For Dead Men Only: An Alexandra Gladstone Mystery Page 10

  “Wet nurse?” Samuel said. “Beef and mutton? How am I to pay for all of it?”

  “You will find a way if you want your wife and child to live,” Alexandra said. She was used to helping patients work out means of payment. The wet nurse, she knew, would take payment in the form of vegetables from the garden, and Nell, at the butcher’s, as disagreeable as she could be at times, would provide the meat with a deep cut into her profits, for a limited time at least.

  —

  As soon as surgery hours were over, Alexandra left her house for a walk to town with Zack at her side. She wanted to see Nell and Horace at the butcher shop to tell them about Charlotte’s need.

  “Since you’re going, we could use a half-pound of bacon,” Nancy told her as she was leaving. Before she was more than a few steps along the lane that led to the road to the village, she heard Rob calling to her and turned to see him, along with Artie, running toward her.

  “Walking to the village, are ye?” Rob asked.

  “Yes,” she answered, enjoying the warmth of the spring day, “I have an errand in town.”

  “Ain’t good for ye to be goin’ alone,” Artie said.

  “Why would you say that?” Alexandra asked. “You know that I go all over the parish alone. Except for Zack, of course.”

  “We best go along to protect ye,” Artie said.

  “If you wish.” Alexandra smiled to herself at the thought of Artie, who was no more than four feet tall and weighed perhaps five stone, protecting her from anything.

  “The little bugger…excuse me, what I mean is the boy is right, ye best not be goin’ by yerself,” Rob said. “Even if ye’s used to doin’ it in the past, things is different now, what with all them people dyin’ and all them people tryin’ to get at ye when ye was carvin’ up that bloke. And then there’s that scary chap on the horse.”

  Alexandra cringed at yet another description of her work, but she managed a smile nevertheless. “Very well, come along, I shall enjoy the company.”

  When they reached the village, the streets were quiet, since the day was winding down and most people had gone home. At the butcher shop, she could see through the front window that Nell was inside behind the counter. By this time of day, Horace would be in the back, tending to the pigs and chickens they kept to butcher and sell to the public, along with the beef, mutton, fish, and oysters they relied on local farmers and fishermen to supply. The Stillwells didn’t like the idea of dogs coming into the store, lest they try to gobble down the meat that was on display, so Alexandra instructed the boys to keep Zack outside, a distance from the door, so he wouldn’t be tempted by the smell of a fresh raw meal.

  “Well, if it ain’t herself,” Nell said when she saw Alexandra. She was busy sawing a beef carcass as she spoke. “Don’t see you in here all that often, now, do we? What with Nancy doin’ the shoppin’ all the time.” Nell had to turn her head slightly sideways, because she had only one good eye. The other one looked eggshell white and just as brittle—a result of failing to follow Alexandra’s instructions to care for an infection a few years ago.

  “You’re right, of course, but Nancy did send me to purchase a half-pound of bacon,” Alexandra said, looking at the display of meat. None of it looked appetizing. She was not at all squeamish about the flesh and blood of a human body, but uncooked meat made her queasy.

  “Bacon, of course. I’ll carve it for you now,” Nell said, and disappeared into the back. She returned quickly with a slab white with fat and cut it into thick slices. She slapped it on the counter and pulled off a length of paper to wrap it. “Is there anything else?” she asked.

  “As a matter of fact, there is,” Alexandra said. “There’s something I want to discuss with you. It’s about Charlotte Malcolm.”

  “Might have known,” Nell said. “Needs meat to build up ’er blood, I’d guess.”

  “You’re right. She’s quite weak.”

  “And just as weak in the purse, I’m sure. So you wants me to give it to ’er at a discount.”

  “As a matter of fact—”

  “How are me and the husband supposed to live if we gives our meat away?”

  “I understand your concern, but I’m not asking you to give it away.”

  “Just cut into me profits,” Nell said, a scowl arranging itself across her face.

  “Perhaps I can help,” Alexandra said. “If I provide the difference between your regular price and the discount you give Charlotte and Samuel, I should think that would put your mind at ease.”

  Nell was silent, looking at Alexandra for several seconds. Her scowl crept deeper into the wrinkles on her face.

  “In essence, I would be providing your customary profit for you,” Alexandra said when the pause seemed to have gone on too long.

  “Ye got no business doin’ that.”

  Alexandra looked at Nell and frowned. “I don’t understand your objection. All I’ll be doing is making up the difference so you can still make your customary profit.”

  “Ye got no business doin’ that,” Nell said again. “I happens to know ye gives yer services for no charge plenty of times.”

  Alexandra felt annoyed. She didn’t like discussing the financial arrangements she made with her patients. “I suppose that’s true, occasionally at least, but I can’t afford to do it for everyone.”

  “Ye thinks I don’t know that?” Nell sounded cross. “Don’t ye see, what I’m tryin’ to tell ye is ye does yer part in this village. Don’t want nobody sayin’ I doesn’t do me own part. If I let ye do that, word would get out, mind you. I know it would. People would say we ain’t charitable, me and the mister. I knows they would say such. I knows how this town gossips.”

  “I assure you I would keep it confidential,” Alexandra told her.

  Nell’s laugh was derisive. “Ha! You might not say a word, but people will find out. They has their ways, and I knows all about ’em. I’ll give the two youngsters their meat at a discount. Don’t want nobody callin’ me a pinchpenny. Don’t want nobody sayin’ I can’t afford it, either!”

  “Thank you, Nell. You’re quite generous. I’m sure everyone knows that,” Alexandra said, feeling a mixture of self-satisfaction and guilt. She had known Nell would relent, and she’d known exactly how to bring her to it.

  “If they doesn’t know it, they’s fools. Ye’ve no idea how much I gives away.” Nell took a breath, as if she was afraid she’d said too much. “Now, don’t go spreadin’ that fact around Newton-upon-Sea. Won’t do to have everybody expectin’ a handout.”

  “Certainly not,” Alexandra said.

  “Never know what to expect in this parish.” Nell wiped her hands on her apron, leaving a greasy streak as a result of cutting off the side of bacon. The grease mingled with the blood from the beef carcass. “Everybody’s gone crazy.”

  “I wasn’t aware of that, Nell.”

  Nell gave her a suspicious look. “There was a mob running through town recently. Don’t know what that was all about.”

  Alexandra was sure Nell did know, since she seemed to know everything, but she wouldn’t take the bait.

  “Even you has heard of the ghost knight people sees, not to mention them men dyin’,” Nell said. “Three deaths. No coincidence if ye asks me. The Freemasons got all them secret chambers in that temple where they does them ritals as they calls ’em.”

  “You mean rituals.”

  “Whatever they calls ’em, they’s up to no good. Otherwise nothin’ would be a secret. Heard they even worships a secret god. Not the Christian God, mind ye.”

  Alexandra started to speak, but Nell interrupted her. “I knows a bit about what goes on in this town, and I say somebody killed all three for that treasure.”

  “Treasure?”

  “ ’Tis hard to believe you don’t know. Been the talk around here since I was a tyke. The money in the temple, of course. Buried under the floor, they say.”

  “Oh, that,” Alexandra said. “Yes, I’ve heard that story. I suppo
se every child in Newton-upon-Sea has heard it. It’s rather like Father Christmas. Or I suppose a better example would be that it’s more like that legend of a ghostly woman who rises up from the sea to snatch children who misbehave.”

  “Ye got it wrong, Dr. Gladstone. ’Tis no legend. ’Tis a true story. Treasure is there, but nobody will ever find it. Them old Templar Knights put a curse on it, and them Freemasons is bound by the curse.”

  “Perhaps I remember hearing that.”

  “But ye don’t believe it, does ye? I can tell ye don’t by that look on yer face. Just as well ye don’t believe, though. Look where it got the three blokes what did believe it.” She shoved the wrapped bacon toward Alexandra. “Tell Nancy I give her the best I have.”

  “I’ll do that, Nell. Thank you. Not just for the best of your bacon, but for what you’re doing for the Malcolms. And don’t worry. I don’t think it will take long to get Charlotte back to normal.”

  “And about that night of the mob. Did you learn anything when you…well, you know.”

  “Good day, Nell.”

  Nell’s only response as she went back to sawing at the carcass was a humpff that could have meant any number of things.

  Chapter 12

  When Alexandra arrived at Mrs. Fontaine’s cottage during her morning rounds the next day, the elderly woman was in her garden with Judith. Mrs. Fontaine was pointing to a tall plant, engrossed in explaining something to the younger woman.

  “Hello,” Alexandra called. Both women looked at her, Mrs. Fontaine with a smile and Judith with a blank expression. Alexandra put her medical bag on the ground and held out both her hands to Judith. “I was sorry to hear about your father. This must be a troubling and confusing time for you.”

  At first Judith seemed not to know what to do, but she eventually placed both her hands in Alexandra’s. Her hands felt limp and lifeless, and her expression still showed no emotion. She mumbled something that sounded like yes.

  “I’ve convinced Judith to stay with me, at least for a while,” Mrs. Fontaine said.

  “A wonderful idea,” Alexandra said. “I’m happy to see you’re well enough to be up and about.” She looked at Judith. “Are you able to sleep? I can give you a powder if you need it. Or if you would like to talk—”

  “Talk? What good will it do? It won’t bring him back.” Judith turned toward Alexandra. “This…this thing he’s done…He did it out of remorse for what he did to those men.”

  Alexandra glanced at Mrs. Fontaine, who nodded as if to confirm she’d heard Judith’s theory about her father’s guilt.

  “Let’s go inside and have a cup of tea,” Mrs. Fontaine said. “It will make you feel better, Judith. Come along.”

  When they were inside, Alexandra sat with Judith in the parlor while Mrs. Fontaine prepared the tea.

  “It doesn’t matter, really, whether anyone believes me now or not,” Judith said. “They’ll know I was right once the killings stop.” Her voice still sounded lifeless.

  “You are absolutely convinced your father killed those men?” Alexandra said.

  “Of course.”

  “But in each case, there was no sign of murder. No cuts or bludgeoned heads or bodies, no pistol wounds.”

  “But everyone knows they were killed, don’t they? The entire village is calling the deaths murder,” Judith said. “Even you believe the men were murdered, Dr. Gladstone. I can see it in your eyes, hear it in your voice.”

  “Even if anyone or everyone believes the men were murdered, there are numerous other theories about the killings. Some say they were killed because they knew about that buried treasure in the Freemasons’ temple.”

  “Buried treasure?” Judith asked as she accepted a cup from Mrs. Fontaine.

  “It’s an old legend that resurfaces from time to time in the parish,” Alexandra said. “I’m surprised you haven’t heard it.”

  Judith shook her head.

  “Perhaps that’s because you didn’t grow up here,” Alexandra said, accepting a steaming cup from Mrs. Fontaine.

  “Legends usually have some basis in truth,” Mrs. Fontaine said.

  “What do you mean?” Judith’s face had grown even paler than it was before.

  “The Templar treasure. There could be some basis for the legend,” Mrs. Fontaine said. “The Templars were Europe’s bankers at one time. Controlled most of the money in all of Europe. Some say that’s why they were disbanded. Rulers and kings didn’t like the idea of any group having that much power, you see.”

  “Of course I know about the Templars and their money,” Judith said. “What does that have to do with the Temple of the Ninth Daughter?”

  “When the Templars were disbanded, and most of them killed, some of the money and other treasures were buried in their temples,” Mrs. Fontaine said. “The Temple for the Lodge of the Ninth Daughter was built over the ruins of one of the order’s temples, and the treasure is said to still be there.”

  Judith set her teacup on the table with trembling hands. “Why wasn’t I ever told this?” she asked.

  “Those of us who grew up here simply take the legend for granted, since we’ve heard it so many times,” Alexandra said. “It’s one of those stories that stays buried for long periods before it resurfaces.”

  “My father must have known about it,” Judith said.

  “Of course he knew.” Mrs. Fontaine turned to Alexandra. “I do wish you’d stop referring to it as a legend, Alexandra, my dear,” she said. “It’s certainly more than a legend. Anyway, as I said, legends almost always have some basis in truth.”

  “Perhaps you’re right,” Alexandra said.

  “Do you remember my telling you about the old-line families?” Mrs. Fontaine asked, addressing Alexandra. “Many of them had money invested with the Templars. Some family members still grumble about the money owed them by those knights, even after seven centuries.”

  “Interesting,” Alexandra said. “That’s something I’ve never heard before. Do you think it could be some family member terrorizing the town dressed as a knight and murdering people?”

  Mrs. Fontaine shook her head and smiled. “I don’t speculate on such things, dear. When one has lived as long as I have, one hears many stories. All I can say is that, from my experience, not all of them are legend. And,” she added after a slight pause, “one also learns that money is a powerful motive for all kinds of misdeeds.”

  “Indeed,” Alexandra said as she stood. She looked at both women. “I’m happy to see that each of you is doing well. At least relatively speaking,” she added as she glanced at Judith, whose face by now had regained some of its color. “And I do thank you for the tea, Mrs. Fontaine, but I must be going. I want to stop by to see Charlotte Malcolm and her new baby.”

  “Yes, of course,” Mrs. Fontaine said. “I went to see her myself recently. Baked a meat pie for the poor child. She certainly looked as if she needed it. So pale! What a dreadful experience she had with the birth. Oh,” she said, turning to Judith, “don’t let it frighten you about giving birth, Judith. Most of the time it’s not so dramatic.”

  “Certainly not,” Alexandra said.

  “Is woman’s sole purpose to bear children? Oh, and keep her reputation intact?”

  “That’s an interesting question,” Alexandra said. “I wish I had time to discuss it with you.”

  “But of course you must go, Alexandra. I always look forward to your visits,” Mrs. Fontaine said, standing as well.

  “And I thank you for your concern about me, Dr. Gladstone,” Judith said. “I do apologize for what must seem like strange behavior, but I’m afraid I feel a bit addled.”

  “Who can blame you?” Alexandra said, smiling at her. “After your father’s death and the other deaths and turmoil that have settled in Newton—it’s enough to make anyone feel addled.”

  “Oh, yes, it’s all so unsettling, but the constable will be home soon, and I’m certain that will restore at least a modicum of calm,” Mrs. Fontaine said.
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  Alexandra sighed and shook her head in a weary gesture. “I wish we could be certain of that. It’s really quite troubling that Constable Snow seems to have disappeared completely.”

  Mrs. Fontaine gave her a gentle smile and patted her shoulder. “He hasn’t disappeared, my dear. In fact, I am convinced he’s on his way back as we speak.”

  “I hope you’re right,” Alexandra said, marveling at how trusting the woman was, when everyone else in the village was either angry or suspicious or both. Mrs. Fontaine didn’t seem to be able to see the dark side of anyone.

  Alexandra waved goodbye to the old woman and looked around for Zack, who always waited for her outside the door of any patient she visited. He was nowhere in sight. Perhaps he’d been frightened away by the cats. She called his name and eventually saw him trotting toward her, coming from the side of the cottage. His usually white face was darkened with dirt, as were his front paws.

  “Zack! What have you done?”

  At the sound of Alexandra’s angry voice, Zack ducked his head and tried to slink away from her, but she grabbed the scruff of his neck and led him to the side of the house. She sucked in her breath when she saw the patch of upturned soil and bits of plants scattered on the ground.

  It was with considerable embarrassment that Alexandra knocked on Mrs. Fontaine’s door again to tell her that Zack had destroyed part of her garden.

  “I shall be happy to pay for the damage,” she said, after she’d shown her what Zack had done.

  Mrs. Fontaine laughed. “Damage? I should say not. I was going to dig up that section anyway. Besides, it’s a dog’s nature to want to dig when spring weather softens the ground.”

  Alexandra remained embarrassed, nevertheless, and couldn’t get Zack away soon enough.

  —

  Three patients were waiting in the surgery by the time Alexandra returned, and she had no chance to speak with Nancy about anything except medicine for several hours. Finally, she and Nancy were able to retire to the parlor for a few minutes for a respite.