Page 12 of Bernadette’s Dashing Doctor (The Bookshop Belles #4)

CHAPTER 12

Investigations

T he timing was terrible, but Glynn truly needed Mr Jackson’s help to resolve the cause of Reverend Millings’ death. He held off troubling Shaun and Louise for the best part of a week after their wedding, but he could wait no longer. Tomorrow, they would leave for their honeymoon in Eastbourne, which would create further delays.

To his delight, sensible Bernadette agreed, and she walked beside him to the Jackson residence.

“You’re right to speak to him today, because they won’t be returning to Hatfield directly. They’re going to meet us in London for the hearing at the Chancery Court,” she explained.

“Oh, goodness.” He’d forgotten about that extra complication in the sisters’ lives. “It must be weighing on your mind?”

“Somewhat,” Bernadette said with a forced smile.

“How are you bearing up?”

“Keeping busy is providing a welcome distraction,” she said with a sigh. “And at least Cousin Joshua and Benjamin aren’t here any more.”

They arrived at the Jackson house just as Mrs Allom was walking out the garden gate.

“Must be the day for visitors,” she said, as she held the gate for them.

They exchanged cheerful greetings and reached the door, just as Shaun opened it to farewell Mrs Lloyd.

“‘Dette, it’s so good to see you!” the newly-minted Mrs Jackson gushed from the hall. “Come in! Dr Williams, you’re so kind to make a house visit!” her voice rose an octave, “Sean’s broken fingers are healing so well!”

That sounded far too theatrical to Glynn, nodding to Mrs Lloyd as they passed each other.

There was another woman in the hallway fetching her hat. The haberdasher, he couldn't place her name as she hadn’t come to see him for anything yet.

Mrs Jackson bustled their existing visitors out of their little house, then she directed Glynn and Bernadette into the sitting room.

Enough food for a week sat piled in bowls and on platters on the table.

“What’s all this?” Bernadette asked as the same thought crossed Glynn’s mind.

Shaun made a soft chuckle, “They say it’s thanks for discovering the arsonist.”

Louise stood beside him and wrapped her arms around her husband. “I think they want to check up on me.” Then she gestured to Bernadette, “You must take this home with you, we’ll be leaving tomorrow and we can’t take it with us.”

“I’m sure Brutus will gladly make sure nothing goes to waste,” Bernadette said with a grin.

“Would you like me to check how your broken fingers are healing?” Glynn asked.

“They’re good,” Shaun held them out. The tips were a healthy colour. “Doesn’t really hurt much except when I forget and rest them on the table the wrong way.”

“We’re sorry to break your idyll,” Bernadette said. “But we need assistance before you leave tomorrow.”

“Oh?” Shaun and Louise said in unison.

Glynn softly cleared his throat, “It’s about the late Reverend Millings. I was hoping we could visit the vicarage and see if there is something we’ve missed?”

Shaun looked to the ground for a moment, then his head came up, his eyes bright. “I never checked the vicarage. Let’s head over there now and see what we can find?”

“Excellent,” Glynn stood and walked to the door.

“Gentlemen,” Bernadette called out, “Aren’t you forgetting that the vicarage is still occupied? Mrs Millings might not feel inclined to speak directly with the magistrate or doctor, but Louise and I can pay a visit and see how she’s getting along.”

Realisation dawned. “Thank you, ladies,” Glynn said. “You’re absolutely right.”

Bernadette said, “Bring some of the food, I’m sure she’ll be happy to take it.”

When they reached the vicarage, Glynn stayed a few paces behind with Shaun as Louise and Bernadette spoke kindly with Mrs Millings. Their voices were soft and indistinct, but sounded kind and sincere.

The widow let them in and they sat in a modest receiving room.

During a pause in conversation, Glynn took his chance. “How is your health, Mrs Millings?”

She turned to him and shook her head. “Am I under investigation?”

Bernadette looked his way with an expression of frustration.

Shaun jumped in, “Not you, Mrs Millings, not at all. But would it be possible to search the house, just in case there’s something we’ve missed?”

All colour drained from her face, her hand shot to her mouth and she stood up. “Are you, are you..?” she started, but then fled from the room without finishing.

Her footsteps vanished up the stairs and she shut herself in a room. Most likely her bedroom.

Louise and Bernadette slumped in their seats.

“I wasn’t expecting that,” Glynn said, “Should I go to her?”

Bernadette shook her head and sat up, “No, I will, and you come too, Louise. She’ll feel easier talking with us.”

Shaun shrugged at Glynn in the emptying sitting room and said, “Well, seeing as we’re here, let’s have a look around.”

They found the Reverend’s study behind a nearby door. The drapes were still open, with a view to the church entrance.

“I wonder if anyone’s been in here since he died?” Glynn asked.

Shaun lifted a small waste basket, which had crumpled papers and a moulding apple core in it. “I’d say not.”

Carefully and quietly, they checked cupboards and drawers for anything that might show a link between the late vicar and the person wanting to do him in. Letters would be handy, if anyone sent him threats of some kind.

Glynn checked the papers in the waste basket, but they were not drafts of letters, they were ideas for sermons.

“Wait up,” Shaun said, reaching under the desk. “There’s another drawer here, I think. I’ve seen a desk like this before and it had a secret drawer… there!” There was a sharp click, and a part of the desk that had appeared solid popped open slightly.

Pulling the previously hidden drawer open, Glynn gasped at the array of small bottles and packets.

Shaun held one up to the light to peer at the label.

“That’s poison!” Glynn said.

“That doesn’t make sense. Was he poisoning himself ?” Shaun frowned, and Glynn shook his head in confusion.

Shaun set the bottles out on the desk so they could get a better look. “What are they for?”

“I’m not sure. Some of them could be from the last century; they look pretty old.” Glynn scratched his chin thoughtfully. “I may need to consult with Mr Lennox. Even if they didn’t come from his shop, he might know what they are.”

Shaun found the latch to free the drawer, so they could carry the contents securely. The sitting room was still empty when they walked back.

“I’d say we wait for them outside,” Shaun said. Then he called up the staircase, “Louise?”

No answer came. “Mrs Jackson?” he tried, with a smile in his voice.

Glynn called up, “We’ll be in the garden, no rush.”

“Speak for yourself,” Shaun said, with a nudge to his shoulder.

As they waited for the Baxter sisters, Glynn and Shaun couldn’t stop looking at the little jars of mixtures and poisons. There were so many, and they’d been hidden away so well.

Glynn caught a sudden flash of white in his peripheral vision as the figure of a young woman ran away from the property. “Is that …?”

“Looks like young Ruth,” Shaun answered.

She was running in the opposite direction to town. He wondered aloud, “Should we give chase?”

“Two men chasing down a lass of fourteen?” Shaun said. “We’re not ogres!”

It was on the tip of Glynn’s tongue to mention she was moving at a decent speed for a pregnant woman. Just in time he held it back. Perhaps she was hoping to trip and fall, or in some other way solve her problem?

Bernadette and Louise exited the house with defeated expressions a few moments later.

“I offered her a tonic for her megrims, but she said they’d stopped,” Bernadette shrugged. “She wouldn’t tell us anything else.”

Louise reached for Shaun’s hand. “We tried to talk to Ruth, but she ran out of the house.”

“Aye,” Shaun pointed. “She went off that way.”

They walked back to the Jackson’s house, where Bernadette accepted a basket groaning with food. Glynn also balanced a bowl of pies and cold, cooked sausages on top of his drawer of poisons. They put a folded cloth between them, to make sure nothing broke.

“Keep investigating,” Shaun encouraged, “We’ll be back in a few weeks.”

Glynn’s arms began to ache before they reached the end of the lane. “You could give away a slice of cake with every book sold,” he said.

“Brutus will make short work of this, he’s a growing lad,” Bernadette said with a laugh.

“My stomach was a bottomless pit at that age,” he agreed, and they fell into polite silence for a little while.

“You mentioned Mrs Millings had megrims,” Glynn ruminated. “Did she have them often? She never came to see me…”

“Oh don’t worry, she never really came to me either. Ruth told me sometimes she was confined to bed for days with them, and I could see in the poor woman’s expressions sometimes that she was about to get one,” Bernadette said. “They can be so debilitating, but she kept it to herself and suffered in private. I doubt she said much to anyone.”

A memory of the hospital committee meeting played in Glynn’s mind; a woman scared of her own shadow. “I guess it’s one consolation that she doesn’t have to worry about him any more, at least.”

Bernadette agreed. “We only had to listen to Brimstone’s sermons once a week, I can’t imagine what she put up with every day. Perhaps listening to him gave her the megrims!”

“We shouldn’t laugh,” Glynn said, then pressed his lips together to stop himself laughing.

“That would be wrong,” Bernadette said as she looked away sharply, but he could hear the snicker in her tone.

When they reached the bookshop, they found Brutus at the counter. His eyes rounded with delight at the baskets of food.

Glynn was only too glad to put down the weight of his burden on the counter. He shook his arms out to restore the blood flow, then took the bowl off the drawer of poisons and put it in front of Brutus.

“You can have as much as you like,” Bernadette said to the eager boy. “But get a plate and a napkin so you don’t make a mess.”

He was off like a dart.

“Does Mrs Millings know about Ruth’s condition?” Glynn asked once they no longer had an audience.

“I would think so,” Bernadette said. “I would hope so.” She looked worried.

The edges of a theory teased at Glynn’s mind. “Don’t you think that kind of worry would bring on megrims?”

“It probably would. She’s so young and refusing to say…” Bernadette stopped as Brutus barrelled down the stairs with a plate and napkin.

Brutus lifted the towel off a basket and gleefully said, “Oh wow! Are these pies from Alloms?”

They both laughed at his enthusiasm. Bernadette said, “They are indeed. Save me one, and one for Mrs Poole too.”

Glynn lifted his drawer of bottles. “Well, I’d best be off to see Mr Lennox about these.” He kept the cloth on top. Nobody else needed to see what was in it as they walked past on the street.

Mr Lennox was delighted to see him. He walked up and down the aisle of his shop, showing off his smooth gait. “The heel lift was all I needed, Doctor. My hip pain has eased so much.”

“But you’re still experiencing some pain?”

The elderly apothecary nodded. “Aye, but it’s not causing bother. Nothing like it used to, thank you very much for your clever thinking. I can help customers again rather than have to sit down all day and point to where Young Devon needs to find things.”

“Wonderful news,” Glynn said. Then he put the drawer down and lifted the cloth. “Today I am in need of assistance from you.”

Mr Lennox clasped his hands together with glee at the sight of the bottles. “What do we have here?”

“I truly don’t know. I was hoping you might be able to identify what they are.”

“That one’s poison,” Mr Lennox pointed to the largest bottle, the one Shaun had looked at.

Glynn nodded. “That’s exactly what I thought, but which one?”

“I wonder…” Mr Lennox picked up the bottle as he crinkled his lips to the side of his mouth in thought. “I’ll be right back.”

He walked through a door at the back of his shop. Glynn heard drawers opening and closing before Mr Lennox said, “Aha!” He arrived with a bottle that was almost identical, except this one had never been opened. “I’d say this is pretty close.”

Excitement bubbled in Glynn. Perhaps the vicar was trying to treat himself for something and accidentally overdid it? “Would it damage your liver and turn your skin jaundiced?”

Mr Lennox frowned and shook his head. “No, but it would kill you. It’s strychnine. This is added to baits in grain stores to kill rats and mice.”

“Oh,” the bubbles turned flat.

“Now this one, I know this one,” Mr Lennox reached for another vial. “Terrible stuff. Used for treating syphilis. Haven’t sold these for a decade or more.”

“Does it work?”

“If you survived the ferocious megrims it might,” he gave a derisory chuckle. “I suppose it stopped people spreading it to others if they were bedridden for days with megrims.”

Cogs ticked over in Glynn’s brain. “Do you still sell any of these?”

“I have some out the back, but that’s for farmers treating sheep for worms. I don’t stock the rest of them. Where did you get these, by the way?”

“Er, patient confidentiality,” Glynn said hastily.

“Of course.”

“Mr Lennox, if you don’t stock them, where would someone obtain them?”

He shook his head. “Haven’t seen travelling snake oil salesmen for a fair while, they know better than to peddle their nonsense around here. Either I or Miss Bernadette would give them short shrift! Perhaps there was an advertisement in the news sheets? Placing an order in the mail is simple enough if you have the money to pay.”

Glynn thought out loud, “And then nobody else knows about it.”

Mr Lennox grinned. “I shan’t enquire any further, but it seems you are in the depths of a mystery. Let me know if I can help in any way.”

Glynn couldn’t wait to speak to Bernadette again about his theory. He took the drawer back to his room at Mrs Bell and placed it under his bed for now. He’d need something far more secure to make sure nobody could harm themselves with these again.

Hunger pains gripped him as he woke the next morning. He could bother Mrs Bell for some vittles, but he also knew there would be plenty of food at the Baxters. He really should help them out with those piles of food. And he had to discuss his theory with Bernadette to see if she agreed with him. He’d spent the evening copying all the information he could read from the bottle labels in the reverend’s secret drawer; he’d made two copies and would drop one off to Mr Lennox. The second, he put in his pocket.

“Good morning.” Bernadette’s bright smile from behind the counter lightened his heart.

“Good morning.” As he approached, something small darted out from behind the counter and attacked a trailing boot lace; he looked down to see a black and white kitten with the end of the lace firmly gripped in its mouth.

“Hello, trouble!” Scooping the kitten up, he held it up with a laugh. “A born hunter, are we?”

“Too small to join his mother in depositing mouse entrails in inconvenient places. As yet, that is,” Bernadette said dryly.

The kitten’s face was mostly white, with one black ear and a smudge of black on its nose that looked rather like a moustache. Glynn tried not to melt as it mewed pathetically at him.

“Is he spoken for yet?”

“No… Louise and Shaun plan to take one of his sisters, but he’s available.” She looked hopeful. “Would you like him?”

“Once my cottage is ready, yes, I would. I’ll need a mouser. And I did promise to take one, since it’s my fault they are here at all.”

“Then he is yours! What shall you name him?”

He thought about it for a moment before grinning. “Well, a cat with a proud literary heritage deserves a literary name. What about Byron?”

“Perfection!”

Another customer came into the shop, and Bernadette had to turn her attention away. Quietly, she said to Glynn, “Pop upstairs and see Mrs Poole. She’ll make you a cup of tea. We have so many cakes and biscuits, please eat something!”

“Be delighted to help.” Since that was exactly what he’d hoped for, he nodded and made his way upstairs, trying to fight off a pang of disappointment that she couldn’t come with him.

Mrs Poole was more than happy to see him and make him a cup of tea, and put out more cakes and biscuits than he could ever possibly eat. Brutus appeared out of nowhere to assist, though, and the pair of them sat and munched in companionable silence.

As Glynn ate, he found his eyes drawn to the dresser against the kitchen wall, and its neat rows of jars, tins and packets, all carefully labelled. So many different herbs and teas!

It occurred to him then that perhaps he was approaching the poisoning question from the wrong direction. Making his way back down the stairs after thanking Mrs Poole, he checked that nobody was in the bookshop before going to Bernadette.

“You’re a skilled herb woman. If you wanted to cause the symptoms that killed Reverend Millings, what would you use to do it?”

Her mouth opened with shock, and she blinked at him several times. “I… I don’t know. I’ve never… I don’t hurt people!”

“I know. Please don’t think for a moment that I am implying you had anything to do with the reverend’s death! But you know what herbs and drugs can do. Would an overdose of something have caused those symptoms?” He took the folded sheet of paper from his pocket and spread it out on the counter. “Would a dose of any of these have caused them?”

Bernadette picked up the paper and read it closely, chewing on her lower lip. “I don’t know what some of these are,” she admitted. “I don’t think any of them would…” she paused, blinking. “Not his symptoms,” she said slowly. “Hers.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Belladonna. Drops of belladonna.” She tapped her finger on the paper. “You’ve inventoried two bottles here, one full and one almost empty. It’s a sedative, but it’s very strong. Not as addictive as laudanum. But… it can cause severe headaches. Megrims that can last days.”

Glynn rocked back on his heels. “You think the reverend was giving it to his wife…?”

“To make her sleep.”

“Because…?”

“She annoyed him? I don’t know, I’m just guessing!”

“But if he was poisoning her, who poisoned him? Did he accidentally take some himself?”

“Belladonna wouldn’t cause his jaundice, nor kill him in the way it did.” Bernadette sounded completely confident about that. “He’d just have gone to sleep and never woken up.” She looked back on the list. “I don’t know what some of these are, but of those I recognise… none of them would have done that.”

“I’m going to ask Mr Lennox about the others. But again, Bernadette… if you did want to cause those symptoms. What would you use? I looked at that dresser with all those herbs upstairs… if you found out someone had hurt one of your sisters maybe and you had to be rid of them… what would you use?”

She chewed on her lower lip again, and he found himself watching the gesture closely.

“I’d need to think about it,” she said finally. “Let me know what Mr Lennox says?”

“I will. But I do think we might be looking in the wrong place. Wherever he got the knowledge, the reverend knew his poisons. I don’t think he poisoned himself by accident. Someone else did it, and it must have been deliberate.”

“So we’re back to the question of who is the father of Ruth’s baby?” Bernadette sighed. “He must have been completely unsuitable for him to not allow them to marry.”

Glynn nodded slowly, puzzling it over.

Bernadette added, “She’s not come into the bookshop today.”

“We saw her running off, Shaun and I, away from town. I hope she’s returned home. Perhaps we should visit again, try and see her together?” Glynn suggested. “And I should like to ask Mrs Millings some more questions about her headaches, including whether her husband used to give her anything.”

“I could come after closing this afternoon,” Bernadette suggested. “Four o’clock? And come with you. I think she’d be more likely to talk to me.”

“Four o’clock it is, then,” Glynn agreed. As he left the bookshop to make his way back to the apothecary’s shop, he tried to tamp down the pleasure he was feeling at the prospect of spending more time in Bernadette’s company. It really wasn’t right to be feeling so happy when they were investigating a horrid murder!