Chapter 19 #3
Dr. Marsland summarized the situation for the newcomers.
“Sadly, Lady Celia has died. A pity, but not wholly unexpected. After a cursory examination, I would say the most likely explanation is that she died of heart failure. Miss Loveday initially suspected another overdose. She is no doubt sensitive after the mishap with the digitalis and perhaps jumped to that conclusion. Forgive me for saying so, Miss Loveday.”
Dr. Finch spoke up. “Surely that’s a question for a coroner’s jury. An autopsy might prove it one way or another.”
“Or it might not,” Dr. Marsland said evenly. “You know they are often inconclusive. And not often required, in cases where natural causes seem most likely.”
“Well, if an overdose was involved,” Mr. Dalby said, “I still say Miss Loveday is responsible.”
“Why?” Anne challenged. “I am not the only person with access to opium or digitalis.”
“Are you looking at me?” Dr. Marsland’s dark brows rose in astonishment. “Of course as a physician I have access to both, as has Dr. Finch, and the local druggist. But I hardly think—”
Anne went on, “Not to mention many household medicine chests and gardens. Why, even Miss Fitzjohn grows poppies and foxgloves.”
Dr. Marsland frowned again. “Surely you don’t suggest that Miss Katherine—”
“Calm down, Dr. Marsland,” Miss Fitzjohn implored. “You too, Jude. Miss Loveday had no reason to want to harm Mamma.”
“Well . . .” Dr. Marsland began. He and Dr. Finch shared uncomfortable looks, and then the older doctor turned to Anne, apology in his tone. “You did tell us you were not sure you could take proper care of Lady Celia because you resented her.”
“Resented her?” Katherine asked. “Why would she?”
“Yes, I used to resent her for my sister’s sake,” Anne said. “But I would never hurt her. Or anyone.”
“What has Mamma to do with your sister?” Katherine asked, confusion puckering her tear-stained face.
Anne huffed a sigh. “Mr. Dalby told my sister, Fanny, he wanted to marry her but his aunt had threatened to disinherit him if he did so. I recently asked Lady Celia, and she denied knowing anything about it, so I had no reason to resent her any longer.”
Katherine barked an incredulous laugh and turned to her cousin, lip curled.
“Is that what you told her? Your auntie made you break it off?” She looked back at Anne.
“I am sorry, Miss Loveday, but Jude does what Jude wants. If he broke things off with your sister, he did so because that’s what he wanted to do.
Probably because she wasn’t rich enough. ”
“How perceptive, Kat,” Mr. Dalby dryly replied.
Anne noticed Dr. Finch glance at Rosa in concern.
Dr. Marsland cleared his throat. “Now, back to the matter at hand, if you will. Please remember Miss Fitzjohn has just suffered a terrible loss. Let us treat Lady Celia’s passing with the solemn respect it deserves.
Miss Loveday, perhaps you might repeat your concerns now that Dr. Finch has joined us. ”
Anne swallowed and drew a shaky breath. “Her pupils were small and her breathing and pulse rapid before slowing and ceasing.”
“I am not surprised,” Dr. Marsland said. “Remember, she has been taking both digitalis and laudanum for some time. There’s bound to be a residual effect. And as far as her pulse and breathing? Definitely attributable to her dropsy. Do you not agree, Dr. Finch?”
“I . . . em, yes. Though I did not see what Miss Loveday witnessed.”
“And I smelled opium and spices on her breath,” Anne said.
Dr. Marsland nodded. “Again, we must take into account that she regularly consumed laudanum. Smelling it in her room and on her person is not the least surprising. And you said it yourself. No laudanum is missing. The amount in the bottle is what you have so diligently recorded should be there. Is that not what you told us?”
“Well . . . yes.”
“So you may wish to rethink your claims of an overdose,” Jude said, “especially as you are the most likely person to have given it to her.”
“But I didn’t!”
Dr. Marsland rested his arm upon the mantelpiece and drummed his fingers as he studied Anne’s face.
“I am inclined to believe you. Therefore I suggest we allow Lady Celia’s passing to be observed without the indignity of twelve jurors marching into her room to stare and prod at her, not to mention the horrors of an autopsy.
That is, of course, if you agree, Miss Fitzjohn. ”
Katherine shuddered. “She would have hated that.”
Dr. Marsland nodded. “I believe you’re right. Again, I saw no obvious signs of opium poisoning. Unless there is specific evidence of wrongdoing, I will have no hesitation in signing the death certificate.”
Dr. Finch asked to pay his respects to Lady Celia, and no one objected, although Dr. Marsland and Katherine went upstairs with him. The younger physician asked Anne to accompany them as well.
When they entered the room, Dr. Finch asked, “Do you mind if I look more closely? Examine her—just for a moment?”
Dr. Marsland hesitated, and sent an inquiring look at Miss Fitzjohn.
“A second opinion is always a good idea,” she mildly replied.
Dr. Finch carefully pulled back the sheet. He looked into Lady Celia’s eyes, sniffed her mouth, and studied her extremities.
While he did so, Louie crept out from under the bed. Anne had forgotten about him during the crisis.
Katherine reached down and picked him up. “Oh, you poor thing.” She held him close, the two clearly drawing comfort from each other.
They all watched in silence for a few minutes longer as the younger physician continued his examination.
Finally, Miss Fitzjohn asked, “What do you think, Dr. Finch? Would I be wise to insist on an inquest? Dr. Marsland does not think it necessary.”
Dr. Finch glanced at the senior physician, clearly reluctant to contradict him.
Katherine then turned to Anne. “Do you really think someone may have given her a large dose of opium or some other poison?”
Anne hesitated. “I certainly thought so at the time. But I can’t prove it. It’s . . . possible I was mistaken.”
Dr. Finch looked at Miss Fitzjohn and asked kindly, “Will you always wonder? Your mother was a woman of influence and wealth. It might be wise to do everything officially and correctly to assure yourself . . . and others . . . there is no doubt of the cause of death.”
Katherine considered. “I agree. Can you summon the coroner, or shall I send Buxton?”
“He’s in Stroud, I believe,” Dr. Marsland said. “I’ll ask the constable to alert him.”
“Thank you.”
She turned back to Anne. “Please stay on at least until after the coroner has come and gone. He may have questions.”
Anne nodded. “Of course.”
Dr. Finch added, “And please do not disturb anything or move or wash the body until the coroner has finished.”
“Oh. Very well,” Katherine replied. “I had not thought of that.”
Anne said to her, “Your mother sent me out earlier to ask Mr. Strong to call at four. Perhaps you might send Toby to let him know his presence is no longer required?”
Katherine’s brow furrowed. “Did she want him to come and pray for her, or . . . ?”
“To witness the signing of her will.”
“Good heavens! Then I am right to request an inquest. Yes, I will make sure he is informed.” Katherine turned to the older man. “Come, Dr. Marsland. I shall walk you out.” She exited the room, stroking Louie as she went.
Anne decided she would let Mrs. Pratt know she wasn’t needed either.
After the two had left, Dr. Finch lingered. He studied Anne in concern. “Are you all right?”
She chuckled rather bleakly. “No.”
“Can you describe everything that transpired? I hate to ask you to relive it, but I’d like to understand what happened here.”
“So would I.”
Anne told him all she remembered in as much detail as she could.
He considered, then said, “My only hesitation in supporting an inquest is that it may lead to an autopsy, and if evidence of opium poisoning is found, it would look very bad for you, Anne.”
“I have proof I didn’t do it.” Anne explained again the system she and Rosa had developed.
“That isn’t very solid evidence, I’m afraid. You might have simply refilled the bottle with something else. You have no shortage of medicines in that case of yours.”
“Oh. I had not thought of that. Nor did I do that.”
“I know. I don’t doubt you, but others might. If Lady Celia was given a lethal dose, do you have any idea who might have done it?”
“Well, I recently heard Mr. Dalby arguing with his aunt over money. She threatened to revise him out of her will. Again, I can’t prove it. But he certainly had a motive.”
The dressing room door inched open, and Rosa peeked out, gaze wary. Seeing it was only Anne and her uncle in the room, she hurried forward and enfolded Anne in a warm embrace. “How horrid this has been for you! I’m so sorry, Anne. I know you would never hurt her, no matter what Mr. Dalby said.”
“Thank you. You didn’t see or hear anyone in here with Lady Celia while I was out, did you?”
Rosa shook her head. “Do you think someone came in and poisoned her then?”
“I think it’s possible.”
“Who? Mr. Dalby?”
Anne hesitated. She did not want to give Rosa any more reasons to seek her own revenge, to make the man suffer. So she only said again, “It’s possible.”
Rosa nodded. “After all, he was worried his aunt planned to change her will, and not in his favor. And I brought back a revised draft from her solicitor in Gloucester. . . .”
“Which she planned to sign this afternoon,” Anne said. “With the curate and her cook-housekeeper here to act as witnesses.”
Anne glanced at the clock. “It will be four soon. Perhaps I had better go down and let Mrs. Pratt know her presence is no longer required.”
Dr. Finch said, “I will do that for you on my way out.”
“Thank you.” Anne turned back to Rosa. “You said you knew where the new will is?”
“I did. Though I’m not sure it’s still there.” Rosa turned as though to begin looking.
“Don’t!” her uncle warned. “We are not to disturb anything until after the coroner and his jury have seen the body in the place where she died.”
“Oh.” Rosa turned back.
He added, “If Lady Celia was poisoned, the person responsible is likely someone living here in Painswick Court. Yes, maybe even Mr. Dalby. Another reason to keep your distance from that man, Rosa. The sooner you leave this house, the better.”
“I can’t leave tonight. I have a few things to finish for Miss Fitzjohn, and then must settle the matter of my pay. But hopefully by tomorrow. Or the next day at the latest.”
“Then I suggest you lock your doors before you go to sleep tonight—the both of you.”
Anne retreated into her little room, part numb, part reeling. Had she been wrong? Her mounting suspicions causing her to see—and smell—things that weren’t there? Or was someone in Painswick Court a killer?
At the thought, a chill crept up her spine.
Even though it was only late afternoon, she lost no time in following Dr. Finch’s advice.
She still couldn’t lock her own doors, but she locked Lady Celia’s door and Sir Herbert’s as well.
Assuming Rosa also followed her uncle’s advice and locked her outer door, they would both be safe.
Anne walked over to make sure Rosa had done so before returning to her own room.
Then she sat on the edge of the narrow bed, held her head in her hands, and wept. For Lady Celia, for Katherine, for her own mamma, and for herself. She tried to pray but could find no words beyond “O God, please let it not have been my fault.”