“Don’t worry, he didn’t know I was there. He was in a hurry—grabbed a few things and left. In addition to his doctor’s bag, he also took carbolic acid and chloroform.”
With that combination of an antiseptic and an anesthetic…
“He had to perform surgery?” asked Livia.
“Not necessarily,” said Charlotte. “Our sovereign was administered chloroform on two occasions that were not surgical in nature.”
It took Livia a moment to understand what she was talking about. Her chin fell. Across the parlor, Mrs. Watson was similarly slack-jawed.
Livia would not have known what Charlotte was referring to but for their eldest sister Henrietta, who had insisted on being given chloroform for her confinement, over their mother’s objection. Henrietta had prevailed because she’d pointed out that the queen herself had taken advantage of the anesthetic for the births of her two youngest children, therefore the use of chloroform was royally sanctioned for all her female subjects.
Mrs. Watson held her hands together just in front her chin, almost as if she were fending off something. “Miss Baxter was with child?”
She spoke in a barely audible whisper, but the question was no less thunderous. Livia, though she’d been thinking of the same, nearly jumped.
“And possibly gave birth the night of the fireworks,” said Charlotte. “Childbirth would not have been my first suspicion had she not received us the next evening, looking splendid. There are many medical applications for carbolic acid and chloroform—she could have had an appendectomy.
“She did not, however, strike me as someone recovering from surgery, or a prolonged illness. But if her condition had been a case of advanced pregnancy, then everything made sense, especially with regard to the fact that, out of the blue, she could meet with us. One should not tight-lace with a child in utero. But when the womb is once again empty, with the judicious use of a long corset, who could tell that a woman has recently given birth?”
A hush fell.
“So Mrs. Felton—and some members of the Garden—hadn’t seen Miss Baxter for months because she was obviously with child and couldn’t be seen,” marveled Livia.
“I had a look at Dr. Watson’s books earlier. There is a condition called hyperemesis gravidarum, when an expectant mother suffers from symptoms far in excess of normal morning sickness. Which might explain why for some months, whenever Mrs. Felton did see her, she looked tired and unwell.”
“So perhaps Mr. Peters wasn’t lying after all, when he said that he’d seen Miss Baxter out for a walk late at night.” Mrs. Watson covered her mouth. “Oh my, do you suppose that despite all of Miss Baxter’s precautions, Mr. Craddock saw her in her condition?”
“That would be my guess.”
The idea of a splendid-looking Miss Baxter coolly ordering the killing of her father’s minion who had become too great an inconvenience . . . Livia shivered. “If that were the case then Miss Baxter really had reason to want Mr. Craddock gone. But who was the man walking around and calling himself Craddock then? An imposter put in place?”
Charlotte thought for a moment. “Possibly. De Lacey once again did not answer my question as to whether Moriarty still had more people in the compound. Were I Miss Baxter, I would have put an imposter in place, so as not to alert anyone that Mr. Craddock is no more.”
Livia frowned. “But if the truth is anything close to our conjecture, then Miss Baxter will be thoroughly displeased to have you look into Mr. Craddock’s fate, won’t she?”
The next moment blood drained from her face. “My goodness, Charlotte, that is why Moriarty keeps sending you into the Garden of Hermopolis. First he thought something untoward happened to Miss Baxter and wanted whoever harmed her to harm you too—the fireworks and whatnot was his attempt to force their hand, wasn’t it? Except Miss Baxter wasn’t dead and he didn’t succeed. Now that his watchdog is missing, he wants Miss Baxter to remove you, because she wouldn’t wish for you to look too closely at Mr. Craddock’s disappearance!”
Mrs. Watson’s right hand opened and clenched, opened and clenched. Lord Ingram picked up a miniature marble bust of Diana of Versailles from the mantel and weighed it in his palm, as if gauging its potential as a weapon. Charlotte, rising from the window seat to open a biscuit jar at the sideboard, seemed barely concerned.
“Before he joined us in Cornwall, Lord Ingram went to see Lord Bancroft. Lord Bancroft mentioned that Lord Remington likely considers me a latent agent of the Crown and would pursue Moriarty if he were to harm me. As far as reassurances go, neither Lord Ingram nor I thought much of it.
“However, there might be something to be said about Lord Remington’s attitude.” Charlotte pointed at Livia with a biscuit. “If you were Moriarty, and found Charlotte Holmes to be a nuisance and wanted to be rid of her before she became a bigger nuisance, but had to take into consideration possible reprisals by Lord Remington, what would you do?”
“You find someone else to pull the trigger,” said Livia, barely able to hear her own voice.
“Moriarty using those whom he believes to have killed his daughter to eliminate us—that is one thing,” said Mrs. Watson hoarsely. “It would be justice served should Lord Remington retaliate against Miss Baxter’s murderers. But by dragooning you back into the Garden, he will be forcing Miss Baxter’s hand. And should retribution come, it will fall upon his own child!”
The idea did not shock Livia half as much. If Sir Henry, her father, could gain great advantage by sacrificing her, would he hesitate?
Not for long.
Charlotte, breaking off a piece of her biscuit, appeared even less affected. “My lord, what would you do if you suspected that residents of the Garden of Hermopolis had murdered your child?”
His lordship returned the marble bust in his hand to the mantel, arranging it with care. “I would not be so patient or cunning as to use them to get rid of Charlotte Holmes, and then wait for Lord Remington Ashburton to perhaps punish them when he learned of Charlotte Holmes’s fate.”
“Neither would most parents,” said Charlotte, at last taking a bite of her biscuit. “But I think Moriarty is fully capable of using a wayward daughter in this way, especially if he realized, as we did, that she might have borne a child out of wedlock.”
“Surely . . . ” Livia was stunned; she needed a moment to collect her thoughts. “Moriarty is a lying, cheating, blackmailing, murdering reprobate—and that’s just what little we know of him. You think he’d mind that his daughter bore a child out of wedlock?”
“Unfortunately, I agree with Holmes,” said Lord Ingram. “The world is full of men who believe that rules for men are only for lesser men, but those for women brook no exceptions. That he broke all rules for men would be a point of pride to Moriarty, but that his daughter broke all rules for women, he would find deeply shameful, a stain on her and on him.”
No one said anything for a while.
Livia shook her head. What was the point of having Moriarty for a father if a woman had to live as carefully and timidly as anyone else? Then she asked, “Where’s the baby now, if Miss Baxter indeed had one?”
“Taken away by Mrs. Crosby, most likely,” said Charlotte.