seduces his patients, Mrs. Brandt. Not that the patients were unwilling. I’m sure they were actually quite eager. But some of them, I’ve heard, have jealous husbands who resented their wives’ devotion to the good doctor, even if they didn’t know how deep that devotion went. Perhaps one of them found out about his wife’s involvement and decided to rid the world of his rival.”
5
FOR THE FUNERAL THE NEXT MORNING, SARAH dressed in her best black serge and chose a hat that still looked moderately stylish. In the normal course of her life, she hardly ever needed to look stylish, but she’d been to far too many funerals since meeting Frank Malloy. She’d be forced to get a new hat if this kept up.
Although she was carrying her medical bag when Granger opened the front door to the Blackwell home, he could not miss the fact that she was here for the funeral, although she was a bit early. Her hat probably gave her away.
“I’m sure Mrs. Blackwell will be glad to see you, Mrs. Brandt,” he said, although his tone belied the words.
Sarah, of course, didn’t particularly care if Mrs. Blackwell wanted to see her or not. She was here, and they wouldn’t dare cause a scene by trying to throw her out. She was, after all, Mrs. Blackwell’s nurse, and who could fault her for paying her respects to the husband of her patient?
When she stepped into the foyer, she heard Amos Potter’s voice coming from the parlor. He was instructing someone impatiently. Sarah peeked in and saw that Dr. Blackwell’s large, ornate casket had been brought in during her absence. It was closed, probably because after having his brains blown out, he wasn’t in any condition for viewing. Several large flower arrangements stood around, their scent rather cloying in the confines of the room, and the furniture had been moved back to make space for half a dozen rows of chairs.
Potter was telling one of the maids to move the flowers closer to the casket when Sarah called, “Good morning, Mr. Potter. Is there anything I can do to help?”
Potter looked up in surprise, and for an instant couldn’t seem to place her. “Oh, good morning, Mrs. Brandt,” he said after a moment. “No, I’m sure we have everything taken care of. Is Mrs. Blackwell ill?” he added with some concern.
“Not that I am aware. I did think she might need some support today, however. This must be a terrible strain for her.”
“Oh, not at all. I told her she didn’t have to worry about anything. I’ve taken care of all the arrangements. And under the circumstances, no one expects her to attend the service, of course.”
“Sometimes that’s worse, knowing you can’t do anything or take part in something of such importance,” Sarah said. “And don’t underestimate the importance of a funeral. One must be allowed to mourn a loss such as this, and being unable to attend her husband’s funeral will make it difficult for her to come to terms with his death.”
Potter didn’t appreciate being instructed in such things. “I’m sure I will be able to give Mrs. Blackwell all the support she will need in the coming months, Mrs. Brandt. You need not concern yourself about her welfare.”
Sarah simply smiled. She’d expected as much from Potter. He was certainly eager to offer every assistance to the lovely young widow. Maybe she hadn’t been so far wrong in imagining Potter could have killed Blackwell because he wanted Mrs. Blackwell for himself. She was going to have to discard the theory that Potter had seduced Letitia, however. One preposterous solution to this case was quite enough. Malloy was going to tease her mercilessly if she couldn’t come up with a more menacing suspect than Amos Potter.
“I’ll leave you to your duties,” Sarah said, and continued on her way upstairs, ignoring Granger’s disapproving glare.
Sarah checked on the baby first. The boy appeared to be fine.
“I give him the drops, just like you told me,” the nurse reported. “No more, no less. Then he’s like an angel. Eats and sleeps just like he should.”
Sarah listened to his heart and his lungs and thumped his tummy. His color was good and his eyes were clear. He turned his head toward the nurse when she spoke, and he followed Sarah’s finger with his eyes. He wasn’t deaf or blind, and he seemed sound of body. They wouldn’t know about his mind for a while yet, but Sarah could hope he would be none the worse for the morphine his mother had taken.
“He seems perfectly healthy,” Sarah judged with more than a little relief when she’d finished her examination.
“Except for that hair. Did the morphine turn it that color, do you think?” the nurse asked with obvious disapproval.
“Certainly not,” Sarah assured her. “He simply has red hair.”
“Never saw hair like that on a baby,” the nurse insisted. “It ain’t natural.”
“Many people have red hair, and it’s perfectly natural,” Sarah assured her as patiently as she could. People had the oddest prejudices.
The nurse hmmphed her skepticism. “How long do you think we’ll have to give him that horrible stuff?”
“A few months,” Sarah said. “We’ll wait until he’s gained some weight, and we’re certain he’s healthy. Then we’ll gradually decrease his dosage. Have you heard how Mrs. Blackwell is doing?”
“Don’t nobody tell me anything,” the nurse said, a little disgusted. As a newcomer to the household she wouldn’t have gained the confidence of the other staff members, and her job, of necessity, kept her from socializing with them. “I do know they’re having the doctor’s funeral this morning.”
“So I gathered,” Sarah said. “That’s why I came today. I was afraid Mrs. Blackwell might be upset. I’d better go check on her.”
The nurse made another rude noise. “If she’s got some morphine, she probably don’t even know what’s going on in her own parlor.”
Sarah gave her a quelling look which made her frown, but at least she didn’t say any more. Sarah hoped she wasn’t going to have to suggest that Mrs. Blackwell get another nurse, but if this one was going to be so disapproving of her employer, things could become very difficult.
Sarah learned from the maid lingering in the hallway that Mrs. Blackwell was awake and wanted to see her. The bedroom was dark when Sarah entered, the heavy drapes drawn against the morning sunlight. Mrs. Blackwell lay propped against her pillows, her face pale and her expression drawn.
“How is my baby?” she asked Sarah, who decided the woman might not be as selfish and spoiled as she had originally thought. At least she’d asked about the baby first.
“He’s doing very well,” Sarah said. “We have apparently determined the correct dose of morphine to give him, and he’s thriving on the nurse’s milk.”
“Thank heaven,” she breathed, closing her lovely eyes for a moment in apparent relief.
“What have you named him?” Sarah asked to be sociable.
Her eyes flew open, and Sarah was surprised to see the alarm in them. “I… I haven’t thought,” she said. “Edmund wanted… but now… I don’t know!”
“There’s no hurry,” Sarah assured her, disturbed by her reaction. The woman seemed incapable of making any decision without her husband’s approval. If that were true, his death was going to hamper the decision-making process considerably. “It will be a while before he even knows he has a name,” Sarah added in an attempt to lighten the moment.
Mrs. Blackwell didn’t look reassured. “But other people will know,” she pointed out. “My father… he’ll expect me to…” She lifted the back of her hand to her forehead in a gesture of despair.
“Why don’t you let me examine you,” Sarah suggested, hoping to take her mind off of the terrible burden of selecting a name for her child. “Are you having any discomfort?”
FRANK HAD TIMED his arrival at the Blackwell home so he would be there to see the guests as they arrived. He wanted to get a look at the people who felt the need to honor Blackwell’s memory or at least to assure themselves he was dead.
He found Amos Potter giving frantic orders to the servants, who scurried around trying to do his bidding. He didn’t look at all happy to see Frank.
