Chapter Fifteen
A hush descended on the drawing room. Everyone turned to stare at Mr. Davis, who had raised the alarming question about Mrs. Whitlock’s death, asking if her poisoning had been accidental or deliberate.
“Bite your tongue, sir!” cried Mrs. Hillman, her tone aghast. “It’s bad enough that the poor woman died. To say she was murdered? Don’t make such absurd insinuations.”
Mr. Davis raised both hands now as if in apology. “Forgive me. I know that Mrs. Whitlock was your friend, Mrs. Hillman. And that she was your employer, Miss Thompson. But I have to say, she was not a kind woman. I didn’t like her. Did any of you?”
An awkward moment followed. At length, with a shrug of his shoulders, Colonel Blackwood admitted quietly, “She could be rather … prickly.”
“‘Prickly’?” Miss Goodwin made a scoffing sound. “She was hateful and always complaining about everything.”
“You didn’t know her as I did.” Mrs. Hillman held her head high. “Mrs. Whitlock has always been a good friend to me.”
Selena knew this wasn’t true. Mrs. Whitlock had shamelessly stolen her ‘friend’s’ brooch—a valuable pin that had been a treasured gift from Mrs. Hillman’s departed husband—and then lied about it. But this wasn’t the time to bring that up.
“Mrs. Whitlock may have had a negative view of things at times, but there was a reason for it,” Mrs. Hillman continued. “Her husband, whom she adored, passed away six years ago and since then, she has had to live in much-reduced circumstances, which has been very hard on her.”
“That’s no reason to plague the life out of her companion.” Miss Goodwin gave Miss Thompson a compassionate look. “We all saw the way she treated you, my dear.”
“If you ask me, it would have served her right if you had done her in, Miss Thompson,” Mr. Davis added with a chuckle.
Everyone seemed to freeze at this remark.
Mr. Davis colored slightly as if aware that he had once again spoken out of turn.
Selena noticed that everybody else, except for Mrs. Hillman, stole a hooded glance at Miss Thompson.
Selena couldn’t deny that Mrs. Whitlock had treated her companion very shabbily.
But for the young woman to resort to murder?
Selena didn’t believe it. Or maybe she just didn’t want to believe it.
Miss Thompson’s face went pale. “Don’t look at me,” she said quickly. “I admit, I didn’t like Mrs. Whitlock. But I didn’t kill her. Why would I?” Her lips trembled. “I needed that job. Now, I am unemployed, and I have no idea how I shall make ends meet.”
Miss Goodwin’s brows lifted, as if she hadn’t considered that. The rest of the group universally lowered their gazes as if processing this idea.
Dr. Scott pierced the ensuing silence. “I’m sorry, Miss Thompson. I can see that this has proven very distressing for you.”
Miss Thompson nodded, tears pooling in her eyes. She gave Mrs. Hillman an appealing glance. “I hope you will allow me to stay on, ma’am, after the weather clears? Even though my employer is … is no longer with us? Just for a few days at least?”
“Of course I will, young lady.” Mrs. Hillman gave her a warm smile. “You are one of us now. And pray, don’t be upset. No one in this room believes that you had anything to do with Mrs. Whitlock’s demise, believe me.”
Selena also rushed to the young lady’s defense. “Miss Thompson explained to us that Mrs. Whitlock was … how shall I put it … prone to taking laudanum quite regularly and did not always follow the advice of her doctor.”
“You mean she was an addict,” Mr. Davis blurted out.
Mrs. Hillman shot him a glare.
“I didn’t mean to suggest that,” Selena responded quickly.
“The evidence I found points to an accidental overdose.” Dr. Scott’s voice rang with authority.
“Unfortunately, this is not an uncommon occurrence. It is my belief that laudanum is too widely prescribed for even the most minor of complaints. I have observed nurses spoon-feeding laudanum to quiet crying infants. The drug ought to be regulated, and yet it is available without limit at every chemist’s and apothecary shop in the nation.
” He shook his head. “If I had known that Mrs. Whitlock had had a bottle of laudanum with her, I would have warned her about the dangers of mixing it with alcohol. But I didn’t know.
She took too much, and to my great regret, she is gone. And now let that be an end to it.”
Another silence fell. Colonel Blackwood crossed one leg over the other and nodded, as if in agreement with this pronouncement. Miss Goodwin and Mr. Davis exchanged a look and a shrug. Miss Thompson wiped her eyes.
Mrs. Hillman was the first to speak. “I’m sorry this happened, everyone. I don’t know what to say. It’s been a long while since we’ve had a death at Darkmoor Park. And now to think we’ve had two in two days.”
Selena was also wrestling with the strangeness of that.
A new thought occurred to her. “It’s also a bit of a coincidence,” she couldn’t help but observe, “that the two people who have just died were both at the Worthing Seaside Hotel with you four summers ago, Mrs. Hillman.” As she spoke the words, a jolt of doubt ran through Selena’s body as she recalled another one of her mother’s favorite sayings, which she and her sisters had adopted. “I don’t believe in coincidences.”
A faraway look came into Mrs. Hillman’s eyes. “You’re right. It does seem extraordinary, now that you mention it,” she noted.
Colonel Blackwood pursed his lips. “What are you saying? Do you think there might be a connection?”
Mrs. Hillman shook her head. “Of course not. How could there be? But it is peculiar. Especially when you consider the awful incident that transpired that summer.”
Selena’s entire body went on alert. “What incident?” She remembered Mrs. Hillman mentioning that something untoward had happened that summer, but she had never shared the details.
“Oh, that poor porter.” Mrs. Hillman glanced at Colonel Blackwood. “You remember, don’t you, Colonel? The boy who worked at the hotel and was accused of stealing?”
“Yes. A young chap.” Colonel Blackwood nodded. “He stole jewelry from several guest rooms. Took Jack Clarke’s prized gold watch, as I recall, my diamond stickpin, and some necklace belonging to Mrs. Whitlock.”
Mrs. Hillman’s eyes looked troubled. “What was the young man’s name again?”
Colonel Blackwood’s eyes narrowed. “Webster, I think it was?”
“That’s right! Clive Webster. He was accused of those thefts, convicted at trial, and sentenced to prison.” Mrs. Hillman frowned. “Mrs. Goodwin wrote to me last year to say that after serving two years, Clive Webster became ill and died in prison.”
“Oh! I had no idea.” Colonel Blackwood’s voice went quiet. “A sad end to the story. But then, he was a thief.”
“Perhaps.” Mrs. Hillman worried her lower lip.
“I have always wondered if that was true. Mr. Webster seemed like such a nice young man to me. He carried my bags in and out with a smile, he ran errands for me on a moment’s notice, and once, I’ll never forget it, he left a bunch of wildflowers in a vase in my room with a note wishing me a lovely day.
But apparently, Mr. Clarke told the police that the porter had eyed his gold watch covetously.
Mrs. Whitlock maintained that Mr. Webster had asked if her pearl necklace was real, which it was—and then both items, along with the colonel’s diamond stickpin, mysteriously vanished.
You spoke to the police as well, didn’t you, Colonel? ”
“Yes,” Colonel Blackwood affirmed. “They asked me to describe my stickpin.”
“Mr. Webster had access to all the guest room keys—his little sister was one of the maids, you see. So, he was blamed.” Mrs. Hillman glanced at Miss Goodwin. “It was your mother, Miss Goodwin, who initially called the constable.”
Miss Goodwin nodded slowly. “I remember Mr. Webster.” Her cheeks deepened in color as she spoke. “I was away on holiday with friends when you all stayed at the hotel that summer, and I didn’t attend the trial. But Mother was frightfully distressed about it at the time. So was I.”
“I told the constable that I didn’t believe the young man was responsible.” Mrs. Hillman shook her head. “But at the trial—none of us were there except Mrs. Goodwin, who wrote me all about it—she insisted that Mr. Webster should pay for his crimes.”
“Mother took great pride in our hotel.” Miss Goodwin’s eyes grew distant and appeared troubled. “If there was even a hint of any wrongdoing from the staff, she would let them go. She had to make an example of Mr. Webster, she said.”
Selena had been listening to all this in silent wonder. Mrs. Hillman had never spoken a word to her about this before.
“How terribly sad,” Miss Thompson said softly, “if Mr. Webster was actually innocent of those crimes.”
“Yes, very sad.” Miss Goodwin let out a long sigh.
The hairs on the back of Selena’s neck stood on end as an idea began to formulate in her brain.
She knew that Mrs. Whitlock had brazenly stolen Mrs. Hillman’s bejeweled brooch and hidden it inside her coat.
Given this illicit proclivity, was it possible that Mrs. Whitlock had also stolen those pieces of jewelry from the hotel that summer?
The woman’s claim about her own stolen necklace might have been a ruse to divert suspicion from herself.
Had Mrs. Whitlock allowed an innocent young man to go to prison for thefts that she had committed?
If so, how awful! And furthermore, if so … could that crime all those years ago have become a motive for her murder today? If so, Mr. Webster couldn’t have done the deed, since he had died. But perhaps someone else had sought revenge on the lad’s behalf?
“Mrs. Hillman, did you say the porter had a younger sister?” Selena asked.