Page 102 of A Devilish Element
“I can’t stand here and do nothing, Bell.” He bit his thumbnail. “It can’t harm to have the woman confined to her chamber. Can it?”
“That depends on whether you want any breakfast.”
“I’m not sure any of us need a breakfast that’s been overseen by a poisoner.”
Bell shrugged. “I’m fine. I only ever take tea with an egg anyway, and it’s rather hard to adulterate an egg fresh from a hen’s arse without breaking the shell. Also, who in their right mind would ever adulterate the tea!”
“Yes, that would be the sign of a deeply unsettled mind, because plotting murder is completely sane.”
Bell shrugged, leaving Jem to curse beneath his breath. The more time he spent around Bell, the more he’d become acquainted with his inglorious sense of humour.
Jem was not usually one for wearing grooves in the floorboards, not being one of those who required motion to think, but he was restless now. And torn. Deeply torn. Thus, he paced to combat the sense of inertia.
“I think I ought to have gone with her.”
“Then go. I’m not holding you here.”
“You agree, then, that I should have accompanied her?”
“I think you should be wherever you’ll feel most effective and do whatever you deem best. There’s nothing I need you for. You’re a passable secretary, but a godawful surgical assistant. Miss Wakefield is far more gifted in that regard, and I hope you realise how grudgingly I part with that observation.”
“I fear she’ll challenge Mrs Honeyfield on her own.”
“A most likely possibility.”
“Do not say that!” He came to an abrupt standstill, gruesome visions of Eliza being hurt flooding his mind. What if his lingering meant she was already wounded?
“Fine,” Bell conceded. “I imagine she’s attempting to shepherd Lady Linfield into some manner of meaningful activity…and has likely already realised the futility of that at least in terms of apprehending a murderer, given Lady Linfield seems far more concerned by whatever nonsense George is about.”
“The validity of the marriage.”
“Yes, I heard her say that too. Utter pap, of course. Non-consummation doesn’t invalidate anything.”
“Assuming that’s what he’s claiming.”
“What else would he claim? That Linfield has another wife somewhere? Oh, yes. Desperately likely. He’s such a one for the ladies. Loves them, he does.”
A pertinent point. Linfield was the last man on the planet who would enter a secret marriage. Had been… “Answer me one thing, Ludlow. Truthfully, do you think Eliza is right, and Mrs Honeyfield is responsible?”
The physician refused to look at him and focused on his work for several excruciating seconds. He was still stitching, and Jem was doing his best not to notice; still, he suspected he’d flinch every time he saw a lady at her embroidery from now on.
“What I think is that the idea has considerable merit. Poisoners are usually women, and while the evidence against the housekeeper is largely circumstantial, the only real alternative is that it was your Miss Wakefield who did the deed.”
“Why would she, Ludlow? She knew nothing of Linfield and me. I think you are saying so just to incite my ire.”
“Perhaps it was on behalf of her friend, who Linfield was treating abominably. You’re not the centre of the universe, not even the centre of her world, I think.”
“You’re making my point for me,” he muttered. He definitely wasn’t the most important thing in Eliza’s world. He was likely a peripheral distraction at best. In any case, murdering a man as retaliation for Linfield being a somewhat rubbish husband to her friend seemed far-fetched. If he’d been a violent tyrant, maybe… “I think Mrs Honeyfield avenging the loss of her husband a far more plausible narrative.”
“As you say.” Bell momentarily looked up from his needlework. “Jem… James, why are you still here?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Fool…fool… My dear friend, I could draw you a perfect anatomical heart, but I freely confess, matters of love are not my forte. However, I can tell you with some certainty that while the odds are against you gaining Miss Wakefield’s forgiveness, she most certainly won’t do so if you’re not there when she needs you. So, ask yourself, do you think she needs you? Is there a task she asked of you that you might perform?”
There was.
“Now, ask yourself, is the possibility of gaining her forgiveness worth the proverbial bricks you will no doubt bring down on your head by assisting her?”
