Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
RHETT
I ’d glanced out the front window an embarrassing number of times. Ella’s pink knit beanie was the first thing I spotted as she reached the top of the gravel path. Her cheeks and nose were pink to match. The sun had made a rare appearance today, but there was still a glacial chill in the air. That same chill seemed to have seeped into all the bones of the house except the library. And that was only because I’d built a rather impressive fire in the hearth.
I met her at the door, like an excited kid waiting to greet his new best friend. I had some good news to tell my new friend. And it wasn’t just that the library was warm enough that she wouldn’t see her own breath as she rummaged through the books.
“Morning,” she said cheerily. “You look ready to start the day.”
“I am. There’s a fire in the hearth, so you don’t have to worry about frostbite, and I think I’ve found something that will interest you.” She hung her coat and hat on the hook in the entryway and walked with me to the library.
“There was a lock on the bottom drawer in the old desk. I didn’t know how long it had been locked, but I pried it open expecting to find things from the last occupants.” I paused in front of the desk. “The realtor told me that a foreign investor owned it from 1990 until 2010, and they occasionally rented it out until the last renters reported that it was not safe enough to live in because of the low water pressure and poor heating system. They were right, too. Anyhow, I thought I’d just find some meaningless paperwork. I found paperwork, but it’s not from this century. Or the last.” I handed Ella the pile of papers and account ledger I’d found in the bottom of the locked drawer. “I knew I’d discovered something important when I found a wax stamp and an old quill sitting on top of the papers.”
Ella stared down at the yellowed, crumpled stack of parchment as if I’d just handed her a diamond bracelet. “Oh, Rhett, what a find!” She smiled up at me. “You brilliant man. If I’m ever successful enough to hire a man Friday, you’ll be the first person I call.”
“And I would take that job. I’m going to start going through the book stacks. I hope you don’t mind. I’ll try and be as quiet as a mouse,” I said with a wink.
“You could probably drop a bomb in the middle of this room, and I wouldn’t notice because I’ll be so spellbound by these papers.” She turned around. “You pulled the chair closer to the fire, and may I just add—well done on the fire. Your Neanderthal ancestors would be proud.” She walked to the chair, plopped down, wriggled until she was sitting just right and started to look through the papers.
I went through the first set of books, random reference books about shipbuilding, crop harvesting and a large illustrated one about the wildlife of Africa. I put that one aside to keep.
“No way,” Ella blurted. She was holding a piece of paper. “And the pieces of the puzzle come together.” She pushed aside the rest of the pile and hurried across the room with a piece of paper that was so thin you could almost see through it. The letterhead read “Doctor Nielsen, Surgeon.” “It’s a bill and it describes the wound, a three-inch gash Margaret got on her leg when she slipped off a rock. I read all about it in her journal. The journal entry was June 12, 1899, and this invoice for medical care is dated August 3, 1899. It’s for a dose of laudanum and the application of leeches near the inflammation on her leg. Margaret’s wound still hadn’t healed nearly two months later.”
“Do you think that’s what killed her?”
“I’m not sure. I’ll have to keep looking. According to the newspaper, she died on November 3, 1899, of injuries sustained in a fall. That was just a few months after this doctor’s visit.” Ella did a little tap dance in her boots. “I certainly didn’t expect this big surprise when I got here this morning. I could kiss you,” she blurted and then froze. “I mean, metaphorically speaking, of course. I’m not actually going to kiss you because that would be weird since I’m here to do research, and you—” She started backing up. “I’m going to shut up now so that I don’t die from embarrassment before I get this piece written.”
I tamped down a smile as I turned back to the books. It was ironic, given that the notion of kissing Ella had already taken a few trips around my mind. Now I had to tamp down that notion along with the smile.
I was moving to the next shelf when Ella gasped. “Here it is. Another invoice and notes from Dr. Nielsen.” She looked up with round eyes. “It’s dated November 1, just two days before her death. There’s a description of the treatment, and boy, just the way it’s worded, it seems poor Mags was doomed.” Ella cleared her throat to read.
The patient, Margaret Grimstone, a 32-year-old woman, suffered head and back trauma after losing her balance on the stone steps leading from her house. A previous injury, a leg wound that had not healed and had been inflamed for months, made walking difficult. A servant came to help Miss Grimstone down the steps, but she was too late. Miss Grimstone tumbled head over heels, injuring her spine and skull. She was still conscious when I arrived but lost consciousness soon after she was carried to her room. The nearest surgical hospital is a two-hour ride by train or three hours by coach. It is unlikely Miss Grimstone would survive either. I’ve administered laudanum for the pain and cold compresses to keep the swelling down. It will be a wait-and-see situation.
Ella looked up with shiny eyes. “I guess we know how it turned out.” She wiped lightly at the corner of her eye. “Look at me getting all emotional about Mags. I guess after reading her journal, I feel like we became friends. I sure would have loved to know her. What a tragic end.” She shook her head and sniffled. “How embarrassing, dissolving into an emotional bowl of Jell-O like this.”
“No, don’t apologize. It’s sweet. You found a connection with Margaret Grimstone through her journal entries. Not many people have that kind of deep empathy. It’s admirable.”
Ella shyly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Well, I guess I’ll let you get back to the books, and I’ll get back to the papers.” She stopped and turned to face me. “It seems to me that Margaret’s bad luck started with that leg wound. That happened at a neighboring estate during a duck hunt. This house had nothing to do with it. Well, I suppose eventually it did, but only because of the first injury.”
I smiled at her. “Are you telling me this house just got a bad rap?”
“I think so. Of course, so far, we only know the details of Margaret’s misfortunes. I’m excited to see what else I can uncover about subsequent owners. But one thing I know for sure, none of them are going to be as cool as Margaret Grimstone.”