Half a Mind TO Murder (Dr. Alexandra Gladstone Mysteries Book 3) (6 page)

As she paced, Alexandra felt the darkness of the night seeping into her soul, staining her thoughts with its blackness until she felt trapped in a web of gloom. It r
obbed her of hope, so that she could think of nothing except Alice’s slim chance of survival and of her own impotency in affecting a cure. She lacked the skills to overcome the laws of nature. She had exhibited that lack all too recently when she witnessed the death of the apothecary, Harry Neill, and his brother Winslow, who had come to her with ailments that defied everything she tried. Besides the troublesome rash, Winslow had also developed respiratory difficulties as well.

Could that have possibly been
whooping cough? After all, it did sometimes appear in adults, even in the aged. But she knew it could not be. The symptoms were wrong. The whoop at the intake of breath was absent. Their cases had been much more like severe influenza and inflammation of the lungs. Pneumonia, perhaps. But why had her attempts to cure them been so ineffectual?

Alice
coughed again, so hard that the blood gushed from her nose and from her eyes, and Alexandra’s mood darkened even more. The appearance of the blood could mean that Alice’s brain was bleeding as well and most likely swollen—a condition that could damage her brain. Alexandra was helpless in her worry. There was nothing to do but to walk her, to try to soothe her with a monotone song, administer a few more drops of the clover infusion.

It was while she was in the depths of her personal darkness of despair that Alexandra glanced out the open window and saw a lone figure emerge from one of the cottages on the opposite side of the street. She was certain it was the same
person she and Polly saw disappearing between buildings earlier in the day during the riot. Polly had identified that person as Clyde Wright. He wore the same cheap suit and equally cheap bowler set on his head at the same jaunty angle, but she could not be certain for herself that he was Clyde, since she hadn’t gotten a good look at his face.

Alexandra continued to watch as the figure crossed the street diagonally. She could see that he carried something in his right hand. It appeared to be a dirty white b
ag. Alexandra leaned out the window a little to see him better, still holding Alice against her shoulder. As he passed through the light spilling from the window of the Methodist chapel, Alexandra leaned even farther out the window to try to get the illuminated view. Just as she did, Alice, sensing the change in Alexandra’s position, began to cry, a hoarse sound that dissolved into another cruel cough.

The sound alarmed the man. He glanced over his shoulder just as Alexandra pulled herself back from the win
dow. Then he ran down the street, headed toward the center of town, clutching the oddly stained bag to his chest.

Chapter
Six

Alexandra left the
Hastings’s house shortly before seven the next morning. She had been up most of the night trying to soothe and comfort little Alice and to do what she could to control her cough. Although the baby slept very little during the night, by six she had fallen asleep from exhaustion. Alexandra once again removed the tube, knowing that the baby would be hungry and eager to suckle when she awoke.

Jim had slept soundly all through the night, and Kate had been able to get at least a little sleep and, Alexandra hoped, would be able to care for
Alice during the day. Alexandra planned to forgo her house calls and sleep a few hours before she opened her surgery.

She had no appetite for breakfast, since she was far too exhausted to think of anything other than rest, but
Nancy, it seemed, had other plans for her. She had prepared a meat pie, along with boiled eggs and toast. Nancy appeared to be in a rather odd mood as she buzzed about the kitchen, and Alexandra quickly decided it was best that she not argue with her and, instead, at least to try to eat a little breakfast.

“
Just some tea and a bit of toast will do, Nancy.”

“
Lost your appetite have you?” Nancy’s tone was clipped as she removed the tea kettle from the stove. “I suppose that happens when one feasts on something as fancy as roast leg of lamb. Succulent, I believe you called it. Perhaps you meant overly rich?”

“
Feast? I shouldn’t think two small slices of lamb would be called a feast. My loss of appetite is more a result of losing sleep.” Alexandra’s weariness was evident in her voice.

“Two
small succulent slices, wasn’t it?” Nancy repeated as she poured steaming tea into a cup she had placed in front of Alexandra.

Realization came slowly to Alexandra as she raised her eyes to
Nancy’s flushed face and her pursed lips. “Why, Nancy, you are jealous of Miss Cobbe. Her culinary skills as well as her abilities as an assistant in the surgery.”

“
Jealous? I should say not. I don’t know where you get such a notion.” Nancy set the tea kettle back on the stove with a little too much force.

“
Good. I’m certainly glad to hear you’re not jealous,” Alexandra said as she stirred cream into her tea. “Nevertheless, whatever name you chose to give your reaction, I assume I must reconsider your suggestion that I hire her.”

Nancy
, busy filling the toast rack, spoke over her shoulder. “Perhaps I was wrong in suggesting it in the first place.”

Alexandra looked at
Nancy over the rim of her cup. “She does seem to have the proper experience, though, doesn’t she?”

“
Experience?” Nancy turned to the table and put the toast rack on it with the same force she’d used placing the tea kettle on the stove. A slice of toast tumbled out of the rack and onto the table along with a generous dusting of crumbs. She then sat down across from Alexandra and cut herself a large slice of the meat pie. “She got that experience caring for her sister and eavesdropping in the apothecary shop. Must I remind you again, ’tis not the same as being properly schooled by a competent physician such as your father.”

“
No need to remind me at all,” Alexandra said, suppressing a smile.

“
Not to mention the training I received the time the Florence Nightingale School conducted that short course for nurses at the hospital in Bradfordshire.”

“
Indeed.”

“
I certainly can’t imagine why you would think I could possibly be jealous of mere experience.”

“
Perhaps I was wrong.”

There was a long silence as Alexandra munched with disinterest on half a slice of toast and
Nancy attacked her meat pie with what seemed to be a misplaced vigor. Nancy was the first to break the silence. “She’s not Church of England, you know.”

“
Polly you mean? Or Miss Nightingale?”

“
Polly.”

“
Am I to assume not being a member of the Church of England represents a recommendation for her or against her?”

Nancy
glared at her in response.

“
Miss Nightingale, whom you admire a great deal, is a Unitarian, I believe, so perhaps it is a recommendation.”

Nancy
’s glare faltered and she went back to attacking her pie. Alexandra decided she’d had enough sport at Nancy’s expense and spoke to her in a tone she hoped was reassuring. “Of course I won’t hire Miss Cobbe, if you think it’s unnecessary. You’ve always proved yourself to be quite efficient and capable of providing any assistance I need.”

There was another long silence except for the sound of cutlery against china until
Nancy, at last, put aside her knife and fork, cleared her throat, and spoke. “She is stuck in that dreadful charwoman position at the tavern, however.”

Alexandra gave her a wry look. She
’d always found Nancy’s see-saw form of logic dizzying.

“
And there are times, of course, when I could use a bit of help.”

Alexandra set her cup down and pretended to be absorbed in brushing crumbs from her lap.

“Remember? I mentioned that.”

“
Yes, I believe you did. You said something about the patient load becoming heavier and the fact that you thought I might enjoy a bit of French cuisine now and then, which I believe you said Polly learned when she was a maid-of-all-work in France.”

Nancy
picked up her knife and fork and tried to resume interest in her breakfast. “I suppose you think I don’t know what you’re doing,” she said.

“
I beg your pardon?”

“
Playing me like a violin, you are.”

Alexandra felt a moment of chagrin.
“Nancy, I…”

“
Don’t forget I’m the one who taught you such tricks.”

Alexandra sighed.
“I learned from the master,” she said. “I suppose I forgot for a moment who the master is.”

Nancy
laughed with abandon, the kind of laugh that had been carefully and regrettably bred out of Alexandra. But Nancy’s laughter was ruthlessly contagious, and Alexandra felt herself smiling, then having to cover her mouth with her napkin, until the contagion finally erupted from her in soul-cleansing bubbles of mirth. Within seconds, however, her laughter had evolved into sobs. She covered her face with her hands and wept until her shoulders shook.

“
Miss Alex…” Nancy sounded shocked. She had rarely seen Alexandra cry.

Alexandra, embarrassed, did her best to control herself.
“Forgive me, Nancy. I…I don’t know what’s come over me.” She sniffed and dried her eyes with the backs of her hands then straightened her shoulders to regain some of her dignity.

“’
Tis all right, Miss,” Nancy said, reaching to cover Alexandra’s hand with her own. “You’re just a bit tired, now aren’t you? Not yourself, I’d say. And who could blame you?” she added, giving her hand a squeeze before she stood and went to the stove to fetch the tea kettle. “Up all night with the Hastings baby, and it doesn’t look good for her now, does it? That’s a worry for you, I know. And then all those murders and poor Gweneth being blamed.” She poured Alexandra another cup of tea then poured one for herself. “Why, a weaker person would have been driven to pure insanity, I say.” She sat at her place at the table again. “You’ll be yourself once things return to normal.”

Alexandra tried to smile and picked up her cup, grateful for the comfort of the familiar taste. She was embarrassed at her show of emotion, and she knew
Nancy was right. Her lack of sleep had left her nerves frayed. “Will things ever return to normal, Nancy? All that’s going on in Newton is pure madness.”

Nancy
nodded her head, but said nothing.

“
It is madness, Nancy. The townspeople are right about that. Only an absolute madman would do the kind of thing we’re seeing. Yes, they’re right about that, even if they have chosen the wrong people to blame.”

“
We’re all on edge, Miss Alex. But try not to worry so much. There is nothing you can do about it.”

“
Perhaps you’re right.” Alexandra suddenly felt overwhelmed with weariness. “But there should be,” she added in a voice so drained it was barely audible.

Nancy
leaned closer. “Should be, you say? Now why would you want to be taking on such a burden? Didn’t your father always warn you of trying to make yourself God because of your talents and training?” Her voice was scolding.

“
If madness is a physical illness…” Alexandra spoke more to herself than Nancy, and her eyes were focused on something in another sphere.

Nancy
pulled back from her. “Now don’t be getting into that old argument with yourself,” she said. “’Tis nonsense.” She stood and busied herself with clearing the table. “All those doctors in London and America insisting that madness can be cured with the right medicine if only science could provide it. Why ’tis madness itself to think that way. Insanity is not like a carbuncle that can be cured with a poultice of poppy seeds. ’Tis in the mind where only God can go. Not in the brain, which man can manipulate with a bit of belladonna. Besides, we don’t even know who is committing all these murders, so how could you cure him even if such a thing were possible? Now you go on up to your room and sleep. You’ll forget such nonsense, you’ll see. You’ll be yourself again with a bit of rest.”

“
Nancy, you don’t understand. I—”

“
Now, now,” Nancy said, grasping her shoulders and helping her stand. “Not another word from you, Miss, until you’ve had your rest. You want to be in good form for your trip to London on Saturday, don’t you? Yes, of course you do. Now up the stairs and into bed you go. Zack, be a good dog and see that she stays there.”

Alexandra couldn
’t summon the energy to protest against Nancy’s bossy manner. Neither could she manage to form the words to ask why she was going to London on Saturday, because Nancy kept up her patronizing chatter all the way up the stairs and all the while she was helping her change into her nightgown. By the time she’d left, Alexandra could do nothing except fall into bed and be grateful that she could no longer hear her impertinent assistant.

She fell asleep quickly, but within four hours she was awake. It was her habit to allow herself only a few hours of sleep in the morning after she
’d been up all night with a patient, so she could more readily return to a normal sleep pattern. She was up in time for the light lunch Nancy prepared, and she ate hurriedly so she would be finished in time to open her surgery for regular hours. Nancy had been right—a bit of rest had done wonders for her. Her body had lost its weight of weariness, and her mind had cleared.

“
You’re looking much better, Miss,” Nancy said when she saw Alexandra. “Ready for a good day’s work, are you?”

“
Quite so, Nancy.”

“
You know, Miss, I’ve been thinking,” Nancy said as she cleared the table. “It may be I was a bit peevish when I saw how efficient Polly is at everything.”

Alexandra glanced at her with surprise.
Nancy was not one to readily admit her shortcomings.

“
I just can’t stop thinking of her working as a charwoman in the tavern,” Nancy said as if to explain her unusual behavior. “And anyway, truth is she could possibly be a great help to me while you’re in London. She can tend to the kitchen while I take care of patients. Perhaps we could look at that period of time you’re in London as an opportunity to determine whether a permanent part-time arrangement will be satisfactory for her as well as for me. For you, I mean,” Nancy continued with her kitchen work and spoke with her back to Alexandra.

“
I hadn’t thought of it, but perhaps a probationary period would be in order,” Alexandra said, realizing how hard Nancy was working at being fair. “I’ve decided against going to London, but that doesn’t mean I can’t hire Polly for a trial period.” Alexandra had remembered she’d planned to attend a lecture on infection and the germ theory of disease, a subject in which she was particularly interested, but it would have to wait for another opportunity. She felt her presence was needed in Newton-Upon-Sea.

“
Not going to London?” Nancy turned around to look at Alexandra, letting a pot she had just cleaned clatter to the floor in the process. “But you’ve been looking forward to this trip for weeks. You simply can’t miss the opportunity to attend Dr. Lister’s lecture on germs.”

Alexandra shook her head, not allowing herself to think of the
disappointment of missing what was likely to be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. “I can’t leave you here alone, Nancy. Not when there is a mad killer loose.”

“
Nonsense, I—”

“
The entire village is frightened,” Alexandra said. “You can’t belittle the danger.”

Nancy
stood in front of her frowning and with her hands on her hips. “Begging your pardon, Miss, but do you really think your being here will make a difference in my safety? And,” she added quickly before Alexandra could respond or defend herself, “Zack will be here. A good bark from that beast would scare away Satan himself.”