The Ghost of Christmas Past (6 page)

“But
surely if there were no pioneering treatments, they would not have found the
cure for smallpox.”

“It
wasn't the medical men who found that cure, Miss Dearheart. Oh they took credit
for it. But it was the milkmaids and dairy farmers who first discovered it.
Simply by being among cows that had cowpox and realising that unlike their
neighbours, they were free from the disease. It is that quiet discovery, a
realisation formed over decades, which really matters. Not the big 'let's rush
this through and make a lot of money out of it' discoveries of the men of
science.”

Elizabeth
felt confused. As far as she was aware, Albert Sanderson had no medical
training, yet Liam spoke like a man who knew what he was talking about. On the
other hand, she had learned about the discovery of the smallpox vaccine by
reading books and newspapers. Was it not just as likely that Albert Sanderson
read the same books? Or even more likely that being in a sanatorium would put
him in the way of much medical talk.

“It
is a pity that Lady Clarissa could not join us,” said Elizabeth, watching him
closely.

“Lady
Clarissa?”

“My
aunt's step-daughter.”

“What?”
Lady Bedlington's voice rang out imperiously across the room. She was involved
in a game of bridge with the sisters and Mr. Jenkins. “What was that about
Clarissa?”

“I
said it was a shame she could not be here.”

“She's
down on our estate in Devonshire, I should imagine.”

“Oh
no,” said Mrs. Chatterbucks, who sat by the fire, her eyes gleaming, either
from the heat or the glass of port she had just finished. “I saw her in town
only this morning. She is staying at the Blue Peacock Inn, I believe.”

“Why
has no one told me this? Really,” said Lady Bedlington, “it is coming to
something when a girl does not come to see her dear step-mama.”

Though
it was well known that Lady Clarissa and Lady Bedlington had never been dear to
each other, no one contradicted Her Ladyship.

“Is
it true that she was once engaged to the dead man's brother?” asked Mr.
Jenkins.

“Yes,
many years ago,” said Lady Bedlington. “It was a bad match, and my dear husband
would not permit it.”

“It's
sad when two people who should be together are kept apart,” said the Reverend.

“Nonsense
Philip, it was just as well. He drove his wife to suicide.”

“What
is it with these dreadful men?” asked Miss Graves, her eyes shining in the
candlelight. “First the Sanderson man, and now the Demon Doctor of Delhi.”

“The
Demon Doctor of Delhi?” said Mr. Hardacre. He had been very quiet all evening,
though Elizabeth had been aware of him watching her as she talked to Liam.
“What is that all about?”

“Oh,
did you not see the newspaper?” said Miss Graves. “A Doctor Bradbourne based in
India. Embezzled money from a rich patient, then killed the poor man. Then Mrs.
Bradbourne took her own life. They never found her body, so they think she was
probably eaten by a crocodile.”

“That
is unlikely,” said Liam. “There are no crocodiles in the Ganges. There are only
gharials, which are much smaller, albeit similar creatures. But they're not man
eaters.”

“You
seem to know a lot about it, Doctor Doubleday,” said Mr. Hardacre. Liam did not
answer.

The
atmosphere became thicker, but Elizabeth could not put her finger on why.

“Men
are beasts,” said Mrs. Chatterbucks. “Of course, my Herbert was not. Goodness,
he was asleep by eight o'clock most evenings.” Elizabeth detected a hint of
disappointment.

“Yes,
I always found a sleeping draught useful for that,” said Lady Bedlington. “In
his lordship's cocoa. It dispenses with most night-time unpleasantness where
men are concerned.”

“Does
it?” said Mrs. Chatterbucks. “Well, I'm sure I never gave Herbert a sleeping
draught.”

“No,
but I'll hazard a guess he took a few himself,” muttered Constable Hounds who
was standing near to Elizabeth.

“What
was that, constable?”

“I
said, I'd better be getting myself off. With your leave, Lady Bedlington.”
Elizabeth was glad to see that the constable had dispensed with his earlier
attempts at speaking in what he believed was an upper class accent.

“No,
not yet. We were interrupted at dinner. All the talk of legs and dogs.” She
cast a murderous glance at the sisters. Luckily they were so overwhelmed to be
breathing the same air as Her Ladyship they did not notice the insult. “I
believe Sanderson saw someone he knew in the village, did he not?”

“Yes,
that's right, Your Ladyship. He did not say who, but he told the landlord at
the Inn that he was going to meet someone. The landlord got the feeling it was
a lady.”

“Lucinda?”
said Elizabeth.

“There's
no one around here of that name,” said Mrs. Chatterbucks. “We've asked, haven't
we, Henrietta?”

“Yes,
indeed,” said Miss Graves. “My sister and I have been doing a fair bit of
sleuthing.”

“You
really should be careful, ladies,” said the constable. “And tell your Samuel to
be careful too, Reverend. I know he and Johnny Fletcher – begging your pardon Mr.
Fletcher – have been looking for clues, but it's a bit dangerous out there. 
Young Johnny swears he saw someone building the snowman around Mr. Sanderson,
so has been out and about looking at everyone to see if he recognises them as
the man's assailant.”

“I'll
have a word,” said the Reverend. “Though one would hope this is the only murder
we'll ever have in Midchester.”

“Oh,
I don't know about the only one, Reverend,” said Constable Hounds. “It was
before this here young lady,” he gestured to Elizabeth, “was born and before
you took over the parish church. A man murdered his business associate. Funnily
enough his young wife killed herself too. And her two children. Tragic case.”

“The
children too?” said Elizabeth. “That's dreadful.”

“Their
bodies was never found,” said Constable Hounds, “but their clothes was found
near the river. Chances are they were swept into the estuary and out to sea.”

“Oh,
I'd heard about that,” said Miss Graves. Her voice held a note of regret, about
it being something she'd only heard about. “What a pity it happened before most
of us came here.”

“Let
me see,” said Mrs. Chatterbucks. “They said she was quite a common thing. Not
well born at all. But had a way with her. What was her name?”

“Lucinda
Hargreaves,” said the constable. “I remember because I thought about her when I
heard Mr. Sanderson had said the name Lucinda.”

“Is
it possible he knew her?” asked Elizabeth.

“I
suppose it is. He's been doing business in this area for a long time.”

“Then
he could have seen her!” For some reason Elizabeth felt relieved. Because if it
was Lucinda Hargreaves then it was more likely she who had killed George
Sanderson, not Liam (or Albert Sanderson, if that was his real name).  Not that
it altered the fact that Albert Sanderson – or Liam  –   was involved with Lady
Clarissa. That tore at Elizabeth's heart. She tried to tell herself she was
being stupid. She had only known Liam for just over a week, and for a lot of
that time she had suspected him of murder.

Mr.
Hardacre yawned. “This is all fascinating, really, but I must get back to my
sister.”

“Of
course,” said Elizabeth. “I am sorry she could not be here tonight.”

“As
was she,” said Mr. Hardacre. “Hopefully she will be able to see you all again
before we leave.”

“Then
it is certain you are leaving?” said Elizabeth.

“Yes.”

“But
you will stay until after Christmas, I hope. Father and I had hoped to invite
you both to the vicarage for Christmas luncheon.”

“Humph,”
said Lady Bedlington. “It is something when outsiders are invited before
family.”

“We
did invite you, Arabella,” said the Reverend. “You refused, as you always do.”

“I am
quite sure you did not, but as I am not one to bear a grudge, I will come. I
suppose these two will be there.” She gestured to the sisters.

“Certainly,”
said Elizabeth emphatically. She had no intentions of letting her aunt decide
on the guest list. A glance from her father told her that he understood and
approved of her decision.

“Very
well, I suppose one has to make allowances.”

The
sisters smiled, but Elizabeth saw Mrs. Chatterbuck's smile waver slightly. Her
aunt's insult had not gone unnoticed that time.

Mr.
Hardacre left them to return home. Elizabeth noticed with some disappointment
that he had not offered anyone else a ride home in his carriage. She excused
him because he was no doubt anxious to get home to his sister. Any detours
through the town would only delay his return.

Not
long afterwards the party broke up. Mr. Jenkins, Doctor Wheston and Mrs.
Wheston went home in one carriage. Liam expressed a desire to walk.  Constable Hounds
said he would accompany him and take in the night air.

The
sisters, Elizabeth and her father took another carriage, for which Elizabeth
was grateful. Both women were rather subdued.

“You
must not let my aunt upset you,” said Elizabeth. In truth she was furious with
her aunt for treating their feelings in such a cavalier fashion.

“Oh,
Her Ladyship was most gracious,” said Mrs. Chatterbucks. “And I suppose … well
… we are rather tiresome at times.”

“Please
do not think so,” said Elizabeth. She had to admit to often thinking the
sisters tiresome, but it did not excuse her aunt’s rude behaviour. “My aunt is
rude to everyone, especially to her family. Her wealth and status allow her to
get away with much that an ordinary person would not.”

“Quite,”
said the Reverend. “She is a lonely woman who does not realise that if she could
open her heart to others – as you both do – she would not be quite so lonely.”

“We
are not lonely because we have each other,” said Miss Graves, her eyes misty.
“And we have dear friends like you, who, despite our faults, watch over us.”

“And
we always will,” said Elizabeth. “I am sure that you forgive our faults too.”

“Oh
my dearest girl,” said Mrs. Chatterbucks. “You and the Reverend have shown us
nothing but kindness.”

Elizabeth
felt so sure both sisters were about to cry that she dared not say anything
else.

Chapter
Five

During
the coach ride home, Elizabeth took to thinking about what she had learned over
the past few days. Mr. George Sanderson had been murdered whilst on a business
trip to see her aunt. That much was certain. He had mentioned the name Lucinda,
and it now transpired that some time ago, before Elizabeth was born, a woman
called Lucinda Hargreaves was married to a man who murdered a business
associate, after embezzling his money. Then Lucinda Hargreaves is thought to
have taken her own life and that of her two young children. Elizabeth shuddered
at the thought. Whatever happened with Mr. Hargreaves, and the shame Lucinda
might have felt, the children were not to blame.

Into
the confusing equation came the story about George Sanderson's brother, Albert,
who, fifteen years previously, had been going to marry her aunt's step-daughter,
Lady Clarissa Bedlington. He had been chased off by Lord Bedlington, and had
subsequently married another girl. Then he too was accused of murdering a business
associate, only his illness and his family connections meant he was
incarcerated in a sanatorium instead. After that, his wife, Lucinda, was said
to have taken her own life.

Could
it have been the same woman? No, thought Elizabeth, that did not fit. Fifteen
years previously, Elizabeth had been nine, which meant that the Lucinda from
the first story, which took place at least ten years before that, would have
been much older. Nevertheless, there were too many coincidences in the stories.
What that meant, Elizabeth did not know.

To
confuse her emotions even more, Liam Doubleday had come into the story. Quite
suddenly and at the same time as she found Mr. Sanderson's body. His greeting
to his friend, which went something like 'I warrant you're surprised to see
your old friend, Liam Doubleday'. Why had it struck Elizabeth as odd? Of
course! Before Doctor Wheston could speak, Liam had rushed forward, and let him
know the name by which he was to be known, just in case Doctor Wheston had
called him by his real name. But why had Doctor Wheston concurred? He seemed a
decent, trustworthy man, not given to subterfuge, yet if Elizabeth's suspicion
was correct, he was helping his friend to pretend to be someone else.

What
had Liam got to do with it all? Elizabeth guessed he was around ten years her
senior, making him thirty-four or thirty-five years old. Any event before she
was born would have taken place before his tenth year – and maybe even before
he was born because Elizabeth did not know the exact date of the first
Lucinda’s story.