shivered. “Why are you doing this? It’s brutal!”
Stoker fidgeted behind Pitt, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Pitt did not know if his impatience was with Pitt or Nerissa Freemarsh, and he could not afford to care.
“If I was in your place, Miss Freemarsh, I believe I would prefer to have my mind set at ease,” he said quietly. “But whether that is what you wish or not, I am afraid I must be certain; I would like to see Mrs. Montserrat, and then have the name and address of her doctor so I can see him, and perhaps the name of her lawyer as well. Special Branch will take care of the funeral arrangements, according to whatever her wishes were.”
Nerissa was aghast. “Can you do that?”
“I can do whatever is necessary to safeguard the peace and welfare of the nation,” Pitt replied. “But it can all be dignified and discreet, if you do not oppose it.”
Nerissa waved her hand reluctantly toward the stairs. “The doctor is upstairs with her now.”
Pitt swiveled around and went up the stairs two at a time. He threw open the door of the first bedroom facing the front of the house, and saw a young, fair-haired man in black bending forward over the bed. There was a gladstone bag on the floor beside him. He straightened up and turned as Pitt came through the door.
“Who the devil are you, sir, barging into a lady’s bedroom like this?” he demanded. His face was fair, but his features were stronger than might have been suggested by the slenderness of his build.
Pitt closed the door behind him. “Thomas Pitt, head of Special Branch. You, I presume, are Mrs. Montserrat’s physician?”
“I am. Geoffrey Thurgood. The reason for my presence here is obvious. What is the reason for yours?”
“I think our reasons are the same,” Pitt replied, coming further into the room. The ashes were cold in the grate but the colors in the room still gave it a suggestion of warmth. “To be certain as to the cause of Mrs. Montserrat’s death, although I may need to know more about the exact circumstances surrounding it than you do.”
“She was of advanced years, and her health was rapidly deteriorating,” Thurgood said with barely concealed impatience. “Her mind was wandering more with each day. Even with the most optimistic assessment, her death could not have been very far away.”
“Days?” Pitt asked.
Thurgood hesitated. “No. I would have expected her to have lived another several months, actually.”
“A year?”
“Possibly.”
“What was the cause of her death, exactly?”
“Heart failure.”
“Of course her heart failed,” Pitt retorted impatiently. “Everybody’s heart fails when they die. What
“Probably her age. She was an invalid.” Thurgood too was losing what was left of his patience. “The woman was almost eighty!”
“Being eighty is not a cause of death. I have a grandmother-in-law who is well over eighty. Regrettably, she is as strong as a horse.”
Thurgood smiled in spite of himself. “Then your mother-in-law may well have another thirty years.”
“There is nothing wrong with my mother-in-law, except her own mother-in-law.” Pitt pulled his face into an expression of pity and resignation, thinking of Charlotte’s grandmama. “Mrs. Montserrat was not a fantasist, Dr. Thurgood. She had done some remarkable things in her earlier years, and knew a great many secrets that might still be dangerous. It was not ghosts she was afraid of, but very real people.”
Thurgood looked startled, stared at Pitt for a moment, then went pale. “You’re serious?”
“Yes.”
“May I see proof that you are who you claim to be?”
“Of course.” Pitt fished in his untidy pockets and pulled out the proof of his identity and office, along with a ball of string, a knob of sealing wax, and a handkerchief. He gave the identification to Thurgood.
Thurgood read it carefully and handed it back. “I see. What do you want of me?”
“Complete professional discretion, then the exact cause, time, and any other details you can give me about Mrs. Montserrat’s death, and whether it is what you expected, or whether there are any aspects of it that surprise you or that are hard to explain.”
“I can’t tell you that without a postmortem …”
“Of course not,” Pitt agreed.
“I doubt the family will agree.”
“The family consists only of Miss Freemarsh,” Pitt pointed out. “But I’m afraid it is not within her rights to prevent it if there is the possibility of a crime.”
“You’ll have to have the necessary legal-” Thurgood began.
“No, I won’t,” Pitt interrupted him. “I’m Special Branch, not police. I will have no trouble ensuring that the law does not stand in our way. This may turn out to be unnecessary, but it is too important to ignore it.”
Thurgood’s lips tightened. “I shall begin the arrangements immediately. I leave it to you to inform the family solicitor, who is bound to object; Miss Freemarsh is sure to see that he does.”
Pitt nodded. He was beginning to like Thurgood. “Thank you.”
As Thurgood had foretold, the lawyer, Mr. Morton, was less than obliging when Pitt went to see him at his office. He sputtered and protested, and talked about desecration of the body, but in the end he was forced to yield, albeit somewhat ungraciously.
“This is monstrous! You overstep yourself, sir. I have always been of the opinion that the police force is a highly dubious blessing, and the body that calls itself Special Branch even more so.” His chin quivered, and his blue eyes sparked with outrage. “I demand the name of your superior!”
“Lord Salisbury,” Pitt said with a smile. “You will find him at Number Ten Downing Street. But before you leave to appeal to him, I would like a very approximate figure as to Mrs. Montserrat’s estate, and information as to whom it is bequeathed to.”
“Certainly not! You trespass too far.” The old man folded his arms across his ample chest and glared at Pitt defiantly.
“If I have to find out by asking questions outside the family, it will be a great deal less discreet,” Pitt pointed out. “I am trying to deal with this as delicately as possible, and to protect Mrs. Montserrat’s heirs from unpleasantness, and possibly danger.”
“Danger? What danger? Mrs. Montserrat died in her sleep!”
“I hope so.”
“What do you mean, you ‘hope so’?”
“She was a woman of great distinction. She deserves the best attention we can give her. If there is something untoward in her death, or in the property and papers she leaves, I wish to keep it private. Indeed, I intend to. Allow me to do it gently.”
The lawyer grunted. “I suppose you have the power to force me if I refuse. And from the look on your face, and your taste for authority, you will do so.”
Pitt forbore from speaking.
“She left a nice bequest for her maid, Tucker,” the lawyer said reluctantly, “for whom she had considerable affection. It will take care of her for the rest of her life. Apart from that, the house in Dorchester Terrace and the balance of her estate go to her niece, Nerissa Freemarsh. It is several thousand pounds. If she is careful it will provide an income sufficient for her to live quite comfortably.”
“Thank you. Are there any papers other than the ordinary household and financial ones you would expect? Any diaries?”
The lawyer looked at Pitt with gleaming satisfaction. “No, there are not!”
Pitt had expected that answer, but it would have been remiss not to ask.
“Thank you, Mr. Morton. I am obliged to you. Good day.”
Morton did not reply.
