Ted Booker had stripped away his bandages in the night and succeeded, finally, in killing himself.
I was shocked.
“There’s to be an inquest,” Dr. Philips was saying urgently. “You must tell them that he was not in his right mind. That he didn’t know what he was doing.”
“He promised,” I said. “He told me he understood what his wife was suffering. I believed him.” I could feel hot tears stinging my eyes. “Poor man. Poor, poor man.”
“You’ll be the only one to weep over him,” Dr. Philips said. “His mother-in-law is telling the world that he’s gone to a better place…” He stopped. “I’m sorry, Miss Crawford, I am so sorry to bring you this news. But I have nowhere to turn. I don’t quite know how to take it in.”
He was upset. I understood losing a patient. “I’ll fetch my coat and come with you.”
Dr. Philips shook his head. “There’s nothing you can do, not now. I’ve seen to the-er-necessary steps that follow on the heels of sudden death. I am refusing to sign the death certificate until another doctor has seen the body. Dr. Blessing is coming from Tonbridge.”
“Dr. Philips. Come with me.”
He seemed almost grateful to follow me to the kitchen, where Susan was just stoking the fires. I gave him a cup of tea and with Susan’s permission, eggs and bacon and toast as well.
He kept murmuring, “This is most kind-most kind.”
When Susan had taken the tea tray up to Mrs. Graham, I said quietly, “Something more than Ted Booker’s death has upset you. What’s wrong?”
“Someone came into the surgery in the middle of the night. I was asleep, I’d had a long day. Then I woke to the sound of something heavy falling, and when I went down, I found a muddy print in the passage, and it wasn’t mine, and it wasn’t Booker’s. His shoes were still where I’d put them, in the small closet where I keep my coat and Wellingtons. I don’t want to believe that someone came into my house and talked to Booker, and left him in a state of mind where he killed himself. But the evidence is there.”
“What size print? A woman’s? A man’s?”
“I can’t judge. A muddy smudge is more descriptive.” He rubbed his face with his hands. “I don’t want to believe it was Mrs. Denton. But who else? And what am I to do?”
“You said you’d spoken to her. What was she like? Anxious? Unsettled? Afraid that you knew what she’d done?”
“As usual she was full of concern for her daughter. Glad that her suffering was over. Claiming this was a blessed release for Booker. Sometimes I think she could have killed Booker for her daughter’s sake and never blinked an eye. And then I look at her and tell myself she’s not vicious, just a mother fearing for a child’s situation.”
I tried to bring Mrs. Denton back to mind. I thought it very likely that she might have tormented Ted Booker to the point he chose to die and release his wife. Not intending, perhaps, to kill him, but driving home what she considered to be the truth, that he was a poor husband for putting his brother before his wife.
“Sometimes the Mrs. Dentons of this world get their way through sheer cruelty,” I said with resignation. “And then they deny what they’ve set in motion because they blotted out the possible effects of their words. They convince themselves.”
“Do I tell the police? It would create a sensation if I did, and if I am wrong, I’ve done to his mother-in-law what she may have done to Booker.” He looked up at me, pain clear in his eyes. “I’ve never had to deal with the murder of a patient before. And I don’t know why I should turn to you-”
“Because I’m an objective observer? And I did have a long talk with Lieutenant Booker. Whether it helped or not, we’ll never know now. I thought at the time I had his full attention, that he was listening.” I considered for a moment. “The police must know whatever you can tell them about Ted Booker’s state of mind. As for the inquest-I was leaving today. I’ve trespassed long enough on the kindness of the Grahams.”
“I’ve more than enough space in my house. But I’m afraid as a single woman-”
“No, it would cause talk. I understand. Is there anyone else I could stay with? Preferably someplace where I’m needed. It will look less like the Grahams had pitched me out.”
“Mrs. Turner has just had appendicitis. But what she needs isn’t a nurse, so much as someone to cook and clean until she’s on her feet again.”
“That will do. I’ve done as much onboard ship, when we were shorthanded. I must draw the line at doing the wash.” I indicated my arm.
“You can use the laundress who comes to the Grahams and sees to my needs as well. Mrs. Abbot.”
“Then I’ll break the news to the Grahams.” Somehow I was sure they wouldn’t be best pleased. “You can come and collect me at ten. That’s when I was leaving for Tonbridge with Jonathan Graham.”
“Very well.” He got up, smiling. “Women always know what’s best, don’t they? Food and a willing ear. Are you single, Miss Crawford? You would make an admirable doctor’s wife.”
He was smiling as he said it, and I gave him my answer with a matching smile.
“Why, Dr. Philips, whatever would you do if I said yes?”
We laughed, and he went out the kitchen door rather than through the house again. I thought he didn’t want to encounter the Grahams.
Susan came down the back stairs and said, “What brought the doctor here at such an early hour? I’ve never seen him so agitated.”
“Ted Booker killed himself last night. Despite all our precautions.”
“Oh, my dear Lord.” She set down her tray and shook her head. “I’m that sorry. He was such a nice young lad. I was quite fond of him. Well, there’s the war, of course. It’s taken so many young men…”
I went to see Mrs. Graham just before breakfast, and told her that Ted Booker appeared to have killed himself, and I would most likely have to give evidence at the inquest. “I’m so sorry,” I added. “It’s an inconvenience to everyone. But Dr. Philips is making arrangements-”
Mrs. Graham frowned. “I don’t like the way Dr. Philips is using you, Miss Crawford. That’s what it is. You’re a young woman of good family. What would your father have to say to the doctor’s inconsiderate behavior? If you stay in Owlhurst, you remain with us. That’s all there is to say.”
She pressed her fingers to her face for an instant and then added, “I must call on Mrs. Denton. It’s my duty. Perhaps you’d like to go with me?”
“I don’t think she will care to see me at such a time. I’ve defended her son-in-law to her.”
“Yes, well, perhaps you’re right. I’ll dress and go directly after breakfast. There will be arrangements to make. Robert will know what to do about that. I’ll ask him to come with me. How tragic, Miss Crawford-it could have been Jonathan, you know, scarred in his mind. The wound on his face could easily have affected his brain. It was deep, very deep.”
I didn’t try to explain that shell shock didn’t begin with a physical wound.
She excused herself, and I went to my room, to write to my parents, then realized that I’d be giving my father an excuse to come and rescue me. Shell shock, murder, inquests-the Colonel Sahib couldn’t have stayed away. If need be, he’d bring the Household Cavalry with him.
I had packed my belongings the night before but didn’t have the spirit to take them out again. Instead I sat at the desk by the windows of my room and began a letter to Elayne. When it was finished I left it on the silver salver on the little French table in the hall, where someone would see that it was posted.
After that, what to do with myself? I opened the door of the house and stepped out, looking at the sky. To my surprise the clouds had broken, the winds had died down, and after the long spell of frosts and cold, the day was warming quickly. I went up to my room, collected my coat and hat and gloves, and set out for a walk.
As I did, I saw Mrs. Denton and her daughter leaving the rectory.
This was my first opportunity to observe Sally. She appeared to be a little younger than I was, but she had a small son and was now a widow. I thought about Ted’s promises to me, and felt sad. He had wanted to heal. I wished I could tell his wife that. For her sake…
Her future bleak, her life a shambles now, it was still possible that Sally Booker might find happiness again. In time…
With Timothy? a little voice in my head asked.
