Bruce Alexander - Person or Persons Unknown

“Do sit down, Jeremy,” said Lady Fielding. “Mr. Donnelly has kept us royally entertained with his tales of the Ribble Valley.”

“Indeed he has/’ seconded Sir John with a deep chuckle.

I brought over a chair and took a place next Annie, our cook. I could tell she and all the rest were in a merry mood. Their faces were flushed from laughter; all wore smiles. Annie passed me a wink as I sat down.

“Ah, but I feel I’ve been unfair to folk there,” said Mr. Donnelly, resuming his recital. “They are good, simple country people, no more nor less. And if their country ways and their speech — oh, God, their speech!” — rolling his eyes most expressively, provoking more laughter — “if they seem strange to us, you may be sure that London ways and speech would seem even more strange to them.”

“No doubt, no doubt,” said Sir John. “Who are we to set the mark?”

Yet when he resumed, Mr. Donnelly seemed distinctiy more serious in style and mien: “No, diey are not fools. I would venture to say that of any and all, I was the bigger fool ever to have gone there in the pursuit of that reluctant widow.” He sighed a bitter sigh yet kept a smile upon his face. “You see before you that figure of comedy, a rejected suitor. It were not enough that I followed Lady Goodhope into deepest Lancashire where I attempted to begin a medical practice among folk so poor they could only offer to pay me with hens, piglets, and promises to whitewash my cottage; nor that I felt great pity for her in her widow’s state and tenderness for her even in those fits of foolish haughtiness to which she was often given; nor that I gave her ignorant son the only glimpses of education he had had in aU his nine years. No, none of that were enough. As I finally discovered, it was also necessary that I have a great personal fortune with which to finance the boy’s education and his return to London to take his father’s place in the House of Lords. What had I to offer her? A few hens, a piglet or two and one last offer of help from my father amounting to five hundred pounds. It wasn’t sufficient. She chose, rather, to sell herself to a Lancashire coal merchant of the town of Wigan, a man of such remarkable ignorance that he supposed that all that was needed for him to become Lord Goodhope was to marry Lady Goodhope. Even though he was disappointed to learn otherwise, he showed himself willing so that he might live in her house, which I myself heard him praise as ‘t’grandest in t’valley, or mos’ Lane’shire.’ No doubt she feels comfortable with him, for she herself comes of that class, though she is better educated. In any case, her choice is final. The banns have been posted. There was no reason for me to stay longer, and so … here I am.”

As he finished, he sat silent for a moment with his eyes downcast. Each of the listening women let out an “aah,” which sounded in chorus as an expression of great disappointment and sympathy.

For his part. Sir John leaned forward, clasping his hands upon the table. “True enough,” said he, “here you are. What are your plans, Mr. Donnelly?”

“Why, to begin again. My father has made a small portion of that five hundred pounds available to me that I might open and equip a surgery in a section of Westminster. If I cannot thus establish myself here in Lx)ndon in … oh, say a year, then there is always the Navy for me. I cannot go on forever taking money from my father — not at my age.”

“Have you a place now?”

“I have,” said he, “though it is not yet set up proper.”

“I see,” said Sir John, musing then for a long moment. “It is not mere curiosity prompts these questions of mine. There is a particularly troubling matter of homicide which has taken place today within shouting distance of this very address.”

With that. Lady Fielding shot to her feet. “I do believe that it has come time for we of the weaker sex to retire.”

Annie, who had listened with wide-eyed fascination to Sir John’s news (for the murder in the alley had in no wise been earlier discussed) rose most reluctantly, clearly consternated that she might not hear the details of this awful event.

As the rest of us stood to our feet. Sir John then said, “Yes, perhaps it is best that you leave us. Good night to you, my dear — and to you, Annie.”

Mr. Donnelly thanked Lady Fielding for her hospitality.

and Annie whispered in my ear that there was a meat pie waiting for me in the oven.

A moment later they were gone, and we three resumed our seats at the table.

“Tell me of it, please,” said Mr. Donnelly. “I am ever interested in those matters in which medicine may aid in criminal investigations.”

“Homicide in particular,” put in Sir John.

“Yes, the body of the victim is often the most eloquent witness.”

“Well said, sir, but let me give you a few details of this case….”

And that Sir John proceeded to do, summarizing skillfully, giving particular attention to what was said by Maggie Pratt and the witness I had questioned, Mrs. Crewton.

He concluded: “We take this mention of the soldier sufficiently seriously that I have written to the acting colonel of the Guards regiment, demanding that all under his command given leave this day be put on review so that Miss Pratt may look upon them and pick out the fellow with whom the victim was speaking. Jeremy delivered the letter. Were you able to put it in Captain Conger’s hand, lad?”

“I fear I was not, sir,” said I. “I was not allowed within the walls of the Tower. But the corporal of the guard took it and promised to put it in the captain’s hands.”

“Did you tell him the content of the letter?”

“Loud and clear. Sir John.”

“Then I rest assured he kept his promise.” The magistrate fell silent for a moment and drummed his fingers upon the table in agitation for a moment or two. When he stopped, he seemed to have come to some sort of decision. “Mr. Donnelly,” said he, “I wonder, is your surgery sufficiently set up that you might now have a look at the body of this woman?”

“A complete autopsy?”

“I know not what that entails. Let me tell you what I wish to know. The wound that killed the woman was of a very peculiar sort. It was, as described to me, a small one that produced little bleeding, and it was inflicted directly below the breastbone.”

”One thrust only?” asked the medico.

”That was my understanding.”

“That is most unusual.”

“Oh? What I wish to know, however, is whether or not this narrow wound might have been caused by a military bayonet. Can you measure a wound as to width and depth with that sort of precision?”

“Oh yes, my surgery is certainly equipped for that.”

“And of course anything else you might find of interest would be welcome.”

“Of course. I understand.”

“And I assure you,” said Sir John, “that my office has funds to pay for your professional services — ^just as before.”

“Then my first patient is to be a corpse.”

“As you say, Mr. Donnelly. Oh, just one more thing. The woman in question — that is to say, the victim — is Irish. Teresa O’Reilly is — or was — her name.”

“That presents no particular difficulties. It has been my experience, sir, that inside we are all alike.”

And so it happened that late that evening Mr. Donnelly and I rode with Constable Cowley in a wagon to the Raker’s little farm near the banks of the river. Though the Raker planted often, nothing ever grew in the field surrounding his cottage. There were weeds and a few wildflowers barely visible to us as we pulled up next the surrounding fence, but the dark Thames soil of that field presented itself as an expanse of black before us like some great moat that must be crossed ere we reached the barn where a dim light burned.