James brushed a kiss against her head as he helped her to rise. She would be on her own now. He knew that the cough and fatigue were real. Being sick could mean a clouded thought process. And the actual murderer could even yet be staying in Camden House. If she asked the wrong question of the wrong person, she could jeopardize her life. He did not like this plan but didn’t know another way to investigate inside the sanatorium.
“Sir James,” Dr. Worcham said, recalling his attention.
James turned back to face the doctor. “I beg your pardon. I do not like being apart from my wife, even if I know it is for her health.”
“You are to be commended. I can’t tell you how many husbands I’ve seen remark that it will be a respite for them for their wives be here for a time.”
James frowned. “Are most of your patients quarreling spouses?”
The doctor laughed. “It’s cyclical. Right now, only the Stackpooles, but when the baron gets to waxing eloquently tohis club, we might get a spate again.” He shrugged. “They pay enough that I can then afford to take some charity cases.”
James looked intently at Dr. Worcham. “Understand Dr. Worcham, my wife has been extremely ill, and though she wishes to deny it, she needs care to recover her strength for herself and our unborn child.”
Dr. Worcham sobered. “I understand, and we will do all we can to provide for her the environment she requires.”
“Thank you for your care of my wife. Now I must be off. Mr. Stackpoole took ill at The New Bell Inn. I need to check up on him and see if he needs anything. He did tell us about his mother and your sanatorium. That is not a story.” He rose to his feet.
Dr, Worcham rose as well and walked him to the door that led back to the main hall. James was surprised to find this connection. Dr. Worcham laughed a bit as James looked around, noting their new location. “As I said, this is a warren.”
James nodded. “I will return tomorrow to check on my wife.”
“We shall be happy to receive you,” Dr. Worcham said.
James left the doctor, and the majordomo handed him his hat and gloves, then opened the door to let him out of the building.
“When I saw the door to the parlor open, I sent a runner to tell your coachman to bring your carriage around. You are welcome to wait in here until he comes around,” the man offered.
James looked up at the sky. It was a solid gray; however, it did not look as if it would rain. “I’ll wait out here, thank you.”
“As you wish sir,” the man said, bowing James out the door.
James stepped out onto the wide stone front porch and walked slowly down the steps. He took the time to study the landscape. Walking paths of crushed gray stone wound through neatly tended grass and around bushes and trees within thirty to forty feet of the building, the winding path dotted withbenches for patients to rest and enjoy the outdoors. Beyond, where the ground began to slope down toward the canal, natural grasses, rushes, and nettles were allowed to grow tall, no doubt to discourage patients from walking too near the canal. Across the canal, the fens stretched flat, a green and brown expanse heavy with the scent of wet earth and more rain to come. Lonely looking. James wondered why monks would have built a monastery in this desolate landscape four hundred years ago. It was only if one looked to the south did one get a sense of the village in the distance where trees massed, and spirals of white smoke rose above them. The village was less than one hundred years old, coming into being with the building of the canals that drained much of the ground around, making it available for farming. Yet it didn’t appear as if the land to the west of Camden House was farmed. He wondered why.
CHAPTER 12
LADY STACKPOOLE
Cecilia found she was tired when the matron showed her to her room. She didn’t like that the fatigue was real. The walk she and Sarsh had taken to the linen drapers that morning, while healthy, sapped her energy.
The room assigned to her was small but well-appointed, decorated in shades of blue, burgundy, and cream. It looked as if it might have at one time been part of a larger room divided in half. The drapery and bed curtains were in shades of blue, the walls covered in wallpaper with a subtle floral print. The furniture was red mahogany, its burgundy tone carried forward in the rug on the floor, the tufted velvet headboard, and with burgundy color brushed across the raised designs of the cornice pieces otherwise painted in a cream tone as was the door. She looked at the narrow bed and sighed ruefully. She hadn’t slept in a narrow single bed since she’d been a child. She would miss James in the night.
“I trust this will suit you, Lady Branstoke,” said the matron. “Should you need anything, you have only to pull this bell pull and either I, or one of the floor maids will answer.”
“Everything looks lovely, thank you.”
“Dinner is served in the grand dining hall at five. I shall return to show you the way. You are looking fatigued. I suggest you rest until then. Time enough for meeting others later,” the matron said. She walked toward the door. “Is there anything else you need now?”
“No, not at all,” Cecilia said. “I plan to do as you suggested and lay down for a rest.”
“Very good, ma’am,” the matron said as she closed the door behind her.
Cecilia sat down at the edge of the bed. She saw her portmanteau had preceded her into the room and was sitting on a bureau. She removed her shoes and laid back against two pillows.
Cecilia didn’t know how long she slept until a faint scuffling close by woke her. She carefully opened her eyes without moving. Over by the bureau, she saw a young girl stealthily attempting to open her portmanteau. She watched her. The child looked about eight to ten years old. Her brown hair was pulled back away from her face and fell in ringlets down her back. She wore a plain cream-colored dress with one deep flounce at the hem. On her feet were serviceable black boots.
The child glanced toward her as she silently opened the case and saw Cecilia watching her. She squealed and jumped away from the bureau.
“I…I…” she floundered, then turned and ran from the room, throwing the door to Cecilia’s room open with a loud bang.
