Sleepless in Southampton by Chasity Bowlin
Chapter Twenty-Two
Sophie saw the carriage before the driver or the occupant saw her. Having already been abducted once that day and narrowly avoiding it a second time at the hand of some unscrupulous procuress, she was, perhaps, hypervigilant. But it had saved her. Cowering in the darkened gap between two buildings, much too narrow a space to even be considered an alley, she watched the street. The space was littered with crates and other things, offering her some concealment, at least.
As Dr. Blake’s carriage rumbled past, she could see his face as he peered out the window, scanning the streets for any sight of her. It was heavily bandaged but blood had begun to seep through. There was a cold fury about him and Sophie had little doubt that her fate, if she fell into his hands, would be sealed. She wouldn’t escape from him a second time. And she would likely not be handed over unscathed to the woman he’d mentioned. He would have his pound of flesh.
“What are you doing out here, girl? You’ll not be working this alley! Tis not the sinful streets of London you’re on!”
Sophie turned to see that a woman had emerged from one of the buildings that had a door set into the narrow-not-quite-an-alley. It had been recessed so deeply she hadn’t seen it yet. “I’m not—that is to say, I have had very trying day, Madam, but I assure you my appearance at present is not indicative of my degree of virtue. I am hiding here to avoid a wicked man who would abduct me and do me grave harm.”
The aging housekeeper gave her a skeptical once-over but, ultimately, the woman’s hard gaze softened into one that seemed almost sympathetic. “You speak well enough, I’ll give you that. And what are you doing here on this street then? Is there somewhere in particular you’re trying to get to?”
There was the faintest hint of a brogue in the woman’s voice, as if she’d once lived in Scotland, but years on English soil had eroded it to a mere vestige of one. There was, despite her initially harsh words, a kindness about the woman. She wasn’t soft by any stretch of the imagination. That was for certain, but she wasn’t without mercy either.
“I’m trying to reach Lady Hemsley… the man who would abduct me, he is known to her. His wickedness is known to her. She will help me,” Sophie stated. How desperately she hoped that was true! If Lady Hemsley turned her away, there was nowhere left for her to go.
“Wait here,” the woman said. “I’ve a notion of how you might go about unnoticed. That hair of yours will never do. It could be spotted from the next county shining like that…. especially with it standing on end.”
The woman retreated down the alley and disappeared once more inside the building. She had moved quickly and quietly, far more cat-like than her steel gray hair and apparent age should have permitted. Minutes later, the woman returned. She held a bundle of cloth in her arms.
“Now, here’s a shawl. It’s long enough to cover most of your dress so the dirt and stains won’t be so obvious. And there’s a bonnet there, none too pretty, but big enough to shield your face from view and showy enough that none will think you’re trying to hide,” the woman offered. “Lady Hemsley is just around the corner from here. It ought to see you to rights. Will this wicked, wicked man know that is your destination?”
Sophie hadn’t considered that. But he’d been on this street, only a short distance from Lady Hemsley’s, after all, so she had to concede the possibility that those who he considered enemies might be working together. “I do not know.”
“Right, then. If you go to the house that backs up to hers, on St. Anne’s Street, the house with the dark blue door—there’s only one—go to the kitchen entrance and tell them you must speak to Mrs. Tipton. She’s the housekeeper there and a friend. You tell her that Agnes sent you to her. The back garden butts up against Lady Hemsley’s and she can get you in that way, assuming Lady Hemsley’s servants will grant you entrance. I’ve no friends in a house that fine, so I cannot guarantee it. The finer the house the more persnickety the help.”
“I’ve been warned of that,” Sophie stated. Effie had been telling her just that thing, albeit more diplomatically phrased, for years. Donning her disguise, Sophie noted that the items were particularly fine. “I couldn’t possibly accept these. They’re far too fine.”
“They were destined for a charity bin, girl. The mistress has died and no one in this house has use for such fripperies,” the housekeeper stated.
“What is your name, Madam?”
“My name is Agnes Ferguson, and you, girl? What is your name?”
“Sophie Upchurch,” she replied.
“Well, Miss Upchurch, happy I am to have been able to help you. Get on with you now. You’ll need to be quick or you’ll catch the servants at their dinner hour and then no one will be inclined to help you.”
Impulsively, Sophie hugged the woman, great tears in her eyes. “You’ve been so kind. Thank you.”
Leaving the stunned housekeeper behind her, Sophie bustled onto the street and walked the opposite direction the carriage had been heading. There was a cross street only a few buildings down that was so narrow only pedestrians and the narrowest of carts could traverse it. That would get her over to St. Anne’s Street and to the house with the dark blue door.
*
Henry stood inthe entryway of Lady Hemsley’s home as the butler looked at him somewhat askance. It was past time for callers, he knew. “I did not bring my calling cards because this is not truly a social occasion. It is imperative that I see Lady Hemsley, at once. It is a most urgent matter.”
“I will inquire if Lady Hemsley is at home for visitors,” the butler replied, clearly nonplussed by Henry’s disheveled appearance, the late hour of his call and the fact that it all appeared to be quite havey-cavey.
The truth was, Henry thought, if someone had shown up on his Aunt Cecile’s doorstep in such a manner, their welcome would have been just as uncertain. There was no small amount of bitterness that followed that thought as another one came swiftly in its wake. It appeared that the welcome issued by his family was always uncertain and very easily rescindable. He couldn’t imagine how hurt Sophie must have been, how utterly dismayed she must have been to have people who had seemed her allies turn on her so quickly. It was shameful, what they had done to her, what his absence had permitted them to do to her. If he’d only returned home before hying off to Salisbury in pursuit of information about the doctor, then he could have put a stop to it.
A moment later, the butler returned. “Lady Hemsley is in the drawing room. She will see you.” He sounded less than pleased about it.
With a heavy sigh, Henry moved past the man and in the direction indicated. When he entered the drawing room he noted two things, Lady Hemsley dressed for dinner even when dining alone. Dressed for dinner. The woman was positively dripping in jewels. They were piled about her neck and stacked on her wrists so thickly it was a wonder she could move.
“I will not be judged by you, young man. I like my jewels, Marchwood,” she said with a raised eyebrow, as if daring him to challenge her. “Why should I not indulge myself?”
“Why, indeed, Lady Hemsley. Sadly, magnificent as they are, I’m not here to discuss your jewels. I’ve come with terrible news. There was a misunderstanding in my uncle’s home and Sophie was turned out into the street through no fault or wrongdoing of her own.”
Lady Hemsley blinked. “Sophie? Not Miss Upchurch? You are forgetting to pretend your indifference, Marchwood. Or is there some reason why you now openly speak so familiarly of her?”
“Miss Upchurch and I are secretly betrothed,” he said. “But I fear it will not matter if I do not find her. I had hoped she would come to you for aid since the only other person she has met in Southampton has now been murdered.”
“Murdered?” the elderly woman parroted. “Heavens! Sit down, Marchwood, and tell me all of it.”
He’d thought mentioning that would get her on board. She loved nothing better than to know something before anyone else did, after all. “The apothecary who identified laudanum as the primary ingredient in Philippa’s elixir has been murdered. I discovered his body today… bashed over the head with a large basin or vessel and left to die alone. I do not know that it has anything to do with Dr. Blake, besides my own suspicion. But if he took upon himself to ask questions…”
“And Dr. Blake… did you learn anything in Salisbury?” she demanded.
“I did. His name, when practicing there, was Dr. Albert Evans. He married a young patient of his who suffered similar attacks and ailments as Philippa. Then the young woman died under somewhat mysterious circumstances—mysterious and convenient as her death coincided with her family refusing to support the doctor financially anymore,” he summed up.
Lady Hemsley shouted a triumphant, “A-ha! I knew it!”
“How did you know?”
She smirked. “It was to do with Lady Parkhurst’s estate, you see? She named the doctor as her executor and the irascible little man whom he allowed to oversee everything was someone he hired from Salisbury. I thought it quite strange that he would bring someone from there rather than London. If you’re going to hire out from Salisbury, why not just hire from here? He denies ever having been to London, but I have my doubts based on his clothing and his manner of speech. What do you think?”
“I’ve never heard the man speak. I could not say.”
“We should summon him here and confront him!”
“Absolutely not,” Henry stated firmly. “We will do nothing more until I have located Miss Upchurch and assured myself of her safety. If she arrives—”
Henry never finished the request. A commotion in the corridor drew his eyes. It sounded as if the entire house was suddenly in an uproar. He rose quickly, turning toward the door.
Behind him, Lady Hemsley gasped. “What on earth is happening? I must apologize, Marchwood. My household is normally more well-ordered.”
The doors to the drawing room parted then and the butler stepped inside, quite flustered if his appearance was any indication. “There is a young woman here, my lady, demanding entrance and ‘sanctuary’. She came to the garden door in the kitchen.” The last was uttered with a sneer of disapproval.
Lady Hemsley let out an annoyed sigh. “Well, show her in! Good heavens. I’ve half a mind to dismiss you for being so foolish!”
Henry was so intensely relieved that it took his breath. It could only be Sophie. Who else?
And moments later, when the door opened and she stepped inside, disheveled and a bit worse for wear, but whole and very much alive, he’d never known such a feeling of joy. “Oh, thank God. Thank God.”
He didn’t care that Lady Hemsley was there. He didn’t care that it was completely improper. Henry simply closed the distance between them and swept her into his arms, holding her close. She did not resist. Instead, she pressed her face to his chest and he felt the first tremors and heard a soft sob escape her. Whatever had occurred that day, it had left her shaken and terrified.
“I was so afraid,” she whispered. “Dr. Blake—”
“What about him?” Henry asked.
“He met me on the street and he insisted on escorting me to the Duke of Wellington Inn. I couldn’t refuse without making a scene,” she said, easing back from him. “Oh, Henry, it was horrible. He was making terrible threats about… well, he intimated that there was a particular sort of business that would pay him handsomely for a girl like me.”
“That villain!” Lady Hemsley exclaimed. “How in heaven’s name did you get away?”
“His medical bag,” Sophie explained. “It was on the seat, and so I bumped into it, knocking it over. When the instruments spilled out, I managed to get one of the scalpels. I’ve done him terrible injury and I know he is livid beyond imagining. He was looking for me after. I saw his carriage. That is why I came through the gardens.”
“The apothecary—” Henry began.
“I know he’s dead. Dr. Blake told me he killed him or perhaps had him killed. That bit is unclear. He also told me about a girl he’d married in Salisbury. He killed her, as well. Dosing her in secret with laudanum, just as he’s done with Philippa. And he admitted to killing Lady Parkhurst. He was afraid that having a companion to nose into things would cause problems, so he began slipping her arsenic.” The words all tumbled out of her, a long list of crimes with each more horrifying than the last.
“I know,” Henry said. “Well, I knew he’d married the girl and done away with her. The how was a bit of a mystery, however. And his name, when he practiced in Salisbury, was Dr. Evans. Dr. Albert Evans. And, of course, there were suspicions about Lady Parkhurst but nothing confirmed.”
“Then his bride in Salisbury was not his first victim,” Sophie replied. “Or at least I have reason to believe otherwise!”
“Well do not leave us hanging, Miss Upchurch,” Lady Hemsley said. “Tell us what you know!”
Sophie shook her head as if to clear it. “It was a scandalous story in London two or three years back, I think. There was a Dr. Evan Alberts who married a young widow in London. But she discovered his plot. He’d been poisoning her not with laudanum but with Paris Green. It was in the Times. They ran articles about it every week. Lurid and horrible. Everyone was talking about it. That plot could well have been borrowed from a gothic novel, and those were all that the girls in school were reading at that time. In secret, we thought. Not really secret. Effie knew. She simply let us feel like we were getting away with it. Regardless, the story in the paper was so ghastly that, as young girls often are, we were fascinated with it. How horrid we were!”
Lady Hemsley cleared her throat loudly. “While I appreciate your relief, Marchwood, at seeing Miss Upchurch safe, I do believe you can let go of her now.”
Henry realized he was still holding Sophie to him, completely uncaring of where they were. Reluctantly, he dropped his arms and stepped back, but still clasped her hand in his, unwilling to break contact entirely. “I vaguely recall the incident but did not make the connection. The other physician I spoke with in Salisbury told me that our not so very good doctor had married an aging widow in London first. It is possible that it wasn’t him, though I confess it unlikely. Given the similarity in name and method, it’s a very good chance that he’s the culprit.”
“Right now, the only witnesses you have to this man’s misdeeds here in Southampton are dead. The apothecary cannot help you. Lady Parkhurst is gone, as well,” Lady Hemsley pointed out. “And, I do not mean to offend, Miss Upchurch, but it is your word against Dr. Blake’s… or Dr. Evans’ or Dr. Alberts’ and what Marchwood has is nothing more than hearsay. Frankly, it will not hold much sway.”
“I know that what you say is true, Lady Hemsley. I am not offended by that. My lack of rank and my obscure parentage make me, at least in the eyes of society—and by virtue of being female, I am, in the eyes of the law—less believable.” Sophie’s response was matter of fact.
The injustice of what she’d just said struck Henry very deeply. He’d never considered himself a reformer, but with what he’d observed from Sophie and with the way decisions were made for Philippa without ever considering her own desires, he was starting to see that changes should be made.
“A long term solution to such social problems is not yet available, but a shorter term solution is,” Lady Hemsley replied. “If you marry—”
“When,” Henry corrected. “And the sooner the better.”
“When you marry, that will change things in terms of your word against the doctor’s. A companion has much to gain. A viscountess would not! But given what you recalled about those news articles, perhaps the best option would be to go to London immediately and seek out this widow. If she can provide sworn testimony against the doctor, or better yet, identify him to local authorities, he can be arrested for his crimes and tried.”
And executed or at the very least transported far from their shores.
“We will leave within the hour. The moon is full so we can travel through the night,” Henry stated. “Lady Hemsley, would you be so kind as to permit Miss Upchurch to stay with you until I make the necessary arrangements for our journey?”
“Of course. We will go in and have some dinner and wait for your return,” Lady Hemsley stated as she rose to her feet. “And I will have my maid see about getting you something more suitable to wear, my dear. I will be quite pleased to play a role in your elopement. Why, I haven’t had this sort of excitement in a very long time!”
