Peccadillo at the Palace

by Kari Bovee

  Frank mumbled something incoherent in response, and Annie pulled on her blue velvet dressing gown, another gift from Frank. His love and generosity knew no bounds, and she hoped she would someday be worthy them. It still surprised her that, of all the women in the world, the handsome, dashing, talented Frank Butler had chosen her. She prayed his illness would not be life threatening.

  When she ushered Dr. Adams back into their stateroom, she saw that Frank had vomited again, and this time missed the chamber pot. She set to work cleaning up the mess while the doctor examined Frank.

  “I’m perplexed by this illness.” Dr. Adams walked over to the ewer, soaked the rag again and placed it back on Frank’s forehead. “You say he seemed improved earlier?”

  “Yes. After you gave him the sodium bicarbonate.”

  “Did he have anything else before that? Did you give him some other stomach powder?”

  “No. But Miss Parsons did. Remember? Frank saw her and Miss Brady on deck, and they gave him sodium bicarbonate. He seemed to have gotten worse after that. Oh, no!” Annie put her hands to her mouth.

  “What is it?”

  “What if I’m right, and someone is trying to poison Frank? It might be them.”

  “Who?”

  “Miss Parsons or Miss Brady.”

  “I don’t follow.” The doctor shook his head, took a seat on the chair next to the bed.

  Annie told him about the two women traveling under assumed names.

  “Anna Parnell?” The doctor stroked his mustache with his thumb and forefinger, as if trying to register the name. “But why Frank?”

  “I don’t know. But I believe one of them killed Mr. Bhakta.” Annie proceeded to tell the doctor about the fingerprint findings.

  “That’s astonishing. Don’t you think you are jumping to conclusions? I fear your imagination is getting away with you, my dear. I can’t think why they would want to harm your husband. He says he has no association with the Fenians, and even if he did, they support the Fenian movement.”

  “I’m just as perplexed as you are. But why would Becky Brady’s fingerprints be on a tear catcher filled with viper venom? And she showed up at the captain’s stateroom after Mr. Bhakta was retrieved from the water. She might have been checking to make sure she’d finished the job.”

  “Or the girl could have been lost as she’d explained.”

  “But the fingerprints on the tear catcher?”

  “Can you be absolutely sure they belong to Miss Brady?” the doctor asked, his expression dubious.

  Annie knew the fingerprints were a match. She was certain. But the doctor was unconvinced. She’d have to find more.

  “Fine then. Before I notify the captain and accuse these two women of this horrible crime, I will speak with them one more time. Just to be sure,” Annie said.

  The doctor nodded. “Very well. I suppose there is no harm in that. But what about your protection? Your husband is ill.”

  Annie got up and walked to the bureau. She opened the drawer and pulled out her pistol.

  “You seem to forget, Dr. Adams. Annie Oakley is a perfect shot.”

  Doctor Adams gave Frank some willow bark to bring down his fever, and more sodium bicarbonate for his aching stomach. He fell asleep immediately.

  By the time Annie had dressed and braided her hair, twisting it into a neat knot, Frank was awake again.

  “How do you feel, dear?” Annie rushed to the bed, sat down next to him, and took the damp rag from his forehead.

  “What happened?” He asked, looking into her eyes with confusion.

  “You woke in delirium. Dr. Adams came and gave you more medicine. You don’t remember?”

  “I thought it was a dream.”

  “I hope you are better for good.” Annie pushed the sweat-caked hair away from his temples. “Would you like me to have a bath brought in for you?”

  “That might be just the ticket.” Frank took hold of her hand, and Annie kissed the back of his.

  “I’ll have it brought down right away. Will you be able to bathe yourself or do you need my help?”

  “Well, if you insist.” Frank’s lip curled up into a half-smile.

  “Frank, don’t embarrass me.”

  Under the sheets, Annie was powerless against Frank’s ministrations, but outside the love nest, she always tried to behave with complete decorum as a proper Quaker should. She had been raised to believe that lovemaking was purely for the purpose of bearing children. But, despite their frequent activity in bed, she had not yet conceived. She knew she should want children, but secretly, she wasn’t sure if she did, at least not now. She loved the freedom of being on the road—traveling with the show. Her younger years had been full of responsibility, and she never dreamed she would have the freedom she was experiencing now.

  “Annie?” Frank cupped her chin with his fingers. “You drifted away. I was only teasing you, dear.”

  “I’m sorry.” Annie refocused on him. “Do you need my help?”

  “Tempting as that sounds, darling, I don’t need a nursemaid quite yet. There will be plenty of time for that when I am an old man.”

  Annie knew he had sensed her embarrassment and tried to make light of the subject, putting her feelings first.

  She debated whether or not to tell him of her suspicions of Miss Parnell and Miss Brady, but she decided not to. She didn’t want him upset. She would explain later.

  “I’m off to see Emma.” Annie stood, walked over to the basin, and retrieved the rag. “Put this on your forehead until the bath arrives, just for good measure. And it won’t be a hot bath, I’m warning you. Mother always took us to the river after a fever. Said the cold water chased away the devil.”

  “I can hardly wait,” Frank said, plopping the rag on his forehead.

  Down the hallway, Annie knocked on Emma’s door. When there was no answer, she headed out to the foyer to search for her in the dining room. To her surprise she found Emma in conversation with Miss Parnell, Miss Brady, and Mr. O’Brien.

  “Annie, your timing is impeccable,” Emma said, pulling her by the elbow into the conversation. “I was just telling Miss Parsons that we would like a word with her and her two companions.” Emma’s brows lifted, waiting for Annie’s response.

  “Oh yes,” Annie said, turning to Miss Parnell. “It is of the utmost importance that we speak with you. Could we retire to your stateroom? I’m afraid the matter is a bit delicate.”

  “Of course, this way, please,” Miss Parnell said with trembling lips. Miss Brady wrung her hands.

  The three started ahead of Annie and Emma, but Annie caught Mr. O’Brien’s sleeve.

  “Please, Mr. O’Brien. I’m afraid the conversation is not for mixed company.” If things went awry, Annie didn’t want to have to defend herself against such a large man—although she didn’t doubt that she could. She felt the weight of the pistol she’d put in her dress pocket and hoped the situation wouldn’t bear her using it.

  Mr. O’Brien’s cheeks flushed even redder than his ruddy Irish complexion, his orange hair clashing with his pigmented skin. He cast a glance at Miss Parnell, who nodded her assurance and proceeded to lead Annie and Emma to her stateroom.

  They entered to find the room tidy, the twin beds made, covered with lovely quilts. Not the standard ship’s issue. They must have brought their own. Annie’s eyes scanned the room, for what she didn’t know, but it seemed a reasonable thing to do.

  Miss Brady shut the door behind them and walked over to one of the beds. Annie noticed a book on the nightstand and her blood froze.

  “I see you enjoy the works of Mr. Blake?” she said to Miss Brady, but her eyes traveled to Emma.

  “Well, yes, I suppose. I’ve just started reading his book.” She pointed to it on the nightstand. “It was in the room when we arrived. He’s quite brilliant. I’m an admirer of his philosophies—and his belief that each of us reflects the contrary nature of God. We are all inherently good— and evil.”

  Annie wa
sn’t sure she could agree, but that was beside the point. “You didn’t bring the book on board with you?” Annie asked.

  “No. Like I said, it was here when we arrived.”

  “Which brings us to the matter at hand.” Emma pulled her notebook and pencil out of her skirt pocket. “Miss Parsons—or should I say, Miss Parnell—why are you really traveling to England? And what is your real name, Miss Brady?”

  Miss Parnell’s face drained of color, and she sank to the floor in a faint.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Annie knelt down next to Miss Parnell, whose eyes fluttered open. Annie helped her to sit, and then she and Emma both took her elbows and helped her to stand. Miss Brady brought the chair from the desk over to them, but when they sat her down, the woman’s head lolled back as if she’d lost consciousness again.

  “How dare you upset Miss Parsons like that?” Becky glared at Emma. “You say you need to speak with us, get us down here in our room, and then verbally assault her.”

  Annie ignored Miss Brady’s accusation and patted Miss Parnell’s cheeks, trying to revive her.

  “Please, Emma, fetch some water.” Annie held Miss Parnell erect in the chair. The woman came to again, blinking her eyes, taking in deep gulps of air.

  “I’m sorry we upset you, Miss Parnell,” Annie said, “but we simply must know why you are traveling under an assumed name, and if Miss Brady is doing the same.”

  Emma handed Annie a glass of water.

  “I’ll give it to her.” Miss Brady snatched the water glass out of Annie’s hand and held it to Miss Parnell’s lips. “Here you go. Drink it down,” she ordered.

  “I can keep up this charade no longer,” Miss Parnell said to Becky through her tears. “We must tell them the truth. I’m so very tired of living a lie.”

  “We don’t have to tell them anything.” Becky’s cheeks flushed a blotchy, angry red. Her eyes stabbed daggers at Annie and Emma. “Get out of our room.”

  “We just have a few questions for you, Miss Brady.” Annie straightened, looking her directly in the eye.

  “In regards to what?”

  “Is Becky Brady your real name?”

  “Yes, it’s my real name. Why are you asking these questions?” She looked from Annie to Emma, and then back to Annie.

  “It concerns the death of Mr. Bhakta,” Annie said, gauging her reaction.

  Miss Brady’s jaw snapped shut, the muscles flexing with tension.

  “Miss Oakley, what do you want to know?” Miss Parnell lifted her head, her voice weary.

  “What is your current affiliation with the Fenians, Miss Parnell? We know you’ve worked on their behalf in the past. We also know that you have issues with the Crown.”

  Miss Parnell raised her gloved hands to her temples. “Yes, I’ve been involved with the Fenian movement. It is for the sake of the tenant farmers in Ireland. England has been a cruel landlady, Miss Oakley. The Irish are starving. They have no ownership of their own land—they have been evicted from the farms they’ve tended their whole lives. I was passionate about the movement, but no more. I gave everything I had to it, and now I am seeking quiet solitude in England under an assumed name. I want no more affiliation with any political movement. I just want to live out my years in peace.”

  “The Fenians nearly killed this woman with work,” Becky broke in. “She deserves some peace and quiet. You leave her alone.” Becky’s hand shook as she pointed her finger at Annie.

  “Miss Brady, you and Miss Parnell can speak with us, or you can speak with the captain. We have information that could be damaging to both of you,” Annie said.

  “It’s fine, Becky,” Miss Parnell said. “The truth needs to be told.”

  Miss Brady took hold of the woman’s hand. “They all but abandoned us—my—her brother and his mistress, that whore, Katherine O’Shea.”

  “It sounds as if you aren’t fond of the Fenians at all, Miss Brady.” Emma gave Becky a pointed stare.

  “Becky is my daughter.” Miss Parnell said.

  The younger woman started to say something, but Miss Parnell held up her hand, signaling to Becky to let her finish.

  “Before the movement started, I fell in love with a man in America. From our love, came Becky. And yes, Brady is her real name. When I told Mr. Brady of the pregnancy, he left me. I didn’t know that my beloved Martin was already married, with a large family of his own. What was I to do? My family was in Ireland, and I was alone. After I gave birth to Becky in secret, I told people I had adopted her. I was free to pursue the cause of the Irish, unencumbered by the duties of a wife.” Miss Parnell pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve and wiped her eyes.

  “He abandoned us.” Becky’s voice trembled. “He was the first. Then my uncle, Charles Parnell, when he took up with that whore!”

  Miss Parnell snapped out of her tearful reverie. “Becky! Stop this, now. You’ll excite yourself.”

  “No. No!” Becky shrieked. “They’ve all abandoned us. The hateful lot of them.” Becky’s breath came hard and fast, and her eyes took on a wild and vacant stare. She picked at the buttons on her sleeves, her fingers moving rapidly.

  Miss Parsons stood up from the chair, grabbing Becky by the wrists.

  “Stop this, Becky. You’ll have one of your fits. You must calm down. Where are your powders?”

  “They hate us. They want nothing to do with us. We are alone. Alone!” Becky began pulling at her hair.

  Miss Parnell moved Becky to the bed and sat her down. She waved the glass at Annie.

  “Water, please.”

  Annie refilled the water and gave it to Miss Parnell, who took a packet of powder from Becky’s reticule and stirred it into the water. She held the back of Becky’s head and raised the glass to her lips. Becky was shaking from head to toe, her eyes mad, her lips clamped shut.

  “Please, help me,” Miss Parnell said to Annie and Emma. “Someone hold her for me. I must get her to swallow the medicine.”

  Annie and Emma went to the bed and took Becky by the arms. Becky twisted and turned, fighting against the three women trying to hold her still, shrieking as if she were being attacked.

  Miss Parnell let go of Becky’s head, stood back, and then slapped Becky hard across the face. The girl stopped shrieking, but her chest still heaved with shallow, short breaths. She stared at her mother with wide eyes, but when Miss Parnell shoved the glass at Becky’s lips, she drank.

  Annie could feel the muscles of the girl’s arms relax, and within a few seconds, her whole body deflated. She closed her eyes and collapsed, falling on the bed on her side. Miss Parnell lifted Becky’s legs onto the bed and straightened her inert body, tucking a pillow beneath her head.

  “As you can see, my daughter has emotional difficulties.” Miss Parnell stroked Becky’s russet curls. “That is why we are going to England. My brother felt I should put her in an institution in America, but I will not. I can take care of my daughter. Mr. O’Brien is a family friend, along as a protector for us.”

  “Miss Parnell.” Annie touched the woman’s sleeve. “If you think Becky will rest quietly now, I’d like for you to sit down. Emma and I have something very important to discuss with you. It concerns Becky.”

  Annie and Emma let Miss Parnell make her way over to the chair and settle herself before delivering her suspicions.

  Miss Parnell sighed, looking up into Annie’s eyes. She bit her lip, as if preparing herself for terrible news. Annie’s heart ached for her.

  “Miss Parnell, it seems, well, we have found evidence—” Annie struggled to make herself say the words.

  “We believe Becky may have killed the queen’s servant, Mr. Bhakta.” Emma finished for her.

  “What? What are you saying?” The color drained from Miss Parnell’s face, and her lips turned pale.

  “We have evidence she may have poisoned him,” Annie said.

  Anna Parnell shook her head back and forth, her eyes wide with fear. “This cannot be. Becky would do no such thing. Wh
y would she?”

  Annie told her of the fingerprints and the note with the excerpt from Blake’s poem.

  “It all adds up, Miss Parnell. You yourself said that Becky is not emotionally fit. I don’t know why she would wish to kill the queen, but the evidence is there. I also feel that for some reason, she might be trying to harm my husband.”

  “Your husband, why on earth—?”

  “When Mr. Bhakta was pushed overboard, there is evidence that he might already have been poisoned. My husband was pushed overboard as well. Then later, you and Miss Brady gave him some sodium bicarbonate that made him very ill. We believe that Becky used a poison we discovered in a vial called a tear catcher. Her fingerprints were on it. Have you ever seen her with anything like that?”

  “No. But why would she want to kill your husband?” Miss Parnell, obviously still reeling from the shock of the accusation, looked from Annie then to Emma, and back to Annie again.

  “I believe she heard Mr. Patel say my husband is associated with the Fenian movement. When we were in the captain’s quarters with the body, discussing what should be done with the body, I saw Becky lurking in the doorway right after Mr. Patel made the allegation. And she has just made it clear she has a grudge against the Fenians.”

  A loud knock on the door startled them all. Emma went to the door and pulled it open.

  “We heard yelling over here.” The colonel took off his hat and stepped into the room, followed by Nate Salisbury.

  “Is everything quite all right?” Mr. Salisbury asked.

  Annie placed a comforting hand on Anna Parnell’s shoulder. “Yes, Colonel. I believe we have found the murderer of Mr. Bhakta. Would you please fetch the captain?”

  The colonel replaced his hat and left without another word. Nate Salisbury stayed behind.

  “Is there anything I can do to assist you, Miss Oakley?” He pointed to the unconscious Becky. “Is she ill?”

  “She isn’t physically ill, but I am afraid she isn’t well mentally,” Annie told him. Mr. Salisbury, impeccably dressed as usual, tugged at the bottom of his vest to straighten it. His handsome, usually stoic face registered concern.