doctor has ordered it, so I want no argument. Shoo! Both of you. Off to bed. I’ve laid one of the late Dr. Gladstone’s night shirts out for you, Rob. ’Tis a bit large, but ’tis that or another one of my own nightgowns for you. And see that you wash yourself before you crawl between those clean sheets.”
Both boys finished their milk and immediately started for the stairs. They had long since learned that it did no good to argue with Nancy. Just as they reached the door, however, Rob turned back to Alexandra. “John is still here, is he? Ye ain’t turned him in ’ave ye?”
“He’s still here, Rob,” Alexandra said before Nancy could answer for her.
Nancy set about clearing the cups and saucers from the table. “You’d best be off to bed yourself, Miss Alex,” she said. “We’ll not solve this mystery with our minds befuddled from lack of sleep, and besides you have your patients to worry about tomorrow. You’ve done quite enough for the day, what with an operation and a gunshot wound. No need to worry yet about calling on the constable to tell him about his prisoner, either. It can wait until morning.”
“How would I ever survive without you to make all my decisions for me, Nancy?” Alexandra smiled as she stood and made her way to the door and then upstairs to her room. She was certain that, in spite of her weariness, she would not be able to sleep.
She was wrong. She was still sleeping soundly when Nancy brought breakfast to her room the next morning.
“Breakfast? In bed? No, of course not.” Alexandra flung the covers back and swung her legs over the edge of the mattress. “Where are the boys?” She grabbed her dressing gown. “And John, is he…?”
Nancy set the tray down and poured a cup of tea. “John is awake. Just a bit woozy from the laudanum. ’Tis a bad wound he has. He’s not likely to have full use of the arm and shoulder again, I’d say.” She handed the cup to Alexandra. “The boys are feeding Lucy and getting her saddled and ready for your morning rounds, and yes, you will have breakfast, if not in bed, at least in your room, since I’ve gone to all the trouble to bring it up.”
“You are unspeakably impertinent and quite impossible, Nancy,” she said as she accepted the tea. “If I had any sense at all I would fire you immediately.”
“A bit of jam on your toast, Miss?”
Alexandra sighed. “Why don’t you decide for me, Nancy? I seem to be quite incapable of doing it myself.”
“Now, you know that isn’t true,” Nancy said, spreading jam on the toast.
After she had eaten and dressed, Alexandra took a quick look at John, lodged in a bedroom upstairs. She was grateful to see that he had fallen asleep again, since she didn’t want to have to deal with telling him that she would have to notify the constable. She left Nancy with the instructions that John was not to leave the room until she returned from her rounds.
She decided that she would see her patients before she went to the constable’s office to tell him about John Killborn. She wasn’t sure why she was so reluctant to turn him in, except that she liked him, and Artie and Rob liked him and didn’t want him turned over to the authorities. She felt somehow as if she would be betraying all of them. Yet, she told herself, it was ridiculous to let two waifs and former petty criminals like Rob and Artie influence her. She would have to tell the constable about what Rob saw. That would mean Rob would have to come in for questioning, something he would be reluctant to do, since he had a street urchin’s distrust of the law.
She had only three patients to see, and Hannibal Talbot was the last. He was, as she expected, complaining loudly about the pain he was experiencing and blaming her for all of the discomfort. He also refused to let her inspect the surgical site.
“I’m not in the habit of showing me privates to just anyone who comes along,” he told her with a self-righteous sniff.
She gave him careful instructions on how to care for the incision and left, letting him win this time, but knowing he would have to give in and allow her to remove the stitches eventually or risk putrification.
Once she was outside, she stood for several minutes in the street holding Lucy’s reins, unwilling to mount her, knowing that her next stop would have to be Constable Snow’s office. Zack seemed to sense her tension and tried to communicate with her in his odd syllabic moan. Finally he nudged her with his cold, wet nose toward Lucy.
She had to ride all the way across town to reach the constable’s office on Griffon Street. She was just approaching it when she saw Nicholas Forsythe emerging from the tavern across the street where he had lodging.
“Good morning, Mr. Forsythe.”
“Dr. Gladstone!” He seemed surprised to see her. “I was just on my way to your house, hoping I could be there before you left for your rounds.”
“Indeed.”
“I’ve some information to share with you.” He and Zack exchanged cautious, scrutinizing glances. “I say, I didn’t know you had patients to visit in this part of town.” He approached her, prepared to help her dismount.
“I’m not here to see a patient, Mr. Forsythe.” She allowed him to lift her from the saddle to a standing position. “I’ve come to speak with Constable Snow regarding a client of yours.”
“You mean John Killborn, of course, since he’s the only client I have in Newton.” He was still holding her waist.
“He is, at the moment, sleeping in my house.”
“What?”
“Recovering from a bullet wound.”
“I say! What happened? Who shot him? I must see him immediately.”
“I’m afraid I don’t know with certainty who shot him, and I feel sure Constable Snow
will not forbid you to see him, but I—”
“Please, Dr. Gladstone, allow me to handle this. I will, of course, inform Constable Snow, but I must talk to John first.”
“But—”
He took her hand and pulled her away from the constable’s office. “I’ve just asked for the carriage to be sent around. We’ll tie Lucy to the back, and you—and Zeke—will ride with me. You must tell me everything.”
“Zack.”
“I beg your pardon.”
“His name is Zack.”
“Yes, of course,” he said, walking a wide path around Zack as he helped her into the carriage.
Within a few minutes they were on the short drive to Alexandra’s house. Zack lay at her feet, his head erect and eyes alert and never for a second leaving Nicholas’ face.
Chapter Thirteen
“A divorce? Jane Orkwright? Are you sure” Alexandra stared at Nicholas with disbelief after he had given her the news. He was seated across from her in her parlor. “Isn’t it possible your friend could have misread the name, or—”
“Possible, but highly unlikely, and yes, I’m quite sure. Lesley Coldwell is one of the most astute barristers I know. Quite familiar with researching court records.” Nicholas, uncharacteristically, had not touched the tea Nancy had brought. He’d been more than a little edgy since they arrived because Nancy and Alexandra had both steadfastly refused to allow him to awaken John to question him.
Alexandra saw that Nancy was, as usual, lingering quite unnecessarily over the tea tray. She’d heard everything Nicholas said about the divorce petition and was stalling, hoping to hear more. Nicholas made no attempt to keep her from hearing anything he said.
“I must say, however, I am quite surprised.” Alexandra kept her eyes on Nicholas. “That will be all, Nancy, thank you.”
Even though she still focused on Nicholas, Alexandra was aware of the annoyed look Nancy gave her just before she turned away, mumbling. It seemed for all the world as if she was addressing Nicholas.
“I beg your pardon,” he said. Apparently he’d gotten the same impression.
“What?” Nancy glanced at him, pretending surprise. “Oh, I was just saying that, unlike Dr. Gladstone, I am not at all surprised at the divorce petition.”
“Indeed,” Nicholas said, sitting up a bit straighter. “Pray, tell us why.”
Alexandra said nothing. She simply rolled her eyes. Nancy had her ways. She would, soon enough, know everything anyone else knew, if not more. Nancy, she was certain, had seen and read the message in the rolling of her eyes but went on with her little act. She even ducked her head demurely.
“Well, of course I’m not as trained as you, a barrister in the Queen’s Court, at observing people and their circumstances, but I’m sure you know young John Killborn was not at all fond of his stepfather.”
Nicholas appeared disappointed. “That’s rather common knowledge. He’s made no attempt to hide that fact.”
Nancy nodded. “And certainly I’m no expert in the foibles of human behavior or modern psychologism, I believe ’tis called but—”
“Nancy, for heaven’s sake, what are you getting at?” Alexandra could no longer hide her annoyance.
Unflappable, Nancy went on with her charade. “’Tis only that in my humble way, I have become an observer of humankind, and I’ve come to believe that ’tis a mother’s natural tendency to protect her children at all costs. Even if it be from her husband.”
“Hmmm,” Nicholas mused.
“Oh, I know, of course, that many women do end up staying with the husband at the expense of the children. But if they do, they’re most often going against their true nature.” Nancy had, by now, lost a little of her poor-little-serving-girl expression. “A woman has so much to lose, doesn’t she? If things aren’t going well at home, that is. Why, she loses either way, I say. Unless she can find another way out.”
“Nancy, must you be so tedious?” Alexandra was losing patience, and it seemed Nancy was no longer making sense.
Before Nancy could respond, Nicholas leaned forward in his chair, and with his eyes still on Nancy, said, “I believe she’s giving Mrs. Orkwright a motive to murder her husband.”
Neither Nancy nor Alexandra spoke nor moved for a moment.
“Oh, come now. You both have to admit, once you knew she had at one time considered divorce, that suggested she didn’t want him around any longer.” There was the slightest hint of defensiveness in Nicholas’ tone.
“Not wanting someone around and murdering them are two different matters entirely,” Alexandra said.
Nicholas pulled his chin. “But think of what Nancy just said. A woman has so much to lose.” He glanced at Nancy. “I say, rather astute of you.”
Nancy ducked her head and pretended to be embarrassed.
“You’re speaking of a woman’s reputation, I suppose,” Alexandra said. “A woman of Jane Orkwright’s class loses much of her status as well as the respect of her peers if she is divorced. Therefore, she loses if she is forced to live with someone she cannot love or respect or who cannot love or respect her, and she loses as well if she frees herself from him.”
“Whereas a divorced man doesn’t lose respect.” Nancy said, nodding her head with enthusiasm that her point had been taken.
“Ah, but there’s more to it than that.” Nicholas stood, picked up the tea cup and saucer, and paced the floor between the two women. The untouched brew grew colder by the second. “First of all, it’s not at all likely a woman could successfully seek a divorce because of some dispute her husband has with one of her children, even if the dispute resulted in physical cruelty. There is, after all, the law of coverture.”
“Coverture?” Nancy asked.
“It means simply that a man is allowed a great deal of leeway in chastising his wife and children, since he can be held legally responsible for crimes they commit or for the wife’s torts.”
“Well, yes, I suppose we all know a man has a legal right to beat his wife and children,” Nancy said.
“The courts assume, of course, that sort of thing happens only among the lower classes,” Nicholas said. “Not likely in Mrs. Orkwright’s situation.”
Nancy beamed. “How fortunate for the upper class!”
Nicholas frowned. “You’re leading me astray from the subject, Nancy. My point is, even if Mrs. Orkwright felt one of her sons needed protection—John most likely—since he didn’t get on with the admiral, divorce is not a likely means of achieving that protection, and I suspect any barrister representing her would tell her so.”
Nancy was persistent. “But if she were seeking protection for herself? In the unlikely case of a woman of her class needing it, I mean.”
Nicholas shook his head. “Adultery is the only suitable grounds for a woman, and then only if there are aggravating circumstances such as incest or bigamy or bestiality.” He turned to Alexandra. “Forgive me for being so blunt.” He blushed as he spoke.
Alexandra brushed his apology and his embarrassment aside. “Perhaps that’s why she dropped her petition.”
“Or perhaps because she could very well lose legal custody of Will,” Nicholas said. “The law leans heavily toward granting custody to the father. The mother can, in fact, be forbidden to see her children.”
Alexandra was momentarily stunned by this information. “So she would be separated from Will if she were to divorce?”
“Yes, and even on the admiral’s death, she might not be given custody of her son,” Nicholas said. “And so, as Nancy pointed out, she must find another way.”
“But murder?” Alexandra spoke barely above a whisper.
“We have to assume that’s a possibility,” Nicholas said. “So the question is, is it a probability?”
Alexandra shook her head. “That’s very difficult to imagine. In spite of…”
“In spite of what?” Nicholas leaned toward her as if she was in a witness box.
Alexandra hesitated a moment. “That John is c
onvinced everyone thinks or eventually will think his mother is guilty.”
“He told you that?” Nicholas asked.
“Yes.”
“But why?
“He was about to tell me why when he was shot,” Alexandra said.
Nicholas’ glance moved quickly to the top of the stairs and back to Alexandra again.
“No,” she said. “You may not question him yet. Allow him to rest a little longer.”
Nicholas’ expression was, for a moment, impatient and disgruntled. He seemed about to say something, but hesitated. Then he took a deep breath and spoke. “All right, let’s assume for a moment that Mrs. Orkwright did, in fact, kill her husband. How would she carry it out?” He continued to pace the floor.
“She’d drown him!” Nancy was obviously unable to keep quiet any longer.
“That’s even more difficult to imagine,” Alexandra said.
“Even though his body washed up from the sea? Even though he had a mouth full of seaweed,” Nancy said, challenging her.
“Nancy, I told you there is no way to prove he drowned. The autopsy was not conclusive.”
“Of course I know that, Miss Alex, and I, like you, find it hard to believe that Mrs. Orkwright could have drowned her husband. I am simply trying to examine all possibilities.” Nancy had discarded her feigned embarrassment and had now grown quite serious.
“How wise you are, Nancy, old girl,” Nicholas said. “Let’s take it down the path you’ve started a little further.” He turned to Alexandra. “The autopsy was not conclusive in that it did not reveal any certain cause of death, am I correct?”
“Yes,” Alexandra said.
“And so,” he continued, “we will say that drowning is the cause of death because everything else has been eliminated.”
“Probably the cause,” Alexandra said.
“Very well. Probably the cause.” Nicholas sat down and put his teacup aside then leaned toward Alexandra. “How did she do it?”
“We keep coming back to that don’t we?” Alexandra said. “How could she get him out to sea? She is a small woman and he was a rather large man. She would have a difficult time overcoming him.”
