“About the same time as Lucy took ill. I’ve oft said to myself as maybe he took her being dismissed from the nursery as hard as she did. Though, since she didn’t have to go away, and he came here to see her, you might not think it would come to that.”
“Then this will be difficult for him, her dying like this.”
“Aye. Poor child. Losing the two who ever loved him so close together-his papa and his Lucy.”
“Then someone will have to break the news to him before the word gets out. Keep it to yourself for now. I’ll let you know when you may tell everyone and have her taken care of. And when the time is right, the staff may have a wake for Lucy if they wish. I don’t think it would be seemly to do so until all is settled with the duchess and her daughter.”
“I understand, my lady,” said Nellia, and she wagged her finger at Nancy, who nodded, wide-eyed.
After a brief visit to my room to wash the sleep from my eyes, I hurried to Philomena’s bedchamber. Voices from the adjoining room were arguing, quietly but vehemently.
“… dragged me away from her like I was a piece of rubbish. I’ve never been so humiliated. I’ll have the witch arrested.” Lady Verally.
“But what she has done, madam, for which you would have her arrested, is save your niece’s life.” The rumbling bass voice was Ren Wesley’s. “Her Grace’s labor was of such poor effectiveness that it could have lasted for many more hours. Having experienced hands to deliver the child was the difference between a tragedy and a double tragedy. If your authority had been allowed to prevail, your niece would be dead from it, and you would find yourself responsible for the death of a special friend of King Evard. In short, you should thank the Lady Seriana for saving you from a murder charge of your own.”
I walked in and greeted my defender. If Lady Verally had been possessed of a weapon, I might have ended up in the same condition as Mad Lucy.
The physician returned my greeting with robust gravity. “Good morning, my lady. It seems my timing was abysmal, and the very thing we hoped to prevent has occurred, but as I was just informing the good lady here, you’ve saved her ladyship’s life by your good judgment in summoning the midwife.”
“How are they?” I asked.
“You know it well, witch,” snarled Lady Verally. “You didn’t want my precious girl to die. It would have spoiled your evil fun, wouldn’t it? You want to watch her suffer.”
Ren Wesley turned his back on the seething lady. “Thanks to you and the most excellent midwife, the mother is resting comfortably and will soon be on her feet, none the worse save in her sorrow. It grieves me to say that the child has not survived the dawn. There was nothing to be done.”
“I feared as much,” I said, ignoring Lady Verally’s haughty departure.
“I’ve given the duchess a sleeping draught, and now I am on my way to find some breakfast.”
“I was hoping to speak with you for a moment,” I said. “I’ve a great boon to ask.”
“At your service.” The physician poked his head into Philomena’s room to let the maids know where he could be found. Then he took my arm, and we walked through the upper corridors to the galleries that overlooked the great hall.
I told him of Mad Lucy and how she had been found, and that Gerick had not yet been told. “He shouldn’t have to hear such news from me,” I said. “I’m too much a coward to face his wrath. I’m worried…”
“… that he’ll blame you.”
“With Lady Verally’s constant harping on revenge, it seems certain.” And how could I face the child, withholding the fact that I knew his Lucy and had ample reason to despise her?
“Perhaps it would be well if I saw the dead woman first, then spoke to the boy. I’ll remind him of the dangers of age and senility, and also that his mother bore two dead children long before you were in residence.”
“I’d be most grateful. It grieves me to be unable to comfort him. He is such a sad child.”
“You’ve become quite attached to him.”
“I suppose I have.” Somehow, what had begun as a challenge had become a work of affection I hadn’t thought possible. Yet, even after so many months, I scarcely knew the child.
Ren Wesley shook his massive head. “I wish we’d been able to speak with this nurse before she chose to withdraw from life. Perhaps she could have explained the boy to us in some fashion.”
The physician took his leave, following Nancy to Maddy’s room. Meanwhile I sent a message to Gerick, requesting him to meet Ren Wesley in the small reception room in half an hour.
A short time later Gerick’s young manservant sought me out with a worried look on his face. “The duke is not in his rooms, my lady,” he said. Then, with concern overshadowing discretion, he added, “And what’s more, his bed has not been slept in this past night. I asked the guards as were on duty through the night, and none’s seen the young master since yestereve.”
Thinking of my own troubled sleep, and the evidence I had found of Gerick’s disturbance of mind, I wasn’t surprised. “Yesterday was a very trying day for him, James. My guess is that you’ll find him curled up on a couch or chair somewhere. Take two others and search him out. We must speak with him.”
No sooner had James left than Nancy skittered into the gallery, saying that Ren Wesley respectfully requested my presence in Lucy’s room. I hurried along the way, leaving Nancy to intercept James should he return with word of Gerick.
Ren Wesley stood contemplating the still figure that lay on the pallet in the cluttered room. His arms were folded across his wide chest and he was twisting the end of his exuberant mustache with two thick fingers. When I came in, he whirled about, scowling.
“What is it, sir?” I asked.
“My lady, there is something you must know about this woman’s death. There is foul play here.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You must pardon the vulgar description, madam. There is no pleasant way to phrase it. Look at the depth of these gashes; they pass not only through skin and sinew, but right into the bone.”
He expected me to understand, but I shook my head.
“What it means is, she could not have done it to herself.”
“But she was a strong woman.”
“Look here.” He picked up Maddy’s hands and showed me her swollen joints and crooked fingers. I had seen such in several old servants, the painful inflammation that robbed strong and diligent men and women of their livelihood. One who had shod wild horses could no longer grip the reins of a child’s pony. One who had carried the heaviest loads or sewn the finest seams could no longer lift a mug of beer or grasp a sewing needle. “She may have had the strength to do such injury, but never could she have applied it with these hands.”
“Then you’re saying-”
“This woman was murdered.”
I was speechless… and appalled… and my skin flushed with unreasonable pangs of guilt. If anyone learned of my connection with Lucy-Maddy-the finger of accusation would point directly at me.
“Who would do such a thing? And for what possible cause?” Ren Wesley demanded in indignation.
“She was mute,” I stammered, shamed that my first thought had been of myself and not this poor woman. “And, from what I was told, a gentle soul. It doesn’t make sense.”