Medium Dead: An Alexandra Gladstone Mystery (4 page)

“What is it you want?” He took a step toward her and then another and another. By now he was keeping the knife behind his back.

“I thought I heard something. A disturbance, perhaps.” Alexandra was fighting to keep her voice calm.

“Disturbance?” The man was close enough now that she could see his eyes, water-blue, with enlarged pupils. “They’s no disturbance.” He sounded nervous. “Go on back to the kitchen.” He scrutinized her from head to toe. “You’re no kitchen maid. I can surely see that now.” He backed away a step. “Who are you?”

“I’m a doctor. I came to see about Her Ladyship.”

“Doctor?” The man sputtered a laugh. “Doctor, my eye. You’re a woman.”

“Careful you don’t cut yourself with that knife.” Alexandra saw a look of cold anger blotch the man’s face as she spoke and knew she’d been too bold.

“Knife?” he said. Spittle formed at the corners of his mouth, making it appear that his anger was foaming. He slowly brought forward the hand he’d been holding behind his back.

Alexandra felt the blood drain from her head, and she recognized the need to run, but fear had turned her feet to lead. She was fighting to regain her composure when she noticed the man’s hands. Both of them were empty and hung loosely at his sides. There was no knife.

“Excuse me, miss, but ye best get back inside. The night air does not seem to agree with you.” With that, he turned away, the tails of his livery flapping in the cold night breeze. There was no sign of the knife stuck in a back pocket.

Alexandra hurried inside and upstairs to the great hall, where she found Nicholas waiting.

“Are you all right?” he asked. “I was beginning to worry.”

“Quite all right,” she said. “Sorry to have kept you waiting. I suddenly remembered that I had to leave something for Pickwick.”

The lie was instinctive, but she could say nothing else, since she wasn’t certain how she could explain what she’d seen. Or thought she’d seen.

Nicholas glanced at Alexandra as he drove the carriage back to her home, noting her pretty face, her slender form, yet he was keenly aware of the change in her. There was a tension that had nothing to do with their earlier exchange. He suspected her standoffishness had something to do with the difference in their stations. Her current demeanor was unrelated to that, he was sure.

“Are you all right, Dr. Gladstone?” He’d decided on the spur of the moment not to use her first name, thinking the formality would be less off-putting, and he wanted nothing to interfere with her confiding in him.

There was a telling pause before she responded. “Hmm? Oh, yes, of course. Quite all right.”

Her distraction was troubling, but he still couldn’t come up with a reason. Obviously, something disconcerting had occurred while they were at Montmarsh. Something he hadn’t witnessed. He hoped his mother hadn’t been unduly harsh, as he knew all too well she could be at times. An uncomfortable silence followed, except for the
clip-clop
of the horse’s hooves.

“Nicholas,” she said finally. “Why didn’t you tell me the queen is visiting in Montmarsh?”

He almost dropped the reins. The horse paused, then started again, making the carriage lurch. Nicholas reached a hand toward Alexandra to steady her. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I believe I misunderstood you.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Did you ask if the queen is visiting Montmarsh?”

“No, I asked why you didn’t tell me she’s there.”

Nicholas tried to answer with a little chuckle, but it came out sounding strained and insincere. “I’m sure you must be mistaken. Of course the queen is not—”

“Don’t lie to me, please.”

Another long silence. “How did you know?” he asked.

“I saw the royal carriage.”

“Well,” Nicholas said, trying to brush it off with a little huff. “Just because you saw the carriage doesn’t mean—”

“Nicholas.”

“Oh, all right.” He was growing tired of the cat-and-mouse game. “The queen is at Montmarsh, but she doesn’t want the word to get out. She’s here because it’s such an out-of-the-way place. She doesn’t want to be seen. I know I can trust you not to spread the word that—”

“I believe she’s already been seen,” Alexandra said.

“But my dear, you only saw the carriage, not the queen.”

“I’m not referring to myself. Two other people have seen her.”

“But that’s impossible,” Nicholas said. “She hasn’t left the estate. She hasn’t even left the house.”

“She was seen in the graveyard.”

Nicholas pulled the reins to stop the carriage and turned to face Alexandra. “She actually went to the graveyard?”

“I assume you find that strange,” Alexandra said.

Nicholas took a deep breath and waited a moment before he spoke. “Do you by any chance have a bit of brandy? I think I could use a glass. A rather generous glass.”

He saw her smile in the murky light of the half-moon.

The Gladstone house was dark except for a small lamp burning in the parlor, left there, no doubt, by Nancy. Inside, the fire was banked but ready to burn again, also her work, Nicholas assumed. He’d met Alexandra’s maid on several occasions. A slight, blond woman, not unpleasant to look at, but a bit of a busybody. Still, likable enough and possessed of a sharp wit. He wasn’t surprised when she came padding down the stairs and into the parlor in her bare feet, accompanied by that enormous beast of a dog.

“Oh!” Nancy said, obviously surprised to see Nicholas in the parlor. “Forgive me, My Lord, I wasn’t expecting—”

“Would you be so kind as to bring a snifter of brandy for Lord Dunsford?” Alexandra said.

“Of course,” Nancy said with a little bow. Nicholas had not taken his eyes off the dog. His name was Zack, as Nicholas remembered. Zack was eyeing him as well. Eyeing him with suspicion, Nicholas thought. Eyeing him with the idea that any minute he would pounce.

A low growl escaped from Zack’s throat and Alexandra scolded him, calling him to her side. “Please have a seat,” she said to Nicholas, indicating one of the horsehair sofas near the fire, which she was busy trying to coax into flame.

“Here, let me do that,” Nicholas said, taking the poker from her and hoping it was safe to turn his back on Zack.

“I really must apologize for Zack,” Alexandra said, yielding the poker to him. “He’s actually quite friendly. I can’t imagine why he’s so suspicious of you.”

“Perhaps he senses that I want to take you away from him,” Nicholas said.

Before Alexandra could respond, Nancy reappeared with the brandy. She was still in her bare feet, and a plain dressing gown covered her nightdress, but she conducted herself as if she were dressed in the livery of a noble lady’s maid. When she had placed the tray with two snifters holding modest amounts of brandy on a table, she stepped back demurely.

“Thank you, Nancy,” Alexandra said. “That will be all. You may go back to bed.”

Nicholas smiled when he saw the disappointed look on the maid’s face. He knew her well enough by now to know that she was happiest when she was in the midst and in the know of everything.

“Yes, miss. Should you need anything else, I shall—”

“Thank you, Nancy.”

The maid obviously didn’t fail to notice the stern tone in Alexandra’s voice. She gave a little nod and disappeared up the stairs. The dog remained next to Alexandra, standing at his full substantial height, his body tense, and his eyes trained on Nicholas.

Doing his best to ignore the beast, Nicholas swirled his brandy, pretending to take a deep interest in the rich amber color.

“Now,” Alexandra said. “About the queen…”

Nicholas took a sip of the brandy and swallowed too quickly and coughed. There would be no point in trying to delay the inevitable, however. “Yes,” he said, sounding a little choked. “About the queen.” He coughed again. “She came here, hoping no one would know. It’s such an out-of-the-way place, you see.”

“You said that earlier.”

“Quite so.” He gave the brandy in his glass a longing look before he raised his eyes to Alexandra again. “Her Majesty came here to…
ahem
…to have a séance conducted for her.”

He saw the frown crease the doctor’s pretty brow. “A séance?” she asked.

He nodded. “She still mourns the death of Prince Albert. People remark all the time how she’s never stopped wearing black.”

“Of course. But surely she doesn’t think she can contact—”

“Oh, but she does think she can contact her dead husband. This won’t be the first time, actually. The first time she has tried, that is.”

“I see.”

Once again Nicholas was unnerved by the silence that followed. He placed his glass on the table next to the sofa. Alexandra, he noted, had never picked up her own glass. “She doesn’t want that bit of information to get out, of course, and only a few select people know about it—those very close to her, such as my mother.”

“And you.”

“Oh, but I’m not supposed to know, actually.” The conversation was making him increasingly uncomfortable.

“And now you’ve told me.”

He was beginning to sweat. “But surely I can trust you to be discreet.”

Alexandra made no reply. For the first time, she reached for her glass, rolled the liquid around gently and gave it a delicate sniff, before she brought the rim to her lips and took a small sip. Nicholas had to look away. It was more than that sensuous mouth making him uneasy. He took another swallow of brandy. This time it slipped smoothly down his throat, but he found no pleasure in the taste.

“I’m afraid it is I who have been indiscreet,” he said. “I should never have mentioned the séance. I should never have betrayed a confidence, especially when it involves our sovereign.”

“Oh, Nicholas, do stop fussing. Of course I’ll be discreet. And don’t feel so guilty. I forced you to tell me.” He saw a little suggestive smile curving her lips. Had she been toying with him all along?

“I never had any doubt that you would show the utmost discretion.”

She laughed. He had rarely heard her laugh. The rich sound of it made him think, for some reason, of chocolate confections. “Of course you doubted,” she said. “But never mind that. You still haven’t told me why Her Majesty would be seen in the graveyard of our little community.”

She’d made him relax enough at least to smile. “That one is beyond me, I’m afraid. My only explanation is that whoever thought he saw her was mistaken.”

She told him Young Beaty’s story. “Young Beaty isn’t the sort of person to imagine he saw something, and he’s certainly not the type to lie,” she said.

“A dead body?” Nicholas said. “You say this person you call Young Beaty went there to retrieve a body some boy had found?”

Alexandra nodded, but he hardly noticed. He was far too absorbed with the idea of the queen being anywhere near a body that Alexandra was certain had been murdered.

“That very possibly implicates Her Majesty in the murder,” Nicholas said. The thought of it made him feel a little sick. “But that’s ridiculous, of course. There’s no doubt this Beaty you mentioned was mistaken. He was frightened, naturally. Enough to make his mind play tricks, I imagine.”

“I hope you’re right.” She paused, then spoke again. “Do you by any chance know anything about her carriage driver?”

“Carriage driver? Of course not. Why do you ask?”

“There’s probably nothing to it. It’s just that I thought I saw…”

“Go on.”

“I’m not certain of what I saw, so it’s probably best that I don’t—”

“Alexandra! Please, don’t play games.” He saw a flash of anger in her face as he said that.

“I’m certainly not playing games,” she said. “This is a serious matter.”

“Of course it is.” He softened his tone. “But this is not a court of law, so I’m not going to object to anything on the grounds of hearsay, and I’m not going to scoff at you for imagining things. I’m merely asking you to tell me what you thought you saw.”

She took a deep breath. “A knife.”

“A knife?”

“Yes. In the hands of the driver.”

Nicholas nodded. “Perhaps you did see a knife in the hands of the driver. That probably wouldn’t be unusual. I suspect he uses it to maintain the carriage and the fittings. You know, trim off bits of leather, scrape off debris. That sort of thing.”

“I’m sure you’re right.” She smiled weakly and turned away.

“Is there something more you’re not telling me?”

“It’s just that…”

“Go on.”

She turned to face him again. “There seemed to be something on the knife. At first I thought it was blood, but I can’t be sure.”

“Perhaps I should inquire—”

“The knife disappeared, Nicholas. Disappeared before my eyes.”

Nicholas was too stunned to speak at first. Alexandra Gladstone was the most levelheaded person he’d ever met. What she had just said was entirely out of character. Finally, he managed to utter, “My dear—”

“I told you I wasn’t certain. That’s why I didn’t want to say anything.”

“There has to be an explanation for all of this,” Nicholas said. “The queen simply can’t be involved in this in any way, and neither can any of her staff. I am absolutely certain of that. No question…What does that look on your face mean? The way you rolled your eyes?”

“Did I roll my eyes?”

“You most certainly did, and you know it.”

Alexandra laughed. “Then I suppose it was because of the way you said you were absolutely certain. As if you couldn’t possibly be wrong. Forgive me, but since you were raised to the peerage, you’ve begun to sound like all the rest of them.”

Nicholas felt his face grow warm. Still he felt obliged to defend himself. “My opinion has nothing to do with my station. It is that I simply cannot believe Her Majesty could be involved in murder.”

“And neither can I. That’s why I said ‘I hope you’re right.’ ”

“Quite so.”

“I’ve never seen you so on edge, Nicholas.”

He was on edge, and rightly so, he thought. “We have to find who murdered that woman. Or at the least make certain this Beaty person doesn’t spread his rumor.”

“
We
have to find out? Don’t you trust our Constable Snow to make certain the murderer is found and the truth brought forth?”

“There’s that look again, as if you think I’m acting like Lord Dunsford and bullying everyone. The truth is I don’t know whether I can trust Constable Snow to make certain of anything or not. It’s just that I have to be sure the queen is in no way implicated in this. For her sake. For the sake of my family’s good name.”

“Ah.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Your family’s good name.”

“Alexandra, must you make me feel so…so insensitive? Can’t you understand that in my position, I must think of—”

“Oh, but I do understand, Nicholas. All of us want to protect our family name, even if we aren’t among the peerage.”

“Of course you do,” he said. “Forgive me. Perhaps I am being insensitive after all.”

“And just for the record, you
are
Lord Dunsford. Perhaps that’s why you act like him.”

“Oh, God,” he said, feeling miserable, but he smiled when he saw that she was smiling as well. “You’re as anxious to get to the bottom of this as I am.”

“I am perfectly content to allow Constable Snow to—” She laughed. “Now it’s you who is rolling his eyes. You don’t believe me?”

He shook his head slowly.

“All right,” she said. “Perhaps I am a little curious.”

He looked at her knowingly over the rim of his glass as he finished his brandy. “You’re coming back to Montmarsh to see Her Ladyship tomorrow. We can start then,” he said as he put his glass down and rose to his feet. She stood as well. “I shall see you tomorrow,” he said. “What time shall I have the carriage here?” he added, just as Zack gave him a warning growl.

“Don’t bother with the carriage. I’ll stop by as a part of my usual rounds,” she said.

“But—”

“Please, Nicholas. I never know how long my visits will take. I shall ride Lucy as I always do and be there as soon as possible.”

Nicholas considered insisting that he drive her, but he could see the stubborn look on her face, and anyway, that creature was growling again. “Very well,” he said. “I’ll eagerly await your arrival.” He leaned toward her to give her a very proper kiss on the cheek. It was a mistake. Zack took his trousers leg in his sizable jaws, along with a little nick of his skin.