A Study in Death (Lady Darby Mystery, A Book 4) Page 3

  “Lady Drummond, stay with us. Help is on the way.”

  But even as I spoke, her pulse continued to drop.

  “Lady Drummond,” I gasped.

  A raspy, anguished breath rattled from her throat as her body exhaled. I watched her chest rise once, twice more, and then it stopped. Her eyes, which had remained locked on mine, grew vacant. Lady Drummond was no longer with us.

  I exhaled shakily, an unconscious imitation of the baroness, and sank back on my calves. Shocked silence filled the room, ringing in my ears, broken only by the sound of one of the maids weeping. Her lady’s maid clasped her hands over her mouth to stifle a cry. I didn’t turn to look at the others, but I assumed they were as appalled and disbelieving as I was that Lady Drummond was dead.

  Yesterday she had been so full of life. Distressed and uncertain, but also warm and vital. Now she lay before me growing cold, whatever troubles she’d struggled with still unburdened.

  The heavy hand of guilt pressed down on my heart. What if I’d asked? What if I’d tried to make her talk to me? Perhaps this wouldn’t have happened. Perhaps she would be settling into her chair as I set out my art supplies, laughing as she shared a humorous anecdote about her young children.

  I shook the distressing thoughts aside, and forced myself to focus on what was before me. I could no longer ask her what had worried her, but I could find out what had happened to her.

  I reached out to run a hand over her eyelids to close them, and then glanced around at the servants gathered in the room. What had they seen?

  “You said Lady Drummond vomited,” I said as calmly as I could, turning to her lady’s maid. Tears trailed down the girl’s cheeks. “Did you notice anything strange in it? Any blood?”

  She sniffed and shook her head.

  “What did she have to eat?”

  The maid had opened her mouth to answer when a gruff male voice in the hall cut her off. “Where is her ladyship?” the man demanded, his footsteps loud on the wooden floor.

  The servants standing in the doorway all turned as one to allow a tall, bespectacled man with an expanding waistline past.

  He took in the scene with one glance and then waved his hands. “Move.”

  Jeffers and the two maids hastened to comply, though I moved more slowly. He set aside his bag and knelt on one knee beside Lady Drummond, reaching out to feel her pulse much as I had. I watched as he studied her pale complexion and the position of her body.

  “Did she clutch her chest in pain?” he asked no one in particular, not even bothering to lift his gaze.

  The servants all looked to Jeffers, who cleared his throat. “Ah, yes.”

  The physician nodded and pushed to his feet. “Apoplexy.”

  I frowned at his hasty diagnosis. “She also vomited.”

  He reached into his pocket to extract a handkerchief and removed his spectacles to clean the lenses. “That’s not uncommon.”

  “But she wasn’t even thirty,” I pointed out, my voice growing more agitated. “And her facial features were numb, as if she couldn’t move them.”

  The physician glanced up at me for the first time, his mouth turning downward like his mustache. “And just who are you?” he retorted, replacing his spectacles.

  I squared my shoulders. “Lady Darby. I’m a friend of Lady Drummond’s.”

  His eyes narrowed, as I’d known they would. “Oh, I know who you are.”

  I tried not to react to such a barbed response, though I was quivering with anger and frustration. “Some of her symptoms are strange,” I argued. “Are you certain it wasn’t poison?”

  “Now, see here. You may have assisted your late husband with his dissections and experiments.” He nearly spat the words. “But you do not have a medical degree. Furthermore, you’re just a woman. One with a rather tarnished reputation.” He scoffed. “As if you have any right to question my findings.”

  I clenched my hands, wanting more than anything to plant the man a facer, but it was far more important that we find the truth for Lady Drummond.

  “But don’t you want to be certain? We should send for Sergeant Maclean with the Edinburgh City Police . . .”

  “We are not sending for the police,” Lord Drummond declared in his booming voice as he strode into the room. His eyes seemed to skim over the sight of his wife’s body, barely giving her notice. “What happened?” he asked the physician.

  The medical man shot me another glare before addressing his lordship. “Most likely an apoplexy. Though I suppose it could have been gastric fever.”

  Lord Drummond nodded. “Then what need would we have for those scurrilous busybodies crawlin’ aroond my house, pocketin’ my silver?”

  “I didn’t suggest it,” the physician declared, nodding to me.

  Lord Drummond scowled, and I decided it would be best to speak before he sent me away.

  “My lord, I believe your wife may have been poisoned. Surely you want to be certain.”

  He studied me with his dark eyes, as if weighing my worth. “Davis, is it possible?”

  “Highly unlikely, my lord,” the physician sneered.

  “My lord, I am not unacquainted with such matters,” I argued, infuriated that they would not listen to me. “In fact, I suspect I have more experience than Dr. Davis when it comes to poisons.”

  “Oh, I’m sure ye do.” Lord Drummond’s voice had turned nasty. “But I willna have ye attachin’ scandal to this household where there is none. You may be used to it. Ye may even enjoy it. But I assure ye the rest of us do not.”

  I stood there stunned. I had meant that I was familiar with poisons through my artistic pursuits. Cautious artists knew that many of our pigments contained poisons—arsenic and aconite and antimony, among others. But, of course, the baron had jumped to a different conclusion.

  I swallowed, trying to gather my thoughts, but Lord Drummond had already turned away from me.

  “Jeffers, see Lady Darby out.”

  Then, much as the day before, he showed me his back, dismissing me entirely. However, this time, I could not find the words to protest. In any case, what could I possibly say? It was clear that Lord Drummond and Dr. Davis would not listen to me, whether because of their own prejudice or, more disturbingly, because there was something they wished to hide.

  I had not forgotten Lord Drummond’s treatment of his wife or his outburst the morning before. Nor had I failed to notice his eagerness to accept his physician’s diagnosis and his determination not to involve the city police. He’d scarcely given his dead wife’s body a second look, nor did he appear in any way to be grieving. I was deeply suspicious, but sharing my thoughts with him would do no good.

  I glanced down at Lady Drummond’s slack features. I was reluctant to leave her behind, but I realized I had no choice. I only hoped something could be done before all potential evidence of wrongdoing was discarded or destroyed.

  The other servants were careful to keep their eyes averted as I followed Jeffers through the doorway and down the corridor to the front door. He offered me my cloak, which he’d gathered from the parlor. I draped it around my shoulders, staring up at him in determination. His eyes gave very little away, but I could sense his sadness in the heaviness of his eyelids, the slight slouch of his shoulders. I only hoped Lady Drummond’s affection for the man would not prove unfounded should a test of his loyalty arise.

  “I’ll be back,” I told him, unwilling to leave without saying something of my intentions.

  Jeffers did not reply, but I thought I saw a flicker of consideration in his eyes as he handed me my satchel. Then, with my head held high, I turned to march through the door.

  CHAPTER 4

  I stood on the pavement outside the Drummonds’ town house, uncertain what to do. It felt completely wrong to walk away, but what choice did I have? Lord Drummond had essentially ejected me from his h
ome. I couldn’t very well sneak back in through the servants’ entrance, though I did contemplate it.

  I considered heading straight to the police house off Old Stamp Office Close up in Old Town to look for Sergeant Maclean, but there was no guarantee he would be there, and I didn’t know any other officers I could trust. Besides, Gage had warned me about going there alone. No one reputable visited the police house, least of all a genteel woman, and I would only be inviting trouble for myself and Maclean.

  I shivered as a gust of wind blew down Hanover Street, pressing my skirts against my legs. I needed to speak to Gage. He would know what to do. Wrapping my forest green cloak tighter around me, I hefted my satchel and hurried south toward George Street. The weight of my art supplies wrenched my shoulder, but there was nothing to be done. Philip kept only one carriage while in Edinburgh, so the coachmen delivered me to my portrait sessions and then picked me up later at the appointed time. It would have been silly for them to wait for me, and inconvenient for Philip or Alana should they need to use the coach.

  I glanced down bustling George Street and decided to cross over to Rose Street instead. At half past ten in the morning, with much of society still rising from their beds or seated at breakfast, New Town was not as busy as it would be later in the day, but there were still enough earlier risers and prosperous merchants about to concern me. Considering my ultimate destination, the last thing I wanted to do was draw attention to myself, and I was sure to do that lugging my satchel several blocks. If I were observing the proprieties, I should have returned home to Charlotte Square and sent a note around to Gage asking him to call. But I knew I would never be able to hide from Alana how upset I was. She was already under enough strain. I didn’t want to risk sending her into early labor.

  Still, I couldn’t march up to the door of the building on Princes Street where Gage rented his bachelor quarters and demand to see him. Such a thing simply wasn’t done. At least, not by respectable women.

  I paused at the intersection of Frederick Street to set my bag down. Rolling my arm in its socket to ease the pain, I glanced around for one of the young lads who hung about, waiting to earn a few pence by running errands or holding the reins of a gentleman’s horse. I should have known one of them would find me.

  “I’ll carry that for ye, m’lady. For a threepence.”

  The boy stared up at me with restrained eagerness, letting me know he was keen to earn the money, but experienced enough to understand that if he appeared too willing, he might earn less. His clothes were scuffed and dirty, but in good repair, and his face had been scrubbed clean, even if he had missed his neck. Unlike many of the lads, he clearly had someone to go home to. Though whether that was a good thing or not depended on the person he lived with.

  I decided he would do.

  “No, but I do need you to deliver a message,” I replied, kneeling to extract my sketchbook and a lead pencil. I hastily scribbled a note and folded the paper before handing it to the boy along with a half-crown. He nodded once to indicate he understood my directions to Gage’s lodging house. “Take this note to Mr. Gage there and he’ll give you an additional crown for your trouble.”

  The lad’s eyes lit with an avid gleam and he tipped his hat and took off at a run.

  I lifted my satchel and continued down Rose Street. At the last block, I turned left into the mews that led behind the buildings on Princes Street. I could hear the stable lads jesting with one another in one of the carriage houses near the corner, but the rest of the lane was quiet. The servants tucked themselves up inside where it was warm, away from the leaden skies and blustery wind.

  I paused to consider two black doors toward the middle of the block of buildings, trying to remember which one was correct. I’d only been here once, in the dark of night two months ago, and I hadn’t gotten a good look. The buildings looked the same, though the roofs were slightly different. One was darker than the other. I thought the building on the right was correct, but ultimately decided to stand between the two doors in case I was wrong.

  The boy had clearly moved quickly, because I didn’t have long to wait. The door on the right opened, but still I hung back until I saw Gage’s golden head peer around it.

  “Why, Lady Darby, had I only known how eager you were to see my rooms, I would have invited you up long ago and saved myself a crown.” His eyes twinkled devilishly. But the teasing light died when he saw my face more fully. “Kiera, what is it? Has something happened?”

  “It’s Lady Drummond.” I had a difficult time choking out the words. “She’s dead.”

  His eyes widened and he reached out to usher me inside. “Come with me.”

  After taking my satchel from me, he glanced up the stairs with a frown before guiding me downward instead. At the base of the stairs he opened a door I knew to be his woodshop. The air inside was cold and sharp with the scents of sawdust, lacquer, and wood stain. The sunlight filtering in through the dusty windows high on the wall was faint, but bright enough to see the tables and the shelves of equipment.

  He shut the door softly behind us before speaking in a low voice. “I would have taken you up to my rooms, but I’m afraid Crawford has visitors in the den.” He set my bag on the floor and reached out to clasp my shoulders. “Now, tell me what happened. What do you mean she’s dead?”

  I swallowed, biting back a wave of unexpected tears I hadn’t even known I was suppressing until I’d seen Gage. “I arrived at Lady Drummond’s town house this morning at the usual time for her portrait session,” I began, speaking slowly. “It took the servants longer than normal to answer the door, and when I was finally allowed in, it was to find Lady Drummond collapsed on the floor.” I gripped his arms. “She was in horrible pain. I tried to help, but . . . there was nothing I could do.”

  He pulled me close, cradling my head against his chest. I burrowed into him for a moment, absorbing his warmth, but then I pushed away, recalling my urgency.

  “Gage, I’m almost certain she was poisoned, but the physician who came to examine her declared it an apoplexy. He barely looked at her. And he didn’t even bother to ask the servants what had happened.” My voice rose in outrage. “Lord Drummond was more than happy to accept his diagnosis, and when I tried to voice my doubts, he implied I was ghoulish and scandal-mongering, and had me escorted out of his house.”

  His brow furrowed. “Well, given your past, I suppose you can’t be surprised by his reaction.”

  I reared back in shock.

  “Not that I agree with him,” he protested heatedly. “You know I’m tired of people’s ignorance. But it happens all the same. Why do you believe she was poisoned?”

  His response appeased me somewhat, but I couldn’t help searching his face for even the tiniest bit of disbelief as I relayed the details to him. “Her maid said she vomited forcefully, and she was clutching at her abdomen where she lay on the floor. Her face was also oddly slack, while the rest of her was rigid with pain. Gage, her eyes were pleading with me to help her.” I squeezed my own eyes shut, trying to erase the sight. “It was awful.”

  Gage considered the matter. “It is odd for the physician to diagnose such a thing so quickly in a woman so young.”

  “She was a healthy woman. There was no reason she should have had an apoplexy.” I was beginning to feel agitated that he didn’t seem to grasp the seriousness of the situation. “Don’t you see? They could be destroying and discarding evidence as we speak. We need to do something.”

  “Now, calm yourself a moment,” he said, gripping my arms again. “We can’t simply charge into the Drummonds’ house and accuse the man of concealing his wife’s murder.”

  “Oh, I don’t think he’s just concealing it.”

  He looked at me more closely. “You think he murdered his wife. Because you suspect he mistreated her?”

  I could tell he doubted me already. “Not just that. You should have seen him t
oday. When he arrived, he hardly spared her a glance. There was his wife’s dead body splayed out on the floor before him, and he didn’t display even a flicker of grief or shock.”

  He opened his mouth as if to protest, but I spoke over him, knowing what he was going to say.

  “It’s not that I thought he should have broken down in tears or anything like that. I know all about you gentlemen and your pride in your stiff upper lips. But he could have spared her more than a mere glance.”

  “Kiera, I understand what you’re saying, but even if their marriage wasn’t happy, even if he doesn’t grieve her loss, that doesn’t mean he killed her.”

  I backed away from him, crossing my arms over my chest. “I can’t believe it. You don’t believe me.”

  “It’s not that. You’re making some very serious accusations. We need to consider the matter carefully before we stir up a hornet’s nest when there might be no reason for it. You said yourself that you were almost certain. Is that enough?”

  I turned aside to stare up at the murky window. Was it? How sure was I that Lady Drummond had been killed by poison? Certain enough to stake my reputation and that of Gage?

  “I liked her,” I told him, my voice emerging softer than before. “I sincerely liked her.” I knew he would appreciate the weight of those words, for I did not say them often. “And I suppose I could relate to her in ways I can’t with other ladies.” I glanced at Gage to find him watching me in quiet understanding. “I wanted to help her, but I didn’t want to push her into telling me things I knew she wasn’t ready for.” Guilt squeezed my chest. “I thought she might be starting to trust me, you know. Yesterday morning. She asked if I was still assisting you with your inquiries.”

  “Really? Just yesterday?”

  I recognized the hint of interest in his voice. I’d noticed that the more he suppressed his inflection, the more intrigued he was.