Too Soon for Flowers (27 page)

“I expect I could find some.” With a soft grunt, Hannah Sloan rose, and followed Miss Longfellow out.

As the day had been too warm for a fire in the large room, the two pulled chairs up to one of the windows and sat awkwardly in the day’s last light, each missing employment for her hands. “Would you like a biscuit?” Diana again asked politely. “They’re quite good, I’ve found, for raising the spirits.”

“I might try one,” Hannah decided. She leaned forward to take a piece of shortbread from the tin. It proved to be delicious. She had another.

“There. Since we’ve now shared sweets, perhaps our conversation can proceed along the same lines.”

Hannah still seemed unsure.

“What I mean is,” Diana persisted, “I would like to say something civil to you, and I hope you will return the favor.”

“Go ahead, then,” said Hannah, settling herself further.

“Fine. Do you know, I’ve always admired the … the efficient way you run this house. Oh, I know Mrs. Willett tries to be of help, but surely, it’s mostly your own efforts that make everything run smoothly. I believe I am right?”

“Well,” said Hannah uncertainly.

“There. I thought so. Now, you try.”

This took more effort, but soon real curiosity entered Hannah’s eyes. “I do admire the way you hold your own, as a woman, and have your way with men. Your brother, even, seems willing to retreat when you order him about.”

“Ah, there you have touched on a result not easily achieved. It has taken years of training, but Richard now knows that the satisfaction of having his way is rarely worth what happens when I can’t have mine. Once, I told a lady he was fond of that he had taken apart a snake from the cellar with a kitchen knife and a pickle fork. She found the thought upsetting, especially as she was spearing a
gherkin at the time, and I’m afraid she has since been rather cool to us both. The amusing thing was that he really
had
done it,” Diana finished, laughing at her brother’s oddities. “Of course,” she added, “that was some time ago.”

“My own boys,” Hannah replied, “have gotten themselves into their share of mischief. The things I could tell you they’ve been caught at—” She stopped her tongue suddenly, remembering that her eldest was deep in trouble, and beyond her help.

“Hannah—did you see anything on the night of Phoebe’s death to make you think Will had harmed her?” Diana asked abruptly.

“Did you?” Hannah countered, her eyes gleaming with a new fear.

“No. But I know
something
is worrying you, which you might as well let go of. I’ll extract it from you sooner or later. You
know
I will.”

Anguish too long suppressed came swirling up in a panic. “I only hoped—I just couldn’t say what I saw! And I swore I wouldn’t tell Mrs. Willett, with her counting on us, and with Phoebe my own responsibility! It tortured me to hide it from her, but since she’s always ferreting things out I didn’t know what else she might suspect or even say to others—”

“Sometimes,” Diana interrupted, “women can do what men cannot, and will go a ways to protect one another. I think we may find a solution to your problem, Hannah. Though by the look of things, the men in this village don’t consider Phoebe’s death much of a problem at all.”

“It would do me good to say it, I know that! For I can hardly stand it anymore—”

“Well, then, go on!”

“I did see something that night, Miss Longfellow. It was before the clock struck three. I woke to hear a noise
downstairs; it sounded like someone moving, and I thought—”

“—it was Will, coming in?”

Hannah nodded. “I listened in the hall, but I didn’t hear anything further. Then, as the moon was well up, I went down the stairs and out the back door …”

“It was a warm night, so rather than use the pot—”

“—I went to the privy. That’s when I saw … I saw Will climbing out of Phoebe’s window. He saw me and stopped, but then he turned and ran away through the garden. I thought, since he’d gone in to her, he’d know he couldn’t go home, because he might be carrying the pox. But later, I thought that if he was ashamed to tell me he’d done something worse, then he’d have fled for that reason, as well. And now, after thinking it over and over, I don’t know what to think at all! I am sure of one thing—my Will never meant to do Phoebe any harm. But then—” she paused, sucking in a breath, “I went in to see Phoebe,
and found her dead
. She lay all in a tangle with her mouth open—almost like a little bird that’s fallen from a tree, and not even cold! I couldn’t leave her that way—so I made her ready to be seen in the morning. Then I lay in my bed, and wondered what had happened and how much I should say, until I decided not to say anything at all.”

“I see,” said Diana. She had been unprepared for the revelations that had come from her attempt at polite conversation.

“What would
you
do?” Hannah asked plaintively.

“Nothing. Nothing at all. I will talk to Mrs. Willett about it, when I see her in the morning. I don’t believe there’s any need to mention this to anyone else.”

“You are very kind,” Hannah said with relief.

“Sometimes, I am. It’s not often that anyone tells me something so absorbing—something to challenge my mind. Most people I know seem hardly to suspect that
I have one. I’m very glad you are a woman with more sense.”

Hannah made no response to this, but wiped her eyes on her apron as she stood to go. Diana thrust the biscuit tin into her hand.

“I meant what I said, Hannah,” she said softly.

“What was that, Miss?”

“That these things will make me sorry. Take them away with you—and let me think….”

RICHARD LONGFELLOW SAT
watching the last rays of the sun play over Mrs. Willett and Captain Montagu, who had joined him once again beneath his vines. Each hoped, with the beginning of a long twilight, to spend a quiet hour viewing Nature before the candles were lit. As fitted their reflective moods, talk had turned to Character.

“It would seem our physician revealed himself to be a man of explosive passion,” Longfellow concluded. “I wonder I didn’t see it sooner.”

“What one first sees in a fellow is often at odds with what is later discovered,” Montagu returned, gazing at the bloodred glimmer hovering on the horizon. “Men, and women, may be easily fooled. Especially very stubborn ones.”

“Certainly none of us is infallible. Yet enlightened Reason, based on what we perceive, remains our only basis for civilized behavior—and, for arriving at Truth.”

“Richard,” Charlotte asked, “can we expect a decision on Phoebe’s death soon?”

“Quite soon. In fact, tomorrow, if nothing new comes into our hands. The selectmen will meet again in the morning. The larger issue seems resolved, as I believe you have heard—even if the details remain somewhat confused.”

“Do you think there is any hope of learning more?”

“It would surprise me if we do—but just what would you have us discover, Mrs. Willett?”

“I hardly know how to answer. But perhaps I should tell you now of something I thought, at least, that I observed—just before Dr. Tucker seemed to warn us that something was about to happen … although I wasn’t sure what he meant by it Oh, how shall I start?”

“At the beginning, Carlotta,” Longfellow said kindly. But instead of answering her neighbor, Mrs. Willett addressed a new question to Edmund Montagu, as he dispatched a mosquito attempting to bore through his stocking.

“Did Diana tell you, Captain, that we found a drawing of David Pelham on Friday afternoon, shortly before Dr. Tucker died?”

“No, Mrs. Willett, she did not. But she would hardly seem to need one. Whenever I attempt to speak to her, I find the man himself planted like a rosebush at her side.”

“It was in Phoebe’s sketchbook.”

“Was it?” asked Longfellow, leaning forward intently.

“Near a drawing of an aunt in Boston, a woman named Mary Morris. Do you recall, Richard, Dr. Tucker saying he treated Phoebe for a rash while she was in Boston? He also told us of knowing David Pelham at the same time.”

“Yes—but Pelham told us he never met the girl, didn’t he?”

“He did. Yesterday when I spoke with him he admitted to the acquaintance; he also claimed Phoebe’s aunt warned him to end it, apparently for his own safety. Mr. Pelham believes Phoebe suggested more to him than she should have, and that it was not the first time she had done such a thing. Diana seems to think we may believe what he says.”

“Hmmm,” was all that Longfellow replied, giving her courage to go farther.

“I doubt Mr. Pelham will tell us much more. He fears upsetting Diana, as well as Phoebe’s family. But I think there is something else there. And if someone were to visit Mrs. Morris in Boston, he might look for the journal I assume Dr. Tucker kept, as most physicians do.”

“If
someone
were to visit … ?”

Mrs. Willett’s eyes scanned the clear sky.

“I could take pleasure,” said Captain Montagu slowly, “in some mild exercise; I have also thought of putting a few miles between myself and certain parts of Bracebridge for a day or two.”

“You may plead special business, I suppose, to travel without risking a Sunday fine….” said Longfellow lightly.

The captain, too, examined a bright Venus for a few moments more, before he decided. “Richard, I’ll sleep in Roxbury tonight, if you have no objection to my leaving you for a while. After staying with friends there, I’ll look up Mrs. Morris in the tax rolls tomorrow, and pay a call. I will also stop in at the doctor’s lodgings. But I would know one thing first, Mrs. Willett. Do you have a specific interest I should know of?”

“I would only like to know the answers to a few small questions, before this is all well and truly settled.”

“I see. In that case, take good care of
yourself
, madam,” Montagu added pointedly as he stood, giving his companions each something else to think about as he went inside.

A FEW MINUTES
later, as the captain threw an assortment of small articles into a saddlebag, Charlotte knocked at his door.

“Captain Montagu,” she began, hardly knowing what she wanted to tell him. “Edmund,” she ventured.

“Yes?” he asked, as curiosity overcame his surprise, and he moved aside for her to enter.

“I know you haven’t declared intentions to Diana, beyond friendship—but I have heard from her that David Pelham has been suggesting things that could indicate much more than friendship—things she couldn’t do, in good conscience, without marriage.”

“Has he, indeed?” asked Montagu, holding a cambric shirt motionless in his hand.

“Though I doubt marriage has been discussed between them.”

“Then what is the object of such talk?”

“On Diana’s side, it may only be to test waters that have risen nearly to her feet.”

“And on his?”

“On his, I’m not sure. But I think idleness and vanity, when they are mixed with desire, have been known to lead to haste, and even to unintended harm.”

Edmund Montagu nodded, examining his visitor closely. He was not about to comment—for Diana’s recent accusation of having spoken unfairly of a rival had stung, and continued to do so. However, he told himself, he had a higher duty than to his own comfort.

“So, you distrust the man,” he finally answered. “As do I. But I have tried to temper my suspicions. As you might suspect, they may well be influenced … by other considerations. You, Charlotte, are in a better position to see him clearly.”

She flushed at his first use of her name, and became more aware of the fact that she had invaded a gentleman’s bedchamber. But in another moment, she went boldly on.

“I do believe there may be a
great deal
we don’t yet see in Mr. Pelham. I am sure he’s not been entirely truthful, and I fear he’s still hiding something of importance. I cannot know if it is for his own sake he will not speak, or for that of someone else. And then—But I hope to know more, when you return. Edmund, do you think that could be by tomorrow afternoon?”

“Should it be?”

“I very much suspect it should,” said Charlotte, her eyes seeming to plead for this favor.

“Depend upon it, then,” Captain Montagu replied forcefully as he swung the saddlebag onto his broad shoulders, and went to prepare his mount.