The Poisonous Seed: A Frances Doughty Mystery (The Frances Doughty Mysteries) Page 16

  He advanced upon her, and looked down contemptuously from his far greater height. ‘Your father is a beggar unless you go back into the house and abandon this indecent adventure.’

  She returned his gaze without fear, her head tilted back defiantly. ‘I will not. I should have left before. My father will consider the price well paid for my happiness.’

  He gave a derisive laugh. ‘I doubt that very much. You will earn only his curse. You already have mine. Now get inside and let us continue our lives of misery.’

  She shook her head. ‘No, James. I cannot set foot in there ever again. Adam – put the bag in the carriage. I am leaving!’

  Adam came forward to pick up the bag but Keane, without even turning to look at him, said, ‘Adam, if you so much as touch the bag you will leave the premises this instant.’

  Adam hesitated, and looked at Mrs Keane. ‘Very well,’ said that lady, ‘I will not see a good servant lose his place.’ She picked up the bag herself and placed it in the carriage, then went to climb up the steps.

  ‘You had better climb up on top and drive it yourself for no servant in my employ will drive you!’ said Keane with a sneer. ‘Don’t be foolish, woman!’

  She hesitated, and then stepped down with an air of dignity. ‘Very well,’ she said, calmly. ‘I had assumed that you would allow me the consideration due to me as your wife, but I see now that you will not. So be it. I will carry my own bag and walk until I can get a hansom.’

  She made for the gates, but Keane stepped in her way. ‘I see you have lost all sense of decency,’ he said. ‘Do not forget that as my wife you are under my control and you will not leave my house if I have to knock you down and carry you inside.’

  Despite the dreadful situation there was a muffled titter from the doorway, since Mrs Keane, though far shorter than her husband, undoubtedly outweighed him.

  ‘Strike me, then’ she said dramatically, squaring her shoulders and offering her face for the blow. ‘You have done everything else, why hold back from that?’

  He smiled. ‘I promise you, I will not.’

  For a moment or two they stared at each other, both expressions set and determined, as if looks alone would make the other give way. Frances saw that Keane confidently believed that his forcefulness and the total command he had over his wife’s fortunes would make her crumble. Perhaps it had done so many times before. He merely waited, therefore, for her to bend her head in submission, turn and creep back into the house. This time, however, was different. She started to walk around him and towards the gate, and Keane, with an expression of rage, raised his fist.

  ‘Don’t do it, Sir!’ exclaimed Adam, suddenly.

  ‘What?’ said Keane, pausing in sheer incredulity.

  ‘I said don’t do it,’ repeated Adam, who had now overstepped a servant’s place so far as to be past caring what he said. His sturdy and muscular form was drawn to its full height, the shoulders back and impressive chest thrown out as if in a challenge. ‘I have stood by long enough and seen you insult this good lady, and I can do it no more. If you try to strike her she will find a protector in me.’

  ‘You impudent mongrel!’ spat Keane, ‘Get out at once!’ He then became aware that the house servants were still watching. Both Ellen and Ettie had their aprons to their mouths to stifle exclamations of mingled horror and amusement, Mrs Grinham was scowling, though whether this was due to the scene or her lumbago was unclear, and Mr Harvey had taken the view that someone in the household ought to be dignified, and as no one else was it had better be himself. ‘And you – all of you,’ roared Keane, ‘set about your duties at once or you will be on the street with no character, like this one!’ He turned to Adam. ‘Are you still here? I want you gone this instant!’

  Adam pondered this for a moment. ‘Very well, Sir,’ he said calmly, ‘I will go, and I wish well to Mistress, who deserves far better than you.’ He turned, and stood quite still, facing the gate, but did not walk towards it. ‘But there is one thing I must do first.’ With that, he turned around and punched James Keane squarely on the nose.

  Adam had a large fist and a brawny body behind it. There was a crunching noise, and Keane’s nose seemed to explode into something red and very ugly. He crashed backwards onto the cobbles, with dark blood streaming down his face and into his mouth. There were screams from Ettie and Ellen, while Mrs Grinham chortled, and Mr Harvey closed his eyes in distaste. Keane, sprawling on the ground, shrieked and spluttered incoherently, spraying blood and saliva over the front of his shirt.

  It was Mrs Keane’s reaction that was truly shocking, and with all attention suddenly on Keane, Frances, from her position by the gates, may have been the only one to see it. The unguarded naked look of admiration in the lady’s eyes as she gazed up at her young protector was indecent, even carnal. Frances shivered at the sight, though she did not know why.

  Keane, gurgling and spitting blood from his mouth, was calling for something to be fetched, though his words were indistinct and he was howling with pain and rage.

  ‘Quick, get a towel and basin of water!’ snapped Mrs Grinham. Ettie and Ellen hurried indoors, while Mr Harvey helped his master to his feet, taking care as he did so not to stain his own clothing. He and Mrs Grinham tried to assist Keane inside the house, but, almost at once, the stricken man started to shake, and before he reached the door, his knees began to give way. There was some danger that Keane might faint, so he was helped as far as the front steps, where Harvey saw he was seated, his head between his knees, blood dripping to the ground. Ettie and Ellen emerged, and a towel was dipped in water and applied to what remained of Keane’s nose, though even the gentlest touch made him almost weep with agony.

  Adam, who appeared entirely satisfied with the outcome, came forward and took the bag from Mrs Keane and placed it once more in the carriage. She smiled at him, a kinder smile now that she had composed herself. ‘Thank you, Adam. I hope you have not injured your hand?’

  ‘Thank you, Ma’am, I have not.’ He returned the smile, and for a brief moment they looked at each other. The scene of consternation about James Keane could have been happening a hundred miles away.

  ‘Mr Harvey, shall I run for a doctor?’ asked Ellen.

  Keane coughed and seethed and moaned. ‘Fetch —, I want you to fetch —,’ he gasped, ‘why will someone not fetch a policeman? Go and get a policeman this instant!’

  ‘I don’t think that will be necessary Sir,’ said a familiar sounding voice, and Frances saw Inspector Sharrock entering through the gateway, accompanied by Constable Brown. They had both seen her, pressed against the hedge, and she coloured immediately, but apart from a raised eyebrow from Sharrock and a smile and a polite nod from Wilfred, they did not give away her presence.

  Keane sat up and pointed to Adam. ‘That man! Arrest him at once! He has assaulted me!’

  ‘All in good time, Sir,’ said Sharrock. ‘I do have one other more important duty to perform first. James Keane, I am placing you under arrest, and require you to accompany me to the police station where you will be formally charged with fraud, forgery and embezzlement. Constable Brown, the cuffs!’

  Wilfred stepped forward with a set of handcuffs and proceeded to put them onto Keane’s wrists, oblivious to the astonishment all around him. The servants were suddenly immobile, like puppets who had lost their human operator. Keane could only gasp and choke with outrage, the red stain spreading on the towel at his nose. His wife, open-mouthed in amazement, watched the operation with a certain amount of pleasure.

  ‘Good day to you, Mrs Keane!’ said Sharrock as he and Wilfred took a firm hold on their prisoner and led him to a waiting carriage. ‘That’s a bit of a knock, you’ve got sir. Don’t worry, we’ll see to it down at the station.’

  ‘What about that young criminal?’ exclaimed Keane, stumbling along between the two policemen. ‘He struck me! I want him arrested at once!’

  Sharrock hesitated.

  ‘Excuse me officer,’ said Mrs Keane quietly. ‘I
think my husband must be mistaken. He tripped and fell just now, and struck his nose on the ground. It was an accident.’

  ‘That is a lie!’ bellowed Keane. ‘He hit me!’ He twisted his body round towards the servants. You all saw it! Tell the police what you saw!’

  Ellen and Ettie hesitated and looked at each other, Mr Harvey took a deep breath, and then Mrs Grinham folded her arms, sniffed and said,’It’s just like Mistress said. He fell.’

  Sharrock glanced round at the other servants, who, one by one, nodded their agreement. ‘Looks like you got confused, Sir,’ he said. ‘It often happens when you have a nasty bump.’ Keane, now whimpering like a dog, was hauled out of the gate, his toes trailing on the ground, and pushed into the carriage. Frances hurried up to Wilfred.

  ‘Constable Brown,’ she said.

  He looked at her, curiously. ‘Miss Doughty – what brings you here?’

  ‘I came to see Mrs Keane – though of course – circumstances – I was not able to speak to her. You know about what happened at the inquest this morning, I suppose?’

  ‘I do, Miss,’ he said, sympathetically.

  ‘It is my belief that Mrs Keane was forced by the cruelty of her husband to lie to the court,’ said Frances, earnestly. ‘I do not blame her, she could not help herself.’

  Wilfred smiled. ‘I’ll tell you a little secret, Miss. The police think so, too.’

  ‘You do?’ cried Frances, almost overcome with a great sense of relief. ‘Oh and I had thought you would believe her and I would never be able to clear my father’s name!’

  ‘Miss Doughty – I know I shouldn’t say it and it might seem an impertinent question, but – does your family have an account with the Bayswater Bank? Only, in view of what has happened here today —’.

  ‘I understand entirely, and thank you for that thought,’ said Frances. ‘Neither we nor anyone we know banks with them, as far as I am aware. We are London & Westminster.’

  Inspector Sharrock had been ensuring that his new charge was settled in the carriage. Keane, crumpled and half sobbing in one corner, was now utterly bereft of the manly bravado he had shown earlier. ‘Miss Doughty,’ said Sharrock, approaching Frances, a quick tilt of his head telling the constable to go and mind the prisoner, ‘this is quite a coincidence finding you here. I hope you have not been attempting to do police work again, you will get yourself quite a peculiar reputation.’

  Frances was unrepentant. ‘Inspector, I have been almost driven distracted with worry, and I will do whatever I believe to be necessary. Now please tell me that you will not be arresting my father!’

  ‘I should think that very unlikely,’ said Sharrock.

  ‘I am happy to hear it. He is a much injured man.’

  ‘I must say, Miss, your family feelings do you credit. Now my advice is, go home, and see to your father’s dinner.’

  Frances watched them drive away. It was not yet over, but she was so near. The police would look into all of James Keane’s business affairs and somewhere, she was certain, they would find the evidence of how and why he had murdered Percival Garton. Then her father would be cleared of blame, and everything could go back to what it once was. She walked home, idling a little in her happiness. Though it was still cold and grey, it seemed to her now that the worst of the winter chills had gone, ushering in a calmer season.

  When she reached home, she saw Dr Collin’s gig outside and wondered if he had called to discuss the inquest. Dr Collin had always had a great regard for her father and she looked forward to giving him the good news. As she mounted the stairs, there were rapid footsteps above, and Sarah appeared on the landing, her eyes filled with distress. ‘Oh Miss!’ she said, stifling a sob. ‘It’s your father!’

  Afterwards, Frances could never recall how she had climbed the stairs to her father’s room. The horror of those words lent her a strength she did not think she had, and she seemed to fly to where she was needed. The tall figure of Dr Collin was bent over the bed, and he looked up as she entered. ‘Miss Doughty – I am very sorry,’ he said.

  She came forward, dreading what she would see, but her father looked the same as he had looked before, careworn and grey, the hair always needing her hand to tend it. He was fully clothed, dressed as he had been at the inquest, and had, as was his usual habit, lain down upon the covers to sleep a little. She sat by him, and touched his hand. It was warm, and she could not for a moment believe that this was anything other than a living man, but as she gazed at his face, so calm and peaceful, she saw that quality of unnatural stillness that showed her that life had fled. Dr Collin stood by her silently. He had stood by many such a bed, seen daughters, wives and mothers sit quietly beside the departed one, seen the last farewell touch and the lingering caress of the loving eye, and he gave her the time she needed to accept and understand.

  ‘Tell me what happened,’ she said at last.

  ‘He lay down to take a rest, as I believe he often did. After a time the maid came in to see how he was and found him with the handkerchief over his face. She recognised at once that something was wrong and called me. I know he liked to make use of a few drops of chloroform to ease him to sleep, and we have both cautioned him against the practice, but —’

  Frances noticed that there was a slight reddening of the skin of her father’s lips and nose. Dr Collin saw her peering at the marks and said, ‘That redness is caused by the chloroform. It can burn the skin if one is not careful. Of course it is impossible now to know how much he used, and I have yet to ascertain if that was the cause of his death.’

  ‘I should have been here,’ she said. ‘This is my fault. If I had only gone in to look at…’

  ‘Chloroform used incautiously can kill almost in an instant,’ said Dr Collin. ‘You might not have been able to help if you had been standing by his side. Please do not blame yourself.’

  ‘His hand sometimes shook,’ she said, and sighed. ‘Tell me you believe his death to be an accident.’

  ‘I think that an accident is very probable, but I regret I will not be able to state my final conclusions without an examination,’ said Collin. ‘It will not be possible for me to provide a certificate today.’

  Frances felt her heart lurch with dread. ‘There must be an inquest?’

  ‘I am afraid so.’

  ‘Oh, and I came home with such joy!’ she exclaimed. ‘They have arrested James Keane for fraud and I know my father was to be cleared of all blame over Mr Garton!’ She looked up at Collin, and saw an expression of pity pass over his face. She suddenly realised that she must sound distracted – Dr Collin knew nothing of her suspicions of James Keane, nor was there any reason he should.

  ‘My dear Miss Doughty,’ he said, softly. ‘My advice to you is to send at once to some relative who may assist you; an uncle, perhaps, or a male cousin. There is always a great deal to do at such times, and you should not be alone.’

  She nodded. ‘Yes – my Uncle Cornelius.’

  ‘I am afraid that there is nothing more I can do here today,’ added Dr Collin. ‘I will go at once and find a reliable man to assist me and return tomorrow morning at ten. I believe I shall be able to conclude my examination within the hour. I have no doubt that the inquest will be brief. It is a painful matter I know, and I will do all in my power to ensure that you are spared as much as possible.’ He picked up the chloroform bottle carefully by the base, looked at it, sniffed it cautiously, and raised his eyebrows. ‘It may help if I were to examine this further. Accidents sometimes happen where the bottle is at fault. I am sure you can provide me with an empty pill box.’

  ‘Oh yes, of course!’ Frances rose and called Sarah, who soon brought what was wanted.

  Dr Collin put the bottle in the box. The handkerchief was folded and wrapped in a sheet of paper, and both items stowed in his bag. ‘At least by tomorrow I will be able to arrive at the cause of death, and I very much hope that my findings will confirm that it was an accident. In cases where there may be doubt, inquest juries will always t
ake into account the reputation of the deceased and the family, and will shy away from any verdict that will cause unnecessary pain. I can assure you that if circumstances require I will encourage them to do so.’

  ‘Thank you doctor,’ said Frances, gratefully. She fell silent, lost in thought. The memories of her brother’s deathbed were so fresh in her mind that it seemed to her that it had happened the day before, and her father had expired from the sharp and poignant grief of his loss. Perhaps, she thought, in a way, he had, as his pain could hardly have lessened in time. Perhaps it might even have been for the best if he had joined her brother sooner rather than live in misery and confusion for only three more months.

  ‘Until tomorrow, then,’ said Dr Collin.

  ‘Oh!’ she rose. ‘I’m so sorry, I —’.

  ‘Please don’t trouble yourself, Miss Doughty. Your maid will see me out.’

  He departed and she sat once more at her father’s side. After a few moments she became aware of someone behind her. It was Herbert, his eyes bright with tears. ‘Miss Doughty – what can I say! This is too terrible for words! I can hardly believe what has happened!’

  ‘When did you see him last?’

  ‘Just before he came up for his rest. He was his usual self. If it is any consolation, I think he cannot have suffered. He must simply have fallen asleep.’ He wiped his eyes. ‘There must be something I can do to assist you.’

  ‘I need to send some telegrams, but apart from that there is nothing to be done until after the inquest.’

  ‘Inquest?’ He seemed shocked.

  ‘I am afraid so.’

  ‘Oh Miss Doughty,’ he exclaimed, sobbing, ‘how I wish you might be spared such a thing.’ Frances concluded that as a tower of male strength to whom she could look for guidance and support Herbert, was somewhat wanting.

  She spent a few minutes arranging the bed more tidily, straightening the pillow underneath her father’s head, smoothing the covers, and placing the spare quilt over him, as if he was merely resting and needed a little additional warmth. ‘There,’ she said. ‘I will leave him now.’