Charles Sheffield - The Amazing Dr. Darwin

Darwin nodded reassuringly at Milly Meredith. “Our journey here was a long one. If you will excuse us, Milly, Jacob and I will retire. We need rest.”

He led the way, off up the curving wooden staircase. He and Pole were sharing a room under the eaves with two beds. Between them stood a dresser bearing a large bowl and a jug of water. Darwin went across and drank directly from the pitcher, then sat heavily on one of the beds. He pulled out the yellow paper and stared at it.

“Pox on this, ’Rasmus.” Jacob Pole was over by the window, prowling the bare boards. “I’m sorry. I bring you here for one mystery, and Milly hits you with another before you’re halfway in the front door.”

“This, you mean?” Darwin tapped the paper. “It will help, Jacob, not hinder. There is surely only one mystery underlying all events, and a concatenation of strange events reduces the possibilities.”

“You mean you know what this is all about?”

But Darwin merely sniffed and puffed out his cheeks. He was silent for a long time, until finally Pole said, “Well, if you’re going to sit in a stupor I’d better have the cases brought up.”

He was absent for maybe five minutes, and returned with two servants from the inn. Between them they were carrying the bags and medical chest, and Milly Meredith followed close behind.

“He’s gone,” she said, “if you want to come down.”

Darwin shook his head. “I was not deceiving Brandon Dunwell when I said I was in need of rest. Also, I must have time to think. Before that, however, I would like to ask you a few more questions. Please bear with me. Some you may feel are tedious and pointless, and some will be extremely personal.”

“Personal?” Milly blushed, but her gaze did not waver. “Ask me anything. And I will tell you everything I can.”

“Then I will not stand on ceremony. Do you like Brandon Dunwell?”

Milly looked miserably at Jacob Pole, who shook his head. “The truth, Milly. No weasel words. You can trust Erasmus as you would me.”

She drew in a shuddering breath. “I know. Dr. Darwin—Erasmus—I dislike him. And yet I dislike myself for disliking him. He has been so good to Kathleen, and he is so clearly fond of her. Perhaps too fond, to the point of obsession.”

“And she?”

“That is much more difficult. She says nothing. But sometimes I wonder if she is marrying him for my sake.”

“I gather that he is extremely wealthy. While your own situation is—what?”

“You shame me. I am of good family, but Kathleen and I are poor. As you may have deduced, Brandon will bear the bulk of the wedding costs, even though by tradition that falls to the family of the bride. You see, by every rational standard this is a most excellent marriage for Kathleen.”

“Do not despise yourself for that. There is no virtue in poverty. But now I must proceed to an even more delicate matter.”

“I cannot imagine one. But I will answer whatever I can.”

Darwin turned to Pole. “I wish to warn you, too, Jacob, before you respond with outrage to my question. But this is vital information. Milly, is it possible that Kathleen and Brandon Dunwell have in certain matters anticipated their marriage vows?”

Jacob Pole grunted, while Milly Meredith turned fiery red. “I understand.” She looked down at the wooden boards. “Even a mother cannot be completely sure. But unless Kathleen is lying to me, and unless my own instincts are also totally wrong—she and Brandon have not.”

“And anyone else? Is Kathleen virgo intacta ?”

“That is my belief.”

“Thank you.” Darwin nodded in satisfaction. “Kathleen is lucky to have you for her mother. Let me move on to what I trust will be less delicate ground. Since you have known him, has Brandon Dunwell ever been away for an extended period?”

“About a year ago, he was absent from Dunwell Hall for several weeks.”

“Do you know where he went?”

“I understood that it was to London.”

“The great center of everything—including disease. That makes excellent sense, though it proves little. By that time, of course, his brother Richard had been arrested.”

“Arrested for the murder of Walter Fowler, convicted, and dead, over a year before.”

“And you knew Richard, also?”

“Very well.” Milly sat down abruptly on one of the beds.

“And did you like him?”

She stared hard at Darwin. “I have never before said this to anyone, and I beg you not to repeat it—particularly to Kathleen. But until I learned that Richard was a murderer, I far preferred him to Brandon. Even though he was deemed odd by the staff at Dunwell Hall.”

“Define, if you can, that oddity.”

“They say that in spite of his family’s wealth, he had no interest in managing the estate. He was trained as a physician, but chose not to practice. He spent many hours alone, engaged in strange pastimes. He had eccentric friends and visitors, many of them from the Continent, who with Richard dabbled in what the servants at Dunwell Hall judged to be black arts.”

“I gather you do not agree with their assessment?”

“No. It is his brother, Brandon, who believes in portents, demons, and magical effects. Richard was a skeptic. But at the same time he was rash and impractical, and except for his odd friends he seemed to prefer animals to people.”

“And yet he wooed and won your daughter.”

Milly smiled sadly. “Say, rather, that she wooed him. I remember, they met at the Bodmin Goose Fair, and that night Kathleen would talk of nothing else. She said she had looked into Richard’s eyes, and seen his soul. His arrest and then his death, only three months later, broke her heart.”

“A true tragedy. For everyone.” Darwin spoke softly, and placed his hand on Milly Meredith’s arm. “One more question, if you will permit it, and then I will cease. I can see that this memory distresses you.”

“I will not deny it. But you came here to help me, and I must do my part. Ask on.”

“Richard Dunwell killed a man, Walter Fowler. It seems out of character with what you have said of him.”

“Certain events would drive him to anger, almost to madness. The man had apparently been beating a lame dog. It was later discovered dying, and its master, Walter Fowler, dead.”

“But surely, if Dunwell had explained the sequence of events…”

“He attempted concealment. Fowler’s body had been dragged away and hidden in the gorse bushes. Richard’s monogrammed knife, marked with blood, was buried close by.” Milly swallowed. “A servant found Richard’s clothes, also stained with blood, in his rooms at the hall. Erasmus, if you please—”

“I understand. You have been more than helpful, and we will talk of this no more.” Darwin sank onto the bed, his fat face thoughtful and his eyes suddenly far away. “You have given me enough to think about. More than enough. With your leave, I will turn this over in my mind. And then we will see what tomorrow may bring. I would appreciate one other thing before you retire: a general map of Dunwell Hall.”

“The interior?”

“That, if you are able to provide it. But most important, I need the location of the kennels.”

The next morning was brisk, with a damp and gusting west wind. When dawn broke, Darwin was already fully dressed and standing at the window. Behind him Jacob Pole was sitting up in bed, coughing and spitting.

“Damn it, Erasmus, to wake a man in the middle of the night, when his blood’s as thin as water and his guts are—”

“There is hot tea on the dresser. I permitted you to sleep as long as possible.”

“Aye. And woke me when I was in the middle of the best dream I’ve had in a twelvemonth, me in my uniform and Middletown aflame—”