The Scandalous Sisterhood of Prickwillow Place (25 page)

Admiral Lockwood began to cough. Kitty and the other girls politely looked away to spare him any embarrassment. His coughing persisted, as old people’s little fits often will, and Kitty rather welcomed the public distraction from Alice’s singing.

But the small bird sung in his own sweet words, ‘’tis not fine feathers make fine birds!’

Clink.

Admiral Lockwood’s glass tipped over, spilling a scarlet tide of punch onto the snowy tablecloth. The stain spread till it looked like a giant strawberry in the center of the table. The four seated girls all saw the stain, then looked away discreetly. Dear Roberta closed her eyes in pain. Her precious tablecloth.

Clunk.

Kitty jumped. Louise turned. Elinor’s eyes opened wide.

Admiral Lockwood’s large head jolted the table where it hit.

CHAPTER 20

Kitty felt a twinge of irritation. Must he make a spectacle of himself? And at their table, no less? He must have added liquor to his punch. People who couldn’t handle drink should restrain themselves in public.

Then Dear Roberta began to whimper. It rose and swelled to a shrill squeak. Dull Martha’s fingers fumbled on the keys. Stout Alice paused, mid-note.

Smooth Kitty pushed her chair back and hurried to hush Dear Roberta. A fine time this would be for one of her faints. Pocked Louise scooted to the admiral’s side and jostled his shoulder. He made no response. She listened for his breath, and pressed her fingertips into his neck. No one else in the room moved, except Mr. Julius Godding and his mother, who hurried through the stunned crowd to their table. Mrs. Godding, if that was her name, assessed the situation instantly and joined Louise in her examination by checking the admiral’s wrist.

“Let me, love,” she told Louise. “Julius. Locate a doctor quickly.”

Julius turned and addressed the room. “Is there a doctor present?” he called out. “Any physician within close distance? If you’ll point me in the right direction…”

Henry Butts bolted for the outside door. Admiral Lockwood’s elderly servant, Jeffers, approached, trembling. His footsteps faltered. Julius caught him and eased him into a chair. In no time Henry returned with Dr. Snelling, who had joined other less musically inclined men outdoors for cigars. He hurried to the admiral.

Constable Quill emerged from his curtained corner and jammed his helmet onto his head. “What’s happening here?”

By now men and women had risen and gathered round the table, a ring of curious eyes hemming the girls in by the admiral’s still form. Louise felt she couldn’t breathe. Then Stout Alice broke through the throng, with Dull Martha at her heels. “Are you all right, girls?”

Dr. Snelling ministered to the admiral for some moments, thumping his back, listening to his heart, feeling his wrist. At length he laid the admiral’s limp hand down on the table and stood. He shook his head.

The room absorbed this information in thick silence, slowly, like the inhale and release of a painful breath. A small sound escaped from Jeffers’s throat. Comforting hands gripped his shoulders, while tactful eyes looked away.

Kitty gripped her arms tight to her body. The room was beginning to spin before her eyes, and she feared she might unravel and join the whirlwind. More death. Why did it stalk them? And why, when she didn’t feel any remorse at the death of her headmistress and her brother, did she feel so woeful now? She caught sight of Disgraceful Mary Jane slipping discreetly through the crowd. Her cheeks were
f
lushed. No doubt her little tête-à- tête with Officer Quill had taken a fascinating turn. Kitty couldn’t feel any real vexation for her disgraceful roommate’s shocking behavior. Admiral Lockwood had fallen down dead beside her. What difference did propriety make now?

Mary Jane halted at the sight of Admiral Lockwood. The bright blush faded from her cheeks.

Dear Roberta’s sweet voice penetrated the stillness. “Was it poison?”

“Poison!” a woman cried.

“Poison?” a man demanded.

“Now, now.” Dr. Snelling held up his hands. “The admiral had lived to a good old age. It was most likely his tired heart giving way.”

Dour Elinor spoke. “He sat here with us for some time,” she said. “All he had was punch. We all drank punch.”

“Is this his glass?” Constable Quill pointed to an empty glass on the table.

“No,” Pocked Louise said, thinking fast. “The glass he drank from was…”

“Mine.” Stout Alice found a chair and sat down.

Constable Quill and Dr. Snelling sniffed the glasses and reexamined the admiral’s face and lips. No words passed between them.

“It
was
poison,” Miss Fringle declared aloud. “Poison in the punch!”

Mrs. Rumsey’s words were clipped. “I made that punch myself, Letitia.”

“I was at the piano!” Martha wailed. “I was nowhere near the glasses of punch.”

Everyone turned to stare at Dull Martha.

“Of course you weren’t, dear.” Julius Godding’s mother was the one who spoke. She had a capable, calm presence. Her gray eyes conveyed reassurance. Kitty felt she would have liked to know her, if she weren’t the mother of their undoing. She cringed at Martha’s inane remark. She
must
get them home before anyone else did something stupid. Thanks to Mrs. Godding’s tone, others looked upon Martha with pity, and didn’t question her bizarre statement.

Disgraceful Mary Jane made her way to Stout Alice and whispered brie
f
ly in her ear. A look of revulsion passed over Alice’s face, but she nodded, and fished for her handkerchief.

“The poor, poor admiral.” Alice spoke in a tremulous voice. She dabbed her eyes and nose. “He was always such a kind and thoughtful gentleman.” She sniffed, and allowed herself to be faintly overcome with emotion. Mary Jane nodded her approval. Leave it to her to remember the romantic angle. How would it look for Mrs. Plackett to feel nothing at the death of her gentleman friend?

Reverend Rumsey, who had watched these proceedings from some distance with alarm writ large upon his long face, now asserted himself. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said. “I pray, let us not succumb to speculation and fear. We are all grieved at the departure of our eminent retired admiral, though I must say, to leave this life while listening to such, er, lovely music was no doubt a mercy. But, I’m afraid this sad event must cut our evening short.”

“Ronald.” Mrs. Rumsey’s expression was severe. “We haven’t served the strawberry tri
f
le yet.”

Reverend Rumsey held up a hand in a rare show of firmness. “Please, let us all disperse to our homes now, to allow the poor admiral’s body to be tended to with proper respect.”

The crowd began to thin slowly, with whispers and stares. Stout Alice obliged them with a tragic snif
f
le.

A scream emerged from the kitchen. A serving volunteer came running out, leaving the door swinging wide. “Another one!” the young woman cried. “It
is
poison! Amanda Barnes ’as fallen down dead in the kitchen!”

CHAPTER 21

Mrs. Godding ran for the kitchen. She was halfway there before anyone else had time to think. “Stay with the gentleman, Julius,” she called, and disappeared through the swinging door.

Dr. Snelling, Constable Quill, and Reverend and Mrs. Rumsey followed after her. Stout Alice rose to do the same, but Pocked Louise restrained her. “Stay,” she said. “Please, Mrs. Plackett, stay here away from the commotion. So we can tend to you.”

Kitty found Julius standing close by her. “Your mother is a marvel,” she said.

“She was a nurse before she married,” he said. “Now she volunteers at a clinic, and acts as midwife to local women.”

“Julius?” It was Miss Fringle speaking. “Your name is Julius?”

Kitty’s stomach sank. Here it came.

“It is,” Julius said. “Does anyone know where we might find a bedsheet?”

Miss Fringle opened her mouth, and Kitty felt sure she would probe for a surname. The choir mistress paused, and closed her mouth. “I’ll ask Patricia for one,” she said, and limped off to find Mrs. Rumsey.

The students from Saint Etheldreda’s School held a silent meeting. Dull Martha and Dear Roberta held each other’s arms tightly. Pocked Louise, Dour Elinor, and Disgraceful Mary Jane stood in a protective ring around Stout Alice’s chair. Mr. Albert Bly stood at Roberta’s side, ready to offer help, and Charles Bringhurst knelt down by Jeffers’s chair, speaking to him in a low voice, and offering him a handkerchief. Good old Funeral Charlie. Perhaps his nickname wasn’t such a joke after all. But it was time for them to leave. And yet, Amanda Barnes? What was happening? Would they all begin to fall like dominoes?

“Good news, everyone!” Reverend Rumsey appeared from the kitchen door, followed by his wife, the doctor, and the constable. The vicar spoke. “Miss Barnes is well. She merely fainted. Shock weakened her momentarily. So I think we can dispel this notion of poison.”

Dr. Snelling and Constable Quill exchanged glances, but said nothing.

“I must go inquire after Barnes.” Stout Alice rose decisively. “She’s been in my employ these many years. I must know for myself that she is well.”

Kitty could not stop Alice, so they trouped along after her and watched the scene from the kitchen door. They found Amanda Barnes lying upon the
f
loor with a cushion propped under her head. Mrs. Godding, kneeling beside her, fanned her face with a dessert plate. Amanda’s skin was deathly pale. Her breath came in short, shallow pants. When she saw Alice, she covered her face with a trembling hand.

“There, there,” said Mrs. Godding. “Everything will be all right. I’ll tend you until you’re feeling better.”

Barnes spoke feebly. “Will the admiral be all right?”

Mrs. Godding rocked back on her heels and gave the girls a look filled with caution. “Never mind the admiral,” she said. “He’s a tough old oak. Is he family?”

Amanda Barnes shook her head. “I just felt so badly for him. I was in here spooning up tri
f
le, and when I heard the word poison, I…”

“Of course.” Mrs. Godding brushed Barnes’s damp blond hair off her forehead. “Now, you just worry about yourself. You need rest.”

Barnes drew a deep breath. “You’re all kindness, ma’am.” She lowered her protective hand. “I don’t believe I know your name, begging your pardon.”

Mrs. Godding handed her patient a cup of water. “No pardon needed,” she said. “You haven’t met me. I’m newly arrived from Bombay. My name is Elaine. Mrs. Geoffrey Godding.”

Amanda Barnes blinked. She swallowed hard and struggled to sit up. Kitty felt Louise and Alice stiffen with shock.

“No, not yet, dearie.” Mrs. Godding was cheerfully determined to keep her
f
lat. “Too soon to be getting up just yet. Let’s let the place clear out first.”

Kitty looked away. She couldn’t bring herself to face Barnes, or her classmates. She saw Dull Martha beckon to them from the parish hall, so she tugged Louise and Alice along after her.

“Henry’s ready to take us home,” Martha said.

CHAPTER 22

Damp clouds obscured the stars, leaving the night sky black as ink as Henry Butts helped the girls down from his cart in front of Saint Etheldreda’s School for Young Ladies. Stout Alice thanked him for the ride, then Dull Martha thanked him half a dozen more times, until Pocked Louise dragged her indoors.

Once inside, Kitty dropped her shawl and bonnet on the
f
lagstone
f
loor and shook her clenched fists before her face.

“
How could this have happened?
” she cried aloud. “We
never
should have gone!”

Kitty’s words echoed through the dark corridor. The girls filtered into the parlor, and Dour Elinor struck a match and lit a pair of candles. The noise, the sulphur smell, the jittering
f
lame jarred Kitty. She gnawed on a knuckle and tried not to think.

“What are you saying, Kitty?” Elinor inquired. “Are you saying Admiral Lockwood wouldn’t have died if we hadn’t gone tonight?”

“Yes … no … yes!” Kitty groaned. “I mean, that part’s obvious, isn’t it? The attempt that was made on Mrs. Plackett killed
him
by mistake.”

“You’re not saying
we
killed him, are you?” pressed Elinor.

Kitty fumed. “Don’t be absurd.”

“By mistake…” Pocked Louise repeated.

“Yes, what about it?” Mary Jane snapped, but Louise didn’t answer.

“Where are the brass candlesticks?” Elinor asked.

“It feels drafty in here,” Dear Roberta ventured. “Let’s light a fire.”

“I don’t simply mean the admiral, though that’s the worst of it,” Kitty said. “He’s gone, God rest his soul. I mean, everything else, too.” She sank down into a chair. Her body felt limp, utterly drained. “The song. Miss Fringle. Mary Jane’s snooping constable, and the wretched man at the train station. Alice in danger, God help us. Julius Godding, showing up.”

“Ah, yes,” Mary Jane said. “
Darling
Julius.” She tossed her coat upon a chair. “After all these years away, he must pick tonight to appear. Would somebody
please
start at the beginning and tell me everything that happened?”

“If you hadn’t been chasing after your policeman, and doing who-knows-what with him behind the curtain, you wouldn’t need to ask,” Pocked Louise said.

“Aren’t
you
the saucy one tonight,” Mary Jane said indifferently.

Her smugness rankled Pocked Louise. “I’m not saucy,” she cried. “I’m right. I don’t care how much older you are. I’ve got enough sense not to make a shameful spectacle of myself, and enough to know when my friends need me to stay close by and help, unlike
some
people.”

“Pooh, pooh,” sneered Disgraceful Mary Jane with her nose high in the air. “I won’t be lectured by you. Mind your business, little girl.”

Pocked Louise opened her mouth to blast Mary Jane with a retort, then felt her eyes sting. She hated, above all else, to be called little. She turned away quickly so Mary Jane couldn’t see her barb hit its mark.