Chorus of the Dead

Chapter 31

Chapter 31

Take her up tenderly,

Lift her with care;

It took a moment for what she told him to sink in, and then like a freak storm rising from the Atlantic, it hit him. Josephine was Miss Dawson's daughter, not Martha Lloyd's.

"I had no idea," Ainsley said.

"No one did. That was the way she wanted it."

"Mrs. Lloyd?"

"Yes." Miss Dawson passed Ainsley, hugging her arms close to her. That is when Ainsley noticed she was still wearing black and had the appearance of a woman who was very much in mourning.

"Please sit," Miss Dawson offered, gesturing to a chair between them.

Reluctantly, Ainsely rounded the chair and sat. He watched as Miss. Dawson took a seat opposite him.

"I met Walter," she gave a slight smile, "in Bristol where I lived with my sister. He was so charming at first." She smiled to herself but her eyes remained fixated on something in the distance. "We did not see each other often but when he was in town he always had time for me. I did not know he was already married, you understand. Had I known..." her voice trailed off and she was silent for a moment. Then she let out a deep sigh and did not finish her thought. "When I found out I was pregnant I couldn't stand the thought of raising her on my own. I came here and went straight to the mill and begged him to help me. He bought me this cottage and told me to stay here until he figured out what to do." Miss Dawson turned her gaze to Ainsley who was so transfixed by her story he had not thought to move. "Then one day, she came. She sat there," she said, gesturing to the chair Ainsley sat in, "and told me the baby I carried would not be mine. The child would be hers and Walters and they would raise it in the Manor house with Walter, Elizabeth and Lillian."

"But how did she plan to hide it? She clearly would not be large with child and you are so slight in figure, how could you have hid it?" Ainsley leaned into the back of his chair, and glanced around the room almost picturing the day in his mind.

"No one knew me and I spent so much time here at the cottage. Walter sent the butler here to run my errands. During my confinement they housed me at the manor, discretely of course telling everyone that I was there as her midwife, in case Martha miscarried once again."

"This cannot be true." Ainsley raked his hand through his hair, his headache forgotten, his mind busy trying to accept the plausibility of the tale she was telling him.

"It is true, every word of it. On the night Josephine was born, Martha took her from me." A tear appeared in the corner of Miss Dawson's eye, threatening to spill over onto her cheek before she brushed it away. "Walter begged her to allow me to name the baby. I named her Josephine after my sister."

"A mother cannot be so easily separated from her child," Ainsley offered in disbelief.

"Indeed. It ripped my heart in two pieces but that is the way she wanted it. She had wanted so many children, had been promised them and God saw fit to take them away before they took their first breath."

"Twas not God," Ainsley offered with a shake of his head. "Walter Lloyd was sick. Syphilis."

Miss Dawson nodded. "I know that now. His illness made Josephine all the more special. Martha wanted the child for herself. It was the best way to avoid scandal."

Ainsley knew the story must be true. It painted Mrs. Lloyd exactly how he had pictured her, cunning, methodical, obsessed with society and its influence on her life. It was not a far stretch to see Martha orchestrating such a plan, especially if it prevented an enormous scandal and provided a replacement for all the children she had lost.

"She could not handle the stigma of an illegitimate child," Ainsley said, almost to himself.

"Indeed, she could not. Had Josephine been a boy I doubt he would have survived long, not when her son was sitting comfortably as sole heir. The fact that the child was a girl only pleased her. It gave her another doll to dress in frills and bows before handing her back to the nurse. She did that with all three girls from what I heard. Pampered them until they all spoiled, except my Josephine who could sing like a bluebird and kept the heart of gold she was born with."

"And you never thought to return to Bristol?"

"How could I? My child was here. Nothing could keep me from my child, not even a pinch faced old crone like Mrs. Lloyd. I vowed to stay. The day she was born I told Walter I would never leave, unless I had my daughter with me."

"Did he..." Ainsley hesitated, "Did he continue to visit?" Ainsley asked delicately, unsure how to handle the subject of Mr. Lloyd's lovers. "After Josephine was born?"

"He tried but all I wanted to talk about was Josephine. Was she walking? Was she eating well? What new words had she discovered? I think he found me boring after a time. He still brought me an allowance though and paid for the upkeep of this place. His son brings me the money now that Walter is gone."

"I met him, on the road a few days ago. I had wondered why he had come so far from the mill and manor."

Miss Dawson nodded. "He's a good boy. Does what he is told. He may have inherited the estate and the mill but he and I both know who runs the show."

"That is my impression of Mrs. Lloyd as well. I am surprised she allows her son to pay for her husband's mistress--" Ainsley stopped suddenly, "my apologies."

"It is all right. I know what I am. A used woman. Truth be told, Martha does not know. I am in the mill books as nurse to the workers. It's a business expense, something she has no control over."

Ainsley smiled at the devious, yet ingenious plot. "Clearly she does not like you. She practically said as much at Josephine's wake. Why does she feel you killed her?"

"It was a display of power, nothing more. She would do anything to strip me of my business and run me from town, She is very dangerous, that woman. I would be very wary of everyone in that house Dr. Ainsley."

"I have reason to believe Josephine was poisoned." Ainsley spoke the words as matter of factly as he could, knowing the delivery of such horrid news would disturb the girl's real mother. He could not tell her how he knew, lest he incriminate himself.

Miss Dawson raised her hand to her mouth, an action which did not suppress the tidal wave of tears that streamed from her eyes. Ainsley saw her hand shaking and noticed her entire body was shuddering as well. He expected her to collapse at any moment and went immediately to her side. "Can I get you a tea?" he asked in a feeble attempt to sooth her deepest pain.

She shook her head and buried her face in her hands and cried loudly. Ainsley remained close, crouched beside her chair but his mind was far away from the cottage in which they sat. In his mind he was at the manor house with Lillian, no friend in sight and danger lurking in every shadow.

"Forgive me," Miss Dawson said at last, wiping her soggy cheeks dry as she spoke. "I had suspected as much, though it is a far graver matter when you hear it to be true. I should have ran away with her as I dreamed of doing so many times." She dabbed her eyes with her lace handkerchief. "You said you saw her with me. Josephine was beside me, in the graveyard?"

"Yes, she was walking quite close. And I've seen her playing in the yard here when I came a few days ago."

Miss Dawson smiled, bringing some sudden cheeriness to her distressed face. "He would bring her sometimes, when I begged him to. Perhaps she knew then. Perhaps she knew I was her real mother."

"I believe she knew somewhere deep inside." Ainsley placed a soothing hand on top of Miss Dawson's. He squeezed her hand in a comforting gesture. She looked up at him, red and glistening eyes imploring to him, "Be careful," she said, returning his squeeze more tightly than he had done. She met his gaze sternly. "That family will be the ruin of you, just like it was the ruin of me."