Winter's Cold Heart (Seasons Book 1)

by Laura Landon

  “My what?”

  “Your neighbor. Jenny Carmichael.” Joshua ran a hand through his disheveled hair. “She was staring daggers at me. I’m betting she got word somehow to Mrs. Weatherby.”

  “My God. It fits. What are you going to do?”

  “I’m not sure yet. But one way or another I’ll put a stop to it.”

  Seven

  Joshua sat at Lydia’s bedside and watched her as she slept. It had been two days since she’d been poisoned and an intense sense of fear and dread clenched inside his chest every time he thought what might have happened if he hadn’t returned when he did.

  A tremor shimmied up his spine when he thought of how close he’d come to losing the woman he was just beginning to discover. It seemed that in her presence, the whole world opened before him in new and exhilarating ways. Without her? He just couldn’t contemplate that. For the first time in his memory, he realized how shallow his life had been.

  He reached out to hold her hand. As if she felt their connection, her eyes fluttered and she opened her eyes to look at him. A smile lit her face.

  “Have you slept at all today?”

  “I don’t need any sleep. Don’t you know doctors are like camels? They can go days without sleeping.”

  She laughed softly. “Water, silly. Camels can go days without water.”

  He faked a look of chagrin. “Oh. Well. That I can’t do. I must have my water.”

  “So you’re not super human?”

  “Well, I didn’t say that,” he teased, reaching for a glass of water and lifting her to a sitting position so she could drink. When she finished, she handed the glass back to him.

  “How is James?”

  “He’s much better. He’s no longer running a fever and his leg is beginning to heal.”

  “Good,” she whispered. “I can’t thank you enough, Joshua. Without your help I might have lost him. And I might have died.”

  He squeezed her fingers. “But you didn’t. And he’s as strong as you are. That gave him a head start.”

  Lydia looked at him and smiled and his heart thundered in his chest.

  “Will you help me up?”

  “You need to rest.”

  “I’ve done nothing but rest for two days now. It’s time I got up and did something.”

  “There’s nothing for you to do. Mrs. Childers came earlier this morning and is in the kitchen preparing meat pies she says are guaranteed to put flesh back on your brother’s bones.”

  “Oh, I’m glad. I knew as soon as she could travel, she’d be here.”

  Lydia pulled the covers back and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Joshua had no choice but to help her to her feet.

  “What are we going to do about Mrs. Weatherby?” she said as she drew a shawl around her shoulders and knotted it.

  “I don’t know.”

  “We can’t let her get by with attempting to kill James. Or with poisoning any other patients that come to you rather than her husband.”

  “I know. But I can’t simply tell her husband what she’s done and expect him to believe me. Somehow, I’ll have to come up with enough proof to convince him I’m telling the truth.”

  “You will,” she said, stepping into his arms and standing on her tiptoes to kiss him. Part of him was stunned at how naturally she’d begun to show him affection, and another part of him told him not to question it. He felt the naturalness of their attraction himself, after all. From the moment she’d come back to life in his arms, his heart seemed to have claimed her as his own.

  He returned her kiss, then stepped away from her. “I’m going to let you get dressed before Mrs. Childers catches us together. Besides, I know your brother is anxious to see you. He needs to know you’ve recovered.”

  “You’re right. You go do that.” She turned a sassy face toward him. “And take your time, because I’m going to lock myself in the closet and eat until I’m blue in the face.”

  She laughed, but he was completely puzzled.

  “Why the closet, may I ask?”

  “So I can eat without fear of you pulling out that bottle of ipecac again!”

  “Ah,” he smiled sagely. “But then, how would you know I haven’t already laced the blueberry tarts with ipecac? Hm?”

  Watching her face fall, he grinned a wicked grin and left the room just as a pillow hit the door behind him. The smells coming from the kitchen were making his stomach growl and he remembered he hadn’t eaten since yesterday noon. He was desperate for a cup of coffee and one of the blueberry tarts that were cooling on the kitchen table.

  And, he needed to think of how he dared tell Doctor Weatherby that his wife was a murderer.

  . . . .

  They had a plan now, and it truly might work.

  Lydia fidgeted at Joshua’s side as he drove the one-horse sleigh he’d found in the cowshed from Cottage Hill through the streets of Middleton. She cradled their precious cargo in her lap as if it held the answer to everything they intended to accomplish.

  “What will we do if this doesn’t work?” she asked when they stopped in front of Doctor Weatherby’s impressive brick home in the middle of a tree-lined block.

  Joshua jumped from the sleigh and turned around to lift Lydia to the ground. “We’ll figure that out when we come to it.”

  Joshua cupped his hand beneath Lydia’s elbow and escorted her up the snow-packed walk to the front door. She gripped the bundle closer, careful not to let it slip from her hands.

  Without hesitating, Joshua knocked on the front door and waited. After the second knock, a maid answered the door.

  “Doctor Jarvis and Miss Lydia McDowell to see Doctor and Mrs. Weatherby. Are they in?”

  “Yes,” the maid answered with a surprised expression on her face. “Please, follow me.”

  Joshua and Lydia followed the maid into a parlor. The room was decorated in maroons, grays, and pale greens, and, although the furniture was not extravagant or new, it was not overly worn.

  “Please, have a seat,” the maid said. “I’ll tell the doctor and Mrs. Weatherby you’re here.”

  “Thank you,” Joshua answered, then sat down beside Lydia on the floral brocade sofa. It wasn’t long before the maid returned with a tea tray and a plate of biscuits.

  “The doctor and Mrs. Weatherby will be down shortly.”

  The maid served them and made her quiet exit.

  Joshua drank his tea but smiled when Lydia didn’t follow his lead. Instead, she let her tea sit on the low table in front of her and held the package in her hands.

  “You can set that down now, Lydia. No one is going to steal it.”

  She turned to look at him, then shook her head. She obviously had no intention of letting go of the package.

  Just as she was about to answer him, the doctor and his wife entered the room.

  “Doctor Jarvis,” the doctor greeted. “What a surprise. And Miss McDowell. A pleasure to see you. Ethel, have you met Miss McDowell? James McDowell’s sister.”

  “No, we’ve not—”

  “Yes,” Lydia interrupted. “We’ve met. Just the other day, in fact.”

  A frown crossed Ethel Weatherby’s forehead as she took a seat nearby. Only then did the woman lower her gaze to the package in Lydia’s lap. Her eyes opened wide and Lydia recognized fear and uncertainty in her eyes.

  Ignoring protocol, the doctor poured a cup of tea and handed it to his wife, then poured a cup for himself. His wife, however, didn’t hold her cup. Her hands trembled so violently she couldn’t stop the liquid from sloshing over the rim and into the saucer.

  “I have to admit that I’m surprised to see you, Jarvis. Although, I am pleased that you and Miss McDowell called on us today. I’ve wanted to apologize for my heavy hand the other day. We must put all this unnecessary suspicion to rest, I dare say.”

  “I must apologize, as well. I should have come by to talk to you long before now, but the weather…”

  “Yes of course,” Jarvis agreed. “The
weather.”

  Doctor Weatherby took a sip of his tea, then set his cup and saucer next to his wife’s on the table that sat between them. “I’m hearing that the people of Middleton haven’t welcomed you as you hoped they would. It’s unfortunate that Mrs. Smithers and Ivan Crumbly died just a day or two apart.” He leaned forward. “I also know that their deaths weren’t your fault.”

  Joshua seemed to study Doctor Weatherby. “No, their deaths weren’t my fault. But their deaths were someone’s fault. You see, both Mrs. Smithers and Ivan Crumbly were poisoned.”

  “What!” Doctor Weatherby’s eyes opened wide. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. I’m sure.”

  “Do you have any idea who would have done such a thing?” Doctor Weatherby asked.

  “Yes, I believe I do.”

  “Who would that be?”

  “I think I shall leave you to discuss this matter,” Ethel Weatherby said, rising to her feet.

  “No, Mrs. Weatherby,” Lydia said, standing in front of the sofa and stepping to the side to prevent Mrs. Weatherby from leaving. “Please, you must remain to hear what we have to say.”

  Lydia turned her head to look at Joshua as if she was asking for permission to take over their conversation. Joshua nodded his permission and Lydia continued where he had left off.

  Her heart pounded at the thought of what she was about to say. And beneath its thunder lay the guilt she felt for holding two deaths against Joshua, against the man who sat just inches from her—the man whose very presence in her life had given her heart wings.

  The man to whom she owed her very life.

  She swallowed hard as she turned to face the woman before her. The woman who had very nearly ended it.

  Eight

  Lydia’s heart skittered madly as she sought the right words. She saw the guilt written on Ethel Weatherby’s face, but behind it wavered an uncertainty that evoked a startling sympathy.

  “You haven’t asked how my brother is faring, Mrs. Weatherby. I’m surprised, considering how concerned you were when you called on him the other day.”

  “You didn’t tell me you called on the McDowells, Ethel,” her husband said.

  “That’s because it was nothing, dear. Just a benevolent call.”

  “Yes, Doctor Weatherby. Your wife brought my brother a bowl of her splendid soup.”

  The doctor smiled, but his smile was tense, unlike the jovial smile he’d worn earlier. “Yes, my wife’s soup has healed a great number of my patients.”

  “I’m sure it has,” Lydia said. “It has also had the opposite effect on one or two. Hasn’t it, Mrs. Weatherby?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Everyone loves my soup. Don’t they, dear?”

  In answer, Doctor Weatherby reached a hand toward his wife and patted her arm.

  “Well, it seems, Mrs. Weatherby,” Lydia said quietly, “that you may have added a new ingredient or two.”

  “What are you saying, Miss McDowell,” Doctor Weatherby asked, shifting his gaze from Lydia to his wife, then back to Lydia. Joshua had spoken of poison, and Weatherby was too astute to miss the accusation.

  “My brother is well, Mrs. Weatherby. You see, he didn’t eat any of your soup. But I did.”

  The doctor’s wife’s eyes opened wide. “But you weren’t ill.”

  “That’s quite true, Mrs. Weatherby. I wasn’t ill at all. Before I ate your soup.”

  “Ethel? What does Miss McDowell mean?”

  “I have no idea, dear. This woman is confusing me.” She suddenly stood. “She must be in it with Doctor Jarvis.”

  “Ethel? Whatever do you mean?” Now Doctor Weatherby stood beside his wife, alarm etched across his face.

  “Well, you know he wants to ruin you. He wants all your patients for himself. All those good people.” She turned to her husband. “You know she’s lying, Elias. There’s nothing wrong with my soup. You love it, don’t you, dear?”

  Lydia’s throat tightened as she realized what had happened. A woman who had at some point lost her grip on sanity had only been protecting her husband in her own crazed way. It was a grizzly outcome to her misguided mission of love and support.

  Now all that was left was to bring her husband to that sad realization.

  ”I understand your motive, Mrs. Weatherby, but you see, I ate a bit of the soup you brought for my brother and almost died. If Doctor Jarvis hadn’t arrived when he did, I would be dead.”

  “Ethel?” Doctor Weatherby asked again.

  “That’s just not true! She wasn’t supposed to eat the soup anyway, Elias. Don’t you see? It’s her own fault if it made her ill. You really must tell her to stop lying!”

  “You’re saying there’s nothing wrong with your soup?” Joshua asked.

  “Of course not!” Mrs. Weatherby’s indignant tone underscored her words. “She’s a vicious little liar!”

  Lydia took a deep breath.

  “Then, to prove I’m lying, you won’t mind if your husband eats the remainder of the soup you brought over for my brother, will you, Mrs. Weatherby.”

  Lydia removed the towel from around Mrs. Weatherby’s soup crock. “I’ve tried to keep it warm, Doctor Weatherby,” she said holding out a spoon for him to take.

  She hadn’t considered the woman’s fragile hold on sanity, but now Lydia had to rely on the obvious love she saw between Mrs. Weatherby and her good husband. He needed to be convinced right here, right now, in the privacy of his own home. Requiring a coroner’s analysis would expose Weatherby’s wife’s guilt, and ruin a good man. She couldn’t have that. If Ethel didn’t stay her husband’s hand from eating the deadly soup, Lydia would have to.

  The doctor took the bowl, then dipped the spoon into the soup.

  “I do love your soup, dear.” He touched the spoon to the side of the crock, then raised it to his mouth.

  “No!” Mrs. Weatherby screamed. She knocked the bowl from her husband’s hands and stared at the soup that stained the carpet.

  “Ethel? What have you done?”

  “Don’t be angry with me, Elias. I had to. Don’t you see? Everyone in Middleton was leaving you and going to the new doctor. It wouldn’t have been long before you would have lost all your patients.”

  “So you poisoned Mrs. Smithers and Ivan Crumbly?”

  “I did them a favor, Elias. Don’t you see? Mrs. Smithers was over ninety years and was on her deathbed. And Ivan Crumbly was drinking himself to death. Neither of them had much longer to live.”

  Tears filled the doctor’s eyes and he gathered her in his arms. “Oh, Ethel. What have you done?”

  “I did what I had to do to save you. I couldn’t bear to see your patients leave you for…for him. Not after you’ve spent your entire life caring for them and bringing their babes into the world.”

  “I know, dear,” he said, pressing his wife’s head to his shoulder. He held her for several moments, then called for her maid.

  “Mary, please take your mistress to her room. She needs to rest for a while. And please, don’t leave her.”

  “Yes, Doctor Weatherby.”

  “Go with Mary, Ethel. I’ll be up to see you in just a little while.”

  “Are you angry with me, Elias?” Her voice was pitiful, childlike.

  “No, dear,” he said then kissed her cheek. “I’m not angry.”

  “I’m glad, Elias. I knew you’d understand.”

  Doctor Weatherby watched his wife leave the room, then lifted his head and focused on Joshua.

  “What do you intend to do?”

  Joshua looked at Lydia and she reached for his hand.

  “Your wife is ill,” Joshua said. “You know that, don’t you?”

  “Yes. I know. I just wish I would have realized it before now.”

  “Do you have someplace to take her? Someplace where she can be watched and cared for?”

  “Well, I…” He rubbed his forehead. “I have a friend who works in a sanitarium. He has wanted me to come work with him f
or years. He said there’s a cottage on the grounds where Ethel and I can live.”

  “Then, I’ll let you take her there. No one will ever hear of this. She needs help, as well as constant supervision.”

  With tears running down his cheeks, Doctor Weatherby nodded his agreement. “I don’t know how to thank you, Doctor Jarvis. Or how to apologize.”

  “Just be sure she never does anything like this ever again.”

  “I will. She’ll be closely supervised.”

  Lydia watched the two men evaluate each other. She could imagine they would have formed a binding friendship if things had been different. But that had been taken out of their hands.

  “We’ll be gone by the end of the week,” Doctor Weatherby said. “Before we leave, I’ll recommend you to all my patients. I’ll tell them that I know from experience that you are a gifted physician. I guarantee that in time you’ll have more patients than you can take care of.”

  “Thank you,” Joshua said as he walked across the room to retrieve the castaway crock. “You’d best destroy this, sir. And find that supply of belladonna.” He moved to Weatherby. “And if you ever have need of me, you have only to ask.” He laid the crock on the table and extended his hand to the crestfallen doctor. “The best of luck to you.”

  “Thank you,” Doctor Weatherby answered with a slow handshake, then walked them to the door.

  As Joshua and Lydia left without looking back, the sun showed its face for the second time in ten days.

  . . . .

  “Do you think they’ll be alright?” Lydia asked Joshua that evening while they were eating dinner.

  James was sitting at the table with them. He’d healed remarkably well in the days since Joshua had administered his friend Doctor Chamberlain’s piric acid.

  “I’m sure they’ll be fine. Elias truly loves his wife and will take excellent care of her.”

  “Do you have any regrets as to how you handled the situation?” James asked. “You could have brought Mrs. Weatherby up on charges, you know. She was responsible for the deaths of two people.”

  Joshua shifted his gaze from James to her. Then he shook his head. “No, I have no regrets. What good would it have done to bring Mrs. Weatherby up on charges? She’s a sick lady, and considering what the people of Middleton think of her, the outcome would have been the same. A magistrate would have confined her to an institution. This way, Elias Weatherby can spend the remainder of his life with the woman he loves.”