A Death Along the River Fleet (20 page)

Lucy touched Adam's arm. “Will you stay here? I would like to speak to her alone.”

When he nodded, Lucy approached the woman, who was still looking away. “I found a woman here, distraught and upset.”

“What did you do to her?” the woman asked sharply. “Have her thrown in jail? Put her in the stocks?” There was a bitterness there. “What did you do with the amulet?”

“You know about the amulet!” Lucy exclaimed. “You knew the woman of whom I spoke.”

The old woman grunted. She seemed to be waiting for an answer from Lucy before she would speak.

“She still has the amulet,” Lucy replied. “She is resting, in the care of a physician. No—I do not jest,” she said at the woman's incredulous look. “Truly, I have been requested to nurse her to health myself.”

“Hmph,” the woman muttered. “There is much wrong with that lass. More than a physician can cure.”

“Did you see what happened to her?” Lucy asked. “Please, it is important. You must know that.”

The woman shook her head. “No.” She scrabbled at the ground with her stick. “It was easy enough to guess that she had been set upon.”

“So you did not see what happened. Do you think anyone did?”

The woman shook her head. “I do not know. There are a few others who live out here, but like me, they move about. Keep to themselves. I can tell you this, though. If they saw something, not a one will come forward. The Lord Mayor's not going to set them up in some fancy place to live as their reward, is he? No, they will keep their mouths shut.”

“Why are you talking to me now, then?” Lucy asked.

The woman stayed silent.

“You took care of her, didn't you?” Lucy pressed. “Why?”

“I do not know why. Reminded me of my daughter, I suppose. She came to me out of nowhere. So confused. Then she had one of those fits. Like my own daughter used to have. I thought she was the angel of my daughter coming to see me.” She swallowed. “She was wearing them both around her neck.” She held up her own amulet. “She took this one off and gave it to me. Said I was her protector and wanted me to have it.”

“How did you help her?” Lucy asked.

“Thought she should hide the shine of wealth. Covered her amulet over with the scrap of taffeta. Put a bit of rosemary in first.”

“Why? To help her remember?”

“Not to remember what had happened to her. To remember her name. And to help her with the demon inside her, bringing on her fits. Thought the rosemary would help.”

Lucy nodded, making a note of this piece of information. This meant Miss Belasysse had already lost her memory when she came upon this dweller in the ruins.

The woman continued. “I made her take that blue dress off, too. Did not want to attract attention with all the blood. Besides, she seemed anxious-like. I started to burn the dress, but the flames got too high too quick, and I thought it might bring the wrong sorts a-visiting. So I doused it with some water I had planned to use to make a bit of rat broth.”

Lucy gagged at the idea of eating rats. Seeing this, the old woman chuckled. “Cannot choose the delicacies we eat out here, now can we?”

“Never mind that,” Lucy said, swallowing down the bile that had risen in her throat. “What happened to the woman? Why did you leave her?”

The woman sighed. “I went to beg for a bite to eat for me and her. From the market. I left her sleeping in a bundle of blankets. When I returned, she was gone. I searched all over for her.”

“That must be when I found her,” Lucy said, trying to reconstruct the events.

The woman nodded again. Then she placed a gnarled hand on Lucy's hand. “Please, miss. You seem a decent sort. That lass is not right in the head, anyone could see that. She does not deserve to be hanged. Not when there are sorts who would take advantage of a poor addled lass like that.”

“Will you give your name? Testify on her behalf?” Lucy asked, a bit helplessly.

At that the woman gave a harsh chuckle. “I have nothing to say, do I? She was worse even when I found her. Looked more guilty than innocent, that is the only thing I could swear to. Just take care of her,” she said. “Lord forgive us all our sins.” With that she hobbled off, and Lucy did not detain her again.

Adam approached Lucy. “Did you learn anything?”

She started to recount what the woman had told her. However, before she had gotten very far, Adam held up his hand. “Do not tell me any more. Such hearsay can be read into evidence and will damn the woman for sure.”

After that, they continued to search the ruins for anyone who might have known something about what happened to the woman, to no avail. Not another soul stepped forward, although Lucy sometimes felt that there were others hiding and watching.

Finally, after an hour, Lucy said, “I must get back.”

As they walked, Adam said, “From what I can determine, there remain several great questions.” Ticking off his fingers, he said, “One, what is the identity of the man who was killed?”

“And who murdered him,” Lucy interrupted.

He nodded. “Yes, two. Who murdered him? Three—”

“Did Miss Belasysse know the murdered man or not? Has she forgotten him? Was she lying?” Lucy interrupted again.

“Yes. And four…” He looked at her expectantly, a slight smile on his face.

Lucy thought about it. “Four. Well, the question we've had since we first realized that she lost her memory. Where has Miss Belasysse been this last year?”

“Precisely. We do not yet know how to answer the first three questions. I think we should focus on the one we might be able to answer. At least we have access to the source.”

“She cannot remember anything,” Lucy reminded him doubtfully.

“Well, then we need to pay attention to what she says. She may reveal more than she intends to.” He began to walk more purposefully. “Tomorrow, when we speak to the Belassyses, we must find out what else they know. Someone is hiding something about her disappearance, that much is certain. And at least
they
cannot claim to have lost their memory.”

 

16

The Easter-morning church bells had been ringing, calling sinners to their fold with each chime. Lucy, however, was to stay home from the service and tend to Miss Belasysse. Dr. Larimer did not believe that the frail woman could handle the press of people, or, as Lucy suspected, the interminable length of one of the minister's sermons. “All we need is for Miss Belasysse to have one of her fits while praying in the presence of the Lord,” she had overheard the physician say grimly to Mr. Sheridan, “and she'll be strung up, to be sure.”

Lucy had shivered, but inwardly agreed. Even though it was unlikely that the congregation would actually hurt a patient who was under the protection of Dr. Larimer, certainly their goodwill would not last should they witness one of the frenzies in which the devil himself seemed to have taken hold of her wits and body.

As the bells continued to chime, Lucy felt a qualm pass over her. It was strange to stay home from church, particularly on Easter Sunday. Even a few years ago, when the flush and chills of a distempering fever had been heavy upon her, she had been present to hear the minister's words. Only in the most dismal days during the plague had she not attended church, and she prayed now that the Lord would forgive her this absence from his house. Hopefully, he would also forgive her the secret joy she had felt when informed she had been excused from sitting on the numbingly hard pews for the entirety of the morning service.

As was the custom every Sunday, everyone in Dr. Larimer's household would walk to church together, and all but Mrs. Larimer and Miss Belasysse had already assembled. Being Easter, everyone looked noticeably cleaner, having all bathed in lilac water last night, each one having his or her turn in the tub. Now all were wearing their best church-going clothes. Molly was wearing the red ribbons that Lucy had just given her. As Lucy had suspected, the Larimers had overlooked this girlish indulgence. Mr. Sheridan looked a bit tidier than usual, although he had not discarded his common dour expression. He was tapping his foot now as if eager to be off.

Finally, the two women arrived. Dr. Larimer called out to Miss Belasysse as she approached them. “Ah, Miss Belaysse,” he said. “Your family will be joining us this afternoon for a late Easter dinner.”

Lucy watched her warily, to see whether that announcement would provoke any distress. But the woman just nodded and asked, “Has there been any news of my brother?”

“None, I am afraid.”

“I am very much looking forward to resuming my acquaintance with your mother and uncle tonight, my dear,” Mrs. Larimer said to Miss Belasysse. “Dear me, your sister-in-law is so very young, is she not?”

“My brother married her when she was but thirteen,” Miss Belasysse said. “At the urging of her parents, he complied.” She turned to Lucy. “I hope you will be on hand for Easter dinner this afternoon?”

“Oh, yes, Lucy has kindly agreed to help serve,” Mrs. Larimer said.

“Help serve?” Miss Belasysse asked, looking at Lucy in great surprise. “I am very much hoping that Lucy will be seated with us for Easter dinner.”

“Oh,” the physician's wife said, looking embarrassed. “I do not know that”—she lowered her voice as if doing so would keep Lucy from overhearing her words—“it would be quite proper if Lucy joined us at our table. Your
mother
will be there. As a baroness, I hardly think, dear, that Lucy is quite the right company—”

“I need Lucy at my side,” Miss Belassyse interrupted. “I do not want her to serve me. I want her seated alongside me.”

“Oh, dear,” Mrs. Larimer said. She looked at her husband, who just shrugged. He was clearly not going to get involved. “Very well. Lucy,” she said in a loud voice, “I should very much like you to join us for dinner.” Her voice was strangled. “Will your brother be dining with us as well?”

Lucy hid a smile. It was clear that the thought of being joined by another person in trade was not particularly palatable to Mrs. Larimer. “I did receive a note from my brother that he planned to spend Easter with Master Aubrey and Lach. They are heading to the Swan. But”—she hesitated—“I had hoped that he would be able to keep Constable Duncan company.”

“Constable Duncan?” Mrs. Larimer repeated, looking at her husband.

“Yes, I consented to this yesterday,” Dr. Larimer said, starting to tap his feet. “Let us go now before we are late for the service.”

“The constable? Oh!” Lucy could hear Mrs. Larimer say as they began to walk down the street. “What ever will Lady Belasysse think?”

*   *   *

Once everyone else had left, Miss Belasysse tugged at the embroidery that Mrs. Larimer had left for her. When Lucy set a cup of hot mead down beside her, she was surprised to see how quickly knots had formed in the delicate material.

“Miss, may I be of service?” Lucy asked, gently taking the wooden hoop from her. “The threads ought to go thusly.” She began to show her the proper method.

Miss Belasysse pushed it away. “Just take it, Lucy!” she said irritably. “Never have I had much skill with a needle. My nursemaids, you see, always thought I would fall into a fit and prick myself.” She grimaced. “I suppose dear Mother was concerned that I would bleed all over her precious cloth, and that it would be ruined. I am sorely lacking in all of the feminine arts, you see.”

She began to laugh then, an odd shrill noise that sounded like she was close to tears. “Shall I prick myself? Shall I bleed? Have I not bled enough?”

“M-Miss Belasysse?” Lucy asked, hesitantly. “Perhaps you should have a bit more of your tisane? I think that would calm you—”

“Am I a hysteric? Are you afraid of me now, Lucy?” She began to laugh harder, even more uncontrollably. “Perhaps you should be!”

“I am not afraid of you,” Lucy said, trying to keep her feelings of misgiving out of her voice.

Miss Belasysse stopped laughing abruptly then and instead heaved a great sigh. She slumped back in her chair. “I fear I have used up my few spirits this morning. If I am to have strength for this afternoon, I must rest.” Seemingly with great effort, she removed herself from the room. Lucy heard her clomp inelegantly up the stairs as if the weight of the world had once again descended upon her.

That is the melancholy speaking,
Lucy thought, trying not to feel irritated. Dr. Larimer had warned her that there would be little they could do once her melancholic mood began to descend more fully. Still, Lucy never had the luxury of lying about in her bed, even on the few occasions when she had been quite ill. None of her masters, as just as they were, would have brooked such slovenly and lazy ways.

Even as those thoughts ran over her, Lucy felt a pang of remorse at her annoyance. Living with the falling sickness was certainly a bane upon Miss Belasysse's being that would never be lifted in her lifetime.

Lucy began to wander about the physician's empty house then, wondering what she should do. She could not let herself be idle, even on the Lord's Day. She ran her hand across the closed door of Dr. Larimer's study, wishing she could go inside to look at his books. What it would be like to take one of his books and sit in the garden to read, or even, more shockingly, stretch out on her bed and throw herself wholeheartedly into the words as she had never been allowed to do. But such an act was nearly akin to treachery, for she had no good reason to be in his study when the family was out of the house or to take his belongings without his knowledge.

Instead, Lucy did things here and there that might reasonably fall under her duties as Miss Belasysse's nurse. She started a stew for the family to eat when they returned home from service, to tide them over until they sat down for dinner at three. She checked that Mrs. Hotchkiss had properly laid out the forest green gown Miss Belasysse was to wear that evening, another frock loaned to her by Mrs. Larimer. As she moved about the room, she was careful not to disturb the woman, who seemed to have fallen back into a restless and unforgiving sleep.