Chapter Twenty-Four #3
Selena seethed inwardly. The doctor must have been furious to discover that Mr. Clarke had left London with all the money meant for the hospital—money he had planned to steal himself.
Somehow, he must have learned where Mr. Clarke had gone and followed him.
His excuse for being on the train that had brought him here—to visit friends in Edinburgh—had been a total lie.
How convenient for him that there had been a patient at Darkmoor Park in need of medical attention.
How relieved he must have been to find that the patient in question had been Mr. Clarke himself—and that the man was already dead!
It had paved the way for the doctor to search for the money himself.
Selena’s hand went to her face with dismay as she realized that their entire hunt for the money had not been an effort on his part to return the funds to the hospital foundation, but for his own personal gain.
How could she have allowed herself to be taken in by this confidence man?
Had she learned nothing from her liaison with Jerome Withers?
Once again, she had allowed herself to be swept off her feet by a handsome, charming man in a whirlwind romance that had ended in deceit and heartbreak.
Selena’s throat constricted and she choked back tears. She felt like an utter fool. She had told the doctor about Mr. Clarke’s dying words, believing she could trust him. What else, she wondered, had he lied about?
Selena removed the breakfast tray from her lap and stood. The room began spinning around her and she sank back down onto the bed again. Wait, wait, she thought. What about the Webster siblings? How did they figure into all this?
The doctor had alleged that the Websters’ plot for revenge was a valid theory, and perhaps a separate crime that had nothing to do with the hidden money.
But what if he’d just said that to distract her from his true purpose in coming to Darkmoor Park?
What if Maisie and Joe Webster weren’t here at all—and never had been?
What if, as Mrs. Hillman had so often insisted, the entire Websters conspiracy had been a figment of Selena’s imagination?
Selena thought back to Mr. Clarke’s death. Had he indeed been murdered? Or had he simply taken a misstep on the stairs in the dark?
And what about Mrs. Whitlock? Selena and the doctor had both believed, in those first days on the case, that Mrs. Whitlock had wanted that five thousand pounds so badly, she’d written the threatening notes, warning them to stop looking.
To what lengths, Selena wondered with rising dread, would Dr. Scott—or rather Dr. Dalton—have gone, to ensure that no one else found that money before he did?
Another equally horrifying thought followed.
Yesterday, in the catacombs, just before that statue had come down upon her, Dr. Scott had moved away, taking the lantern with him.
Later, he had apologized, saying that he’d thought he’d heard something—a shoddy excuse for leaving her alone in the dark.
When she had exited the tomb, she’d lost sight of him.
Was it possible that Dr. Scott himself had pushed over that statue onto her?
Had he wanted Selena dead, so that once he found the money, he could keep every penny for himself?
Having failed at that attempt to kill her, would he try again?
Selena went stiff with terror. What now?
Their search yesterday had been aborted.
The doctor would surely go back to the catacombs on his own and keep looking.
Selena glanced out her bedroom window, blinking at the intense glare.
Billy had been able to reach the village on foot today.
Which meant that the doctor could do so as well.
If he found the hidden cash, he would flee.
Somehow, she had to stop him. Before he made another move.
If only she could go to the parish constable!
Selena’s breath caught in her throat. Today was the twenty-ninth of December—the day that the constable had planned to return.
If Mr. Johnson were coming home by carriage, he would be delayed, for the roads would be impassable.
But if the trains started running again, he might be back this very afternoon.
She could send word to the vicarage and ask Mr. Johnson’s housekeeper to let Selena know the minute he was back, explaining that she had important information to share with him.
Meanwhile, Selena decided, she needed to talk to Mrs. Hillman.
The older woman had dismissed everything Selena had told her so far, but Selena had new information now.
It was time to tell her not only about the doctor’s deception, but about Mr. Clarke’s dying words.
She glanced at the clock. It was a few minutes past nine.
Mrs. Hillman might still be in her room.
Selena quickly got dressed and pulled on her shoes. Pain erupted in her skull. She ignored it. The doctor had told her she must lie quietly in bed for another full day, or it could have unwelcome repercussions. But there was no time to think about that now.
Moments later, she was knocking on Mrs. Hillman’s bedroom door. There was no answer. Perhaps, Selena thought, Mrs. Hillman has already risen?
Selena made her way downstairs, ignoring the throbbing in her head and neck.
She peeked into the morning room. All the guests, with the exception of the doctor, were at breakfast. Mrs. Hillman wasn’t there.
Selena knew that her friend sometimes started the day with a visit to the chapel.
She hurried there, but to her disappointment, the sanctuary was empty.
It suddenly occurred to Selena that she was only steps away from the entrance to the tunnel to the catacombs.
If she could take another look—if she could find the hidden cash—she would have proof to help back up her claims against the doctor.
And she needed to get that money before he did.
Dread pooled in her stomach at the thought of entering that underground chamber again. But it had to be done.
Selena hurried to the shelving unit behind the altar. She was about to grab a candle when the bookcase door suddenly swung open.
And the doctor strode out through it.