Death of a Dowager (26 page)

Chapter 57

Despite my excitement at having pieced together a possible solution to the puzzle that was the Dowager Lady Ingram’s death, my wound tired me so much that I took another nap. I had only just awakened when Polly came to say, “Mr. Waverly is here to see you, ma’am. Should I send him away? Your husband warned us not to let you become too tired.”

“No, I’d like to speak to him. Could you help me dress?”

“Of course.”

“Are the others here? Where is Mrs. Brayton?”

“No, they are all out. The children are walking in the park with Amelia, and Mrs. Brayton is out ordering a funeral wreath to be sent to Lady Grainger’s house for Lady Ingram’s viewing tomorrow. Finally! That coroner’s had her body nearly six days! Anyway, Mrs. Brayton said she’d be back in a tick. Oh, and she’s just had word that her little boy and his nanny have crossed the Channel and are on British soil. Won’t be but a day or two before they’re here. Mrs. Brayton is over the moon about it!”

“That’s wonderful news. And my husband and Mr. Douglas? Where are they?”

Polly smiled. “Them two. A right couple of boys, they are. They’re off to pick up Mr. Rochester’s new boots, I heard. Should be back soon enough.”

“Good. Could you send for Mr. Lerner?” Noting the worried look in her eyes, I hastily added, “I am on the mend. It’s another matter I wish to discuss with him.”

After I was suitably attired, Higgins carried me into the library. Polly saw to it that I was comfortable with my feet propped up as I sat in a wingback chair in front of the fire. She tucked a crocheted lap blanket around me as tenderly as any mother would and positioned a small silver bell near at hand.

“Ring it and Sadie or me, we’ll come running.”

“Would you be so kind as to retrieve a book for me? The one I was perusing on gardening?” I asked. “I want to show Mr. Waverly something in it. I should have remembered to bring it along.”

“Certainly, ma’am,” said Polly. She turned to do my bidding and nearly bumped into Mr. Waverly as he entered the room.

“Thank God, you are all right.” The Bow Street man stood there staring down at me. His fingers turned his hat ’round and ’round in his hands as he looked me over.

“Please sit,” I said and rang the bell. “Sadie will bring us tea. I have a theory regarding who killed Lady Ingram, but I should like to wait and try my thoughts out when everyone is present.”

Just then, Edward and Mr. Douglas joined us. The men had accomplished their errands and seemed quite pleased with themselves. I had to admit that my husband’s new boots looked very dashing. Lucy arrived a few minutes later.

“What’s all this? Are you feeling better?” she asked, as she bent to give me a kiss on the cheek.

“I am,” I replied, just as Higgins announced Mr. Lerner’s arrival.

Once everyone was assembled, I handed over to the constable the gardening book Polly had fetched for me, and I instructed him to look at the page I had marked.

“I see a flower called foxglove and its description,” Waverly said, “but I cannot see its relevance to Lady Ingram’s death.”

I explained my thought process to my audience, who listened carefully. I summarized, “I believe it was Miss Mary Ingram who killed her mother. But not on purpose. She tried to make a healing titration that she’d heard Mr. Lerner speak of. She attempted to concoct it herself, from foxglove plants in Lady Grainger’s garden. It wasn’t that she wanted to poison her mother. Quite the contrary. Mary hoped to cure the woman and to win her affection, plus the admiration of Mr. Lerner. But she miscalculated. Badly. She made the dose far too strong.”

“Oh!” said Mr. Lerner. “You could be right in your theory, Mrs. Rochester, though I feel horrible that Miss Mary might have done this because of me! I guess that when she heard me explaining how digitalis worked, it piqued her interest. I didn’t give her any instruction, though—she must have tried to create the potion by looking over my papers. I keep meaning to have the latch on my satchel fixed, but there’s never enough time.”

“While I’ll agree you need to repair the lock, I hardly think that most reasonable people would have taken it upon themselves to play at being a doctor,” said Edward, kindly. “Mr. Lerner, you have no reason to castigate yourself for such an extreme reaction to a few loose papers.”

“But Miss Blanche Ingram also said that she felt ill. How do you explain that?” asked Mr. Waverly.

“I suspect that Miss Mary was testing the dosage on her sister,” I said, “figuring that since her sister was healthy, she could refine her experiments without any deleterious effects. Or at least, not too much of an adverse response.”

“Exactly,” said Mr. Lerner. “Since Lady Ingram had a bad heart, the medication had a more radical and immediate impact on her than on Miss Blanche Ingram. Of course, it also overpowered Lady Grainger’s poor dog.”

“I had not given the decimated patch of flowers much thought, but it makes sense,” said Lucy. “Otherwise, why would Miss Mary have cut down those and left everything else standing?”

“And there’s the reported mess in the kitchen,” I reminded her.

“Even if you’re onto something—and I think you are, Mrs. Rochester—we lack proof,” said Mr. Waverly as he adjusted his spectacles.

“But we can’t sit by and do nothing. Miss Mary and her sister have threatened Mr. Lerner, my husband, and Lucy in turn. If we don’t at least try to prove my theory, the Ingram girls will continue to blacken our names. Miss Ingram has even gone to Lady Conyngham, hoping to strike a bargain that would benefit her at our expense.”

“The devil you say!” Mr. Waverly slapped the arm of his chair.

“Miss Blanche Ingram would certainly be likely to stop her rumormongering if she knew her mother had been killed by her own sister,” said Edward.

“Mrs. Rochester is right. If word spreads that one of the sisters poisoned her mother—even by accident—Lady Conyngham would have nothing more to do with either of them,” said Mr. Douglas. “We must encourage Miss Mary to confess. Although for the life of me, I can’t imagine how.”

“Not only that,” said Lucy, “but the confession must be public. Otherwise, the Ingrams will pretend it never happened. We know from experience that they are practiced liars.”

“If we’re aiming for a public display, the visitation is to be tomorrow afternoon at Lady Grainger’s house,” said Edward. “That would surely be our best option.”

The group murmured in agreement.

“Now that we have the time and the setting, what we need is a lever,” said Mr. Douglas. “An instrument to put pressure on Miss Mary.”

I mulled this over.

And suddenly, I had a plan.

Chapter 58

Everyone agreed that my plan might work. We would want to keep Mrs. Biltmore’s attack on me a secret, otherwise my presence at Lady Ingram’s viewing might seem suspicious. Lucy was dispatched immediately to talk to Lady Grainger about our scheme. “I think she’ll go along with it, if only to have the matter settled.”

Only my husband had misgivings. Later that evening when we were in bed, he questioned me. “Are you up to this? It could mean being on your feet a long while at the visitation, as there’s sure to be a lengthy receiving line.”

His unruly hair had grown long during our visit, but I rather enjoyed the way it brushed his nightshirt collar. I touched a strand lovingly as he said, “There has to be a way around having you at the viewing. I shall go and offer our sympathy, but you don’t need to come. We must be able to gather Miss Mary’s confession some other way.”

“I can’t think of one. Neither could anyone else,” I said. “Besides, I am the squire’s wife and it is my duty to attend as well as yours.”

“But you are injured,” he said. “I shall tender your regrets. Today I saw a bit more color in your cheeks, and I hope to continue to see such progress.”

“You will.”

He smoothed my hair and kissed the top of my ear, and I thought I could smell green traces of the medicinal herb he’d been using as Mr. Lerner had recommended. “When I see the progress, I really mean that. I
see
how you are coming along.”

“Really?” Joy bubbled up inside me.

“You are not wholly distinct, but I can discern more detail. More substance. There are edges around objects. A bit of acuity has returned.”

“Oh, Edward!” I threw my arms around his neck and felt the pinch of pain as my reward. “Oh!”

“See? You are in pain. You need to stay here. Lady Ingram was nothing to you—less!—and I can share your regrets. We will manage somehow without you.”

“No,” I said. “I shall heal better knowing we can put all this behind us.”

“Jane,” he said, as his lips teased my throat, “you try my patience.”

“Oh, sir . . .”

Chapter 59

The next day, I rested until the last possible moment. Edward had won a concession from me: I agreed to let Mr. Lerner check the progress of my healing and decree if I was well enough to execute my plan. When the doctor pronounced me “coming along nicely,” Polly helped me dress in my finest black silk, and Edward and Mr. Douglas carried me downstairs and into the carriage.

Once we arrived at the Grainger house, I insisted on walking into the building as though nothing were wrong. It pained me, but I felt it necessary to maintain the illusion of health. I did not want to draw unwarranted attention to myself—at least, not until the right time. I did not want Miss Mary Ingram to wonder why I’d bothered to make an appearance after I had been hurt so badly. Any sort of suspicion on her part might spoil the impact I hoped to have on the young woman.

No one could mistake Lady Grainger’s home for anything but a house in deep mourning. Black crape covered every window and all of the mirrors. The staff wore soft mourning slippers to muffle their footsteps. The hall clock had been stopped, as a reminder that time stands still in that world beyond this. The cloying fragrance of lilies perfumed the air.

Because Lady Ingram’s body had been given over to the coroner, her remains were now six days old. The smell of the corpse could not be disguised, no matter how many fragrant bouquets of flowers were on display throughout the house. The horrid smell of decay triumphed over all else. Lucy had suggested that we all carry perfumed handkerchiefs, and I blessed her silently for thinking ahead as I held mine to my nose.

Lucy, Mr. Douglas, Edward, and I took our places in the receiving line. The queue moved slowly forward and up the staircase to where Lady Ingram’s mortal remains rested on the dining room table. I knew there would be a lot of mourners, but I had not anticipated so many. I could only believe that word of the Dowager’s sudden death and the girls’ many accusations might have made their rounds. The crowd seemed unusually chatty for a group of mourners, so I assumed that many here were hoping for a choice bit of gossip. As we mounted the last of the stairs, the entry hall began to spin. Black encroached on the edges of my vision. Edward slipped his arm around my waist, but I was quickly growing weak. I grabbed Edward tightly and struggled to stay on my feet.

“This is too much! Let me find you a chair,” he whispered.

A stray lock of his hair tickled my face and caused me to smile. “No. It will only be a little longer, and then my mind can rest as well as my body.” Sheer force of will kept me standing and gave me strength. I was determined to do this for Lucy. If this scheme worked, her reputation would be spared.

Not much farther now. I can do this!

I could hear Miss Blanche Ingram holding court as the line moved forward, out of the hall and into the dining room. Those paying their respects first greeted Miss Mary, and then Miss Ingram, and finally Lady Grainger. Young Lord Ingram was not in attendance. During her visit with Lady Grainger the past evening, Lucy had learned that he was taken ill and could not leave his bed at Ingram Park.

After offering their sympathies to the Ingram daughters and Lady Grainger, mourners made a clockwise procession around the coffin in its place of honor on the dining room table. Floral tributes of every color and size lined the perimeter of the room. Guests paused to read the cards offering condolences. It was expected that they would also gaze on the face of the departed, as a gesture of respect and a reminder to us all that we would share the same fate.

My friend and her brother had moved along in the line so that they were face-to-face with Miss Mary. But before Lucy could share her condolences, Miss Ingram turned on her with a fury.

“How dare you?” she said to Lucy.

“Stop it, Blanche.” Lady Grainger put a hand on her niece’s shoulder.

All the other mourners turned to watch. After a calculated pause, Miss Ingram turned to her aunt, and in a loud voice said, “But Aunt! Lucy Brayton poisoned my—”

“Stop it!” Lady Grainger’s command was more forceful this time. She reached past her niece to bundle Lucy into an embrace. “It is so good to see you.”

This was our cue. Edward and I pushed our way forward, rather rudely, I admit, while Lucy extricated herself from our hostess. Then Lucy and Mr. Douglas stepped to one side.

My husband took Miss Mary’s hand. “Mr. Lerner sends his regrets, but he is busy with his fiancée making wedding plans.”

“You lie!” She gasped, yanking her hand out of Edward’s grip.

The other mourners stopped talking so that they could listen in.

“No, Miss Mary,” I said softly, “my husband is not a liar. But you are.” I raised my voice. “It was you who poisoned your mother, wasn’t it? You didn’t mean to, but you did.”

“I—I—I,” she stuttered. “I never!”

“You were only trying to help. You thought you knew what you were doing—and hoped to prove to Mr. Lerner what a fine wife you would make. You thought if you could make your mother feel better, she would love you more.” I paused. “Poor Mary. You were tired of being second best.”

The blood drained out of Miss Mary’s face.

A hush fell over the other mourners. The crowd surged forward, closing in on me, so that they could better hear what I was saying.

“Right now, Mr. Waverly is down the hall, searching your room. What do you think he’ll find?” said Edward. “I suspect he’ll happen on Mr. Lerner’s notes concerning the use of digitalis, common foxglove.”

“It’s no use denying it, Mary,” said her aunt. “Cook has already told us how you’ve been in her kitchen, soaking plants in hot water. Plants she’s identified as foxglove.”

Miss Mary’s hands flew up to cover her mouth, and she teetered on the edge of a swoon. Lucy and Lady Grainger moved forward to shore the girl up. Miss Mary sobbed, “I didn’t mean it! I didn’t! I loved my mother! I didn’t mean to hurt her!”

Now the quiet ended, replaced by a low roar of whispers as the visitors reacted to the young woman’s confession. Their curiosity unleashed, they pressed even closer, a few elbowing me in their eagerness to eavesdrop. But they didn’t have to strain their ears much, because Blanche now screeched, “What have you done?
You
killed our mother?” Miss Ingram turned on Miss Mary, grabbing her sister by the arms, and she would have given her a shake, but Mr. Douglas levered Miss Ingram away.

The mourners gasped in chorus, as if they had been directed to do so. The sound echoed in the room, a mournful human empathy given voice. But the oneness did not last for long. The shock passed, and everyone seemed to want to share a question or opinion. The din was unbelievable, especially in a house of mourning where soft slippers are worn and bell clappers are wrapped in muslin to muffle sound.

The Honorable Blanche Ingram flew at her sister, even as Mr. Douglas tried to move Miss Mary out of striking distance. “It was an accident,” he told Blanche. “Miss Mary didn’t mean to do it.”

“She only meant to help. You are feeling better now, aren’t you, Miss Ingram?” I asked of Blanche. “Your sister had been dosing your coffee, trying to calculate how much of the tincture to give your mother. Of course, she never expected you to share it. That’s how everything went terribly wrong. The small amount in the coffee had only made you slightly ill, but given your mother’s weak heart. It was a fatal dose.”

“I never intended . . .” Mary whispered. “Never . . .”