Bitter Herbs

by Amandine Moxon

  “What can I do for you?” he asked.

  There was some nudging and an exchange of significant looks, with Deborah clearly wanting Daniel to take the lead.

  “Well, sir,” said the latter, turning his hat brim round and round in his hands as if to open a sluice gate which would allow his words to flow forth, “it is about this affair of poor Dilly Jones.” Edmund was startled to find the tenor of his own thoughts spoken out loud by another, but as he reflected, it was hardly surprising that her relatives would be griefstricken for the girl’s sake and also very upset about the rumours circulating in the town about the real nature of her unlooked-for death.

  “You might remember, sir, perhaps, that Dilly is, was, rather, our cousin. It’s very upsetting, sir, to lose somebody so young and, and, well,” Daniel groped for a word that summed his little cousin up, “harmless, most of all, sir, but it’s what’s being said in town that’s almost too much to bear and that’s the truth, sir. We knows ‘er Mum, our Aunt Emma, feels it very hard indeed, sir. She’s left all alone now. As you can imagine, we in the family ‘ave bin talking it over and over until it nigh drives us distracted. Because of that, we ‘ave bin putting some facts together and mebbe we ‘ave gone too far and got two and two to add up to five, but we were thinking, sir, that per’aps someone meant Dilly harm, someone who had a reason to hate her, mild though the wench were.”

  “And do you know of such a person? Speak carefully, now.”

  “We do know, sir, that Frank Marsh was playing Dilly false with Kitty Pardoe, or rather Kitty with Dilly, as he courted Kitty first. There are several witnesses who saw Kitty catch up with Dilly the last Sunday before,” and here his voice wavered for a moment, “before she died, straight after church. She had walked in from Homer to catch poor Dill and she walked alongside her, talking low and furious, looking daggers at her all the time. Dilly was fair running to get away from ‘er down Barrow Street and there was more than one that ‘eard Kitty shout after her: ‘leave ‘im alone, or you’ll be sorry, my girl.’ Now we know that we canna say by that alone that Kitty might ‘ave tried to poison her, but there is something else, Mr Bredwardine, that brought us up a bit short. My sweet’eart Peggy, she is friends with Kitty’s sister Joan and they were talking after church. Deborah was there too. Deb, you tell our master what was said.”

  “Well, sir, Peggy happened to be asking Joan what made her eyes look so wide open and she said she had bought some eyedrops off a gipsy pedlar. She was hoping to make Jack Preece take more notice of ‘er. Several of the other maids said they had bought the same drops, though some said they didna like it cos they couldna see properly for a bit after they put ‘em in. Joan said her sister used it too. We were at the inquest, sir, with your mother’s leave, and the doctor had said that he thought that deadly nightshade was the most likely poison that he could think of with the signs that Dilly had in her, and we know that the nightshade is used to widen the pupils. We know, sir, that it might just be a coincidence but we thought too that there might be something in it. We canna just let it pass. Kitty had a grudge against our poor Dilly, and maybe the means of poison to hand.” She looked to her brother for support in this and he nodded, taking up the tale.

  “Yes, sir. We know you took an interest in the death of poor Mr Tompkins in the summer, for his and his family’s sake, and we were ‘oping you might be willing to help us and our Aunt Emma. No one of us can rest with such a shadow over us all, with folks saying Dilly was..,” Dan hesitated again and swallowed before carrying on, “a byword, sir and that she killed herself. Would you help us, sir? Could you challenge Kitty and see what she was doing that night? The magistrate wouldn’t listen to us unless we have a case and we know we canna show anything like one yet, but you might find out more, sir.”

  Daniel ended on a note of pleading and Edmund asked them both to sit down. He thought for several moments, before addressing the siblings.

  “You realise already, I believe, that what you have told me amounts only to what in legal terms is known as ‘circumstantial evidence’? The inference you make from the facts that Kitty had a reason to wish Dilly harm and possible access, either in her own right, or through her sister, to a potential source of a poison that Dilly may have ingested, does not mean that Kitty has committed any crime. How might she have administered the drops to Dilly? Is it possible instead that Dilly herself purchased a vial of the drops from the pedlar? If so, perhaps she could have mistaken their use and drunk them instead?”

  Deborah and Daniel looked at each other and shook their heads. “I don’t think she was so daft as to do that, sir,” said Daniel. “She was not with us in the group when we talked about the drops so I canna say for sure,” Deborah added, “but the other girls said that the gipsy had warned them all never to let the drops touch their lips and always to wash their hands afterwards, and how he had made the mixture more bitter on purpose. Joan did show us the bottle of drops, though, sir, because she had put them in just before church so as not to have to walk both ways with her eyes out of true. I could draw you a little picture of what it looked like, sir, if that would help. If it could be shown to Mr Trent, who found the vial in Dilly’s room, he could tell you if it were the same. It might be a clue, if it were, mightn’t it?"

  “I am moved by the concern you show for your poor deceased cousin,” Edmund replied. “I too have been puzzled and distressed by what has happened to her and would welcome an opportunity to uncover the truth, if I possibly can, but I must ask you to consider that if I were to take up an investigation, I might discover an unpalatable truth, for example, that she had truly meant to take her own life. I assure you that I would approach this with an open mind, but have you considered how you might all feel if that were to prove to be the case?”

  “Well, sir, if that proved to be the case, we would be no less sad than we are now but we would know for sure and that would be summat, even if it gave us more pain in the long run,” said Daniel.

  “Daniel’s right, sir,” said Deborah, “it is like, if you will excuse me saying summat which may seem to be a bit unfeeling, but I dunna mean it so, like when the family’s cat disappears and never comes back and you allus wonder, did it wander off and find a new ‘ome or is it dead? It’s the not knowing as is so hard and it’s a hundred times worse when it concerns a human being, specially one we was all so fond of.”

  “I understand, Deborah. It pains me too to think of little Dilly’s fate, so harmless as she was, just as you say. I will do what I can, but I make no promises that I can unearth more than we know already.”

  “We are much obliged, sir, much obliged, whatever it may bring out into the light. Thank you, sir, it will mean so much to our poor Aunt Emma especially.” Edmund thought again of Emma’s prematurely aged face and the memory served further to stiffen his resolve to get to the heart of the matter.

  “Deborah, can you make me the sketch of the bottle? That was well thought of and will be a help.” Edmund gave her paper and pencil and she deftly sketched a glass container; she had always loved to draw, with chalks on slate or in pencil on any scraps of papers she could cadge; he folded the paper carefully and put it into his pocketbook.

  Satisfied, his servants left to go about their duties while Edmund strode out to pick up his Welsh cob, Taran, at the livery stables in order to start his pastoral round, determined to extend his circuit today out to the farm near Homer.

  Chapter 13

  Kitty had been busy making butter that morning. She was still engaged in wiping dry the utensils and churn which she had scrupulously scalded with boiling water, when Edmund rang the bell set up at the farm to summon the dairy maid to sell milk to passers-by. She put on a thick shawl hanging on a nail by the door and came out into the cold, though the dairy was not much warmer, wiping her reddened hands carefully on a snowy white cloth. She smiled at the handsome clergyman and willingly fetched a half pint measure of milk for him to take immediately. He thanked her courteously and asked her if she could
spare him some time to talk.

  “Aah, sir,” said Kitty, her curiosity piqued. She was a handsome girl rather than a beauty, red-haired and statuesque, although there was a hardness to her face in repose that boded ill for those who did not please her, but she had no quarrel with the clerical gentleman who bought milk and spoke to her with as much politeness as if she were the farmer’s wife.

  “This is a fine old house,” Edmund remarked, gesturing to the old half-timbered farmhouse across the barton. Kitty looked at the building disparagingly; for her, it was just the back drop to her daily routine.

  “I daresay so, sir, though to be honest I never notice it much nowadays; too used to it, I suppose.”

  “How long have you worked here?”

  “Five years now, sir. I came when I was fourteen.”

  “Do you miss living in the town?”

  “I did a bit at first, but master and mistress are good folk and leave me to get on, as long as I make good butter and cheeses, and it inna every place you can say that about, sir.”

  “Indeed. So you are happy here?”

  “Well enough, sir, I thank you.” Kitty was puzzled about the direction of the conversation. It was not as if he were flirting with her, a tribute she habitually expected from handsome young men, and normally received. She chafed her hands a little and Edmund, seeing the movement of discomfort, asked for her forgiveness for keeping her out in the cold, but that he had sought her out because of the recent tragedy in the town and her connection to Frank and Dilly. He had some questions to ask on behalf of Dilly’s family. He watched her face cloud over with sullenness.

  “Oh, that.” She frowned. “That was shocking. I couldna believe it. I had no cause to like the wench, but I would never have wished so much ‘arm come to her. ” Edmund examined her face keenly. Petulance and some compunction at Dilly’s fate seemed to wrestle for dominance in her features.

  ““There are witnesses who said that you threatened her after church one Sunday just before she died, told her that she would be sorry if she carried on seeing Frank.” Edmund spoke mildly but she looked up at him sharply. He remained alert for any sign of guilt or fear in her features but after some reluctance, she answered boldly enough.

  “Well sir, you may think ill of me but I was that angry, thinking of the two of them carrying on behind my back because I was out of the way here all the time. When I set out, I will admit that I was going to give her a good hiding. If she had stood up to me or tried to argue, I was all set to pull her hair and scratch her face , I own it freely, but she didn’t. She just scuttled off and I could see she were frit. It would have been like kicking a little kitten or a puppy.” The contempt of the robust Kitty for Dilly was palpable. Edmund was fast becoming convinced that Kitty would be unlikely to resort to underhand dealings such as poison. She would have her say, slap her opponent in the street and be done. Though Dilly had never been her friend, Kitty had clearly ‘told her wrath’, as in Blake’s poem, and even if it had not ended, nor had it festered uncleanly.

  “How does your conscience strike you now that she has died?” he pressed. Kitty looked down as if a little ashamed and then shrugged.

  “Well, if my wishing could bring ‘er back, she’d be here now, sir, honest she would. I did wonder if my shouting at ‘er so could ‘ave got back to Frank and scared him away from her and she felt too low afterwards to carry on. Some say she did away with herself. I wouldn’t want that on my conscience. I didn’t mean her no real ‘arm, just wanted her away from him. Any woman in my situation would have bin angry with that little soft puss, ‘er going off with ‘im behind my back like that. Mind you, I blame ‘im more. She wanna the first one he’d fooled with his sweet talk and she won’t be the last, but I’ve done with ‘im.”

  “Did you know that she was expecting a baby?”

  “No, sir, I did not know she was carrying a child before it came out at the inquest. I don’t know now whether that would have made me more angry or sorry for her at the time.”

  “So Frank Marsh is no longer courting you?” he asked mildly.

  Kitty made a face that clearly showed even deeper contempt for the absent Frank. “Phh. No, he inna, the lying conniving ba…bu...brute,” she flashed, nearly forgetting in her anger to avoid swearing in front of Edmund, “I wouldna ‘ave ‘im back if his ears were stuffed with primmyroses! Saving your reverence, sir,” she added with a grimace, crossing her arms tightly in anger under her shawl.

  “I am sorry that I have been obliged to touch upon a subject that is so painful to you.”

  “Aah, well, I can see why you might want to ask me. But I swear I did not lay a finger on her.”

  “The witnesses say that you only made verbal threats. However I have some other questions for you. Tell me, Kitty, have you ever used eyedrops to enlarge your pupils?”

  Kitty looked amazed at such a question.

  “Nay, sir. Why ever do you ask?” Edmund was convinced that her surprise was unfeigned; she even showed amusement at this serous man asking her such a seemingly frivolous question after their talk of such a grave matter.

  “I understand that some girls have purchased some such drops from a gipsy recently, your sister amongst them, hoping to beautify themselves and to attract sweethearts. You have never used them, or borrowed them, perhaps from your sister Joan, to use?”

  “No, sir. Did Joan say I had?” Her tone was one of repudiation and she looked as if she might soon be having words with her sister about such nonsense.

  “She mentioned that her sister had used them too. The reason I ask is that they contain a poison, nightshade, one of a kind that may have killed Dilly. I need to know if she could have had access to such a thing. Here is a sketch of the kind of bottle they are sold in,” he said, producing Deborah’s drawing from his pocket. Kitty showed no artful understanding of the implication for her own guilt, but looked closely at the picture and shook her head.

  “No, sir,not I. I daresay Joan meant our stepsister May. She be daft enough and vain enough. Lord, I dunna know why girls use such things. The bottle is fairly common, I think, but I don’t have one like it.”

  “Have you ever entered the Woods’ house?” Edmund asked.

  “No, sir, why do you ask?” she started to say when comprehension finally dawned in her eyes and she gasped.

  “You dunna think I ever gave her any such thing in malice to drink? I swear I did not. I would have pulled every hair from her head if she had faced me, but I would never try to kill her, never! I have not set foot once in the Woods’ house, nor Dilly’s either. We had no dealings but that one row and if I could recall it I would. After I saw her run off, I came straight back ‘ere. There were several people saw me come in: Tom the gardener’s boy, and Milly, and the missus, if you want to ask ‘em.”

  Anger had re-kindled within her but she could not vent her displeasure to a customer and a reverend gentleman at that as she might have done to a fellow servant who had dared to suspect her. She spoke stiffly:

  “If that is all, sir, I should be getting on. I hope you will excuse me.”

  “Kitty, stay a moment. It is because of that row and your not unnatural feelings towards poor Dilly that I had to ask the question. You had an understandable resentment and a member of your family had some poison which you might also have purchased or borrowed – you must see why I was concerned? I do not know you. I had heard of your actions only third hand, so I owed it to Dilly and her family to see for myself if you were someone capable of the deed. I am sure now that you are not. You have resolution and boldness and you have been honest with me. I thank you for it. I am satisfied that you could not have contributed to Dilly’s death and that makes me more easy that I should look elsewhere for the truth. Please forgive me for any distress you now feel. I wish you well for the future, with a better man, if that is your desire.” Edmund had removed his hat and held his hand out to her. She could not immediately shake off her first feeling of offence, but she was mollified by his ope
n and frank explanation and good manners. After a moment’s hesitation, her better nature gained the mastery and she came forward, shook his hand, adding a curtsey, and so they parted.

  Edmund reflected on his parting words to Kitty as he rode on. Had they been wise? Had he been too quick to absolve her of guilt? Perhaps he should have sought some verification from Tom or Milly? No, his broad experience of humankind in all its aspects gave him confidence in his own judgement. Kitty was forthright unto bluntness and had reacted to his questions as any innocent person might. He had to consider that she may nonetheless be a consummate actress, but no such report had ever been made of her to his knowledge and he could not see how she could have had any opportunity of administering the drug to Dilly. He turned the page of the mental notebook in his head and began to consider other possibilities, but as he looked up and saw a flight of fieldfares against the reddening sky, seeking roost, he realised too that the short winter’s day was closing in on him and he set Taran’s head for home.

  Chapter 14

  Edmund was delighted to find Dr. Peplow waiting for him when he got back home, being entertained by his mother and aunt. Mrs Bredwardine had inwardly registered, with deep approval, the doctor’s patent disappointment at finding Harriet still from home and so she had laid out some of her best preserves on the tea table as a reward, though one of which he was unconscious, even while he enjoyed them immensely.

  “Is all this of your own making, ma’am? Or perhaps yours. Miss Morrall?” he said in evident admiration, which did him no harm in the estimation of both ladies.

  “The raspberry and damson jams are mine, sir, and my sister is responsible for the quince cheese that you were enjoying just now. My daughter is very handy with preserves too, but I still derive much pleasure from making them too and of course Harriet has to spend more of her time making most of our medicines. My eyes are not so good for that anymore. I wonder if you would like to take away some of her elderberry cordial? The berries were prolific this year so we have plenty. It is most effective against rheums and coughs, and it is most comfortable to take, especially hot, with a pinch of cinnamon and nutmeg.”