Chapter 22

Thrown from its eminence;

Even God's providence

Seeming estranged.

 

Later that afternoon Ainsley left Margaret and Jonas to examine the internal organs while he paid a house call to Tallow Lane. He had avoided thinking about it all day but it seemed to creep into his consciousness and his sense of urgency grew. The child's fever had either broken, that is if his mother followed Ainsley's instructions, or the illness had claimed the life of the boy and nothing more could be done. He had learned the family's name was Halliday, and were considered to be one of the poorest families in the village.

The lane where the family lived was deserted despite the unusual warmth of the day. He reached the house and knocked on the bold blue door. A small child let him in but said nothing, nor did their blank, unsure stare give any indication of the events the previous night.

The room was dark but the mood found within was light. Callie turned when she saw Ainsley enter the room and smiled broadly as she gestured to William. He was now sitting upright, cradled somewhat in his mother's arms. His eyes were wide, still somewhat hollow from days of illness, but they showed he was very much alive and on the mend. Ainsley sank to his knees in front of the mother and child, his face blank, his mind not registering the sight. He reached out a hand to feel the child's forehead and found it only slightly warm to the touch and not feverish as it had been the day before.

“When did his fever break?” he asked in astonishment.

“Last night,” Mrs. Halliday replied. “I did not believe in the medicine you gave us but Callie here kept bringing it.” She beamed at her daughter. A lighthearted laughter broke out amongst the mother and her children who gleefully acknowledge that William was going to be okay. Like a burst of sunshine through swiftly moving clouds, the room became bright and triumphant.

Ainsley checked the boy's pulse, and listened to his breathing. He held the child's hand for a moment and felt that it too was responding stronger than the day before.

“I wanted to fetch you,” Callie explained, accepting her smallest sibling, a baby, into her arms and cradled it while her mother sat with William. “Mother said you were very busy.”

“That I am.” Ainsley let the boy's hand slip from his. He turned to the other children and proceeded to give them all a quick physical examination. “But not so busy that I couldn't call upon a family in need of my help.”

The family was malnourished; the dark circles under the children's eyes were hardly from lack of sleep. Their movements were slow, lethargic, as if each motion took too much strength to perform. Callie, the eldest girl, seemed able to bypass these feelings, the insatiable hunger, the dulled sense of life. The others, none over the age of seven, were not so fortunate. They wore torn and tattered clothes which would have done little to stave off the penetrating damp and cold. He could feel the bones of their bodies as he gently positioned them closer to the light of the window so he could see them better.

“Mother says you look after the Lloyd family,” Callie said. Mrs. Halliday’s eyes widened, startled that her daughter would broach the subject with the doctor. Callie did not notice and continued, “You are going to cure Miss Lillian.”

Ainsley paused at the mention of Lillian's name before forcing himself to focus on the small child before him. “I hope so,” he answered, not wanting to portray any notion of wavering confidence. “She is a very sick young lady.” He gently pulled the boy's lower eyelid down and squinted as he looked into his eyes.

“She was always very nice to me.”

Ainsley could not help but give the girl a quizzical look. Callie would not have had much contact with someone so above her age and class. “Mother use to work in that house, you know-” Callie's words were cut short when Mrs. Halliday clicked her tongue and motioned for the girl to hush.

Ainsley stopped his exam and looked to the mother. “Is that true?” he asked, knowing already that Callie spoke the truth.

Mrs. Halliday avoided his eyes and pressed her lips together. He saw Callie's eyes dart to the floor, her face bearing a look of shame at mentioning something she shouldn't have.

“Mrs. Halliday?”

The woman finally looked him in the eye, nodded, and then slid the boy from her lap. She positioned him on a cushion, drawing a thin blanket over his legs and torso before motioning for Ainsley to follow her outside into the main room. Once out of earshot of the children she spoke in muted tones, glancing at the windows around them as if ensuring they were unoccupied and closed. “Tis not something I wanted you to know,” she started. “If William died, and you suspected it was that same illness Josephine had I didn't want you to...,” she pulled her shawl higher onto her shoulders, “cut him open.”

Ainsley stiffened at the suggestion. His position carried a stigma he was not able to shake. “Not even if it meant Lillian could live?”

Mrs. Halliday swallowed hard. “Mr. Lloyd had many women and no one was surprised he came to an early end. When Miss Josephine died... people in the village believe it's God's penance for sinful behaviour. Forgive me for saying this, but if Lillian dies, the guilt is on that family, not mine.”

Ainsley concentrated hard not to betray the information he already knew. In his mind Josephine was an innocent, and did not deserve the wrath of any god. “You see these tragedies as justice for sinful behaviour?” The notion was absurd. A man of science knew diseases and illnesses occurred because of viruses and bacteria but the new discoveries of science were nothing compared to a millennia of superstition.

Mrs. Halliday seemed uncomfortable with his line of questioning so Ainsley softened his tone. “Mrs. Halliday, if there is anything you can tell me about that family, I would appreciate it greatly.”

The woman swallowed hard. “I was the one who laid out the dead. I saw the bodies.”

Ainsley's shock was only tempered by his need for details. He had wanted to examine the bodies. He desperately wanted to exhume them and dissect them. It was the only way he would know without a doubt, what was killing Lillian. It pained him greatly that the best source of information about the bodies was that of a lay person, a washer woman who wouldn't know a heart from a spleen.

Ainsley tried not to sound desperate as he began his questioning. “Did you see any marks on the skin, any injuries or cuts?”

Mrs. Halliday shook her head slowly. “No, not one.”

“Was there anything different, anything that stood out? Smells, colours, that sort of thing?”

“No. She was sick for less than three days and was gone from this world before anyone knew what pained her. ‘Tis not natural to die in such agony. We heard the girl wailing but no one dared fetch a doctor without the Mistresses say so.”

Sadness came over Ainsley at the thought of it. Josephine was twelve years old, innocent of the sins of her father, deserving nothing but to grow into adulthood. And then he remembered Lillian, writhing in pain in his arms while the rest of the family avoided contact with her. “They let her die in agony?”

Mrs. Halliday nodded. “It was most strange. All that money and none for a doctor. We begged Cook to intervene, and she wanted to but I was the one who ended up begging Mrs. Lloyd to send for Miss Dawson. The witch could do nothing and I was sacked two days ago for my compassion.”

“They fired your for begging to bring a doctor?”

“The Mistress didn't say as much but I knew I spoke out of turn. Mrs. Lloyd hates servants who don't know their place.” Mrs. Halliday smiled awkwardly and avoided Ainsley's gaze. “I am better off now. I work at one of the mills and make a better wage with better hours. Callie comes with me while my neighbour watches the wee ones. We are better off.”

“And what about Mr. Lloyd, did you lay out her father as well?” Ainsley asked.

She nodded. “Yes, did my best. He was fond of drink he was. I saw the way he bawled at the girls. He pampered them, Josephine especially, but he was harsh. A tyrant, like me own husband. I told myself, I'd never be with a man like that again. Seeing the way Mr. Lloyd spoke to those girls, ‘twas not right. He got worse when things went bad at the mill.”

“When was that?”

“A year ago, perhaps more. That's when he started grooming Lillian for the stage. It was unpleasant to think of that young woman performing. That girl could not be happy with her lot. Figured my own young'uns got a better life than those Lloyd girls. At least they don't got a father around to hit them no more.”

“Did he strike her then?” Ainsley asked, feeling a twinge of anger spark within him. He did not want to think of anyone laying a malevolent hand on Lillian.

Mrs. Halliday looked at him, as if unable to say the words out loud. For a moment Ainsley thought she wouldn't say anything and then she spoke. “One Christmas I was helping in the kitchen for a large party. It was late, and all the guests gone home. Cook and I were in the scullery when we heard some 'un shouting. She told me 'never you mind the Master. Ain't no grand house in England without a hollering bloke'. We heard a woman's voice too but couldn’t make out who it was. We'se tried to ignore it but he raged like that for near an hour. I had it in mind to leave quietly by the back door but then we heard a crash and a scream. Cook ran out of the kitchen and I followed. The piano was covered in broken glass and Miss Lillian was crying on the sofa. She had her hands to her face.” Mrs. Halliday showed Ainsley with her own weathered hands how her face was covered. “Mr. Lloyd wouldn't let anyone near them. He rushed us out of the room and I was sent on my way with an extra few sovereigns in my pocket for my trouble. I am certainly glad I don't need to accept their blood money anymore.”

 

Ainsley left the house on Tallow Lane, offering to come back should any of the other children fall ill within the next few days. He knew his time in Picklow was running out but he had to offer some hope. Dr. Crawford would summon him back soon, and if Ainsley expected to retain his position he would have to return to London when ordered. He had already been there four days but felt he made little progress in this mystery.

Mr. Lloyd was a womanizer with syphilis who in turn infected his wife. He drank to excess and placed Lillian under a great amount of pressure to perform. Ainsley surmised the royalties she would have made were to most likely to be used to offset the cost of Mr. Lloyd's many vices. With this information it seemed possible anyone could possess enough motive to kill him. Dr. Bennett himself had suggested Mrs. Martha Lloyd, and given his blessing if she had. It seemed unlikely though that she would pluck up the courage after years of docility. The fact that her husband was away from the home the majority of the time would give her enough of a reprieve from his domineering ways and, if she were an intelligent woman, she must have known his lifestyle would do him in soon enough. Whether it be his body or some mistresses’ husband, she must have known his death was most likely to be his own doing. Perhaps her patience grew thin and she decided to speed up his decline?

She had far less motive to murder one of her own children, however.

Either Walter Jr. or Elizabeth could be to blame. Walter seemed very at home in his father's shoes, running the mills, playing at being head of the house. Walter showed little remorse and even less affection for the women who comprised his immediate family. He appeared aloof and unaffected, a reality that concerned Ainsley greatly since he himself had good relations with both his sister and his mother. Such disregard for the women he was responsible for could provide reason to want to kill them, slowly, one by one. Walter could have killed his father, easily poisoned his brandy or some such thing in order to gain complete control of the mills, the family estate and fortune. Walter could very well be doing away with the weaker sisters to save himself the expense of having to provide for them. It was a plausible motive, certainly not unheard of.

Elizabeth as well seemed quite capable of possessing enough envy and hatred to take it out on her more exalted sisters. She was obviously jealous of Lillian's success. The younger girls were so well travelled in comparison. Everyone who Ainsley spoke to about Lillian and Josephine seemed so enamoured by them, Elizabeth on the other hand was more of a matriarch than a sibling. Ainsley imagined after many years of being overlooked in favour of the two younger Lloyd females, Elizabeth could have become very enraged. If she was the murderess it could also explain the utter contempt she had for Ainsley and his attempts at digging up the truth. She was high on his list from the very beginning and she seemed a likely candidate.

Ainsley had been walking so slowly, his mind reeling with all the evidence before him, that he had not made it far from Tallow Lane. He had hardly noticed the decrepit townhouses and laundry line strewn alleyways as he made his way out of the neighbourhood. His attention was brought back suddenly when Miss Dawson rounded the corner ahead of him and walked straight for him. The walkway was narrow and Ainsley stepped aside, tipping his hat as she came closer.

“Good day to you, Miss Dawson. You are far from home.” Ainsley motioned to the deep basket nestled in the crook of her arm. “Provisions for a birthing mother?”

Miss Dawson smiled shyly. “I am paying a visit to the Hallidays. Their boy is ill,” she said with a slightly apologetic tone.

Ainsley could not help but smile. “You will find that is no longer the case. The boy is quite changed. His fever broke in the night.”

Miss Dawson's face fell, her disappointment apparent. “I had not heard. I brought some tea leaves and a remedy I know for drawing the fever to the feet.”

Ainsley smiled, “I am sure it can do no harm.”

She glared at him now, “Like you, I am a practitioner of medicine. Do we ever intend harm?” Her chin lowered and her gaze betrayed her annoyance.

“Forgive me,” Ainsley said quickly. “I only meant that your visit should proceed should you still wish to call on the family.” He gestured to the basket again, pointing to a loaf of bread nestled between the other contents. “There are items in your basket of which the family is in true need.”

Miss Dawson dropped her eyes, “I do what I can.”

“And you are to be commended for it.” Ainsley said seriously.

“I had heard about Dr. Bennett and the news deeply saddened me,” Miss Dawson said in earnest. “We are very fortunate that you are here in the interim.”

“I am afraid I am not to stay here that long, Miss Dawson,” Ainsley answered. “Just to see that Lillian is restored to health, then I must away to London.”

Ainsley saw Miss Dawson draw in a deep breath as she glanced down the alley toward her intended route. She was still in black, the pains of mourning still borne on her face. She lingered in front of him, her eyes darting from him to the stone walls that surrounded him. She behaved as if she had something further to say yet lacked the words to commit herself to that action. Unable to justify his presence, Ainsley finally spoke. “Are you well, Miss Dawson?”

The medicine woman shook her head quickly in protest but then halted her actions when her eyes met his. “Have you made any progress in your investigations?” she paused momentarily, “I am only asking out of concern for the girl, and her family, of course.”

Finally understanding Ainsley nodded, “Of course. A friend of mine has recently arrived in town and my sister as well actually. They are proving to be tremendous help.”

“I am glad to hear it.”

Miss Dawson avoided his gaze and it was then that Ainsley realized how self-conscious she was when he was around. She was obviously a quiet woman, used to living on her own, though she must be strong during certain times, if only for her patients.

Without saying anything else, she gave a slight curtsey and continued on past him and down the alley.

Ainsley watched for a moment, the characteristic sway of her skirts as she moved along was mesmerizing. She was a lovely woman, he suddenly realized if a bit docile. He began to wonder how it was she had not yet married. With a figure and face as nice as hers, he gathered she should have had a throng of suitors at one time.

Ainsley caught himself staring after her and pulled his gaze away. When he was first told of the midwife who lived south of town, he had envisioned a weather worn old woman, with a slew of cats and sparse house. Miss Dawson was young, perhaps in her late twenties, and lived fairly comfortably in her small cottage in the woods. When he visited there it was quite apparent that she wanted for nothing. The woman was a mystery in her own right.

Before turning and making his way back to Bennett's house, he looked to her once more, and noticed her daughter walking dutifully beside her. It was only when he had walked a few paces onward that he became confused and stopped. He had not noticed the girl when Miss Dawson was right in front of him. He glanced again over his shoulder but the pair had turned a corner and was no longer in sight. Had he imagined her there, expecting to see the girl so he did? Or had he simply overlooked her presence while focusing his attention on Miss Dawson and her brimming basket of medicinal concoctions. There was scarcely enough room for him to move from the woman's path, how had a child gone unnoticed in such a small space?