He nodded, then winced. The slight motion must have brought on a shaft of pain, for his face whitened even further.
“Mordecai is already here,” he said, his voice thin and rasping.
I moved into the room, lifting my veil. Before the fire stood a youngish man, early thirties, perhaps. He was tall, nearly as tall as Brisbane, and dark, but there the resemblance ended. This man was thicker, almost plump, and his features were marked by the sort of earnest sweetness that one associates with happy dogs. In fact, he put me greatly in mind of a puppy—a very large one, but a puppy still. His hair was floppy and his clothes gently shabby. He looked a comfortable, lived-in sort of person. I liked him instantly.
He turned, smiling at me a smile that extended to his eyes and suffused his entire face with pleasure.
From behind me Brisbane made the introductions.
“Lady Julia Grey, allow me to introduce to you my good friend, Doctor Mordecai Bent. Mordecai, this is Lady Julia Grey, the widow of Sir Edward Grey.”
I moved to shake his hand and it engulfed mine warmly.
“I cannot tell you how grateful I am that you are willing to help us,” I began.
He waved me off immediately. “The gratitude is entirely mine, my lady. Nicholas knows I love nothing so much as a good puzzle. And poisons are a special hobby of mine.”
I felt my eyebrows lift a little. “Oh? How very unusual.”
“Not at all,” he said, his large, spaniel-brown eyes boring into mine earnestly. “All of our medicines have their origin in plants that are deadly if taken in too great a dose. There is no curative in the world that is not a potential poison in the wrong hands.”
“I had not thought of it in quite that way,” I replied.
Brisbane waved us to chairs then and I sat opposite Doctor Bent, drawing off my gloves as I cast a surreptitious glance at Brisbane. He had sat slowly, as if the smallest motion was painful to him. I wondered that his friend did not seem more aware of his condition, but it was not my place to ask. Perhaps he was already treating Brisbane for his ailment. I certainly hoped so. Brisbane looked ready for a shroud.
“I assume Mr. Brisbane has given you the particulars of Sir Edward’s death?”
Doctor Bent nodded. “He has. I must say that the ability to make a diagnosis with any certainty after this length of time, and with no postmortem, is greatly compromised. You do understand that?”
I nodded. “Yes, but I feel very strongly that this was a case of murder. So does Mr. Brisbane.”
Doctor Bent went quite still. “Intuition, perhaps?”
This last seemed directed at Mr. Brisbane, but I could not imagine why. Indeed, Brisbane did not reply, but kept his eyes averted, toward the shadowy corner of the room.
“I suppose you could call it that, but we do have evidence that someone was threatening my husband before his death. And Edward’s collapse was so sudden.”
“But not entirely unexpected, I think,” Doctor Bent said gently. “I do not think so illustrious a physician as William Griggs would have certified his death as natural if there was not at least a probability that it was.”
“My husband was murdered,” I said stubbornly. “I know that it will be difficult to prove. I do not ask that you prove it. I am simply asking that you employ your expertise to helping us direct our inquiries to the proper channels.”
“I told you so, Mordecai” came Brisbane’s voice, rasping through the shadows.
Doctor Bent smiled. “You did indeed, Nicholas.” He turned to me. “He told me you are a woman of great strength of purpose, my lady. I will be happy to help you in any way I can. Now, tell me exactly what happened that night….”
I talked for a long time. Mordecai Bent was a very good listener—the sort of person who listens with his entire body and not just his ears. He interrupted me only a few times to ask questions about Edward’s collapse.
“And what about his general health before his death? I know it was not good—a history of heart trouble, I believe?”
I nodded. “Yes. His father and his grandfather both suffered from it as well. Doctor Griggs says that it is a congenital weakness, an hereditary one. Edward’s cousin, Sir Simon, suffers from it as well.”
“And what symptoms does it manifest?”
I closed my eyes, thinking hard. “Edward always had spells. He had them as a boy, I remember.” I opened my eyes, noting Brisbane still sitting silently, his gaze unfocused.
“Spells?” Doctor Bent leaned forward, his curiosity piqued.
“Yes. They always came on suddenly, sometimes when he was exerting himself, sometimes when he was quiet. He would have trouble breathing and often his complexion would turn a peculiar shade of blue.”
