Page 139 of A Sudden, Fearful Death (William Monk 4)

“Sad business,” he said dolefully. “Very sad. Fine lady, no doubt. Still, nothing to be done now to ’elp ’er, poor soul. Where was you takin’ ’er?”

“To meet her daughter and son-in-law,” Hester replied. “They will be at the station….”

“Oh dear, oh dear. Well, nothing else for it.” He shook his head. “We’ll let all the other passengers get orff, and we’ll send for the Stationmaster. No doubt ’e’ll find this daughter. What’s ’er name? D’ye know ’er name, miss?”

“Mrs. Griselda Murdoch. Her husband is Mr. Connal Murdoch.”

“Very good. Well, I’m afraid the train is full, so I can’t offer you another compartment to sit in, I’m sorry. But we’ll be in London in another few moments. You just try to stay calm.” He turned to the conductor. “You got something as you can give this young lady, medicinal, like?”

The conductor’s bushy eyebrows shot up.

“Are you asking me if I got strong drink on me person, sir?”

“Of course I in’t,” the guard said smoothly. “That’d be agin company policy. But I just thought as yer might ’ave had summink medicinal on yer, against the cold, or shock, or summink. For passengers, and the like.”

“Well …” The conductor looked at Hester’s wan face. “Well, I suppose I might be able to find something—like …”

“Good. You go and look, Jake, an’ if you can, you give this poor soul a nip, right?”

“Yes sir! Right!”

And he was as good as his word. Having “found” the forbidden brandy, he gave Hester a brimming capful and then left her again, muttering unintelligibly about duty. It was a further quarter of an hour, during which she was shivering cold and feeling increasingly apprehensive, before the Stationmaster appeared in the compartment entranceway. He had a bland, curious face, auburn hair and, at the present moment, a severe cold in the head.

“Now then, miss,” he said, and sneezed violently. “You’d better tell us exactly what happened to the poor lady. Who is she? And for that matter, who are you?”

“Her name is Mrs. Mary Farraline, from Edinburgh,” Hester replied. “I am Hester Latterly, employed to accompany her from Edinburgh to London in order to give her her medicine and see that she was comfortable.” It sounded hollow now, even absurd.

“I see. What was the medicine for, miss?”

“A heart ailment, I believe. I was not told any details of her condition, only that the medicine must be given to her regularly, how much, and at what time.”

“And did you give it to her, miss?” He regarded her under his eyebrows. “Ye’r sure you did?”

“Yes, absolutely sure.” She rose to her feet and pulled down the medicine cabinet, opened it, and showed him the empty vials.

“There’s two gone,” the Stationmaster observed.

“That’s right. I gave her one last night, at about a quarter to eleven, the other they must have used in the morning.”

“But you only joined the train yesterday evenin’,” the conductor pointed out, peering over the stationmaster’s shoulder. “ ’Ad to ’ave. It don’t start till evenin’.”

“I know that,” Hester said patiently. “Perhaps they were short of medicine, or the maid was lazy, and this was already made up, ready to use. I don’t know. But I gave her the second one, out of this vial.” She pointed to the second one in its bed. “Last night.”

“And how was she then, miss? Poorly?”

“No—no she seemed very well,” Hester said honestly.

“I see. Well, we’d best put a guard on duty ’ere to see she in’t”—he hesitated—“in’t disturbed, and you’d better come and find the poor lady’s daughter who’s come to meet her, poor soul.” The stationmaster frowned, still staring at Hester. “You sure she didn’t call out in the night? You were here, I take it—all night?”

“Yes I was,” Hester said stiffly.

He hesitated again, then sneezed fiercely and was obliged to blow his nose. He looked at her carefully for several minutes, regarding her straight-backed very slender figure, and making some estimate of her age, and decided she was probably telling the truth. It was not a flattering conclusion.

“I don’t know Mr. and Mrs. Murdoch,” Hester said quietly. “You will have to make some sort of announcement in order to find them.”

“We’ll take care of all that sort of thing. Now you just compose yourself, miss, and come and tell these poor souls that their mother has passed over.” He looked at her narrowly. “Are you going to be able to do that, miss?”

“Yes—yes certainly I am. Thank you for your concern.”