CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE #2
She stroked his hair until he fell asleep, tucked the blankets around them both and snugged in tight against him.
She’d still have to tell him there would be no child just yet.
Nothing was as it appeared. At least the battlefield was honest. She blamed her return to Gettysburg on recent events and her inability to get back to work on the memoir, the nightly purge.
Every battle ended—she just had to be patient.
Leona lay beside him with her eyes open for as long as she could stand, finally easing away from him and out from under the warm blankets.
Her study beckoned. She drew out her journal, pen, and ink and got to work until a tap at the door interrupted her speculations.
Mrs. McCarthy entered, her eyes filled with worry.
“What’s happened now, Mrs. McCarthy?”
“It’s the police, m’um. They wish to speak with you.”
Leona wiped the pen and capped the ink, her hands steady. “Have they found the man who shot my husband?” Her voice quavered toward the end, she noted unhappily.
“They didn’t say so, but there’s woman with them—”
Leona stood, heartbeat jumping. “Is it Helen?” Had they found Henry at last?
“Not her. Another. You’d better come down and see for yourself, m’um.”
Leona followed Mrs. McCarthy down the stairs and into the kitchen. The policeman there held the arm of a disheveled woman, shaking as if she could not stand on her own.
Leona’s heart filled with dread and relief. “Millie?”
“You know her, then?”
The policeman let go of the shattered-appearing spiritualist who tottered to Leona and fell against her with a sharp cry. Leona put her arms around Millie so she wouldn’t fall.
“Mrs. Gladney,” she whispered. “Help me.”
The policeman said, “The way she was sneaking around, I thought she looked suspicious. I tried to chase her off, but she claimed she was looking for you, Mrs. Gladney.” He frowned, perhaps worried he hadn’t done the right thing. “She has your card.”
Two weeks had passed since the murder of the Frost’s and Mrs. Drew. Leona blew out a shuddering breath. “Thank you for bringing her to me.”
Mrs. McCarthy saw the man out. It appeared the policeman hadn’t realized Millie’s identity, at least, and seemed relieved to have someone else take responsibility for the woman.
Leona led Millie to a chair by the woodstove.
The newspapers had speculated on Mrs. Frost’s guilt—perhaps she and her unnamed lover had robbed and murdered the household and run off?
No matter. Leona didn’t believe any of the more salacious rumors and determined she wouldn’t give up the spiritualist to the law until she had all her answers.
Millie held out her hands to the stove’s heat, unable to stop shaking with cold.
She stank, her brown hair completely tangled and wild.
Mud caked the hems of her once-fine dress now torn at the hems, and her shoes soaked through.
She wore a patched coat with no scarf, mittens, or hat.
Where had she been for the last two weeks?
“Millie, what in the world happened to you?”
Millie covered her face with her hands and began to weep. “So hungry, so cold,” she choked out between sobs.
Mrs. McCarthy returned and ladled beef and potatoes from the pot into a bowl, adding bread piled high on a plate. Millie ate ravenously until she emptied the bowl and the bread plate twice. She gulped down a cup of tea. The color returned to her face, and her shaking finally stopped.
“There, that’s better, isn’t it?” Mrs. McCarthy asked soothingly. She brought Millie a plate of sliced apples and cheese, and when this was gone, a fat slice of cake.
“I’ll be right back,” Leona said to Mrs. McCarthy.
She spoke softly to Ruth and returned with dry clothing—a wool dress, warm shawl, and stockings.
Ruth brought in an extra quilt from the closet of the room she occupied.
Mrs. McCarthy stuffed Millie’s shoes with newspapers and set them close to the stove.
“Thank you,” Millie said, wrapping the quilt around her shoulders and accepting another cup of tea. “Thank you all so much.”
“Tomorrow you can have a bath,” Leona told her.
“You mean I can stay with you, Mrs. Gladney?” Millie’s hoarse voice grew hopeful until she began to cough and couldn’t seem to stop.
Alarmed, Leona took the teacup from her. “There’s laudanum—” The doctor, Dr. Farouche, had left some for Gil, who swore he’d never touch it.
“I’ll fetch it.” Ruth stood, giving Leona a sympathetic glance just as the bell began to ring.
“That’s Gil—”
Mrs. McCarthy patted her on the arm. “I’ll look to him. Don’t you worry. I’ll let myself out the front after, so you won’t be disturbed. Unless you need me to stay?”
“We can handle things here, Mrs. McCarthy,” Ruth said as both women headed out the kitchen door to the hall. “Until tomorrow, at least.”
“I didn’t like Elmira much,” Millie croaked when the door swung shut. “You are quite different now.”
“What happened to you?”
“He is hunting for me, Mrs. Gladney, I know he is.” Millie rubbed at her eyes with the palms of her hands and groaned. “I’m so very tired of running.”
“But the murderer didn’t see you, did he?”
“No. I don’t think so. But the newspapers posted a drawing of me and—and—”
“It wasn’t a very good likeness, Millie,” Leona said, trying to be reassuring. “Do you know who is hunting you? Did you see him? Was there more than one man in the house that night?”
Millie covered her eyes. “I did see him. There was only one man.”
Ruth returned to the kitchen; her eyes were filled with questions. Leona met her at the door, and she handed Leona the bottle of laudanum with a whispered, “I’ll see you in the morning.”
Leona thanked her, and sat back down on the stool she’d occupied, tucking the bottle into her pocket.
“You saw a man inside the house. Was it Benedict Van Wyn?”
Millie hiccupped something between a laugh and a sob. “No, not him.”
Part of Leona felt she should let Millie rest before continuing her questioning, but another more relentless side of her couldn’t stop. Millie had the answers.
“Well, they’ve arrested him, Millie, for the murder of your husband, sister-in-law, and Mrs. Drew.”
Fire snapped in Millie’s brown eyes. “I know that. I can’t do anything about it. I need clothes and money to get out of town.”
“Why haven’t you gone to the police?” Leona scolded.
“I can’t—please, I need your help, Mrs. Gladney.”
“Why can’t you?”
Millie took a deep, angry breath. “Because they will extradite me to Massachusetts, Philadelphia, or Rhode Island. The Frosts are wanted in all three states.”
“Because you’re a fraud,” Leona couldn’t help saying. “Among other things.”
“I have had a hard life, and people are foolish.” Millie leaned her head against the rocker back and closed her eyes with a deep sigh. The anger seemed to flow out on her breath. “If I could sleep...” she whispered, a pathetic murmur.
“Not yet.” Leona didn’t want to risk Millie slipping out into the night to avoid going to the police in the morning. The laudanum would see to that.
Millie opened her eyes. “I have no intention of endangering you or your family. Thank you for feeding me. If you can’t help me, I will move on.”
She made to rise, but Leona held up her hand, knowing a bluff when she saw one. No matter what, Millie needed her more, and it suited Leona’s purpose to go along with her.
“I will help you, Millie. But it will cost you the answers to my questions.”
Millie leaned back in the chair, her red-rimmed eyes speculative.
“Where were you hiding? How did the killer not find you?”
“I was in the spirit box,” Millie whispered, hand to her throat as if it pained her.
“I was preparing it for the next day. Mrs. Drew screamed. Jesper told me to stay where I was, and he and Iris went downstairs.” She put her hand over her mouth for a moment, eyes filling with tears. “Oh, my poor Jesper.”
“How do you think the killer got into the house?”
“The front door wasn’t locked yet, though it was late.
After Mrs. Drew screamed, I heard shouting, then a terrible quiet.
Iris, Jesper, and the intruder came up the stairs and into the seance parlor.
I could see them through the observer hole we’d cut into the box.
” She wiped her nose against her sleeve before Leona could hand her a handkerchief.
“What happened next?” Leona prompted. She’d had seen the aftermath, but Millie had witnessed every moment of the killing and might have some clue to give as to the identity of the murderer.
“He had a gun and a knife.” She glanced back and forth, her breath short, as if trapped within the spirit box again. “He made Jesper tie Iris’s hands, then he tied Jesper’s. Jesper kept begging him to spare his sister, but he—he—” Her voice pitched upward, the muscles in her throat taut.
Leona reached out and squeezed Millie’s ice-cold hand.
“He tied them to the chairs and questioned them about the—” Millie sighed deeply. “Well, I suppose you know what we’ve been doing. He asked about the jewelry, where it all came from and where we’d hidden it.”
“Mrs. Daphne Van Wyn’s jewelry, too?”
Millie glanced at Leona and flinched, not meeting her eyes. “I—I believe so, Mrs. Gladney. But I had no part in that aspect of the family business.”
Leona opened her mouth to make a sharp retort, but changed her mind. She intended to pursue this line of questioning, the assessment of her degree of guilt, once Millie finished her story. She glanced at Leona again and when she said nothing, continued.
“I thought, at first, he was trying to retrieve something they’d stolen, and I hoped he would let them go once he’d had it. When he asked specifically about Mrs. Van Wyn’s jewelry, I wondered if Benedict had hired a ruffian to get it all back. The old lady had quite a collection.”
“Daphne Van Wyn was one of the kindest people I’ve ever known.” Leona’s voice shook as she tightened her hands into fists.
Millie nodded as if in agreement and glanced at Leona’s clenched fists.
“She came to the spirit circles with her friends. Iris brought them.” She pressed her lips together and stopped talking.
After a few moments of potent silence, she said, “Oh, that’s how you found us, I suppose. One of them told you.”
Leona’s thoughts marched toward the question burning in her heart. “Who murdered Daphne Van Wyn?”
“Don’t ask me that!” Millie cried, evidently afraid of Leona now. She began to cough again, gagging and gasping for breath.
Leona pulled out the small brown bottle and held it up. “Tell me and you shall have a dose of laudanum for your cough and to help you sleep.”
“Cruel, Mrs. Gladney,” Millie muttered when she caught her breath.
Leona gritted her teeth and hid the bottle away in her pocket. “I would not hurt you for the world. But you owe me the answer to this question.”
Biting her lower lip, Millie turned away, her expression worried and unhappy.
“It wasn’t the first time, was it? It’s not just for fraud and theft the Frosts are wanted,” Leona said. “Who was next? Mrs. Rackham? Mrs. Creighton?”
“It’s not like that!” Millie answered, appearing shaken by the accusation. She kept her face turned away. “It was an accident, Iris said, they had no choice.”
“They planned to steal her jewelry. Iris came back and let Jesper in late in the night to help her,” Leona said in a coaxing tone.
Millie nodded. “Iris left that stupid maid Winifred instructions to give the old woman a double dose of laudanum to keep her asleep. But apparently, she didn’t, and Mrs. Van Wyn woke up. She saw Jesper and was about to scream but he stopped her.”
“How? How did he stop her?”
Millie looked at Leona with frightened eyes. “With her pillow. She must have fought hard because he had scratches on his hands the next day.”
Leona felt a dreadful wave of coldness, even this close to the woodstove.
She could barely bring herself to speak, though she’d suspected all along what’d happened to her friend.
“And they called this an accident, and you believed them,” she stated, her voice dark and hollow to her own ears.
A fraught few seconds ticked by while Millie cowered back from her, as if she were Judgement, or Death, itself.
Leona pulled the laudanum out of her pocket.
The tea had cooled but she placed two drops into it anyway and handed the cup to Millie.
“We’re not done yet. We’ll talk more tomorrow. ”
Once she’d drunk the mixture, grimacing at the taste, Leona led her to the guestroom, helped her into a nightgown, and pulled the covers over her. Millie begged for the lights to stay lit, and Leona agreed. Millie, caught in the net of exhaustion and laudanum, fell immediately asleep.
Later in the night, Leona dreamed again of the deaths of Iris and Jesper Frost, but she herself wielded the knife.