An Untimely Death

by Blythe Baker

  Mrs. Montford rolled her eyes upward. “Good heavens…and on all days…”

  “What is it?” Mrs. Briar asked.

  Mrs. Montford pursed her lips, glaring out of the corner of her eye at her husband. “I am not privy to the details, for we have not had a great deal of time to discuss it, but he informed me that he had discovered something quite disturbing this morning. He meant to deal with it once the party was at an end.”

  A bit of relief, like a salve to my soul, spread through my veins. Well, at least there is an answer to that riddle, I thought. Even if it was something that may have spoiled his day.

  Still…something did not sit right with me.

  The knowledge that there would likely be an unpleasant encounter after the party was responsible for some of the unease I felt. I hoped I would not have to witness it, with Mrs. Montford requesting that I remain at her side.

  “Well, I do hope that he can set it aside during his party,” Mrs. Briar said. “You have gone to too much trouble for him to be so terribly upset.”

  “Yes, and knowing my husband, it is a small matter that he need not lose his temper over,” Mrs. Montford said. “Nevertheless, he will think of nothing else until it is resolved. I can see it in his face, already.”

  “What might it have been?” Mrs. Briar asked.

  “I do not know,” Mrs. Montford said. She looked sidelong at me. “Did he mention anything to George?”

  “No,” I said, shaking my head. “Not a thing.”

  Her eyes narrowed slightly as she searched my face. “Very well,” she said. “I shall take your word for it.”

  I heard a boisterous laugh and looked up to see the Colonel roaring, slapping his knee with his palm as he stood with Dr. Conolly.

  “At least he seems to be enjoying himself now,” Mrs. Briar said with a small chuckle.

  “I imagine he will be quite pleased once the cricket match begins,” Mrs. Montford said. “You know how he enjoys commentating.”

  I noticed two or three servants, clad in white aprons like my own, circling the group the Colonel stood with. No doubt Mrs. Carlisle and Mr. Hendrick had specifically instructed them to keep him fed and provided with every possible choice of drink. He would want for nothing on his birthday, and I knew his trusted staff would ensure it.

  Many of the guests had formed a queue to meet with the Colonel, and the staff were doing what they could to keep them entertained with refreshments while they waited for their chance to speak with the guest of honor.

  I looked around for either Mrs. Carlisle or Mr. Hendrick, neither of whom were readily visible. It was not difficult to imagine they were indoors, ushering the servants streaming in and out of the house, doing their best to keep everything orderly and quickly moving.

  Someone gently brushed against my elbow, and I looked round to see yet another server pass by me before plunging into the crowd. He maneuvered through the guests with practiced grace, despite his broad shoulders. Still, when he tilted his head downward, his elegance was marred by a large, dark mole on the back of his neck.

  Who could that be? I ought to have noticed such a mark before, I thought. Perhaps Mr. Hendrick has engaged additional help from town to assist the staff during such a large party.

  The server strode to the Colonel and offered his tray of punch with a practiced bow.

  When I saw the Colonel select a glass with a murmur of thanks, I let out a sigh of relief. It seemed his mood had already improved.

  “Anna?”

  I snapped to attention, looking up at Mrs. Montford. “Yes, ma’am?”

  She rolled her eyes upward, and Mrs. Briar arched a brow.

  Clearly, I had let my attention drift again.

  “Would you fetch my shawl?” she asked. “The air has become a great deal cooler than the sun would have me think.”

  “Of course, ma’am,” I said. “Which one would you like me to bring?”

  “The grey one,” she said with a nod. “Hanging behind the door.”

  “I shall return with it in haste,” I said, and with a small curtsy, I turned toward the house.

  I gave a group of ladies with their heads all bent together a wide berth. I had no interest in hearing their idle gossip or attracting their attention and therefore their requests. I had been given a task by my lady, and it would be best for me not to disappoint her any further today.

  Just as I reached the doors, the voices of the crowd behind me suddenly dropped to low murmurs. Even as I slowed and glanced back to see what had caused the abrupt hush, my ears picked up a terrible retching sound.

  I looked across the distance and saw the Colonel collapsing to the ground.

  2

  I froze.

  The scene unfolded before me like something out of a bad dream. The Colonel, his white suit covered in what I could only assume was his own vomit, slowly fell toward the stone pavers that lined the terrace. His body reminded me of a doll’s, the way his limbs splayed out from his body, lifeless, doing nothing to prevent his fall. His legs, too, were like falling tree trunks.

  The first scream rent the air, sending chills down my spine.

  Something was terribly wrong…

  I flattened myself against the doorframe as a group of guests hurried into the house, fleeing the scene that began unfolding around us. They pushed and shoved, friends who had only moments before been standing together, speaking, laughing, sharing food and drink. Now they abandoned one another to chaos.

  I noticed that not everyone was fleeing. In fact, several men had rushed to the Colonel’s side, Dr. Conolly the town physician among them. They crowded around him, blocking him from my view.

  I looked wildly around for Mrs. Montford, my gaze settling upon her almost at once. She stood as still as a statue, staring at her husband’s body sprawled out on the ground as he was being looked at by the doctor.

  Dr. Conolly lifted his head and shouted something I could not quite hear, waving others toward him.

  I hurried over to Mrs. Montford. She should not see this, I thought. Whatever is going to happen, it is best she does not witness it.

  I reached her and grabbed her wrist. “Mrs. Montford, you should come with me,” I said. “We can go sit inside and wait for Dr. Conolly to—”

  “No,” said Mrs. Montford, pulling her wrist from my hand. “No, I must go to him.”

  Mrs. Briar stood somewhat back from Mrs. Montford, as if my lady had suddenly become contagious. No one likes to be close to tragedy, I thought.

  “Then allow me to take you to him,” I said.

  But before we could move, a voice rang out.

  “We need some room,” Dr. Conolly commanded with a dismissive wave to onlookers. “Out of the way. We must get him indoors!”

  With a unanimous grunt of effort, four men managed to lift the Colonel into the air and started to carry him toward the open doors.

  My stomach twisted at the sight of the Colonel’s mouth hanging open, spittle dribbling from his lips, his head lulling to the side.

  “Come along, Mrs. Montford,” I said.

  I swallowed my own fear, knowing that hers was far worse than mine. She needed me now, perhaps more than ever, and I would not abandon her.

  Together with Mrs. Briar, we entered the house as well. The shouts from down the hall told me they had managed to get the Colonel into the drawing room, where they would likely spread him out over the long leather sofa within.

  Despite holding her head high, Mrs. Montford clung to my hand with a grip as strong as steel. She need not say it; she did not want me to let her go.

  Just as we were about to cross the threshold into the room, I heard a voice that gave my heart a jolt of hope.

  “Did he truly collapse? I only just heard.”

  Selina appeared, her green eyes wide as she reached me, her face stricken.

  On realizing Mrs. Montford was with me, Selina winced and immediately went silent, falling into step behind us.

  I drew Mrs. Montford into t
he room and at once lowered her down into one of the chairs along the wall.

  Dr. Conolly and several other men hovered over the Colonel. They stripped him of his jacket, casting it aside.

  As the acrid stench of vomit filled the room, bile rose to the back of my throat.

  If I was so affected, I could only imagine how my mistress must feel.

  I hurried to the bureau along the wall, taking care to keep out of the way of the men bending over the Colonel, whom I had yet to hear make a sound of his own. I worried that he might have fallen unconscious and what that might mean for him.

  I reached the pitcher resting in its ceramic bowl along the wall, lifted it gingerly from within the basin, and began to pour it into a glass resting beside it. With a shaky hand, I splashed some of the liquid over the side, the droplets running down the crystal edge.

  “Dead.” I heard Dr. Conolly say.

  “What?” Mrs. Montford asked, echoed by many others in the room.

  “He is—” Dr. Conolly said, turning around and looking Mrs. Montford straight in the face. “I am sorry, but he is dead.”

  The jar slipped from my hands and shattered against the wooden floor at my feet.

  Mrs. Montford stared at Dr. Conolly for a long, hard minute. I watched her, my heart pounding in my ears.

  My eyes were not the only pair fixed on her. Everyone watched as she stood slowly, straightened, and walked across the distance that she had been sitting from her husband. The men parted before her, bowing their heads, stepping aside to let her near.

  I could not see her as she looked down upon the face of the Colonel, but the tension in the room had become so utterly thick that I knew she could only feel terrible numbness at the devastating news.

  I slowly made my way over to Selina, who watched from the shadows near the wall.

  Chief Constable Talbot stepped out of the crowd of men around the sofa. “Myers, Stevens. Ensure that no one leaves.”

  “Right,” two men near the door said in unison. I didn’t recognize either of them. Perhaps they were other high ranking officers who had been guests at the party.

  Ensure no one leaves? I wondered. What could that possibly mean?

  Mrs. Montford knelt down beside her husband and took his hand in her own. She turned her face up to Dr. Conolly. “What happened?” she asked, her voice surprisingly steady.

  “I do not know,” Dr. Conolly said, withdrawing a handkerchief from within his jacket and dabbing at his forehead. “I shall need time to make a thorough examination, to see what might have caused him to become so violently ill. It is early to say but I fear he shows signs of possible poisoning.”

  “Poisoning?” Mrs. Montford gasped.

  Chief Constable Talbot motioned to another man beside him. He leaned nearer to him and whispered in his ear.

  I thought I heard something about preventing the other guests from eating or drinking anything more.

  “Right away, sir,” the other man said. He, too, left the room.

  “Might anyone else have been poisoned?” the Constable asked Dr. Conolly.

  The physician shook his head. “Whatever he ingested, it acted quickly. If anyone else was going to become ill or collapse, they would have by now.”

  “Was he…in any pain?” Mrs. Montford asked.

  “I am sorry, but that I do not know,” Dr. Conolly said. “However, if he did suffer, it was not for long.”

  Mrs. Montford nodded.

  The sick feeling in my stomach grew infinitely worse. It was as if the knot somehow told me that this was the reason I had awoken with such dread, such uncertainty.

  How could I have known, though? There was no way that I could have.

  The sound of voices in the hall grew, and as I glanced out the door, I noticed that more of the guests had begun filing in from the garden.

  “What is happening?” I heard one woman ask.

  “Where is the Colonel?” another man questioned.

  “Keep moving, please,” a man’s voice ordered. “Everyone inside. Make your way into any of the rooms that are open.”

  “Is he all right?” a woman asked.

  “Why can we not leave?” a man just outside the door asked, obviously quite angry.

  I looked over at Mrs. Montford. These people, while ignorant of the truth, were being cruel to her. She had just been told that her husband had died, and party guests out in the hall were complaining of inconvenience.

  Without waiting for permission, I moved over to the door and mercifully closed it.

  Quiet filled the room once more, as I rejoined Selina along the wall.

  Dr. Conolly stood and drew a chair beside the sofa for Mrs. Montford to sit in so that she did not have to stoop over her husband’s body.

  “Mrs. Montford,” Chief Constable Talbot said as she took the offered seat. He stepped up beside her, bowing his head, removing his hat. “I have asked men I trust to question the guests about whether they saw anything that may explain what has occurred.”

  She looked up at him, poised and composed. I knew the façade must be thin, and I hoped for her sake that it would last until she could mourn in private. “I suppose you are trying to see if he was deliberately killed?”

  “Yes,” the Chief Constable said. “We cannot be too careful. I shall be leaving some uniformed men here with you at the manor, in case the culprit, assuming one exists, attempts any further harm.”

  “Do whatever you feel you must, Chief Constable,” Mrs. Montford said. She looked up at him. “If someone has intentionally done this to my husband, then I want them found…and I want to make sure that they pay for it.”

  I had never heard her so cold. It sent chills down my spine and revealed to me that there was a great deal about this woman that I did not know—and must respect.

  It surprised me that she was so willing to adopt the idea that he had been murdered. I wanted nothing more than to lean over to Selina and ask her thoughts on the matter, but her lips were pursed, and I knew that any sound I might make would be clearly heard in a room as silent as this.

  Instead, I turned to look out the window, my mind mulling over the events.

  It had happened so suddenly. One moment, the Colonel had been standing there amongst his friends, laughing and happy, seemingly enjoying his birthday after whatever it had been that had angered him so much…and then he was gone.

  “There is nothing to indicate that he was otherwise harmed?” Mrs. Montford asked, still holding her husband’s lifeless hand in hers. “No markings?”

  “No, ma’am,” Dr. Conolly said. “No blood, no wounds. Any attack on him would have been witnessed by dozens of people. He was not even bruised by his collapse.”

  She nodded. “I thought as much.”

  Dr. Conolly wrung the handkerchief in his hand. “It may take me some time to discern the truth, but I will discover the exact cause of death, Mrs. Montford. That I can promise you.”

  “See to it that you do, Dr. Conolly,” she said, laying her husband’s hand back on his chest with great tenderness. She allowed her hand to linger atop his for a few moments before giving his a gentle pat and then withdrawing her own.

  She stood, looking around at Selina and me.

  “Chief Constable, if you are in need of me, I shall be in my quarters,” she said.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, solemnly.

  “And you would do well to find whoever is responsible before the day is through,” she said, striding toward the door.

  “Mrs. Montford, I’m dreadfully sorry to say this but I would not leave this room if I were you,” Dr. Conolly said.

  She rounded on him. “And why ever not?”

  “The guests,” he said, also getting to his feet. “They will want to know why they are being held here. And many may not be very pleased.”

  “He is right,” Chief Constable Talbot said, shaking his head. “I do not want you to be overrun with questions that you do not yet have the answers to.”

  Or questions
that she does not wish to answer, I thought.

  She sighed, taking a quick glance at her husband. “Very well,” she said, and she resumed her seat along the wall.

  I returned to her side, as Dr. Conolly resumed his place in front of the Colonel and began to look over the dead body once more.

  Some time passed. My knees began to ache from standing still for so long, but I remained vigilant, watching Mrs. Montford out of the corner of my eye. She asked for nothing and refused anything that Selina or I offered to fetch for her.

  Occasionally, some of Chief Constable Talbot’s men would pop their head back into the room, but their news was always the same; no one seemed to know anything.

  With a party as large as the one the Montford’s had thrown, it was horribly difficult to believe that no one had seen anything. So far, it seemed the information that had been gathered was worthless. None of the guests would admit to anything, and as the hours passed, the number of angry voices heard from across or down the hall grew.

  The other commonality I heard was that many of the guests simply assumed that the Colonel had fallen ill, and naturally, were wondering why they would need to remain for such a thing.

  It was only natural, then, that they might become suspicious that something else was happening. I wondered how long it would be before someone put the pieces together and realized that the Colonel had not simply collapsed out of illness.

  An officer entered the room at around half past three and hurried over to Chief Constable. Talbot. “Sir, we have run out of guests to question.”

  Mr. Talbot asked in a low voice, “And no one had any information?”

  The fellow shook his head. “No, sir.”

  Mr. Talbot sighed, running his hands through his hair.

  Mrs. Montford shifted in her chair, the first movement I had seen since she had resumed her seat along the wall.

  “Very well,” Mr. Talbot said.

  “Would it be best to allow the guests to go home, then?” Mrs. Montford asked.

  Mr. Talbot looked round at her. “Mrs. Montford, I am not entirely convinced that they are all telling the truth.”