Death Comes to London (23 page)

Just as Lucy finished eating, a knock on her door heralded the arrival of Orfila’s book from Mr. Stanford. With a contented sigh, she settled down to read it again. Perhaps using the scientific method might help her more than she had imagined and finally sort out the intricacies of the case.

Chapter 15

“B
roughton, I believe I’ll return to Fenton’s today.”

Broughton looked up from his substantial breakfast at Robert, who sat opposite him. He wore his uniform with a black armband around his sleeve. His face looked drawn and worry lines creased his forehead.

“I understand. It hasn’t been much fun for you here, has it?” His mouth twisted. “I hardly expected to be mourning two family members at once.”

“It must be very hard for you. If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to contact me at the hotel. I will always stand your friend.”

“I appreciate that, Kurland. There is a lot to do here, so you will probably be more comfortable in a hotel. My mother’s taken to her bed and I don’t blame her. One good thing is that my father is definitely on his way home from India. We received a letter from him with the name of the ship he’s traveling on, and the anticipated date of arrival at Southampton.”

“Well, that at least is good news.” Robert finished his coffee. “I need to speak to Foley and make sure he knows what to pack. I believe after my soaking in the lake, he borrowed a couple of military items from your wardrobe. I’ll make sure to return them.”

“That’s not necessary. I’ll hardly be wearing them myself, will I?” Broughton forced a smile. “I can’t imagine how I’m going to tell my father that Oliver is dead when I can’t quite believe it myself.” He suddenly buried his face in his hands. “God, what a disaster.”

Robert stood up and after collecting his cane came around the table to take Broughton’s shoulder in a hard grasp.

“I won’t disturb your mother when I leave, but please give her my thanks.”

Broughton didn’t reply, and Robert went out into the hallway where the butler awaited him.

“Good morning, Major Kurland. A note was just delivered for you.”

“Thank you.” Robert took the sealed note and went up the stairs into his bedchamber, where Foley was already packing his bags. Ignoring Foley’s chatter, he opened the note and read the contents before throwing the paper on the fire. Miss Harrington wanted to see him at his earliest convenience. The last three words were heavily underlined. He wondered what on earth she had involved herself in now. Or had the note simply been a reminder for him to complete the task that she had set him?

On that thought, he turned to Foley.

“Is Lieutenant Broughton expected to go out today?”

“Indeed he is, sir. He’s due at his solicitor’s this morning, and then he plans to go to his club on Portland Street.”

Robert was always impressed at Foley’s ability to know what was going on in a household. “I’ve got some items I need to return to the lieutenant, so let me know when he’s left the house.”

“I’ll do that, sir.”

Robert went down the stairs and out through the library into the large back garden. A few flowers were emerging from the beds and the grass was greening up nicely. As he inhaled the London smoke that seemed to hover constantly an inch over his head in the leaden skies, Robert wondered how his fields at the manor were looking. Had his potential new land agent started work, or was he waiting for a more formal agreement between them? He should write and engage Mr. Fairfax’s services immediately. He hadn’t heard back from the Prince Regent’s secretary as to a date for his more formal investiture and he wanted to go home....

Unfortunately, he was subject to the whims of his monarch. And, to be honest, he
would
rather like to find out exactly what was going on at the Broughtons’. With that thought firmly in mind, he walked down the main path and took the branch that led off to the dowager’s stillroom. Making sure that there was no one observing him from the house, Robert found the key where Miss Harrington had told him it would be, unlocked the door, and let himself in.

The dowager’s herbal lay on the table. It looked a lot larger and heavier than he remembered. But it was a relatively simple matter to tuck it under his arm, cover it with his military coat, and return to the house. He kept walking until he reached his room and deposited the book on the bed beside the bag Foley was packing.

“Has the lieutenant left the house yet?”

“Yes, sir. He exited just after you went into the garden.”

“Good.”

“Do you want me to find his valet and give him the cufflinks and the silver polish we borrowed?”

Robert held out his hand. “If you give them to me, I’ll get out of your way and take them back myself. Don’t bother to call for Broughton’s valet. I can leave them on his dressing table.”

Miss Harrington wasn’t the only one who could make suggestions as to how he should proceed. If he was leaving Broughton House, it would be his last chance to survey the more private places of the great house. He wasn’t sure quite what he was looking for in Broughton’s bedchamber, but it seemed too good an opportunity to waste.

He knocked on Broughton’s door, but there was no sign of his valet or any other member of the household. After depositing the cufflinks, spare silver buttons, and polish on the walnut shaving stand, Robert took stock of his surroundings and whistled in surprise. Most military men of his acquaintance were neat in their habits, but this seemed not to be the case with Broughton. A large desk was pushed up against the window. The surface was stacked high with books and notebooks and other scholarly items that continued in a pile on the floor.

Robert approached the desk and discovered the drawers were so stuffed full of papers that they wouldn’t shut. Broughton was obviously very serious about transforming his life and pursuing his new interests. He went even closer. It appeared that not all the papers were of a scientific nature. Amongst the scholarly texts and scribbled notes there were several demands for payment of large bills and other twists of paper that looked like copies of vouchers for gambling debts. Broughton had never struck him as a gambler. Perhaps he was attempting to deal with Oliver’s debts so that he could report the totals to his father on his return?

After considering the mess for another second or two, Robert turned on his heel and made his way back to his room, one of the larger gambling debts folded into a neat square in his hand.

“I’m going out to see Miss Harrington and her sister, Foley. I’ll be back shortly. Send a note around to Fenton’s and tell them to expect us this afternoon.”

Lucy glanced approvingly at the clock as Major Kurland was announced by the butler and came through the door. After depositing the dowager’s herbal on the table beside her, he bowed and stopped short when he spotted Mr. Stanford.

“Have I come at a bad time? I thought you wanted to see me immediately, Miss Harrington.”

“I did, Major Kurland. Thank you for being so prompt.” She smiled at him. “I also invited Mr. Stanford.”

The look he cast her was eloquent with disapproval, but he did at least sit down. “I assume you went against my advice and asked for his help in this matter as well?”

She held up the book she had on her lap. “He had a copy of Orfila’s treatise on the effects of poison in the human body.”

“Oh, well, that explains it.”

Lucy ignored his attempt at levity and turned to Mr. Stanford. “I wonder if you might clarify a point for me, sir. In the book, Orfila suggests that natural poisons are more difficult to detect in the body than industrially produced ones.”

“So I understand.”

“And natural versions of a poison are slower acting.”

“Yes.”

“So if someone wished to kill the dowager at precisely that moment in Almack’s, the poison administered would have to have been a more manufactured and concentrated powdered form?”

“Why?” Major Kurland asked. “Poison is poison, isn’t it?”

“Well, no,” Mr. Stanford said. “As I understand it, it depends on several factors as to how fast it works. Drinking a diluted or more natural form of a poison is much slower to act because it has to travel down into the stomach and then onto the organs it wishes to affect.”

Lucy nodded. “That’s correct, Mr. Stanford. Also, the strength of a natural remedy can vary depending on the quality of the plants used, the time they are harvested, and other mitigating factors.”

“So you’re saying that if the dowager swallowed poisoned orgeat made from a natural remedy at Almack’s, she wouldn’t necessarily have dropped dead on the spot?”

“Exactly.”

Major Kurland raised his head. “But we know that Broughton ingested the poison, too. I saw him. He wasn’t faking his condition.”

“But he didn’t die.”

“Which means either the dowager got a more concentrated dose than he did, or that he didn’t react to it in the same way.” Mr. Stanford shrugged.

“What if a manufactured poison like rat poison was put into the orgeat?” Sophia asked.

“It would definitely be more powerful.”

“And it wasn’t that long between them drinking the orgeat and the dowager taking ill,” Lucy murmured half to herself. “This doesn’t really help us at all, does it?”

“Why not?” Major Kurland asked.

“Because if it had been manufactured rat poison, then according to Orfila, it might have shown up in the dowager’s body.”

“It depends on what Dr. Redmond found when he investigated that body.”

“If he’s in league with the Broughton family in some way or is, in fact, the murderer, he’s hardly likely to share that information with us, now is he?”

“Ah, but there are other ways of finding out those results.” Mr. Stanford smiled. “I’m a member of Fletchers. In fact, I’m the current secretary of the club.”

“Broughton is a member, too,” Major Kurland added. “I had dinner with him there.”

“Dr. Redmond is also a member. If he has been writing any scholarly articles about the dowager, then I might be able to find out about them.”

“He’s hardly going to write everything down, is he?” Lucy said.

“You’d be surprised what a keen scientific observer will keep notes on, Miss Harrington. Some of our members keep detailed records of the most intimate nature.”

Major Kurland produced a familiar black bottle out of his pocket. “And while you’re doing that, Stanford, perhaps you might care to find out exactly what’s in this?”

“Where did you get it?”

“Be careful,” Major Kurland warned. “I suspect it’s the last thing Oliver Broughton ever drank.”

Mr. Stanford examined the handwritten label. “But it’s supposed to be an elixir for coughing and fever.”

“And that might be all it is, but it doesn’t hurt to be careful. I’d also recommend you don’t let Dr. Redmond or Broughton know what you are doing.”

“You suspect that Dr. Redmond is trying to poison off the whole Broughton family?” Mr. Stanford demanded.

“I’m not sure.” Major Kurland’s gaze rested on Lucy for a moment. “But, as Miss Harrington always reminds me, we have to consider all the possibilities. There is one more thing.” He dug into his pocket and brought out a folded piece of paper. “Is there a way I can find out whose debt this is?”

Mr. Stanford held out his hand and took the paper. “It’s from Tattersalls demanding settlement of a thousand guineas.” He looked up at Major Kurland. “We can go and look up the original wager in their betting book.”

Lucy managed to take the paper from Mr. Stanford before he passed it back to the major, and she put on her spectacles to study it.

“Where did you find this, sir?”

Major Kurland avoided her gaze. “I happened to find it in Broughton’s bedchamber while I was returning some cufflinks. I thought it might be important. I wonder if Broughton needs money from the estate to pay off Oliver’s debts?”

Lucy gazed at him with new respect. “What an excellent idea, Major. I’ve often found that money, or the lack of it, is at the core of many disputes in Kurland St. Mary.”

He gestured at the herbal. “Not to hurry you along, Miss Harrington, but I would prefer to get that book back to the Broughtons as soon as possible. I locked the door of the stillroom and pocketed the key, but I’m fairly sure there are duplicate keys available for the staff.”

Mr. Stanford rose. “Then why don’t you and I pay a visit to Tattersalls, Robert, and let the ladies investigate the herbal? Then, when we return, we can tell them what we’ve found and you can take the book back to its rightful place.”

“What an excellent suggestion, Mr. Stanford,” Sophia exclaimed.

After a swift glance at Major Kurland, Lucy spoke up. “If Major Kurland wishes to stay here and review the book with me instead, I would be grateful for his assistance.”

“I suspect I’d be far more use at Tattersalls, Miss Harrington.”

Her attempt to help him having been met with nothing more than a raised eyebrow and a mask of stoicism made her want to shake him.

“As you wish, Major.” She smiled sweetly at him.

After the gentlemen left, Lucy put her spectacles back on and turned her attention to the herbal, Sophia at her side.

“There’s one thing we should remember amongst all this confusion.”

“And what is that?”

“That no one associated with the Broughton family is above suspicion.”

Sophia smiled. “Does that include Major Kurland?”

“Well, I doubt he murdered anyone, but he might be reluctant to believe that a fellow officer like Broughton is
involved
in murder.” She sighed. “I just can’t see Dr. Redmond acting without an accomplice, can you?”

“Not unless he is insane. He might be a bit of a prosy bore for such a young man, but overall he seems quite sensible to me.”

Lucy opened the herbal at one of the pages the dowager had marked and scanned the writing. “Did Mr. Stanford leave the bottle that Major Kurland gave him behind?”

“Yes, it’s here.” Sophia rose and brought back the carefully wrapped bottle.

Lucy exposed the handwritten label and peered intently at the writing. “I don’t think that is the dowager’s hand.”