Chapter 11
Mrs. Locock and her baby arrived promptly at ten on Wednesday morning. Lady Styles waited in Julia’s outer room with the child’s nursemaid.
Mary Locock laid the boy on Julia’s examining table, peeled back two layers of blankets, and untied the strings of an outer hat, revealing a knitted cap underneath. A five-month-old with blond curls, blue eyes, and a runny nose emerged from his wrappings.
“This dreadful weather, but I bundled baby Henry up.”
“A case of the sniffles, I see,” Julia said.
“My husband thinks I fuss. He’s a great believer in mustard plasters for colds, but I wasn’t sure. What do you think, Doctor?”
“I wouldn’t apply one to a baby’s delicate skin. It does nothing but cause blisters. Let’s have a look.”
Julia performed an ear, nose, and throat examination. She listened to the baby’s lungs and heart, inspected his skin, and checked for a rash under his nappy. Then she weighed him.
Julia asked, “Is he eating well?”
“Yes. My father-in-law arranged for a wet nurse. Sally, poor soul, lost her husband and only child last year. She is waiting outside with Susan.”
“Henry’s weight is normal for his age, so all seems well.”
The mother bit her lip and looked down at the baby. “One hears so many things about wet nurses.”
“Such as?”
“A relative who visited over Christmas told me … She said … Well, my cousin painted a very dark picture.”
Heaven, defend us from well-meaning relations. Julia asked, “Tell me, does Sally live with you?”
“Yes, and she is a tidy and most respectable person. And so fond of my little boy.”
“Then let me ease your mind. Sally is well-nourished and lives in a warm, comfortable home. You have nothing to worry about.”
“Thank goodness. And little Henry … What is your opinion, Doctor?”
“Children catch colds, and you’re right to be concerned. But I listened to his chest, and his lungs are clear. So is the discharge from his nose, a sign there’s no underlying infection.”
“He is so precious to us. A gift from God after I thought I’d never …” Mrs. Locock sighed. “I had little choice about hiring a wet nurse. Henry is adopted.”
“I see.”
“As a girl, I never began my monthly flow. The doctor’s examination found that my womb hadn’t developed properly.”
“It’s a rare condition. I’m sorry, Mrs. Locock.”
“Frederick said it didn’t matter, but I hesitated when he asked me to marry him. Then his father heard about a baby. My father-in-law said the mother was unmarried but from a good family.”
Julia nodded. “I know of other such arrangements.”
“Frederick and I wed last summer in some haste, in time to receive the child.”
“So, marriage and motherhood all at once.”
“Yes.” She looked down at the baby and stroked his hair. “Henry … although my husband wants to call him by one of his middle names, Leicester. He thinks it sounds distinguished. I think it’s a mouthful.”
“Well, whatever his name, it’s a happy conclusion.”
“For us, certainly. But I sometimes think …” She bit her lip. “I wonder about the mother. Who she is. If she’s at peace. Frederick says I mustn’t dwell on it.”
“Well, we can’t always command our thoughts. It seems natural to wonder. But don’t worry about your baby. He’ll be fine in a few days.” Julia smiled. “Whatever you decide to call him.”
“Thank you, Doctor.” Mrs. Locock gathered her things and stood.
Lady Styles and Julia walked Mrs. Locock and the wet nurse to their carriage. By the time they rolled away, the baby was asleep in his mother’s arms.
“With the weather turning on us, she’s anxious to get the baby home, Susan said. “I didn’t want to make her wait for me. The fog is likely to grow worse.”
“There’s a cabstand a few steps away at the top of Circus Road, so you’ll have no difficulty.”
Lady Styles sighed. “Mary Locock is a sweet soul but a worrier.”
“Not unusual with new mothers. Come inside.” Julia took her arm. “And tell me what I can do for you.”
“First, I have a request from the Princess of Wales.” Susan smiled. “Your conversation about women patients preferring women doctors got her thinking. Could the princess call on you to treat the illnesses of her female household staff?”
“Of course. Princess Alexandra’s offer is an honor.”
“I explained to Alix that your afternoons are devoted to the clinic … but perhaps your mornings?”
“They’re freer than I’d like, so yes.”
“Splendid. I mentioned it to the housekeeper, hoping you’d agree.” Susan smiled. “Mrs. Craddock said to put her name at the head of your list.”
Julia shook her head. “This is a morning of surprises. Now, how can I help you?”
“I’m not ill, at least as far as I know. I suppose what I want is a … talking consultation.”
“Very well.” Julia gestured to a pair of chairs. “Let’s sit by the fire.” After Lady Styles had settled into her seat, Julia said, “Now, in your own good time, tell me your concerns.”
Susan looked down at her hands. She twisted her wedding ring, frowning. “I suppose I should begin with my marriage. It wasn’t a happy one. My husband died four years after our wedding.”
“I’ve noticed your half mourning. So, you’ve been a widow for …”
“Nearly three years. I’m not na?ve, Doctor. My late husband was my senior by over a decade, and one imagines men have … experiences that women lack.”
“Generally, that’s true.”
“But I was unaware of the extent of my husband’s profligacy. One isn’t supposed to say these things, but his death was a release. Now, Alix’s anxiety has made me wonder if I have reason to worry that he may have infected me.”
Julia reached across and squeezed her hand. “If polite society knew how many ladies come to me with your fears. Let me see if I can relieve them.”
The doctor questioned her about the range of syphilis symptoms. Happily, Lady Styles was free of them all.
“Timing is critical,” Julia said. “The disease often goes through a long, latent period. And the sufferer is least infectious during the latent stage.”
“So, my husband …”
“Either he was free of the disease, or his illness was at the stage when the disease was quiescent.”
“Thank you, Doctor. You’ve lifted a weight. And should I ever marry again … Well, one wouldn’t want to cause harm to another person.”
“Of course.” Julia wondered if she had a particular gentleman in mind.
Lady Styles opened her handbag’s catch. “I also come as the bearer of news from Princess Louise. Information about Lizzie Dowling.”
“The princess heard back from Germany so quickly?”
“After Princess Louise wrote to her sister, she decided the post would take too long. Her Royal Highness enlisted the prince’s private secretary to help her send a cable.”
“How good of her to take the trouble.”
“Oh, she enjoyed it, believe me. The telegraph may become her preferred mode of communication. Princess Louise adores speed—on foot, horseback, and driving a carriage. She terrifies her sisters when she takes the reins.” Lady Styles handed Julia a cable. “Princess Alice’s reply.”
The telegram read, ASK LADY MIDDLEBURY ABOUT HER LITTLE BIRD FROM KILDARE. WILL WRITE TODAY WITH DETAILS I REMEMBER. Julia looked up. “Who is Lady Middlebury?”
“She was the queen’s lady of the bedchamber when Lizzie joined the royal household.”
“Lady Middlebury’s ‘little bird from Kildare’ … It’s an odd phrase,” Julia said. “Is the lady still in royal service?”
“She retired and lives in a grace-and-favor cottage near Windsor Castle.” Susan frowned. “I’m afraid the subject of the cable came up at luncheon. Princess Louise explained its purpose and mentioned your name.”
“May I ask who was lunching at the time?”
“Everyone on the inspector’s list, I imagine,” Susan said ruefully. “Except Captain Locock. I don’t believe Princess Louise grasps the implications for her brother’s circle of friends. Any novelty excites her, and the need to be discreet about the cable never occurred to her.”
“What do you make of it all, Lady Styles? You are acquainted with all the—”
“Suspects? I suppose that’s the word. Yes, I know them all. Some very well, making it more difficult to believe anyone is guilty.”
“The first case I worked on with Inspector Tennant—and the most recent—the guilty parties were people I’d come to know.”
“Are we to believe that anyone is capable of murder?”
“It’s an unsettling thought.”
“Lionel seems to think … He believes that Frederick Locock has risen to the top of the inspector’s list. I’d put Captain Locock on the bottom, frankly.”
“Inspector Tennant isn’t the sort of policeman who fastens on a suspect and pursues one theory of a case.” She held up the cable. “May I keep this? The inspector should see it.”
Julia walked Lady Styles to the pavement, pointing out the cabstand just visible in the mist that crept along Circus Place.
She watched Susan’s cab disappear into the fog, happy she’d allayed her health questions, wondering about other suspicions the lady harbored.
Susan Styles struck Julia as uncommonly intelligent.
Was it as difficult as she claimed to think any one of the men was guilty?
And why had she risen to the defense of Captain Locock?
Least likely, Susan thinks. I wonder who tops her list?
Tennant’s hunch about army veterans at the Yard who served in the Crimea paid off.
O’Malley said, “A sergeant gave me the name of a fella in the Blues. Ted Watford. He walked a Westminster beat until the Met let him go for drunkenness on the job.”
“Where do we find him?”
“He turns up from time to time at the Golden Lion. Old pals stand him a pint or two. But the man does his serious drinking near his home in Aldgate. ‘Drowning his troubles,’ the sergeant said.”
“Do we know where, exactly?”
“The Hoop and Grapes on the High Street.”
“Let’s pay it a visit.”
“Leads aren’t thick on the ground, I’m thinking,” O’Malley said, following him out the door.