Page 71 of Murder on Harley Street
“I am and she has.” Dr. Iverson rocked back on his heels, seemingly rather pleased to tell us he’d captured another female heart. “It was at the end of a particularly trying day, after Miss Wainsmith had gone home. I was tired and frustrated, and Sister Dearden cheered me up. She was very flattering about my…” He cleared his throat as he glanced at me. “My attributes. She invited me for a drink, but I turned her down. She’s my employee. It wouldn’t be appropriate.”
Apparently it was quite all right for him to have a relationship with his patients, however.
I was somewhat disappointed that our theory was extinguished so soon after we’d come up with it, but Harry wasn’t giving up yet. “Has she ever confronted you over a diagnosis, accusing you of making a mistake?”
“No.”
“She has never disagreed with you over a patient’s treatment?”
“Never. Mr. Armitage, what are you getting at? Do you think Sister Dearden has something to do with Isabel’s murder?”
“We’re exploring a theory.”
“Then I hope my answers have proved it to be wrong, because she isn’t a murderess. Nor is she sapphic. Sister Dearden may be somewhat unfeminine in nature, but it’s not fair to paint her as a lover of women simply because she’s unwed and plain.”
Harry’s jaw firmed. “I assure you, we weren’t.”
Weren’t we? Perhaps we had tried to fit her into that particular mold. Perhaps we’d believed the cliché that a direct woman lacking feminine qualities must not be interested in romance with aman. Although I liked to think of myself as an unprejudiced person, making assumptions about people was a necessary part of being a detective. I just needed to be more aware of making judgments that weren’t clichéd.
If Harry felt similarly chastised, he didn’t show it. He forged on with his interrogation. “We know Miss Wainsmith has been taking time off from work because of her illness.”
Dr. Iverson frowned at Harry then me. “Did she happen to tell you what she believes is the cause?”
Since he was still looking at me when he asked the question, I answered. “She doesn’t know the cause, and assumes you don’t, either. Are you suggesting you do, or that she should?”
“Ah. This is awkward. Patient confidentiality and all that.”
“I don’t understand. Why haven’t you told Miss Wainsmith the name of her disease?”
“Because I don’t believe she has a disease. I believe she may be with child and doesn’t want to admit it.”
I drew in a sharp breath. It was not something I’d considered. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Harry rub his jaw. “Are you saying you don’t know?” I asked the doctor.
“I did examine her, but it would have been very early in the pregnancy as she’d only just begun to have symptoms. There’s a good chance she didn’t even know herself. That was a mere three months ago. Some women don’t show until four or five, particularly with their first.”
“But she’s losing weight, not gaining it,” Harry said.
“Some expectant mothers do lose weight at the start, when they can’t keep anything down. The weight gain will come later as the baby grows. I believe she’s one of those unfortunate women who gets very ill during pregnancy. I told her she needed to rest, but she refused. She said she couldn’t afford to stay in bed all day.”
The woman we’d seen a mere half hour earlier hadn’t mentioned being with child. She hadn’t even hinted at the possibility. “What did she say when you asked her if she was?”
“She denied it. Unwed girls often do.”
“Not to their doctor.”
“When her doctor is also her employer, it’s a difficult predicament. Miss Wainsmith needs her wages, particularly now, and will want to work for as long as possible. She’ll try to hide the pregnancy until it becomes too obvious. Naturally, I haven’t mentioned it to her again, as I didn’t want to upset her. Her situation is difficult enough, and I want to do everything in my power to care for her and the baby.”
Was that because he was the father?
The thought felt rather insidious and I couldn’t shake it. It stayed with me all the way back to the hotel.
Our roles had been assignedat the previous day’s security meeting. Harry was stationed at the front entrance alongside Frank and Goliath, while I stood beside one of the enormous floral arrangements in the foyer. If Mr. Pierce managed to slip past Harry unnoticed, I’d identify him and alert Peter.
It was not a plan I liked. It didn’t use me to best advantage. As the only two people who’d met Mr. Pierce, Harry and I were in a unique position to stop him before he entered the building, but the hotel hadtwoentrances—the front one for guests and the service one for staff and deliveries.
Mr. Pierce wouldn’t get past Harry’s keen eye, so placing me in the foyer was pointless. Uncle Ronald had dictated where to put me and Harry hadn’t disagreed. They wanted me kept safe, but doing so meant I wasn’t useful. It also meant the second entrance to the hotel was manned by staff who’d never met Mr. Pierce. Although Harry and I had given them a thorough description, there was a very good chance he would come in disguise. At the service entrance, he could pose as a deliveryman and slip past them. At least I’d have a better chance of recognizing him.
I informed Peter that I was going to join the staff at the entrance near the kitchen. He protested, but I wouldn’t be swayed.
