Page 84 of The Condemned (Echoes from the Past #6)
SEVENTY-ONE
Folkstone, Kent
Quinn set aside Mary’s comb and glanced at Jo, who was sleeping peacefully in the next bed, her dark hair spread over the pillow like Medusa’s snakes.
Seth’s room was just down the corridor, but he’d gone down to the pub to have a pint and something to eat.
Jo had been tired by the time they arrived in Kent, having crossed the channel from France, so they’d decided not to continue their journey until tomorrow and give her time to rest. Jo had taken a shower and fallen into bed, too weary to go down for dinner.
Quinn had decided to remain with her. She hadn’t been that hungry, and truth be told, she was tired as well after all those hours in the car.
It had felt good to take a hot bath and stretch out on the bed, a soft pillow propped behind her head as she sank into the surprisingly comfortable embrace of the mattress.
She hoped they’d get home tomorrow. She was desperate to see Gabe and the children.
She longed to hold Alex in her arms and looked forward to spending some quality time with Emma.
Quinn suddenly had an idea and grabbed her mobile off the nightstand.
She googled “One Direction tour dates.” Eureka!
They would be performing in London in September, shortly after Emma’s sixth birthday.
Quinn set a reminder on her phone to purchase tickets once they went on sale.
Concert tickets would be the ultimate birthday present.
Maybe Emma was a bit young, but Quinn would be an absolute rock star in her eyes if she took her to see One Direction.
Maybe she’d even get an extra ticket and offer to take one of Emma’s friends.
Maybe Maya, if they were still best friends.
Emma would be so pleased—no, ecstatic. Quinn grinned to herself and congratulated herself on her proactive thinking.
She was getting the hang of this mothering thing .
Quinn set aside the phone and glanced over at Jo again.
After several hours of rest, she no longer looked so wan, but they should have insisted she have something to eat before going to bed.
She didn’t seem to have much of an appetite.
Quinn wondered who would look after Jo once she got home, her heart squeezing with worry.
Once they arrived back in London, she and Seth would take Jo to her flat and leave her on her own.
Seth had booked into a nearby hotel, but he wouldn’t be with Jo round the clock.
He’d decided not to offer to stay at Jo’s flat in case it made her uncomfortable.
They seemed to be getting along and were getting to know each other, but Jo, by her own admission, was a woman who liked privacy and enjoyed her space.
At least Seth would be on hand to take her to see her GP next week and escort her to a London-based neurologist to follow up on the surgery.
Dr. Stein had sent over Jo’s file before releasing her and personally made the appointment, to make sure that Jo received proper post-operative care.
Quinn slid off the bed and tiptoed into the bathroom, where she filled the tiny in-room kettle with water.
She could use a cup of tea, and thankfully, there were several packages of complimentary shortbread on the dresser; she was hungry now.
Quinn made herself a strong brew and settled in a chair by the window, looking out over the twinkling lights of the town.
She wasn’t at the end of Mary’s story yet, but the latest vision had been eye-opening.
She didn’t need to consult a physician to understand what Mary was going through.
Only six months ago, she’d been experiencing similar symptoms herself, but thankfully, they hadn’t been as severe as Mary’s.
Mary was suffering from preeclampsia, possibly even combined with toxoplasmosis, which was carried by cat feces and could cause serious birth defects if the unborn baby became infected.
High blood pressure, headaches, vomiting, and swelling of the ankles would all be telltale signs for a modern doctor, but Dr. Paulson wouldn’t have been familiar with the condition or its causes.
He appeared to be doing his best to treat Mary, using methods available to him, such as bleeding and purging to relieve the pressure building up within his patient.
Lowering Mary’s salt intake, drinking plenty of water, and getting fresh air and exercise would have helped, but like everyone onboard, Mary consumed mostly salted pork and hardtack, and drank ale, and not enough of it to keep her hydrated.
She barely left her cabin, told by Dr. Paulson that she needed rest more than exercise.
She also came into direct contact with the cat frequently enough to get harmful toxins on her hands, which she wouldn’t have washed regularly.
Quinn sighed. The ship would arrive in England in a few weeks’ time, setting the stage for the gruesome final act of Mary’s life, which would play out either onboard or in the barely noticeable crevice in the Cornish cliff face where Mary’s mortal remains had been discovered.
“Oh, Mary.” Quinn sighed deeply. Her heart went out to the young woman.
What a short and unhappy life Mary had lived.
The only bright spot had been Walker’s love for her, but fate had other plans for the star-crossed lovers.
Walker had survived his injuries, probably because someone got to him in time to stop the bleeding, but timing was everything, and Walker and Mary’s timing had been off from the start.
Perhaps he would have come for Mary once he was sufficiently recovered to undertake the long walk to North Carolina, or perhaps he would have sent someone to fetch her had he known she was about to be sent back to England, but given the frosty relations between the colonists and the Indians following the murders of the men who had accosted Mary, he likely had no inkling time was running out.
He must have assumed that Mary was safe where she was until he could come for her, never imagining that he’d never see her again.
Had his presence on the shore been pure coincidence, or a planned goodbye?
Quinn would never know since she could only see events play out from Mary’s perspective.
It was even possible that Walker had known of Mary’s imminent departure and chose not to intervene.
Perhaps he’d realized the danger he’d be in if accused of kidnapping a white woman, or perhaps he’d been ordered by the Powhatan chief to abandon his plans.
Within a year, the Indians would massacre a quarter of Jamestown’s population, an act of war that was likely already in the making at the time of Mary’s banishment.
Quinn swore softly under her breath. She’d completely forgotten to ring Colin.
She didn’t think the DNA results would come as a surprise, but she needed scientific data to back up her suppositions.
The combination of storytelling by a respected historian, lush and detailed visual presentation, and irrefutable science had made the program a runaway success.
Quinn slipped from the room and walked to the end of the corridor, where she could speak privately.
She called Colin and hoped he’d pick up.
“Quinn,” Colin greeted her. “Excellent timing. Just finished my last cookery class. Duck à l’orange served with wild rice and asparagus, and crème br?lée for dessert. It was très magnifique, if I say so myself.”
“That sounds delicious,” Quinn replied, suddenly wondering if Colin had carved the duck the same way he dissected a corpse. “I’ve been so focused on Jo, I completely forgot to ring you back regarding the DNA results on our mother and child.”
“Ah, yes. The results were rather surprising. The woman was of Anglo-Saxon descent, born and bred on the coast of England, based on the analysis of the isotopes in her bone collagen, which gives us a snapshot of the person’s diet.
The child, however, was of partially Native American descent.
I’m not at all sure how a young woman whose remains were discovered in Cornwall might have copulated with an American Indian.
Seems incongruous. Perhaps the samples were cross-contaminated, but I can’t imagine that there’d be many samples at a London-based lab containing the DNA of a Native American.
The only conceivable explanation would be that our girl came into contact with one of the Native Americans who accompanied Pocahontas to England.
Pocahontas visited England at the beginning of the seventeenth century, which ties in with the approximate timeline of our remains.
Oh, and it was a boy,” Colin ended with a sigh. “A full-term baby boy.”
“Was it healthy?” Quinn asked .
“As far as I can tell, yes.”
“Thanks, Colin. I’ll ring you when I get back.”
Quinn disconnected the call and pondered the information Colin had shared with her.
Even if the child had been infected with toxoplasmosis, the effects might not have been immediate, and as far as Quinn knew, the risks were mostly brain damage and blindness, not something that would show up in skeletal remains, since all soft tissue had decomposed centuries ago.
In truth, the results would have been more surprising if the child had been John’s, but Mary had been right, the baby was Walker’s son.
Quinn returned to the room and resumed her seat by the window.
She’d suddenly come up with a plausible theory of what happened to Mary and how her remains had wound up in the cave in St. Just, but needed to verify her hunch before presenting her findings to Rhys.
A soft knock distracted Quinn from her thoughts and she went to open the door.
Seth stood on the threshold, a bulging shopping bag in his right hand.
“I brought you girls sandwiches, chips—I mean crisps—and some mineral water. If Jo wakes, you should encourage her to eat something,” he said. “And you should eat too. You must be hungry.”
“I had some tea and biscuits.”
“Cookies are not food,” Seth admonished her. “Okay, I’m off to bed. Good night, sweetheart.”
“Good night, Dad,” Quinn said. She accepted the bag and grinned at Seth. Somehow, being paternal didn’t really suit him, which made her appreciate his concern all the more.