Read Online A Death Along the River Fleet by Susanna Calkins - Free Book Online

herself as a woman of quality,” Lucy said, thinking of the woman’s haughty and arrogant tones. “She knows how to give orders, as if she was born to it.”
    The constable listened carefully. “I should speak with her now,” he said. “I hope she will be more forthcoming with me.”
    *   *   *
    A few minutes later, the woman balked when Lucy explained that the constable had come to ask her questions, and was now waiting outside in the hallway.
    â€œI do not think so, Lucy,” she said, accepting the tincture that Lucy handed to her. “It does not seem proper for me to speak with a constable.” She took a long sip and then frowned. “How can I remember this feeling, but I cannot know my own name?”
    â€œI cannot tell you,” Lucy said as pleasantly as she could. “I do assure you though, that Constable Duncan wishes to help you. He might be able to help discover what happened to you. He is a good man, committed to his work.” Spying a bright wrap on the chair beside the bed, Lucy pulled it around the woman’s shoulders. “There, that looks nice.”
    The woman began to rub the bandage that covered the cut on her hand. “Maybe I do not want to remember,” she whispered. “The memory of the just is blessed: but the name of the wicked shall rot.”
    Lucy shuddered. She had heard the minister at St. Andrew’s say those very words before, standing righteously at his pulpit, but never had Proverbs 10:7 sounded so ominous.
    Soon the mixture of opium and wine had its desired effect, and the woman waved her hand at Lucy. “You may summon him.”
    Opening the door, Lucy found both physicians waiting with the constable. “She does not quite think it proper that she speak to you,” she said, giving Duncan an apologetic glance, “but she has agreed to do so nevertheless.”
    â€œI see,” he said. “Let us proceed.”
    When the men entered the room, Dr. Larimer presented the constable to her.
    Constable Duncan gave her a clipped military bow, the likes of which Lucy had rarely seen him do. The woman inclined her head graciously, much as Lucy had seen other gentlewomen do to acknowledge a gallantry. The gesture had seemed natural, not forced, and indeed, the woman drew herself up to full stately bearing. There was no evidence of yesterday’s downtrodden state, or even the terror she had shown a half hour before.
    Dr. Larimer pulled the chair away to the edge of the room and gestured for the woman to sit down. “If you would, miss.”
    â€œConstable,” she said, sitting down grandly. “You have questions for me, I presume. I am doubtful that I have answers.”
    At her voice, he looked at her in surprise. “You speak as someone from my own region. Have you lived near York, miss?”
    â€œHow can I know?” She shifted impatiently. “I knew there was no use speaking to you. Until I remember who I am, there is nothing I can do.”
    â€œOctavia! I know it is you!” Mr. Sheridan burst out. “I am certain this is true.” He knelt by her bedside. “Can you not remember me? James Sheridan?” When she continued to stare at him blankly, he said again, “You are Octavia Belasysse!”
    The woman gulped. “That name! I do not know. Am I she? I do not know! I do not know!” Tears began to stream down her face, and she pressed her hands to her head. Suddenly, her eyelids began to flutter. “Help me!” she whispered. “I beg of you—“
    â€œWhat is happening?” Duncan asked. Lucy did not reply, watching as the woman’s eyes rolled back into her head.
    â€œShe is convulsing!” Mr. Sheridan cried, grabbing the woman as she slumped to the ground, her body still contorting and shaking wildly. Gently, he laid her head atop a pillow that he pulled from the bed.
    â€œGrab that comb. Place it between her