Page 21 of Falling for the Grumpy Stranger

RHETT

I’d glanced out the front window an embarrassing number of times. Ella’s pink knit beanie was the first thing I spotted as she reached the top of the gravel path. Her cheeks and nose were pink to match. The sun had made a rare appearance today, but there was still a glacial chill in the air. That same chill seemed to have seeped into all the bones of the house except the library. And that was only because I’d built a rather impressive fire in the hearth.

I met her at the door, like an excited kid waiting to greet his new best friend. I had some good news to tell my new friend. And it wasn’t just that the library was warm enough that she wouldn’t see her own breath as she rummaged through the books.

“Morning,” she said cheerily. “You look ready to start the day.”

“I am. There’s a fire in the hearth, so you don’t have to worry about frostbite, and I think I’ve found something that will interest you.” She hung her coat and hat on the hook in the entryway and walked with me to the library.

“There was a lock on the bottom drawer in the old desk. I didn’t know how long it had been locked, but I pried it openexpecting to find things from the last occupants.” I paused in front of the desk. “The realtor told me that a foreign investor owned it from 1990 until 2010, and they occasionally rented it out until the last renters reported that it was not safe enough to live in because of the low water pressure and poor heating system. They were right, too. Anyhow, I thought I’d just find some meaningless paperwork. I found paperwork, but it’s not from this century. Or the last.” I handed Ella the pile of papers and account ledger I’d found in the bottom of the locked drawer. “I knew I’d discovered something important when I found a wax stamp and an old quill sitting on top of the papers.”

Ella stared down at the yellowed, crumpled stack of parchment as if I’d just handed her a diamond bracelet. “Oh, Rhett, what a find!” She smiled up at me. “You brilliant man. If I’m ever successful enough to hire a man Friday, you’ll be the first person I call.”

“And I would take that job. I’m going to start going through the book stacks. I hope you don’t mind. I’ll try and be as quiet as a mouse,” I said with a wink.

“You could probably drop a bomb in the middle of this room, and I wouldn’t notice because I’ll be so spellbound by these papers.” She turned around. “You pulled the chair closer to the fire, and may I just add—well done on the fire. Your Neanderthal ancestors would be proud.” She walked to the chair, plopped down, wriggled until she was sitting just right and started to look through the papers.

I went through the first set of books, random reference books about shipbuilding, crop harvesting and a large illustrated one about the wildlife of Africa. I put that one aside to keep.

“No way,” Ella blurted. She was holding a piece of paper. “And the pieces of the puzzle come together.” She pushed aside the rest of the pile and hurried across the room with a piece of paper that was so thin you could almost see through it. Theletterhead read “Doctor Nielsen, Surgeon.” “It’s a bill and it describes the wound, a three-inch gash Margaret got on her leg when she slipped off a rock. I read all about it in her journal. The journal entry was June 12, 1899, and this invoice for medical care is dated August 3, 1899. It’s for a dose of laudanum and the application of leeches near the inflammation on her leg. Margaret’s wound still hadn’t healed nearly two months later.”

“Do you think that’s what killed her?”

“I’m not sure. I’ll have to keep looking. According to the newspaper, she died on November 3, 1899, of injuries sustained in a fall. That was just a few months after this doctor’s visit.” Ella did a little tap dance in her boots. “I certainly didn’t expect this big surprise when I got here this morning. I could kiss you,” she blurted and then froze. “I mean, metaphorically speaking, of course. I’m not actually going to kiss you because that would be weird since I’m here to do research, and you—” She started backing up. “I’m going to shut up now so that I don’t die from embarrassment before I get this piece written.”

I tamped down a smile as I turned back to the books. It was ironic, given that the notion of kissing Ella had already taken a few trips around my mind. Now I had to tamp down that notion along with the smile.

I was moving to the next shelf when Ella gasped. “Here it is. Another invoice and notes from Dr. Nielsen.” She looked up with round eyes. “It’s dated November 1, just two days before her death. There’s a description of the treatment, and boy, just the way it’s worded, it seems poor Mags was doomed.” Ella cleared her throat to read.

The patient, Margaret Grimstone, a 32-year-old woman, suffered head and back trauma after losing her balance on the stone steps leading from herhouse. A previous injury, a leg wound that had not healed and had been inflamed for months, made walking difficult. A servant came to help Miss Grimstone down the steps, but she was too late. Miss Grimstone tumbled head over heels, injuring her spine and skull. She was still conscious when I arrived but lost consciousness soon after she was carried to her room. The nearest surgical hospital is a two-hour ride by train or three hours by coach. It is unlikely Miss Grimstone would survive either. I’ve administered laudanum for the pain and cold compresses to keep the swelling down. It will be a wait-and-see situation.

Ella looked up with shiny eyes. “I guess we know how it turned out.” She wiped lightly at the corner of her eye. “Look at me getting all emotional about Mags. I guess after reading her journal, I feel like we became friends. I sure would have loved to know her. What a tragic end.” She shook her head and sniffled. “How embarrassing, dissolving into an emotional bowl of Jell-O like this.”

“No, don’t apologize. It’s sweet. You found a connection with Margaret Grimstone through her journal entries. Not many people have that kind of deep empathy. It’s admirable.”

Ella shyly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Well, I guess I’ll let you get back to the books, and I’ll get back to the papers.” She stopped and turned to face me. “It seems to me that Margaret’s bad luck started with that leg wound. That happened at a neighboring estate during a duck hunt. This house hadnothing to do with it. Well, I suppose eventually it did, but only because of the first injury.”

I smiled at her. “Are you telling me this house just got a bad rap?”

“I think so. Of course, so far, we only know the details of Margaret’s misfortunes. I’m excited to see what else I can uncover about subsequent owners. But one thing I know for sure, none of them are going to be as cool as Margaret Grimstone.”

Chapter Seventeen

ELLA

It seemed I’d exhausted the search of Margaret’s personal documents. There were several more doctor’s bills dated before her death and all pertaining to the cut on her leg. It seemed medical science still had a way to go at the end of the nineteenth century. If she’d lived just thirty years later, the doctors could have administered penicillin to treat what was obviously an infection. One of the invoices mentioned the administration of a mercury compound, which sounded horrifying. It made my throat tight knowing that Margaret had to suffer such great pain in the last months of her life. She’d been such a vibrant, energetic force, and she was knocked down by a relatively small gash on her leg, an injury that would have been easily treated in this century.

“Lunch is ready.” Rhett popped his head into the room. “It’s been a while since I’ve had frozen pizza. I’ve got to say—there have been some improvements since the flat crackers with a sprinkle of processed cheese that I used to heat up after school.”

I got up from the chair with a laugh. “You haven’t had frozen pizza since you were a kid?” I laughed again. “Where have you been? On another planet or living some posh life in a penthouse with a personal chef?” The last part made him twist his mouth tohold back a smile. I stopped halfway across the room and stared at him. “Wait. Were you living in a posh penthouse with a chef?” I waved it off. “No, why on earth would you be living in a house where you can see your breath in the hallway and where I’m now certain a few rats or something with sharp teeth are living in the walls?”

“You heard them too?” he asked as we left the warmth of the fire-heated room and entered the cold hallway. “I was hoping it was my imagination.”

“Definitely something with good chompers. Probably a rat or two or three.”

He held up his hand. “Yep, I’ve got the picture, and it’s not pretty. Which reminds me, I’ve got a contractor coming out next week to take a look at the place. He’s bringing an engineer to check the foundation and look for any structural issues.”

We reached the kitchen and the wonderful smell of oregano and pepperoni. Rhett had lit a candle on the table and filled two glasses with iced tea. “An engineer. That sounds expensive.” We sat down. I plucked a piece of pizza off the tray and set it down. I glanced up and noticed that not only did Rhett look tired, but he was trying to tamp down a yawn.

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