Half a Mind TO Murder (Dr. Alexandra Gladstone Mysteries Book 3) (9 page)

It was early the next morning when Constable Snow arrived with his carriage to drive Alexandra to the train station in Bradfordshire. Alexandra had left Nancy with instructions she knew were unnecessary. She was more than capable of taking care of most of the needs of the patients who came to the surgery. Now that some of the more progressive hospitals were seeing the value of medically trained nurses, Nancy could, no doubt, find a lucrative and satisfying career in a large London hospital. Alexandra had offered her that opportunity, but Nancy refused, saying she could think of nothing more satisfying than the position she held. The words that would express the sense of sisterhood and the dread of separation they both felt had remained unspoken between them.

Alexandra was still uneasy about leaving in the wake of
the recent murders in Newton, but she did her best to convince herself that Nancy and Zack as well as Rob and Artie would be safe.

The ride to Bradfordshire was uneventful, and since Constable Snow was seated in front, driving the carriage, while Alexandr
a was seated behind him, their conversation was limited, and Alexandra found herself dozing. As a result, she was surprised at how quickly they seemed to arrive at the train station. The constable bade her a hasty farewell and gave her a letter of introduction to Dr. Mortimer along with his address in London.

It was late by the time the train reached
London and a slow, steady rain fell from a dark, grumbling sky. Alexandra’s brown traveling suit was rumpled, and her heavy auburn hair was trying, with some success, to free itself of the restraints of its pins. She had removed her hat for comfort’s sake within a few minutes of boarding the train, and she was only partially successful at taming her hair enough to force it under the hat before she disembarked. Her concern was not with her hair, however, but with the task of hiring a hansom to take her to the small, inexpensive, but respectable hotel where she always stayed on her infrequent trips to London.

She lifted her gaze above the sea of umbrellas that prot
ected the individuals waiting outside the station from thin silver threads of rain and focused on the doorway leading into the station, sighting her goal and hoping to make her way there quickly. She felt a moment of shock when she recognized the man who seemed to be loitering in the doorway. Nicholas Forsythe, dressed in a grey frock coat and a matching high-crowned hat. In spite of the fact that he had grown a mustache since the last time she’d seen him, there was no doubt in her mind that it was he. Neither was there any doubt that he had seen her and, for some reason, promptly stepped back away from the doorway and out of sight. Rather odd, she thought. Why would he not want her to see him? Perhaps he had come to the station to meet someone—a woman perhaps, and he wished to avoid an embarrassing moment if he had to introduce her. Well, he need not be embarrassed, she thought. After all, there was nothing between the two of them other than a casual friendship.

As she stepped off the train and onto the plat
form, she shifted the small black medical bag she always carried, in order to raise her own umbrella and made her way through the crowd to the equally crowded station. It’s high arched nave and transepts gave it the effect of a sanctuary devoted to the worship of chaos. The first thing to do was to see about hiring a hansom and porter to help with her trunk once it was unloaded. She was mentally calculating the cost when Mr. Forsythe appeared suddenly in front of her.

“
Dr. Gladstone!” His eyes were wide in pretended surprise as he removed his hat. “What a pleasant surprise to find you here. I’ve just put a colleague of mine on the train to Oxford and was about to leave. Pray tell me, what brings you to London?” His speech sounded as if it had been rehearsed.

“
Good evening, Mr. Forsythe. It is indeed a surprise.” She tried to sound properly congenial, but she couldn’t keep her eyes from shifting toward the front of the station where the cabs waited. If she didn’t keep moving forward, she feared there would be none left to hire. “I’ve come to attend a medical lecture tomorrow, and I do hope you’ll forgive me, but I must hurry before all of the cabs are gone.”

“
A cab? Nonsense. I shall be happy to take you in my carriage.” He gave her a dazzling smile, and for the first time she noticed that his frock coat and matching hat were not really grey but a most luxurious hue of silver and that his hair had been trimmed to a very modern and fashionable shorter length. She had forgotten that he was actually quite good-looking.

“
That’s very kind of you, but I…I shall be happy to accept,” she said, changing her mind as she realized how inconvenient it would be to continue to stand in the rain trying to secure a hansom. “If it’s not too far out of your way, that is. I’m staying at the Wheatcroft.”

“
Not at all out of the way,” Nicholas said. “It will be my pleasure.” He took her arm and led her toward the exit and a carriage waiting a few yards from the entrance. Alexandra was barely settled in the seat when the darkening sky was cloven by a brilliant crackling flame. At the same time thunder, like an angry god, roared from somewhere above and a great crush of rain fell from the sky. Nicholas shouted his instructions to the driver and ducked inside, seating himself next to Alexandra while they waited for her trunk. His fine coat was mottled by the rain and his tall hat studded with wet diamonds.

“
You’re looking well, Dr. Gladstone, and, if I may say so, quite lovely. I trust all is well in Newton-Upon-Sea?”

“
Oh yes, quite so,” she said, the lie slipping off her tongue with an ease that surprised her. It was simply that she was tired and didn’t wish at the moment to go into the detail of all that was not well in Newton-Upon-Sea.

“
Mmmm,” Nicholas said and frowned. For a moment it seemed to her as if he knew she was not telling the truth, but that, of course, would be impossible.

“
And Nancy? And Zeke?”

“
Very well, thank you,” she said, not bothering to tell him her Newfoundland was called Zack and not Zeke. He was only making small talk anyway, since he had never seemed particularly fond of Zack, and it was, under ordinary circumstances, highly unlikely that a gentleman of his class would ever inquire after the welfare of a servant. Undoubtedly the inane conversation was because he felt awkward having her in his carriage. If he did, it would be much better, she thought, to remain silent.

“
I say,” he said, continuing nevertheless, “I envy your opportunity to hear Dr. Lister’s lecture on the germ theory. The idea of a whole world of tiny animals invisible to the naked eye causing disease and putrification fascinates me.”

Alexandra turned to him and smiled in spite of herself.
“It is fascinating, isn’t it? The germ theory has been around for almost four decades, but there’s so much we don’t know. I should say it’s rather like reading a new chapter in an exciting novel. Every time something new is discovered, I mean.”

Nicholas returned her smile.
“What is more fascinating is your interest in such matters.”

“
I beg your pardon?”

“
You are a unique woman. I’m quite unaccustomed to the likes of you.”

“
A woman who is a medical doctor, you mean.” She’d heard this before, often accompanied by hints of disapproval. Nicholas had never shown any signs of disapproval on the other limited number of occasions she’d been in his presence, however.

“
Oh, it’s more than that, although a member of your sex being a physician is rare enough. No, it is that you are, in some ways, more alive than any woman—or man, for that matter—I know.”

“
You flatter me, Mr. Forsythe. I am not yet permitted to use the title physician since I was not allowed to complete all of the courses at university that would grant the title to me. I am merely surgeon.”

“
More’s the pity,” he said almost flippantly, then added, “tell me, what do these minute animals—germs, I believe—what do they look like, precisely?”

“
Rather like tiny rods, some of them,” she said, unable to resist. The truth was, she was every bit as fascinated as he pretended to be, and she was always eager to discuss the germ theory of disease. The conversation continued after her trunk was loaded and during the long drive through the rain. After a while she became convinced that Nicholas’s interest was genuine. He guided the conversation until it had advanced to the theory of vaccination and how it might be that germs are rendered impotent by it. She was interrupted in her explanation when the carriage stopped, and the driver shouted something that was impossible to hear over the sound of the relentless storm.

Nicholas slid the protective window curtain back and called to the driver.
“What is it, Farley?”

Within seconds the driver was st
anding at the window in his soggy livery shouting and gesturing. “’Tis the street, sir. Flooded, she is. They’s no way we can pass. No way to the ’otel. Broken sewer main, I’d wager.”

Nicholas answered him without hesitation.
“Then take us to Kensington.” He turned to Alexandra. “You’ll sleep under my roof tonight.”

“
Oh no, that won’t be necessary, I’m certain…”

“
Of course it’s necessary. We can go no further in the direction of the hotel. Our choice is to stay here in the rain or drive to Kensington.”

Ale
xandra hesitated a moment, reluctant to take his suggestion, but he was right, there seemed to be no other way. “Very well,” she said finally, with resignation.

In the same instant, Nicholas said,
“Please don’t object and don’t concern yourself with the appearance of impropriety. I can assure you that—”

“
I accept your offer, Mr. Forsythe. I am rarely concerned about appearances. Rather I shall be grateful.”

He seemed stunned for a moment. Then he smiled slightly before he spoke.
“Excellent! I shall have a surprise for you in the morning.”

Chapter
Nine

The richly paneled walls of the entry to Nicholas
’s house were lined with family portraits, and a wide and graceful stairway led to the upper reaches of the mansion. The stone floor was partially covered with a dark burgundy Oriental rug woven in an intricate design. As Alexandra stood admiring the elegance, she was aware of an effortless beauty peculiar to those who were born to wealth. She was aware also of the man, she assumed he was a butler, who had opened the door and now stood waiting discretely for Nicholas to speak.

“
Morgan, summon Broomsfield, please, and see that she has the blue room ready for Dr. Gladstone. And tell Cook we’ll be needing a light supper.”

“
Right away, sir,” Morgan said with a slight bow then disappeared through a door at the end of the hall. If he had been at all curious about her, Alexandra noted that he hadn’t shown it in his unchanging expression.

Nicholas turned to Alexandra.
“I assume you haven’t eaten.”

“
No, but please, there’s no need—”

“
Perhaps you’d like to freshen up a bit first. Morgan.” The butler reappeared almost instantaneously. “Show Dr. Gladstone to her room, and see that her trunks are brought in.” He turned to Alexandra again. “Will half an hour be enough time?”

“
Really, it’s quite unnecessary—”

“
Good. Half an hour, then. I shall freshen up myself, and meet you in the dining room. Morgan will show you the way.”

“
If you would wait in the drawing room for just a moment, please, Doctor,” Morgan said. He opened the door to a pleasant room where several gas lamps burned brightly and a small fire burned on the grate. Like many of the older houses in London, the night air made them cool even in summer, especially on a damp night such as this one.

Alexandra settled herself
in one of the chairs and had begun to doze when Morgan reappeared. He gave her another of his little bows and said, “You’re room is being prepared, Doctor. I’ll show you the way, if you please.” He gestured with an open hand toward the stairs then followed her up the wide curving staircase to the landing where a large window overlooked the back of the house. Perhaps there was a garden there, Alexandra thought, but the rain and darkness kept it from her.

Morgan directed her a few steps down the hall then sto
pped to open the door to one of the bedrooms. Inside a young woman of perhaps twenty, dressed in a black dress with a crisp white apron and cap, was smoothing a coverlet. She looked up, straightened her posture, and curtsied. Alexandra sensed Morgan surveying the room before he spoke again. “Broomsfield will see to your needs, Dr. Gladstone. And when you’re ready, the dining room is the large room on the left downstairs, just past the library.” He turned away and was gone before Alexandra could collect her thoughts.

As she stepped inside, her eyes were drawn immediately to a large painting hanging above the fireplace mantel and
dominating the room. It depicted a young woman with delicate features wearing a filmy dress of soft blue, standing relaxed and graceful against a dark background. That appeared to be the only thing in the room that suggested it might warrant the name Blue Room, as Nicholas had called it.

Alexandra saw, too, that her trunk had already been brought up, presumably by the back stairs, and
now rested at the foot of the brass bedstead. A tall wardrobe made of dark mahogany, a matching dressing table, and a washstand were the only other furnishings apart from a small cabinet next to the bed which would, of course, hold the chamber pot.

“
Will you be wanting to freshen up a bit, miss?” the maid asked in a voice as thin as skimmed milk. “There’s fresh warm water in the pitcher.” She pointed to a porcelain pitcher sitting inside a matching bowl on the washstand.

“
Thank you,” Alexandra said, eager to take advantage of the opportunity to wash away some of the sweat and grime of her journey.

“
And will you need help dressing your hair, miss?”

The question caught Alexandra off guard. Her hand rose unbidden to touch the unruly strands that had broken free
of their pins. She was quite unaccustomed to having anyone help her with her hair or any of her toilet for that matter, and the thought of it annoyed her for a reason she didn’t fully understand. “That won’t be necessary,” she managed to say.

“
If there’s nothing else, then…”

“
What? Oh no, nothing, thank you.”

The girl gave her a quick little bow and, mercifully, left the room.
Alexandra breathed a sigh of relief and removed her hat and jacket. Her hair, free of only part of its pins, hung in uneven strands about her face and shoulders. The reflection she saw in the mirror reminded her of an unkempt scrub woman. Nicholas, of course, had been too much the gentleman to have commented, but no doubt he had noticed. There was a moment of acute embarrassment, which she forced away quickly, angry with herself. It had been a long time since she had been concerned about her looks because of a man, and she told herself she was not about to resume that folly.

Yet, she couldn
’t deny the pleasure of a cloth dampened in the warm water as she moved it slowly over her face, her arms, her neck, and beneath her chemise to her breasts—nor could she deny the delightfulness of the soft caress of the towel as she dried herself. Feeling more relaxed, she slipped the last of the pins from her hair and took a brush from her trunk and pulled it with long, slow strokes through her hair, her eyes closed, allowing the ritual to relax her even more.

Her eyes flew open suddenly as she remembered Mr. Forsythe
’s comment.
I envy
you your opportunity to hear Dr. Lister’s lecture on the germ theory.
How could he have possibly known that was her reason for traveling to London? And in the same instant she knew. Nancy! Impertinent, meddling, conniving Nancy. And Mr. Forsythe, equally conniving. At the station to see a companion off, indeed.

She put the brush down on the dressing table with a thud and gathered her mane of hair quickly in her hands, rolling
, twisting, and pinning it into place with a speedy fierceness, then put her jacket on and buttoned it quickly. She was about to leave the room, but she couldn’t resist one last glance in the mirror, and then, in spite of her resolve, she gave her cheeks a pinch to bring forth some color before she walked brusquely out of the room and down the stairs to the dining room.

Nicholas waited at the door and smiled when she appeared.
“May I say, you look remarkably refreshed and lovely, Dr. Gladstone.”

“
Nancy must have notified you somehow,” she said, ignoring his compliment.

Nicholas
’s eyes widened and his smile disappeared. “I beg your pardon.”

“
It was not a chance meeting, was it? She told you the date and time of my arrival.” By now she had reached the door and they stood face to face.

“
Perhaps we should be seated,” he said, holding the door open for her.

A
lexandra studied his face a moment, noting the benign expression. His demeanor was so practiced, so like a clever barrister. Frustration lashed at her. “How could she have possibly gotten a message to you so quickly? I only decided late yesterday.”

“
This way, if you please,” Nicholas said, guiding her with a hand on her elbow toward the long table, its polished surface a glimmering cherry-wood river reflecting light from a single candelabra at the end. The table was set with two places, one at the end and another next to it on the right, more intimate than cozy. Alexandra hesitated slightly, but Nicholas’s firm yet gentle grasp of her elbow was unrelenting. He led her to her chair and held it while she sat, then took his own place at the head of the table. “She sent a telegram,” he said before he was completely seated.

This time it was Alexandra
’s eyes that widened in surprise. Her expression was met by Nicholas’s finely chiseled mask, betraying now a parenthesis of humor at the corners of his mouth.

“
Nancy? Sent a telegram?”

“
Quite the modern lass,” Nicholas said, allowing his mask to crumble and fall into the depths of his smile. “And, I shall add before you do, cheeky as ever.”

“
Quite so!” Alexandra stated, still angry. Morgan appeared behind her, pouring wine into a glass.

“
I’m sorry I betrayed her somehow. I did my best to make it look like a chance meeting.” It was humor, not regret, that danced in his eyes. Brushing his mistake aside quickly, he said, “I know you eat a light dinner, so I took the liberty of ordering a simple meal.”

He had scarcely finished speaking before plates of poached salmon and baked mullets were brought in and placed on the table by a servant.
“Allow me,” he said, placing a portion on her plate first, and then on his.

Alexandra st
ared at her plate, feeling disconcerted that he should remember such a small detail as her preference for a light dinner. She tried to push the feeling away as she picked up her fork and sampled the salmon. It was uncommonly delicious.

“
Tell me,” Nicholas said. “How did I give it away? The fact that I knew you were coming, I mean.”

“
You mentioned Dr. Lister. You could not possibly have known I planned to attend his lecture unless someone—Nancy to be exact—had notified you.”

“
How careless of me.”

Alexandra s
uddenly saw their situation as acutely embarrassing. She put down her fork and touched her napkin to her lips. “Allow me to apologize for Nancy’s placing you in such an awkward position. I will most certainly speak to her and see that she doesn’t do it again. And while you have been most gracious and generous, I’ll not impose upon you further. I shall find a hansom and—”

“
I’m afraid I rather doubt that,” Nicholas said. “That you will see that Nancy does or doesn’t do anything, I mean.” He seemed to be laughing at her with his sea-colored eyes. “She’s rather like an unruly pup, I say. But witty. I’ll grant her that. Almost a match for you.” He held her eyes with his for a moment and she saw something ancient burning in their depths. In spite of that, he went on with his banalities. “Leaving in this weather would be most unwise as well as ungenerous, as you would be depriving me of your company.”

“
Really, Mr. Forsythe—”

“
What is it, Dr. Gladstone? What is it that makes you so cautious? You hide behind your caution.”

He had once again caught her off guard, and for a moment she thought he might have, in his uncanny way, glimpsed that part of her she kept hidden even from herself, but she recovered quickly, at least to the extent that the wine, which was now making
her dizzy, would allow. “Perhaps it is my profession,” she said with as much aloofness as she could muster.

He did not speak, but his eyes said enough
to make her feel uncomfortable. She was relieved that the moment was interrupted by the servant bringing in the next course. She took a small portion of the beef as well as some of the larded sweetbreads but found that, in spite of their superb flavor, she could eat very little of either.

“
Shall I call for another entree?” Nicholas asked. “Perhaps a larded guinea-fowl would be more to your liking.”

“
No. Thank you. As you said, I’m accustomed to a light dinner.” She had stepped behind her barrier again, and she knew he was aware of it as well.

“
Whatever you wish,” he said. She saw him raise his chin slightly, and in the next moment Morgan was pouring more wine for her. “Perhaps a dessert?” Nicholas said.

“
No. Thank you, I’ve had quite enough. And I’m afraid I’m rather tired,” she added. “If you don’t mind, I should like to retire early.” It was a lie, of course. She didn’t feel at all tired now, after her short nap while she waited for Morgan, but she was afraid he would ask her to join him in the drawing room. That was something she would ordinarily have looked forward to. He had spent long hours in her parlor in Newton-Upon-Sea discussing a variety of subjects that she’d found intellectually stimulating, just as they had discussed the germ theory of disease on their way to his house. But something had changed between them, something she didn’t understand. Perhaps it was being here in his house that made her feel so disconcerted. Or perhaps it was the rain pounding on the roof and the wine pounding in her veins and Nicholas seeing far more than she wished to reveal.

She was grateful that he didn
’t protest her early retirement and grateful to be alone in the confines of her room. The bed had been turned back and the soft glow of a lamp next to her bed seemed to invite her in. It was altogether an immensely enticing scene, and she was eager to slip into bed and to push all thoughts of Nicholas from her mind—to fall asleep thinking of nothing except the anticipation of an enlightening and stimulating lecture tomorrow.

She was surprised by a soft knock on her door.
“Yes,” she called over her shoulder with some impatience.