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“Oh, that. Yes. Very important, he said. Read this before you begin, he said. Most annoying, Gray. I thought there might be something critical in it, and it was only telling me that you and Dr. Mackay think the death came on unexpectedly. No one expects poison, old chap.”
Before Gray can comment—or find words to comment—Addington continues, “I am joking, of course. I understand that you did not expect Lord Leslie to die quite so promptly, which raised concerns, but Mackay is a country physician and you are an undertaker.” Addington raises his hands. “I know you are a trained surgeon, but you are not a police surgeon, Gray. You must leave such things to the professionals.”
McCreadie clears his throat. “It was me that raised the question in that note, Doctor. I shall need to be quite certain of the cause of death, as it can have a tremendous effect on the investigation.”
“How? From what I understand, Lady Leslie killed him. As she was in the house at the time, the manner of death does not matter. It was still her.”
“How did you hear that?” I say.
“I inquired, of course. Had my man run out for the latest news. There is a baker down the road that opens early and always has the latest from the police office. I find it is very helpful. How am I supposed to perform an autopsy if I do not know the presumed manner of death?”
Gray moves as fast as a cat, getting between me and Addington and saying something I can’t hear over the blood pounding in my ears.
I leave the room. If I stay, I’ll make this worse. I don’t storm out. I know better than that. I murmur something about getting to my chores, walk down the hall, veer around a corner, and nearly plow down a tall woman in a dove-gray dress.
“Mallory?”
I stop short, looking up with a start. “Isl—Mrs. Ballantyne.” I half curtsy. “We were not expecting you until the morrow, ma’am.”
She lowers her voice. “Alice is upstairs, and Mrs. Wallace is in the kitchen. You can be yourself.”
“At the moment, ma’am, I believe that would be unwise.” I cast a look back toward the library.
She starts to speak, and then her chin lifts, as she catches voices. Her mouth sets in a hard line.
“Dr. Addington, I presume,” she mutters. “What has he done now?”
When I don’t answer, she says, “I know the man is an incompetent booby, Mallory. I doubt anything he’s done will shock me, so there is no reason to demur on that account. He is a disgrace to the profession and a blight on our city, and in a just world, the police surgeon would be my brother.”
She takes a deep breath. “See the effect the man has even on me? I scarcely blame you for being out of sorts with him. Now, what seems to be going on?”
I hesitate.
“Is it murder?” Her eyes round. “Of course. If Dr. Addington is here at this hour, there has been a murder. Is it a devious one? Oh, I do hope so. We are in need of a puzzle. A dastardly killer who must be brought to justice.”
I’d hesitated at first because of the poison angle. Obviously, we can’t keep this from Isla any longer, but the situation requires more than a quick explanation. Now, though, I realize the real reason I can’t blurt it out.
Because her brother-in-law is dead. And her sister is the prime suspect.
“Mallory?” She takes my arm. “Come sit in the drawing room. You look quite pale. I cannot imagine a murder gruesome enough to have that effect on you, but if it is so, and you are concerned about my stomach, then only tell me the barest of details.”
I shake my head. “You need to wait for Dr. Gray.”
“My brother is not going to begrudge you the telling of the tale, Mallory.”
“I know. It’s just—” I shake it off. “How is your mother? Is she well?”
As soon as I say the words, they remind me of what isaboutto be said. That Annis is accused of murder. Their mother will not be well after that, will she?
“Mallory? You really do look ill.” She continues steering me into the drawing room as she lowers her voice. “Has something happened to remind you of your situation? An anniversary or a birthday?”
It takes a moment to realize what she means. She thinks I am feeling down because something has reminded me of my real life. My parents’ anniversary. A friend’s birthday. No. When my father’s birthday came last week, I secreted myself away to deal with it in private.
It can’t be easy for Isla either, to be constantly reminded that your new friend would rather be somewhere else. Still, she’s incredibly considerate and invites me to talk about it whenever I need to. Gray…
Well, Gray is different. If anything brings up the fact that I am only here because I cannot get home, he changes the subject. He’s even been known to leave the room. I understand that. He needs my full dedication and attention, and he doesn’t like the reminders that his assistant could vanish at any moment, leaving him with no aide and returning a liar and thief for a housemaid.
“It isn’t that,” I say. “But thank you. It’s… It was a long night. We didn’t get to sleep until a few hours ago, and even then, I can’t say I did more than drowse so—”
