Chapter 20
A sound disturbed Anne’s slumber, and she startled awake. She must have cried herself to sleep for she still wore her day dress and darkness showed through the small window above her. For a moment she forgot Lady Celia was dead and there was no reason to rush to her bedside.
Then she heard it again. A jiggling door latch? She peeked into Lady Celia’s dim room and realized someone was trying to enter. Then a man swore.
Anne tiptoed through Sir Herbert’s room and gingerly unlocked that door, opening it only wide enough to see Mr. Dalby, candle lamp in hand, tromping down the stairs in defeat.
Anne waited a few moments, then crept from the room and stood peering over the banister.
His voice drifted up to her. “What’s going on? Her door is locked.”
“Is it?” Katherine asked placidly, coming into view below. “That’s probably because we are not to disturb anything in there until the coroner comes.”
“Why is the coroner coming?” Mr. Dalby demanded. “Marsland said her death was natural.”
“Because I insisted upon it. Apparently Mamma was about to sign a new will, and there seems to be some doubt as to why she died.”
“Only from little Annie Loveday. And she’s no doctor.”
Katherine suddenly glanced up. Her gaze flew to Anne like an arrow finding its target. Anne froze. Caught.
But Katherine went on as if she had not noticed. “By the way, I’ve asked Miss Loveday to remain here, should the coroner have any questions for her.”
“Why would you want her to stay? If Aunt Celia was helped along in departing this earth, certainly the nurse administering her medicines—and who knows what else—is the likely culprit.”
“Are you suggesting Anne Loveday has a stronger motive than, say . . . you?”
“Kat . . .” A warning note laced his tone.
“If you’re going to go around wildly accusing people, don’t forget our dear cousin Jasper—who, last I heard, is in the same position as I am where the inheritance is concerned.
And now that he is about to be cashiered, he may be as financially desperate as I am too. ”
“Are you sure you don’t know where he is?” Katherine asked.
“I don’t.”
“I hope he’s all right.”
A short while later, despite the late hour, the coroner arrived from Stroud with Dr. Marsland and the local parish constable.
After speaking to Miss Fitzjohn and viewing the body on his own, the man issued a warrant to summon twelve substantial householders to serve as the coroner’s jury, and the constable left to carry it out.
A few hours later, men from all over the parish arrived at Painswick Court, some on foot, some on horseback, and a few in carriages.
Together, the jurors were led upstairs to Lady Celia’s room to view the body.
The coroner asked Dr. Marsland to join them and give his opinion.
Not being acquainted with the younger physician, he didn’t summon Dr. Finch, who had returned home to care for Robbie.
Anne waited in the parlour with Miss Fitzjohn and Rosa.
She was tempted to let herself into the dressing room, knowing she could probably hear what was said from there, but didn’t want to risk being caught.
She nervously wondered if Mr. Dalby would voice his suspicions about her or adhere to Dr. Marsland’s conclusion instead.
To distract herself from her worries, she tried to read. Why she picked up the volume on nursing when her patient had died, she didn’t know. Perhaps to review its advice and see if she had neglected to do anything she should have.
Believe me, gentle reader, if there is a balm in Gilead, if there is anything to soothe the wounded mind when the beloved friend or relative is committed to the grave, it is the reflection that we have done our duty, and that we have left nothing undone which it was in our power to perform.
Happy is that mind which feels no self-reproach. . . .
Anne shut the book. She couldn’t say that was true for her.
A short while later, the jurors departed.
The coroner, accompanied by Dr. Marsland, stopped briefly in the parlour to speak to Miss Fitzjohn.
“We will hold an inquest at the Falcon, but it will be a mere formality, as Dr. Marsland is confident your mother died of natural causes. Of course I understand your reasons for wanting to follow official procedures to assure there is no doubt, or at least, no significant doubt.”
Anne’s ears pricked up at that. Had the man some doubt? Noticed some of what she had?
“And do you think a postmortem would be advisable?” Katherine asked.
“I do not. Unless you have a specific reason to believe there may have been foul play?”
Katherine looked across the room at Anne, hesitated, then said, “Miss Loveday, who is here as Mamma’s nurse, seemed to have some concerns.”
He nodded and turned to Anne. “Dr. Marsland said you noticed her pupils were constricted, and her breathing and pulse rapid before she died?”
“Yes. And I smelled opium on her breath.”
“I understand you had been administering laudanum to her for some time, along with digitalis for her dropsy, per Dr. Marsland’s orders. Is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“The symptoms you mentioned are all attributable to dropsy as well as the medicines she was taking. Dr. Marsland agrees, as did, I believe, his young partner, when he examined the body. Correct?”
Anne nodded.
“So unless you have concrete proof or saw someone giving her something, I see no reason to complicate this, nor to subject her ladyship to a gruesome procedure and her family to the distress of it.”
Anne swallowed an awkward lump. “I have no such proof. Nor did I see anyone give her anything.”
“There you have it. I hope that reassures you, Miss Fitzjohn.”
“It does.”
“You can, of course, insist on a postmortem at your own expense, but I don’t feel justified in charging the fee to the county.”
“I understand.”
“In that case, shall we send for the undertaker?”
Katherine flashed one more look at Anne and then Rosa, bit her lower lip, and said, “I would like to give Mamma a proper funeral as soon as may be. But tomorrow will be soon enough to start making arrangements.”
He nodded. “Very well.”
Dr. Marsland spoke up, adding kindly, “There is no hurry. Take all the time you need to say good-bye.”
“And to prepare her,” Katherine said. “We were told not to before.” She turned to Anne and Rosa. “Will you two help me? Wash and dress her into something more becoming?”
“Of course,” Anne agreed.
Rosa said, “I will be happy to help too.”
The women worked together to wash and dress Lady Celia and change the bedclothes. Anne noticed Rosa looking beneath the pillows with a frown on her pretty face, but she made no comment. Instead she tidied the woman’s hair and helped Katherine and Anne straighten and arrange her limbs.
When all was finished, the three stood solemnly gazing down at her.
“I am sorry, Miss Fitzjohn,” Anne said. “Sorry for your loss. Sorry I was not able to save her.”
“Thank you. But it was not your fault.” Katherine sent her a sidelong glance. “It wasn’t your fault, was it?”
“No. That is, I did no harm to her, though I wish I had done more good.”
Katherine nodded slowly. “You’re not alone in that. Mamma liked you, Anne. Moreover, she trusted you, so I trust you.”
“Thank you,” Anne replied. Thoughts of lobster soup, bees, and the blue vase danced on the edges of her mind, but she pushed them away. Now was not the time.
Instead she said, “She loved you, Katherine, if I may call you that. I know she did.”
Katherine exhaled a long breath. “I hope so.” She glanced at the lady’s maid. “She was fond of you too, Rosa. So much so that I admit I was quite jealous at times.”
“No need. She didn’t like me quite so much at the end, I fear.”
“Oh?”
“May I tell you another time?” Rosa said. “It’s late and we’re all tired. I will say, I am gratified to hear your mother liked me. I liked her too. It’s been a pleasure to become acquainted with you as well.” Rosa grinned. “And your lovely hair.”
Impulsively, Anne took Rosa’s hand, and after a moment’s hesitation, tentatively took Katherine’s too, relieved when she didn’t pull away.
Gazing down at the still figure once again, Anne said reverently, “Good-bye, Lady Celia. We will never forget you.”
Tears filled Katherine’s eyes. “Even if we wished to.”
The work finished, Miss Fitzjohn retired to her own room. As the door closed behind her, Anne’s stomach growled. Only then did she remember she’d eaten nothing since breakfast. She went downstairs to find a late supper for Rosa and herself.
In the kitchen, she found the cook digging through drawers and cupboards.
“Ah, Miss Loveday. My best knife has gone missing. Kezia and I are searching for it. You didn’t happen to take it upstairs with you? To slice a bandage or some such? Can’t imagine where it’s got to. . . .”
“No, I’m afraid not. I will look and also ask Miss Stark if she has seen a kitchen knife where it shouldn’t be.”
“Thank you, miss. If you find it, take care. It’s devilish sharp.”
The next morning, Katherine asked Buxton to summon the undertaker, who came to measure the body and provide a wool shroud, then departed to give the coffin maker instructions for building a coffin.
News of Lady Celia Fitzjohn’s death swept through the town like a fire through a hayfield.
The curate, Mr. Strong, came over to pray and discuss funeral arrangements with Miss Fitzjohn.
With the aid of the new crutches, Charlotte Newland came over to see Anne that afternoon, full of concern for her. Anne assured her she was well and would be returning to Yew Cottage as soon as Miss Fitzjohn no longer had need of her.
Miss Fitzjohn had also asked Rosa to stay on a bit longer to alter her old mourning gowns from her father’s death more than three years before and to help her choose a few new mourning gowns from a local modiste as well.