Chapter Fifteen #2
“Yes. I don’t remember her at all, I’m afraid.
She was the under chambermaid and kept out of sight.
” Mrs. Hillman tilted her head to one side.
“There was an older brother too, as I recall, who worked as a footman in a great house somewhere. I never met him, but Mr. Webster used to talk about both of his siblings, Maisie and Joe, with such fondness.”
“I never heard that old story about a theft at the hotel,” Mr. Davis remarked to Miss Goodwin.
“I saw no reason to tell you, dearest,” Miss Goodwin responded.
“Miss Goodwin.” Selena turned to her abruptly. “How did your mother die?”
The young woman’s eyes widened. “What? Why do you ask?”
“I was just wondering.” Selena cleared her throat. “When Mrs. Hillman wrote to you, and you mentioned that your mother had passed away, I don’t believe you ever said what had happened.”
“That’s true.” Mrs. Hillman turned to Miss Goodwin. “I didn’t want to pry. But I should dearly like to know. Was your mother ill?”
Miss Goodwin’s face grew pink again. She darted a glance at Mr. Davis. He averted his gaze. “No, she wasn’t ill.” She seemed to be searching for words. “She … She …” Her voice trailed off.
Was she unwilling, Selena wondered, or unable to complete the thought?
Selena leaned forward in her chair. “Miss Goodwin. Your mother and Mrs. Hillman had written to each other for years. They were dear friends. And we are all your friends now. I’m sure that whatever happened, your mother wouldn’t have minded you sharing it. ”
Miss Goodwin nodded almost imperceptibly and took a little breath.
“Well. If you must know, Mother had been suffering from insomnia. All the stress of running the hotel, you see, and people coming and going at all hours. She’d been taking laudanum to help her sleep.
And … she died from an accidental overdose in her cup of tea. ”
A gasp went around the room. Selena’s heart seemed to skip a beat.
Mrs. Hillman clutched at the collar of her satin gown. “But that’s … exactly what happened to Mrs. Whitlock. Except the laudanum was in her hot toddy.”
For the third time, an awkward hush enveloped the room.
Colonel Blackwood’s bushy brows drew together.
Mrs. Hillman wrung her hands. Miss Goodwin bit her nails.
Miss Thompson and Mr. Davis fidgeted in their chairs.
Dr. Scott’s features tightened, even as Selena felt her own jaw clench. What did this mean?
Colonel Blackwood suddenly slapped his thigh.
“I say. Why does everyone look so fretful all of a sudden? So, we happen to know two women who weren’t very smart about their laudanum intake.
My deepest condolences, Miss Goodwin. Your mother was a dear woman and deserved better.
But you heard what Dr. Scott said. This kind of thing happens all the time.
Why, I know at least six ladies who are addicted to the stuff.
I just hope and pray it doesn’t happen to them. Again, I’m very sorry for your loss.”
Miss Goodwin exhaled a long sigh. “Thank you, Colonel.”
“Colonel Blackwood is right,” Dr. Scott remarked with a self-effacing nod. “Meanwhile, this is a reminder to us all to be careful when taking a drug of any kind. And if a doctor prescribes something, be sure to ask him how to take it.”
Mrs. Hillman gave a long, sad sigh and looked around the room. “What a time we have had, my friends. After this, I wouldn’t blame you if you all chose to leave Darkmoor Park this very day.”
“I wouldn’t think of leaving,” Miss Goodwin insisted with a flap of her hand.
“And how could we, in any case?” Mr. Davis nodded towards the drawing room’s tall casement windows. “We are still snowed in.”
Selena followed his gaze. Snow was still falling from a moody, grey sky.
The rear grounds were covered in a thick, white blanket, and the trees and hedges were generously frosted in white.
Selena knew, from her earlier glance out front, that the long drive leading up to the house was also deeply buried.
“We are indeed, Mr. Davis. And even if it stops snowing tomorrow, it will no doubt be many days before the roads are cleared.”
“No matter. We all came to stay through New Year’s, didn’t we?” Colonel Blackwood said. “I say, let’s take all this in stride and make the best of it.”
The rest of the group nodded and voiced their agreement.
“I propose a quiet day,” Mrs. Hillman announced.
“Let us begin with a short service in the chapel in honor of Mrs. Whitlock, as we did for Mr. Clarke. After that, you may feel free to do whatever suits your fancy. There is a library full of books to read. There’s a chess board in that cupboard there, and as you know, a very good pianoforte in the music room.
Since it’s Boxing Day, our meals will all be cold, so you can dine at your leisure.
Let us hope for a better day tomorrow.” With that, Mrs. Hillman stood.
“And now, I beg you to accompany me to the chapel.”
As Selena rose along with the group and filed out of the drawing room, her thoughts returned to the story of the unfortunate porter, Clive Webster.
Three people who had been at the Worthing Seaside Hotel that summer, and who had reported Clive Webster as a thief, had died: Mr. Clarke, Mrs. Whitlock, and a few months ago, the proprietor of the hotel, Mrs. Doris Goodwin—who had called the authorities and had seen to it that Mr. Webster had been charged for the crimes.
Two of the victims had died from the same apparent cause: an accidental overdose of laudanum. Was it just a coincidence?
Selena didn’t believe in coincidences.
The party reached the chapel, where once again, Colonel Blackwood moved to the pulpit and began speaking about Mrs. Whitlock.
Selena, seated on her own at the back of the room, was unable to focus on his words.
An idea began to brew in her mind … a dastardly and frightening idea that might explain a way in which the seemingly disparate deaths were connected.
Mr. Clive Webster had apparently had a sister and a brother, Maisie and Joe Webster, with whom he’d been very close. What if, Selena wondered, one—or both—of Clive Webster’s siblings had murdered Doris Goodwin to avenge their brother’s death?
And what if one—or both—had come to Darkmoor Park seeking revenge on the other participants in the awful proceedings?
Selena dared a glance at Dr. Scott, who was seated a few rows ahead of her, at the far side of the sanctuary. He was staring at the floor, as if his mind, too, were elsewhere. Was he thinking what she was thinking?
Was it possible that she and Dr. Scott had been wrong, all this time, about the motive behind Mr. Clarke’s death? If the man had indeed been murdered, had it had nothing at all to do with the hidden money? Might it have been, instead, an act of revenge for what had happened to Clive Webster?
A cold tremor dashed up Selena’s spine. If she was right, the three deaths that had occurred would not be the last. The danger was still ongoing.
She needed to talk to Dr. Scott—and fast.