A Perilous Perspective (Lady Darby Mystery #10)(112)

The procurator fiscal certainly hadn’t been in any rush to investigate the crime, telling Gage he would rely on him and Lord Barbreck to handle the matter fittingly until he was available. While it was true that the jurisdiction of some officials covered several thousand square miles of land, and so they could not be expected to arrive promptly at every suspected murder, I also knew the status of the victims slowed his response. Had the MacCowans been of a higher rank, the inquiry into their deaths would undoubtedly have taken higher precedence. Yet another example of the inherent injustices in our legal system. But in this case, also helpful to me and Gage in not having the man breathing down our necks, potentially hampering our own investigation.

So it was no surprise that I had these inherent injustices in mind when I was informed a short time later that the local physician had finally arrived to examine Bree.

“I’m a verra busy man, Mrs. Mallery,” I heard him telling my aunt as I entered the room. “I canna be expected to come oot to see every maid or footman who falls ill. Ye should o’ called the surgeon o’er at Kilmilford.”

“But she was poisoned, Dr. Brown,” Aunt Cait reminded him.

“Aye, and there’s no’ much I could do for the lass if that was the case. But as I’m here noo, I may as well take a look at her.” He set his black bag down with a thump on the table next to the bed where Bree sat with her mouth clamped firmly shut, minding her place, though I could tell by the look in her eyes that she was wishing this Dr. Brown to the devil. I was doing much the same from my position standing near the door.

After a very rudimentary examination, which had not taken Bree’s comfort much into consideration, he closed his bag with a snap. “She’ll recover. ’Twas likely no’ more than a bit o’ gastric fever.”

“It was not gastric fever,” I retorted, having had enough of the supercilious man. “Two people have died from poisoning by jequirity beans, and Miss McEvoy only survived because she consumed very little of it and we dosed her with ipecac soon after.”

Dr. Brown’s head reared back, visibly taken aback by this pronouncement. However, he wasn’t about to take my word for it. After all, I was merely a woman. “That’s highly doubtful, Miss . . .”

“Mrs. Gage,” I bit out. “Perhaps you know of my husband—Mr. Sebastian Gage. Or my father-in-law, Captain Lord Gage, friend and confidant of our king.” I wasn’t above using the connection when it had its usefulness. Like putting this cad in his place.

“I see.” He stood stiffly, his gaze assessing me. “Then perhaps it’s possible.”

I wanted to roll my eyes, but my mother had taught me better manners than that.

Though apparently her sister had not taken those same lessons to heart. “Oh, for goodness’ sakes,” Aunt Cait snapped. “Do climb down from your high horse, Dr. Brown. My niece is never wrong about such things.”

I’d thought the physician was shocked and appalled before, but her assertion made his back straighten as if a pike had been driven through it.

My aunt ignored his high dudgeon. “Now, did you receive my letter?”

“Your letter, ma’am?” he replied with wounded dignity.

“Yes, the one I sent you several days ago to ask about Lord Alisdair Mallery’s death. You examined his body, did you not?”

“Aye, and I assure you there was nothing untoward aboot it, if that’s what you’re implying.”

“How did he die?” I interrupted.

He turned to me with a sniff. “He had been sufferin’ from a long-standing respiratory illness, which resulted in internal hemorrhaging and tachycardia, and ultimately heart failure.”

If he’d thought using medical terms would deter me, he was sadly mistaken.

“Diffuse hemorrhages?” I challenged.

It took him several seconds to respond. “Aye.”

“How did they present? I assume you didn’t perform an autopsy, so what were the symptoms?”

His face was growing red with suppressed fury, probably at my questioning his findings. “I found dried blood inside his mouth and around his nostrils.”

I turned to meet my aunt’s gaze and then Bree’s, for they both knew what that meant. Lord Alisdair might have been killed by the same poison. In fact, given the pattern of events, I would have gone so far as to suggest that he had. And since Miss Ferguson had not yet been employed here at that time, that almost certainly ruled her out as a suspect. Which left but one probability.

“Thank you,” I told the physician as I whirled toward the door, anxious to find Gage and inform him of what I’d learned.



* * *




*

I breathed a sigh of relief as I noted both Campbell sisters were seated in the drawing room at Poltalloch Castle. They both had to be present for the plan Gage and I devised to work. In truth, calling it a “plan” was rather loftier than it was. It was really more of a forlorn hope, a last-gasp effort. For if someone didn’t break rank or let slip the information we sought, then all we were left with were theories and suppositions.

They greeted us cordially enough, though I could see that Miss Campbell had armed herself with the typical icy reserve she donned whenever Lord Barbreck was present, for which no one could blame her, least of all Barbreck himself. However, Miss Margaret was openly hostile. Her eyes snapped angrily, tracking the marquess’s every movement. Her feelings about him were quite unambiguous, and it was clear they stemmed from his past treatment of her sister.