Chapter 3

Mathers, their new London butler, met them in the entrance hall when they arrived at their London townhouse. “You have visitors. The Honorable Mr. and Mrs. Charles Sedgewick. They arrived not long ago and asked if they could wait. I have shown them into the parlor.”

“Thank you, Mathers,” James said with gravitas.

Mr. Sedgewick and Miss Rangeswamy met at their home near the end of their last adventure. Though Cecilia had thought to encourage a match between the boisterous Miss Rangeswamy and the Bow Street agent, Lewis Martin, the young Indian woman caught the eye and heart of a younger half-brother of the Earl of Soothcoor. After their wedding in April, they were to take a ship to India to settle the estate of another brother, Owen, Christopher’s father. Cecilia was surprised Mr. And Mrs. Sedgewick yet remained in England.

“Well,” Cecilia said with a laugh, “I had not expected we would be here long and not thought I’d remove my bonnet, instead I shall have to curb my impatience to be off,” she declared as she removed her gloves and untied her bonnet ribbons.

“Yes. Though I thought they would be sailing for India by now.”

“Such was my thought, as well,” Cecilia said.

“I wonder if Soothcoor notified them or if Mrs. Montgomery sent a message to them as she did us. I am sure they are anxious for Soothcoor. Here, let me help you with your pelisse,” James said, reaching out to ease the jacket off her shoulders. He handed it to the footman who held her bonnet and gloves. It had been an unusually cold spring, and now, at the beginning of summer, winter outer garments remained in use. At least on this day, it wasn’t raining as it did so many others.

“I took the liberty of ensuring they had tea and coffee while they waited,” Mathers said as they walked toward the parlor door.

“Excellent,” Cecilia said. “Thank you. I became so involved in listening to Mrs. Montgomery that I didn’t drink my tea. I could use some now, or perhaps coffee would be better.”

“Yes, madam,” replied Mathers as he opened the double doors to the gold parlor, the ground-floor parlor reserved for guests.

Inside, Charles and Rani rose to their feet. Rani ran toward Cecilia, taking her hands in hers. “You will help! Yes, yes!” she said. “I have been crying, oh so much crying, crying. Now you are here, and I know there is no need to cry. I can be happy.”

Cecilia’s eyes watered with memories of Rani and all she went through six months ago. Now she had to laugh at Rani’s ebullience. She had almost forgotten the young woman’s enthusiastic manner. She radiated sunshine.

“How is Christopher?” Cecilia asked as she sat down on the gold and Egyptian brown striped sofa.

“He is well. He has been staying at Appleton with my Charlie’s mother, the Dowager Countess of Soothcoor,” Rani said.

“Soothcoor wrote to say the three of you would be sailing to India after your wedding,” James said.

“That was the plan,” Charlie Sedgewick acknowledged wryly. “Only I came down with influenza right after the wedding. Sicker than a dog. Missed the sailing. Dashed nuisance all around,” he said.

James gave a short laugh. “I can imagine it was! Cecilia has just recovered from the same illness.”

Charlie looked at Cecilia. “Nasty stuff, ain’t it?”

“Indeed, it is.”

“Well, with all that, we’ll leave in the fall, if everything is right and tight here. Didn’t want to be sailing around Africa during the southern hemisphere winter, you know,” Charlie said.

James drew out his snuffbox. “We met with Mrs. Montgomery this morning and learned that her husband had not been deceased as reported and Soothcoor went north to investigate.”

Charlie nodded. “And somehow the news spread throughout society. Nothing in the press, but someone spread something somehow. Society has all taken to shunning Mrs. Montgomery, thinking the worst of her. That she led my brother on.”

James frowned. “How could that get about? What would be the reason?”

Charlie shook his head. “I couldn’t venture to guess. It’s impacted Miss Montgomery?—”

“Aileen,” Rani provided, nodding.

“—and her engagement as well. Caught the eye of Benjamin Stackpoole. Steady sort. Not like me,” Charlie said with a deprecating laugh. Rani playfully punched his arm. He grinned at her. “Baron Stackpoole wants his son to cry off,” Charlie continued. “So far, the lad has stood firm.”

“And what about the news of Mr. Montgomery’s death?” Cecilia asked.

“We learned of that through Mrs. Montgomery. Sent round a note, she did. So far, that does not seem to be known,” Charlie said.

James frowned. “Only a matter of time, I’m sure. Society will make a furor over that, particularly with Soothcoor arrested.”

“There was a man who come around Mrs. Montgomery all the time,” Rani said. “He was…what is word…Rival? Yes, yes, rival, I think, for Mrs. Montgomery. But she like Lord Soothcoor better.”

Charlie snapped his fingers. “Yes, my sweet! Thank you. Nearly forgot about him. Cameron Ramsay. A widower from Scotland. He was courting Mrs. Montgomery, too—or seemed to be in a mighty weak manner. He was always about. He left London at the same time Alastair did. I thought that odd after all his attention to Mrs. Montgomery. I wouldn’t put it past him to make trouble for my brother,” he said sourly.

James nodded. “We’ll keep watch for any news of him. His departure from London could be a coincidence. This is the time many people leave London for the country. It might be best if Mrs. Montgomery and her family left the city.”

Rani turned to her new husband. “Appleton?” she asked, naming the Richmond estate of the Dowager Countess of Soothcoor.

Charlie cocked his head to the side. “Mama would probably agree with that, and Christopher would like more people around him, I’m sure.” He looked at James. “We’ll see what we can do.”

“I think that would put Soothcoor’s mind at ease as well,” Cecilia said.

“Guess it was a good thing I got that plaguey influenza,” Charlie said.

“If you will excuse us,” James said, rising to his feet. “Lady Branstoke and I need to get heading north.”

Charlie hurriedly got to his feet. “Thank you for seeing us and looking into this matter.”

“No thanks are needed. Alastair is a good friend,” James said as he walked them to the door.

“And the best of brothers,” Charlie said. “The very best.”

“Excuse me, sir,”Mathers said after the door had closed behind the Honorable Mr. and Mrs. Sedgewick, “Dr. Nowlton has arrived. I have shown him to her ladyship’s drawing room.”

“Thank you, Mathers,” James said, while next to him Cecilia made a face. James laughed. “Enough of that. Would you rather I went on horseback without you?”

Cecilia squirmed. “No, I just feel it is much ado about nothing.”

“Perhaps, nonetheless, it will not hurt to see the doctor. You were gravely ill for almost two weeks, and you are carrying a child. As much as I like our village doctor, Dr. Patterson, a second opinion is not amiss.”

She bobbed her head like Rani might, causing her husband to laugh again. He placed his hand lightly on her back. “Come, let’s not keep Dr. Nowlton waiting any longer,” he said, guiding her up the stairs toward the small drawing room.

Dr. Nowlton rose as they entered. The first thing Cecilia noticed was he did not resemble his elder twin siblings, Lord Lancelot and Lady Guinevere Nowlton. While the twins were both red-haired with tall, commanding presences, Dr. Nowlton was of average height with unfashionably long brown hair and unusual, thick-lensed glasses. He had a reputation for being an astute and highly competent physician, but Cecilia could not believe how young he looked—like he should still be in school.

She discreetly cleared her throat from a threatened cough.

“Dr. Nowlton, thank you for coming on such short notice,” James said as they walked into the drawing room.

Dr. Nowlton nodded. “I was happy to. So, Lady Branstoke, tell me about this illness you suffered,” he said in a low-keyed, empathetic manner.

Cecilia smiled as she took a seat across from him. She coughed into her handkerchief.

“There was an influenza in the village near our estate, Summerworth Park, in Kent.” She frowned. “It seemed to burn through the area and affected women and children more than men.”

“We’ve had a similar illness in the city,” he acknowledged.

“We have just seen Mr. Sedgewick. He said he’d had the influenza.”

Dr. Nowlton nodded. “In your village, was the severity the same for all?”

“No. For some it did not go beyond sniffles, for others, it was quite severe,” she said.

“As it was for you,” interjected James.

She nodded. “I was among those more severely impacted. It descended into my chest, and I coughed heavily. I still cough at times. As I coughed so hard, we were worried about the baby.”

“That tisane Lady Aldrich recommended for you helped ease the cough and the light temperature you had,” James said.

“What was in the tisane?”

“Peppermint, yarrow, and elderberry,” James replied.

“Elderflower,” Cecilia corrected.

“Yes, my mistake,” James acknowledged, looking down at Cecilia. “Elderflower. Peppermint, yarrow, and elderflower. Sounds odious, but it helped her.”

Cecilia laughed. “The elderflower gave it a bit of sweetness.”

Dr. Nowlton nodded. “I’m familiar with that recipe.”

“I thought you modern doctors frowned at herbal folk medicine,” James said with a quirk of his lips.

Dr. Nowlton acknowledged his statement. “But not all do,” he continued. “There is much we can learn from the traditional remedies. What I am interested in learning is why they work. From that information, we may formulate more powerful and better medicines,” he told James. He looked at Cecilia. “I would suggest you continue to drink that tisane at least once per day so long as you have any vestige of a cough. You might also consider adding honey for its medicinal properties—after the beverage has cooled a bit. If the liquid is too hot when you add the honey, you lose the medicinal benefits from the honey. But let’s look at you now. Sir James, would you be so kind as to call Lady Branstoke’s maid?”

“She is not here. She has traveled ahead. I’ll get Mrs. Dunstan, our housekeeper,” James told him.

“Splendid,” Dr. Nowlton said as James left the room to send someone to search out the housekeeper.

“Dr. Nowlton, our plan is to travel to Stamford to see if we can determine why the Earl of Soothcoor has been arrested for the murder of a man who was a patient at the Camden House Sanatorium,” Cecilia said.

“Saw the news of that in the paper this morning. Unbelievable!”

“Today?” Cecilia exclaimed. “We hadn’t thought it had made it into the news sources yet.”

“I regret then to tell you, it has.”

“It is unbelievable to us who know the earl. Do you know anything about this Camden House Sanatorium where the murder occurred?” she asked.

“I have never visited that facility. I do know its owner and director, Dr. Worcham, has an excellent reputation. It is not a facility for those who might be considered criminally mad or suffer dementia. From an article I read about the sanatorium a year or so ago, Dr. Worcham believes more people can be cured with peace and kindness than with harsh purges and other treatments practiced by some doctors.”

“That is reassuring to know,” Cecilia said as James slipped back into the room.

“Most of his patients suffer from migraines and nervous anxiety,” Dr. Nowlton explained. “Not suffering severe mental issues, nonetheless requiring care for a time.”

“I wonder why he accepted Mr. Montgomery as a patient?” Cecilia mused.

“And why he should be a party to his false death?” James commented archly.

“Yes,” his wife agreed.

“Excuse me, I don’t understand,” interjected Dr. Nowton, looking from James to his wife and back.

“Oh, forgive us, Dr. Nowlton. Ah, here is Mrs. Dunstan now. After your examination of my wife, we can discuss the situation at Camden House and the illness that brought Mr. Montgomery to that facility.”

“You do have me curious,” the doctor said.

“I shall wait for you in the library. A word of warning,” James said, looking down at Cecilia, “do not let my lovely wife try to talk you into approving this journey without an examination. I am trusting you to deliver an honest medical opinion.”

“Humph! As if I would,” protested Cecilia.

James raised an eyebrow as he looked down at her.

“Well, maybe a little,” she amended with a grin.

“Precisely.” He kissed the crown of her head.

James heldout a glass of ale for Dr. Nowlton when he joined him in the library twenty minutes later.

“I want to thank you again for coming on such short notice,” he said.

Dr. Nowlton shrugged as he accepted the glass. “My family is away at the moment, and I’m not due at Mrs. Southerland’s until this afternoon.”

“Soothcoor pulled you into tending his charity house?” James asked.

“No, my sister did. There is a woman near her time who could have a breach birth. I promised my sister I would stay in town until after the birth of the baby. Afterward, I’ll be going to the Cotswolds where my brother has a property. The area is without a surgeon or physician. I may settle there. I think it might prove to be a good place for me to pursue my further studies.”

“Further studies?”

“Yes. As you noted, surgeons and physicians have not been interested in country medicines. I am interested. Especially in the work of the apothecaries. There is a well-known apothecary in the area that I wish to interview and see if we might work together.”

“Are you aware that Soothcoor, through his late brother, has an interest in exploring the healing plants from India?”

“No, I did not. Interesting. I shall have to speak with him about his investment when he returns to London.”

“Now, to the purpose of your visit. What is your opinion as to my wife’s health?”

“Though a lingering cough occasionally nags her, she appears healthy and will be fine to take this journey. I gather it is important to her.”

“But she seems so tired.”

“She was bedridden for many days with her illness, was she not?”

“Yes, I insisted on it.”

He smiled at James. “That was the right thing to do; however, it was also what tired her out.”

“What do you mean?”

“The body quickly learns to relax. It does not as quickly relearn how to be active. I would suggest daily walks to rebuild her strength. It will also be the best activity she might do for the baby.”

James frowned but nodded slowly.

“So, what can you tell me about the man murdered? I believe your wife called him Mr. Montgomery?”

James leaned back in his chair, taking in a large breath before he spoke. “Yes. Malcolm Montgomery from Scotland. From what Mrs. Montgomery explained to Lady Branstoke and me, Mr. Montgomery suffered from an illness of the mind, an illness that waxed and waned in severity.”

Dr. Nowlton nodded. “Many such illnesses do. Go on.”

“I’m uncertain how to explain it,” James said slowly. “It sounds fantastical. According to Mrs. Montgomery, it was like he had multiple people all living within himself. They had distinct personalities and names. And different strengths. Different personalities could take him over and he, Malcolm, would have no memory of the incident. He lived with his family and with this condition until the night he came back to himself, only to discover he stood in his eldest daughter’s bedroom with feelings of lust coursing through his body. It was one of his ‘other’ people. That this personality could come so close to violating his daughter, and he not being aware, deeply affected Mr. Montgomery and worried him. Shaken by the event, he decided he needed to be institutionalized so he did not, in any way, harm his family.”

Dr. Nowlton nodded slowly, his brow furrowed. “I have read of a similar situation,” he said. “I was incredulous as well. It read like some monstrous gothic tale my brother would write. In summary, a young woman had been raped by her father as a child on several occasions. To cope with the abuse, her mind splintered into different people.”

“Was she placed in a sanatorium?”

He nodded. “For a time. When she appeared to be better and no longer suffered with other people splitting her mind, she returned to her home. Unfortunately, it wasn’t long after that that her father attempted to bed her again, and she killed him and herself.”

James shook his head. “What was the conclusion?”

“The article espoused that illnesses of the mind are not curable and such people with any kind of mental differences would be permanently institutionalized.”

James’s brows pulled together. “That seems to be rather a large generalization.”

“It was, and it was the broad generalization that bothered me as well.”

“I wonder why Mr. Montgomery thought he should fake his death and why Dr. Worcham should support that decision? And he must have done so.”

Dr. Nowlton nodded. “If I weren’t tied here in London to see to the woman at Mrs. Southerland’s, I would be tempted to accompany you.”

“Thank you for the sentiment. But, if you determine Lady Branstoke is healthy enough for travel, we need to leave. My wish is to get to Cambridge today, weather permitting.”

Dr. Nowlton nodded and stood up. “I will show myself out. I wish you safe travel and Godspeed in your efforts to clear Soothcoor of this murder charge.”