Chapter Twenty-Five #2
“Yes! That was my primary goal—and still is. And at the time, my life was on the line. If Clarke’s accusations in that letter were believed, I knew I could be tried and imprisoned for embezzlement and worse yet, possibly convicted of murder—and hanged.”
“That’s all just words, words from a man who is so very good at lying. Your story is impossible to swallow, Doctor. You wouldn’t have been convicted of murder. This house is full of witnesses who could attest that they saw Jack Clarke alive and well the day he arrived.”
“The London police would never have thought to look for Clarke hundreds of miles away here in Yorkshire,” the doctor exclaimed. “Why would they? They wouldn’t have had any idea where he’d gone. I’m telling you, the case against me would have been closed in ten seconds flat.”
Selena shook her head. “If Mrs. Hillman or anyone who knew Mr. Clarke had read that letter in The Times, they would have known he hadn’t died in London.”
“Clarke is a common name,” the doctor countered.
“They wouldn’t have connected a story about John Clarke to a man they knew as Jack.
At least, that’s what he was hoping, I’m sure.
And I didn’t know the people here when I set out.
For all I knew, Clarke had friends who would have lied for him.
I had to come. If nothing else, I had to prove that Clarke was still alive so that I wouldn’t be blamed for his ‘death.’” He heaved another sigh.
“The rest of it, you know. My train was stopped by the snow. I walked the last few miles and encountered your hall boy. Upon learning that you needed a doctor …” His voice trailed off.
“You saw it as the perfect way to gain entry to Darkmoor Park.”
“Yes.”
“And you introduced yourself as Dr. Adrian Scott—which was a lie.”
“How could I do otherwise?” He braced both hands on the altar and said impatiently, “For all I knew, you were already in possession of that edition of The Times that incriminates Dr. Andrew Dalton as a potential thief and murderer. And if not—when I saw that Clarke was here, and dead, I worried that he might have told you or someone else the same lies he had spewed in his letter to the newspaper—which indeed turned out to be the case. I feared that if you knew who I was, you would turn me in to the law.”
“So, you pretended to be Dr. Scott, a man who was so grateful to remain at Darkmoor Park for the holidays.” Selena looked at him, heartsick to her very core.
“When I—naively—shared Mr. Clarke’s dying words with you, and my suspicion that he may have been murdered for his money, you were only too happy to foster those ideas and join me in a treasure hunt.
And why not? Two heads are better than one.
And working with me meant you didn’t have to sneak around, and it gave you easy access to every room in the house. ”
His face turned a darker shade of pink. “I’m sorry. It did start that way, but …”
“You’re sorry?” Selena spat the words. She felt used, ridiculous. How effortlessly he had taken advantage of her and exploited her good nature. He must have been laughing at her all this time.
“Don’t you see? I had to find that money.
” His voice rang with desperation. “Every penny of it had been spoken for. Creditors were clamoring to be paid. I knew I would be liable for the entire sum. There was no way I could come up with fifty-two hundred pounds. When I couldn’t pay back that money, I would have been put in debtors’ prison.
I’ve visited patients who are incarcerated, although I wasn’t allowed to do much to treat them.
I know how horrible the conditions are—cruel wardens, severe overcrowding, lack of sanitation, and starvation all lead to the spread of diseases like typhus and typhoid.
Who knows how long I would have survived in such a dark and dismal place?
My freedom and possibly my very life were at stake. ”
He was breathing rapidly, and his eyes reflected such deep pain and anxiety that an unexpected wave of doubt washed over Selena.
She was aware of the awful conditions in the nation’s prisons.
It made sense that he would be terrified of facing such a fate.
But although his fear seemed genuine, was there any truth to the rest of it?
Or was it just a clever tactic to pull the wool over her eyes?
“Why would Mr. Clarke have told his dinner companions at the White Hart Inn about the money if he’d stolen it from a hospital fund? ”
“That, as Mrs. Whitlock said so eloquently the other day, must have been the drink talking. Clarke did tend to run off at the mouth when he’d been in his cups.
I’m guessing he was furious with himself the next day for revealing that—if he remembered it at all.
And it may have proved to be his undoing.
It may have led to his murder and all the threatening notes. ”
There might be truth in that, Selena realized.
Her thoughts veered to that bit about the blood on the carpet in Mr. Clarke’s study.
She was fairly certain Dr. Dalton had made up that sensational detail, as easily as he’d made up a new name.
But if, perchance, it were true, what did it mean?
Might Mr. Clarke really have sprinkled blood around and sent that letter to The Times to frame Dr. Dalton?
But no. That seemed impossible to believe.
“Even if Mr. Clarke did pay someone at The Times to publish that letter,” she reflected slowly, “or it slipped in without proper editorial oversight, it doesn’t prove that Mr. Clarke’s concerns were invalid.
He may have been truly afraid. He wasn’t a thief or a cad.
He paid Mrs. Hillman back, after all! She adored him. ”
“You put a lot of stock in Mrs. Hillman’s opinions of the man,” the doctor shot back.
“Why shouldn’t I? I like to think that she’s a good judge of character.
I only wish I could say the same for me.
” Selena fixed him with her gaze and let out a huff of self-derision.
“All this time, I’ve been on a wild goose chase, haven’t I?
When the Webster siblings came up, you must have seen that as quite an amusing diversion. ”
“No! No. You’re wrong there.” He raised his hands as if in self-defense. “I legitimately thought, and still think, that theory may be possible, even if it means there are two crimes going on here. Otherwise, who tried to poison Colonel Blackwood?”
Selena hesitated. Could he be right about that? Could Joe or Maisie Webster be at Darkmoor Park, after all, determined to complete their revenge plan—by getting rid of Colonel Blackwood and anyone who stood in their way? Or was the doctor merely spewing clever words again to throw her off track?
Selena’s head began to pound. The whole story was getting muddled in her mind.
“You sound so earnest,” she asked quietly. “But you have been lying to me through your teeth since the day we met.”
“I know. It was wrong. And I can’t tell you how sorry I am.
” The doctor took a step forward, then stopped himself, his features tense with apparent self-recrimination.
“Selena, from the moment I arrived at Darkmoor Park, I have been drawn to you. I told myself to keep my distance, knowing that I wasn’t being honest with you.
But I wanted to get to the bottom of these mysteries as much as you did.
It made sense to work together. I was already in too deep before I realized I had feelings for you. And—”
“‘Feelings for me’?” Selena repeated in disbelief. “What a joke. Is that something you feel compelled to say to try to win me over to your side?”
“What? No!”
Selena let out a bitter laugh. “When you shared that story about growing up in an orphanage, and your love of helping the sick, had every word been calculated? A ploy to arouse my sympathy and admiration? To distract me from the scheme you were perpetrating?”
The color drained from his face. “How can you even think that?” He hunched over, clutching his hands to his chest. “Selena. I wish, from the bottom of my heart, that we could turn back the clock and start over. I wish that we had met under different circumstances. But … after that first kiss, I told you I couldn’t help myself.
I wanted to be with you any way I could.
There were so many times I wanted to tell you … ”
The plaintive look in his blue eyes looked so genuine that it ripped at her heart and made her stagger back a step. She wanted so desperately to believe him. But how could she?
Vivid images of moments that she and the doctor had shared began to play in her mind—hunting in this chapel for hidden treasure, their midnight talks in her study, the snowshoe trek to the folly, the caring manner in which he had tended her burned arm, the kisses they had shared.
He’d had plenty of opportunities to tell her the truth about himself, but he hadn’t even tried.
She felt so stupid for falling for his lies—for actually imagining that she had fallen in love with him.
At the same time, a voice nagged at the back of her mind. Could that man, the man with whom she thought she had grown so close, be guilty of the charges that Mr. Clarke had laid at his feet? Was he a thief? Could he truly have threatened to murder Mr. Clarke? Had he poisoned Mrs. Whitlock?
Her gut, at war with her mind, told her otherwise. No. No! He couldn’t be.
And yet …
“One may smile, and smile, and be a villain.” That line had been spoken by Shakespeare’s Hamlet after he’d learned about the deceptive nature of Claudius, the new King of Denmark, who had hidden his villainy behind a facade of smiles and pleasantries after murdering his brother.
Selena had only known the doctor less than a week. People, she had learned, were not always what they seemed. The side they presented to the world might not represent their true character at all. How was she to know what he was capable of? He could just be a very good actor.