Free A Death Along the River Fleet by Susanna Calkins Page B

Perhaps it has something to do with this. ” He ran his finger along the rope marks that encircled her wrist.
    â€œThese rope marks are quite deep in places,” Lucy said. “Who would have tied her up like that?”
    He flinched. “I do not know who would have done such a terrible thing.”
    â€œShe told me the devil was chasing her,” Lucy commented.
    He looked disgusted. “Poppycock. Miss Belasysse was not one for such fancy.”
    Lucy pulled the chair closer to the bed so that she could keep her voice low. “So you still believe that this woman is Miss Belasysse? Do you believe the letter Dr. Larimer received from her family to be untruthful?”
    â€œOf course I do not believe such drivel,” he said. “I know without a doubt that she is Octavia Belasysse. I am quite certain of it. Unfortunately.”
    â€œHow can you be so certain?” Lucy whispered.
    â€œBecause of the falling sickness,” he replied, reaching down to smooth a hair away from the woman’s forehead. “Known in the Latin tongue as epilepsia and in Greek, epilepsis. Octavia always did suffer from the malady. ’Tis a marvel she has lived this long.” Then he pointed to the woman’s wrist. “She has a birthmark here. Though I have not seen her in some time, I remember it clearly.” He frowned again. “It seems like a lifetime ago.”
    â€œDid you know her family well?” Lucy asked.
    â€œYes. As one does, you know. Her brother Henry and my older brother, Dennis, went to university together. We moved in the same circles,” he explained, seeming to have forgotten to whom he was speaking. “Sometimes her family would come visit and we would all take supper together. That sort of thing.”
    He dropped off then. The conversation seemed to be over, but Lucy would not be deterred. She thought she might not get the chance to ask her questions if she waited for him to speak again. “If you are certain that this woman is Octavia Belasysse, why then would her family say that she had died? What kind of grievous mistake has been made?” she asked. “Can you explain that?”
    Mr. Sheridan shrugged. “The madness of the plague and the Great Fire no doubt resulted in many unmarked deaths.” His manner grew more abrupt. “It may be, too, that they cast her off, when her sickness grew too great.” He gently laid the woman’s arm back along her side. “Is it any wonder that they will not extend familial accord to such a shameful and woeful creature?” he asked, his voice taking on its usual biting tone. Lucy did not know, however, whether his anger was directed at herself or at the Belasysse family, or even the woman stretched out on the bed before them.
    â€œI will send another letter to her brother, and get to the bottom of this.” He stood up and moved to the door.
    â€œBut if they cast her out, will they admit it?” Lucy asked, before he could leave.
    â€œWe will make them admit and acknowledge their sins,” he said, staring back at the woman. “It is a grievous thing they have done, and an act not easily rectified.”
    When the door shut, the woman gave a deep sigh. “Leave me be, ” she murmured fearfully, her voice heavy in sleep. Then, one last whispered word, more like a sigh. “James.”
    Lucy froze. “Miss? Miss? Do you know that man?”
    But the woman just rolled back over, taking in the deep heavy breaths of one lost to the world.

 
    7
    â€œI wager that creature is still sleeping as one dead,” Molly whispered to Lucy the next morning around eight o’clock, as they passed each other in the hallway. “’Tis not right, I tell you. Unnatural,” she hissed.
    â€œDr. Larimer said that the melancholia which has gripped her spirits may make her too fatigued to move,” Lucy replied, shifting the hot bowl of stew in her hands. “He said