Julia nodded. “That leaves murder.”
At the inquest the following morning, the omnibus driver testified to Lizzie Dowling’s unaccompanied journey to Quarr Abbey, and a local constable described the discovery of the body by hikers. Then the court clerk called Dr. “Julius” Lewis to the stand.
“If only it were true,” she murmured to her grandfather, standing. “Mister Milgram would be much happier.”
The clerk blinked at her approach. Julia raised her right hand and swore the oath, correcting her name. Near the end of her medical testimony, a low hum buzzed across the room at the news of the girl’s pregnancy. Silence greeted Julia’s inconclusive determination of the cause of death. The coroner’s jury shuffled out, deliberated for ten minutes, and returned with an open verdict. The stone-faced coroner gaveled the proceedings to a close.
“A suspicious death but no certainty,” Doctor Lewis said, taking his granddaughter’s arm. “Still, no other conclusion was possible beyond a reasonable doubt.”
Julia murmured, “The coroner doesn’t look happy.”
Mr. Milgram approached her on the courthouse steps. Without a word, he counted out four crowns and six shillings, handed them to Julia, and stalked off.
“One of the world’s charmers,” Dr. Lewis muttered. “I wager he’d be civil enough if Sir Charles had performed the autopsy.”
“Never mind. Your friend foisted me on him, and Mister Milgram just paid for the privilege.” Julia jingled the coins. “Although it’s half the going rate for an autopsy and expert testimony in London.”
Her grandfather said, “Between your clinic work and medical examiner fees—”
“I’ll never get rich.” Julia’s gaze drifted away from Milgram and down to the courtyard. “That woman … the one speaking to Sir Charles. She’s striking.”
Her grandfather turned. “Yes, I noticed her in the courtroom. A young widow, by the look of her.”
The tall, fair woman wore a gown of mauve and gray, her collar and cuffs trimmed with narrow ribbons of black silk. She glanced their way and then laid a hand on Sir Charles’s sleeve. He said a few words to the lady and mounted the steps. At the top, he tipped his hat to Julia.
“Doctor Lewis, can you spare a moment to speak with Lady Styles? She is a lady-in-waiting to the Princess of Wales and would like a word.”
“Of course.”
“I’ll bring her to you.” Sir Charles smiled. “Then, unless I take my leave, I’ll be late for a celebratory luncheon. We’re welcoming a new grandson into the family.”
“A happy occasion, Sir Charles,” Julia said.
“Thank you, my dear. The boy is called Henry Locock, named for my father.”
As she waited for Sir Charles to return with Lady Styles, Julia overheard two elderly ladies whispering behind her.
“Married three months, and the young Lococks are adopting a child? Why, they’ve hardly had time.”
“Mark my words,” the second lady said. “There’s a family connection. Some ‘by-blow’ of one of Sir Charles’s sons and a servant girl.”
“Could it be Captain Locock’s own child? He’s always been the wildest of the brothers.”
“That might explain why Frederick and Mary would take a strange child into the family. It seems distinctly odd for a newly married couple.”
Julia shook off her distaste at the gossip. She smiled when Sir Charles introduced Lady Styles and then excused himself.
“Thank you for seeing me, Doctor. I attended the proceedings at the Princess of Wales’s request, but an open verdict leaves many questions. I suppose you can’t say—”
“Which possibility is most likely?” Julia shook her head. “I’m sorry.”
“Princess Alexandra’s concern …” Lady Styles sighed. “I suppose some at the palace will fear scandal, but her heart breaks for the girl. How alone she must have felt. You said she was four months pregnant? Of that, you are sure?”
“An autopsy allows one to make a reasonably accurate assessment.”
“I see.”
Julia thought she did. The lady could do the simple subtraction.And remember, perhaps, who was at Osborne House in the summer.“Did you know Lizzie Dowling well, Lady Styles?”
