Caleb Carr - The Angel Of Darkness

“Why, don’t you know?” she answered, surprised. “Surely if you know the Muhlenbergs, you know that Libby was their son’s tutor-before she went to New York, that is. But perhaps you met them after she’d already left?”

“Yes,” Miss Howard said, quickly and nervously, “just recently, in fact. And we didn’t meet your daughter until she’d arrived in the city-you see, that’s where we’re all from.”

“Oh, is that so?” Mrs. Franklin answered. “Well, if you’re from New York, then you certainly know more about my daughter than I do. You see, I’ve had only one letter from her since she moved there, and that was so long ago-it’s been years since I’ve heard anything at all. But then, as I say, Elspeth was always that way-I doubt she even realizes she hasn’t written! So very careless, that girl, always daydreaming about something…”

For a moment Mrs. Franklin’s mind seemed to wander in that way we’d already witnessed; but when it did so this time around, I began to see that what I’d taken for addle-headedness was really just a way of avoiding subjects what she wouldn’t or couldn’t discuss, maybe because they were too painful, or maybe because they would’ve revealed things about her what she didn’t want known, especially to strangers. Such being the case, I expected the Doctor to start pressing harder for information: he wasn’t one to let people get away from the point. I was doubly surprised, then, when he just stood up, studied Mrs. Franklin’s eyes as they stared into the distance, and finally said, “Yes. I suspect you are right, Mrs. Franklin. Thank you so much for the refreshment-we shall continue to look for your daughter in New York.”

Snapping out of her seeming daze quickly and looking very relieved, Mrs. Franklin also stood up. “I am sorry I can’t be of more help to you all, truly I am. And if you do run across Elspeth, you might just tell her that her family’s curious to know what she’s up to.” With that she started to walk us toward the screen door.

“Doctor,” Miss Howard said, looking concerned, “I’m not sure that we’ve-”

“Oh, I think Mrs. Franklin’s told us all she can,” the Doctor answered pleasantly. “And it will prove extremely helpful, I’m sure.” As he said these last words, he gave Miss Howard a very meaningful look; and she, taking it on faith that what he said was true, just shrugged and moved to the screen door. As for me, I had no idea what they were talking about; but then, I hadn’t really expected to. I hadn’t even been sure I’d be let into the house, and once I was there, I figured I’d have to wait ’til the ride home for explanations.

As we passed back out onto the lawn from the porch, Mrs. Franklin held up a finger. “Do you know, Doctor-you might try the theaters. I always had an idea that Elspeth would end up on the stage-I can’t imagine why, but I always did! Well, good-bye, now! It was so pleasant to talk with you all!”

Miss Howard and I tried not to look even more confused as we said good-bye to Mrs. Franklin, who called to her little dog and then vanished into the small house.

“I’ll see you to your rig,” Eli Franklin said, himself looking pretty relieved that we were departing. “And I thank you for not mentioning the matter of Libby’s being in trouble to my mother. You see how she is, and-”

“Yes, Mr. Franklin.” The Doctor’s voice had suddenly lost the soft, polite tone he’d used with the man’s mother. “We do indeed, as you say, ‘see how your mother is.’ Perhaps more than you know. And I’m afraid I shall require a service for concealing our true purpose from her.”

The words and the way the Doctor said them struck new nervousness, maybe even fear, into Eli Franklin. “Service?” he mumbled. “What do you-”

“The barnyard, Mr. Franklin,” the Doctor answered. “We should like to inspect the barnyard.”

“The barnyard?” Franklin tried to muster up a laugh. “Why in the world would you want to see that , there’s nothing-”

“Mr. Franklin.” The Doctor’s black eyes struck the man’s features dead still. “If you please.”

Franklin started to shake his head slowly, a movement what quickly became agitated. “No. I’m sorry, but I don’t even know what you want, I’m not going to let you-”

“Very well.” The Doctor turned back toward the porch. “You make it necessary for me to ask your mother…” He seized hold of the handle on the door, only to have Franklin grab his forearm with one of his powerful hands: not roughly, but with desperation, all the same.

“Wait!” Franklin said; then, as the Doctor spun a scowl on him again, he released his grip. “You-you just want to look around the barnyard?”

“Mr. Franklin, you know perfectly well what we want to see,” the Doctor answered; and as he did, Miss Howard suddenly clutched at her forehead, apparently realizing whatever it was that the Doctor was driving at.

Swallowing hard, Franklin looked to her. “Libby’s in a lot more trouble than you said she was, isn’t she?”

“Yes,” Miss Howard said, “I’m afraid so.”

Seeming a little pained by that information, Franklin nodded once or twice. “All right. Come on, then.”

Leading the way with long, slow steps, Franklin guided us off the back lawn of the house and across the dusty drive, then into the manure- and mud-covered barnyard. As he did, Miss Howard and I pulled up close to the Doctor.

“You suspect-” Miss Howard asked.

“I suspect nothing,” the Doctor finished for her. “I’m certain. We need only an accurate description of the site, to demonstrate to the woman that we have actually been here and are in earnest.”

“Description of what site?” said yours truly, now the only member of our group who didn’t know what was going on; but Miss Howard and the Doctor both kept following Franklin silently, around to the far side of the barn.

There was a muddy water hole to one end of the structure, round back, and a large patch of prickly raspberry bushes at the other. Franklin walked over to one section of the raspberries and then, sighing as he looked to us again, grabbed an old branch that’d fallen off of a gnarled crab-apple tree what stood not far from the water hole. He used the branch to slash and pry at the thick, thorny stems of the bushes in front of him, and as he did a small object came into view on the ground:

It was a wooden headstone, maybe two feet high. The thing was cracked in a few spots, but not badly and the lettering what’d been painted on it, though faded, was easy to read:

FITZ

1879-1887

LOVE ALWAYS, FROM MAMA

As I read the last line, I felt as though somebody’d run along my back with the hard end of a goose quill: they were the very same words what were carved on Thomas and Matthew Hatch’s graves in Ballston Spa.

“Sure,” I whispered to nobody, taking a couple of frightened steps back as I kept staring at the headstone. “Of course-she was a wet nurse …”

At the sound of the Doctor’s voice I finally looked up. “What did the dog die of, Mr. Franklin?” he said.

Franklin just shook his head. “I don’t know. She brought him to me-dead. Not a mark on him. I built her the coffin, and she took it off and sealed it up. Then I helped her bury it,”

“And your sister’s-’bilious fever’?” the Doctor asked.

“It lasted all night,” Franklin answered, turning to stare at the headstone. His voice became what you might call detached as he added: “Came on her after we’d all gone to sleep… nearly killed her. But do you know? She never said a word, until morning. Never made a sound… My mother and father, they slept right through it. Right through it.”