Annie wasn’t sure exactly what she expected Phoebe Truscott to look like, but she hadn’t expected someone who looked quite so beautiful or so young.
She was sitting up in bed, with a shawl wrapped around her shoulders, holding a cup of tea. Her chestnut brown hair was in a long plait, tied by a bright-colored ribbon, which added to her youthful appearance. Annie could tell she’d been ill. The hollows in her cheeks, the dark smudges under her eyes, the chapped lips all testified to this. But the beauty was there, shining through the pleasingly proportioned features, generous shape of her mouth, and the large brown eyes. In full health, she must have been stunning.
Ella said, “Mrs. Truscott, I would like to introduce Mrs. Dawson. She is the person I told you about, the accountant the Pacific Dispensary hired to audit the books for the annual meeting. She was the one who discovered the letter from your husband refusing to pay the bill for your operation and treatment and accusing the dispensary of causing your current illness. That was the first any of us had heard that you were ill. That’s why Dr. Granger and I attempted to see you. Mrs. Dawson’s husband was also the lawyer who accompanied us last night and had you sign the document that you were coming to us voluntarily.”
Phoebe Truscott nodded and said in a soft, hesitant voice that seemed a trifle hoarse, “Please sit down, both of you. Mrs. Dawson, do convey my thanks to your husband. He must have thought it all a very odd business, but he explained the need for me to sign the document so clearly. And it was reassuring to know that my decision to come here wouldn’t put the dispensary in any legal danger.”
She then coughed and swallowed with some difficulty, and Annie remembered that Ella had said that she had some irritation of her throat, which could have been by swallowing something corrosive.
Joan Carpenter, who had been standing next to Mrs. Truscott’s bedside, silently pulled two chairs over for Annie and Ella, then she poured her mistress a glass of water.
Annie waited until the young woman finished drinking, then she asked, “Would you mind telling me a little about yourself? Dr. Blair mentioned that you grew up in Boston. I briefly lived there after my first husband died, in 1877. I quite liked the city, although the winters were brutal.”
Phoebe, looking down at the empty glass in her hand, said, “I did like the autumns. They are what I miss most about the Northeast. But that’s about all I miss about Boston.” She sighed. “My parents traveled a lot…leaving me behind with a governess, so I was a lonely child.” Phoebe looked over at Joan Carpenter and said, “I’m not sure what I would have done without Joan, who practically raised me since I was a baby. That and a well-stocked library.”
Joan took the empty glass from her and smiled with fondness. She said, “I’m not sure my mistress understood that the world wasn’t at all like what she read about between the covers of those books.”
Annie imagined Phoebe as a young, shy girl and thought how sad it was that the only person who had demonstrated any affection for her had been her maid. In contrast, even though Annie’s mother died when she was twelve, until then, she and her mother had been inseparable. It was her mother, not some rigid governess, who’d taught her, shared her love of reading with her. Then, after her mother’s death, until she married, Annie had her father’s full attention, as he schooled her every evening in the world of numbers and finances. Now, she was surrounded by the love of so many people. Seemed so sad to think that Phoebe Truscott was, once again, alone, except for her maid.
Phoebe broke into that thought, saying, “Mrs. Dawson, Dr. Blair told me it was friends of yours who discovered that the liquids in the bottles Joan took from my chest of drawers contained poison.”
Annie leaned forward and said, “Please, understand, Mrs. Truscott, I can’t say for sure that you had been given either of these liquids, much less whether they might have been given to you accidentally or on purpose. But my friends, Miss Sutton and Dr. Mitchell, are sure that one of the bottles held belladonna, and they are equally sure the second bottle held something poisonous if ingested in too high a dose.”
Ella added, “You see, Mrs. Truscott, our concern is that the dizziness, vision problems, and disorientation you were having are consistent with taking too large a dose of belladonna. The other bottle, I understand, held a different substance, but one that could be blamed for the gastric and nerve symptoms.”
Abruptly, Phoebe’s face crumpled, and she put her head in her hands.
Joan came and sat on the bed, putting her arm around her mistress, and Annie asked, “Dr. Blair, should we leave? Perhaps it is too soon to have this discussion with Mrs. Truscott.”
Before Ella was able to respond, Phoebe looked up and said, “Oh no, don’t go. You don’t understand. These are tears of relief. I thought I was going mad. I was having these terrible dreams. Sometimes I couldn’t tell if I was asleep or awake. And I started not to trust anyone…not even dear Joan. To learn that these were symptoms of something I ate or drank, not something going wrong with my mind, makes all the difference. I can’t thank you and Dr. Blair enough for following up on Joan’s suspicions.”
“I can’t imagine how frightening all this has been for you,” Ella said. “But, from your stay with us before, I knew Joan was a sensible person whose concerns should be taken seriously. In addition, your symptoms, given the lack of a fever, didn’t fit with a diagnosis of either a return of the cysts or an internal infection.”
“That’s what I kept saying,” Phoebe declared. “But Dr. Skerry told Richard and Aunt Ruby I was wrong, and they believed her, not me. Then I started having these terrible spells of vomiting. Could the belladonna have caused that as well?”
Annie said, “My friends don’t think so. While they couldn’t definitely say what was in the second bottle that Joan gave us, they think it is something called aconite, which is made from a plant. Aconite, if given in too large a dose, causes a tingling sensation in a person’s throat, fingers, and toes, followed by violent vomiting.”
Joan said, “Don’t you see, Phoebe love, that’s exactly what your spells were like. I thought you were going to die you were so sick to your stomach. And when I tasted the porridge that the servant brought to you Sunday morning, saying that Dr. Skerry recommended it, it made my tongue and throat burn. That’s exactly what you had complained about before you got sick.”
Nodding, Annie said, “My husband took some of that porridge to the police this morning. He hopes that he can get the city coroner to look at it. That might help us determine whether or not there has been some conscious attempt to make you sick, rather than some accidental poison, since the belladonna and aconite are substances that homeopathic doctors like Dr. Skerry use—in a much diluted form, of course.”
Phoebe nodded and said, “I understand, and I know that Joan believes the porridge had something in it, but I truly hope that isn’t the case.”
At that moment, a servant appeared at the door and said she had brought “her medicine.”
To Annie it looked like a glass of thick milk, and she remembered Ella mentioning that the standard treatment when a patient had ingested something corrosive was to give them a mixture of milk and egg whites, which had sounded repulsive.
Mrs. Truscott didn’t look too happy about sipping from the glass, so Annie thought it might be time to introduce a change in topic. She said, “Did you meet your husband in Boston?”
“Oh, no. My parents died in a steamship accident in 1878, right before I was scheduled to leave to attend Vassar College. The first few months at school were difficult. I’d never attended a regular school or spent any time with girls my own age before. It was like everyone knew a secret…that my books had never taught me.”
“I know just what you mean, Mrs. Truscott,” Annie said. “Until my own mother died, I’d lived on an isolated ranch down near Los Angeles. Then when I moved with my father to New York, he enrolled me in a female academy. It took me forever to figure out what the different teachers wanted. And there were these small cliques, the bookish girls, the popular girls, the city girls, the religious girls. I didn’t see how I fit in with any of them.”
Phoebe nodded emphatically. “To make matters worse, everyone expected me to be overcome with grief over my parents’ deaths, when the person I was really missing was Joan. But things got better in the spring when I made a friend, Sarafina Tannenbaum. She invited me to come stay the summer with her and her family in New York. Best of all, the Tannenbaums said I could bring Joan, who had remained as part of the skeleton staff at my family home in Boston.”
Annie smiled and said, “How fortunate. And did you like New York City?”
“Oh, ever so much, but I suspect that was because that was where I met my future husband. Sarafina’s older brother knew Richard from Berkeley; they were fraternity brothers. Richard came to stay for a week. But after meeting me at the Tannenbaums, he stayed in New York for the summer.”
A soft sound came from Joan.
Phoebe said, “Joan didn’t think much of him at first. Thought because he was seven years older that he was too old for me. But he soon brought her around. On the other hand, my uncle, who was my guardian, thought he was too young and inexperienced. I, of course, thought…think…he was just the right age.”
As the young woman sipped some more of the milky mixture in her glass, making a face, Annie asked, “So your husband, Richard, went to Berkeley? My sister-in-law is in her second year there. What did he study?”
Phoebe said softly, “Literature. As you might imagine, that meant we had a good deal to talk about. He made every day into an adventure. We went to museums, art galleries, the theatre, picnics in Central Park.”
Phoebe sat for a moment and smiled at the memories. Then she described her marriage and honeymoon trip to San Francisco, concluding, “I must say it was quite a surprise to Aunt Ruby when we arrived here. She knew Richard had met someone he was serious about, but she didn’t expect him to arrive home with a new bride. But she was so understanding. Gathered me up in her arms and said how much she had always wanted a daughter.”
Annie noticed a frown on Joan’s face and wondered if the motherly maid and the motherly aunt clashed when it came to Phoebe, particularly when she became sick. So she asked, “There were no signs of your illness then?”
“Oh, no. I mean I have always had difficult monthlies.” She looked over at her maid for confirmation. “Didn’t I, Joan? But I guess I just thought that was normal.”
Phoebe continued, “My first year of marriage was simply wonderful, and at first, I just ignored the fact that the pain started becoming more intense.”
Ella said, “Mrs. Truscott was probably already experiencing some of the effects of the cysts that were developing. There is evidence that many women with difficult periods may have cysts but that these growths can actually disappear over time for some women or remain so small as not to be a problem.”
Annie said, “So your first year of marriage was a happy one?”
“Oh yes! Richard was supposed to start law school, but he put it off. He wanted to get us settled. We had to find a house right away, then we had such fun furnishing it. Richard has so many friends that once we moved into the house on Post, life was one constant round of dinner parties, and the theatre, and afternoon visiting, and shopping. Then…then…about the time of our first anniversary, I started to feel really ill and put on weight. Everyone thought I was pregnant.”
Annie saw that the now-empty glass Phoebe was holding had begun to tremble. Joan moved in and took the glass away, giving her mistress a pat on the shoulder, as she took up the story.
“My poor mistress didn’t know what to do. She looked pregnant so people assumed she was. Friends would comment on her condition, and she didn’t know what to say. It became more and more difficult for her to go out in public. Richard’s aunt thought the problem was the rich foods my mistress ate. Tried to put her on a strict diet. However, I knew there was something seriously wrong.”
“Oh, Joan, Aunt Ruby couldn’t have known what was happening. None of us did.”
Phoebe turned to Annie and said, “Richard’s mother died in childbirth, and her sister, Ruby, who’s never married, moved in to raise Richard. She grew up on a farm, you know, milking cows and all, so she’s one of those strong, healthy women, never sick a day in her life. Aunt Ruby believes if you eat plain, simple food, get enough exercise, and take one of her daily tonics, everything will be all right.”
“Do you know what was in these tonics?” Annie asked.
Phoebe shook her head. “No, and when I started feeling ill, I took them, mostly not to cause problems between Richard and his aunt. Richard said she had been giving him the stuff for most of his life, and it never did him any harm.”
Phoebe looked over at Dr. Blair and said, “Is there any possibility that those tonics that Aunt Ruby was giving me caused the cysts to grow?”
Ella Blair said quickly, “Oh, Mrs. Truscott, I very much doubt it. The main problem was your aunt Ruby’s insistence that taking the tonics would cure your problems. If you had not finally gone to see Dr. Granger and gotten an accurate diagnosis…”
Joan said angrily, “She might have died.”
Phoebe sighed. “I love Aunt Ruby, and I have much to be thankful for. She’s done such a good job of taking care of the house and Richard while I’ve been ill. But Joan’s correct. I could have died if I hadn’t gone to Dr. Granger and eventually had the operation. I thought Richard understood that. He was so pleased when my health returned afterwards. He had nothing but praise for the dispensary and everyone who treated me back then.”
Annie said, “So you did feel well at first?”
“Oh, yes. I mean Dr. Granger and Dr. Brown warned me that it could take another month or two before I would feel completely myself. But it seemed every day I got stronger. I came home at the end of September, and within a month I felt strong enough to host a small Thanksgiving dinner, just for particular friends. Every week I had more stamina, and by Christmas, it was like our first year of marriage, going to the theatre, dining out. Then, New Year’s Day, I got quite ill. I thought maybe it had been something I ate.” Phoebe halted and looked over at Joan.
“Dr. Skerry came the next day,” Joan said. “And my mistress hasn’t been well since.”
Annie was about to ask for further information about Dr. Skerry when Phoebe suddenly said, “Mrs. Dawson, Dr. Blair mentioned that Mr. Dawson is your second husband. Is it true that your first husband died?”
Puzzled at the question, Annie said, “Yes, like you, I married young, but my first husband died less than three years later. That was eight years ago. I married Mr. Dawson a little over a year and a half ago.”
“And I understand you now have a daughter?”
“Yes, Abigail. She was born in May.”
Phoebe again looked over at her maid, as if for courage. “You see, at times these past two months, I started to think that Richard would be better off if I had died during the operation. Then, after a suitable time of mourning, he could move on with his life, the way you did. He could find a woman who wasn’t always sick, a woman who could give him the children he so wants.”
“Oh, Mrs. Truscott, I…”
“But don’t you see, when I learned that Dr. Blair had visited me and was turned away and that my request for Dr. Granger to come visit me was never honored, I began to believe that maybe I wasn’t really sick at all. I began to wonder if Dr. Skerry, for who knows what reason, has been giving me something that is making me sick. But Aunt Ruby wouldn’t believe me when I told her that, and Richard took her side. That’s when I decided I had to get away, at least until I could figure out what has been going on and stop it.”