William turned the latch, and the door opened. They slowly walked into the dim room.
It was a cold, stark space. Very little in the way of personal belongings were strewn about. There was a rickety dresser, a small desk and chair, and nothing covering the bare wooden floor. Peeling wallpaper, wet from where water leaked from the window frame, gave the room a sad, neglected feeling.
No fire blazed in the fireplace, which was no surprise, since only the wealthy were able to enjoy a fire all day long.
They walked toward the bed in the center of the room. The murky afternoon sky visible from the window cast a dim light on the lump lying on top of the worn bedcover. Amy called Miss Hemphill’s name and touched her on the shoulder.
The cold, stiff shoulder, belonging to a very dead Miss Hemphill.
CHAPTER 19
Amy stepped back so abruptly she trounced on William’s foot. If he hadn’t caught her by the arms, she would have tumbled to the floor, possibly knocking them both down. “Oh, dear.” She took in a deep breath. “I believe she’s dead.”
William eased her aside and looked down at the woman. Her eyes were closed, her face in peaceful repose. He felt her wrist, then the side of her neck. No pulse. “Yes. I’m afraid she is dead.”
Amy fought down the nausea rising up the back of her throat. To distract herself, she looked around. “We need some light.”
“Wait here.” William moved away.
She grabbed his arm, s
uddenly afraid to be alone. “Where are you going?”
“To find the maid who let us in. She will be able to supply us with a lamp, or even a candle.”
Amy shook her head. “No. Not yet. Once you notify the maid, she will probably have hysterics that we will have to deal with, and then she will immediately send—or have someone send—for the police. I want to look around before the police step in.”
William ran his fingers through his hair. “You’re probably correct. But we still need some light.”
“We’ll move the drapes aside from the other two windows, and with the light from the street, maybe we can find a lamp or candle.”
Their search turned up two candle stumps and one empty oil lamp. “You take one candle and I’ll take the other.”
They began to methodically search the room. From what they discovered, Miss Hemphill had lived right on the poverty line. There was a small amount of food—half a loaf of bread, a wrapped block of cheese, a few mint candies, and a small container of tea. Certainly not the robust diet an expectant woman needed. She had only two dresses, both of which had seen better days, but Amy did recognize one of the dresses as the one she’d worn to Lady Ambrose’s sewing circle.
Amy blew out her candle stub, which had burned uncomfortably close to her fingers, and moved to the middle of the room. She placed her hands on her hips, turning in a slow circle, studying the area. “What I don’t understand is why a woman with so very little would be sewing garments for the poor.”
“Perhaps she wasn’t always in dire straits.” William rubbed a circle on the dirty window and looked outside. “You did say you were not familiar with her prior to Mr. St. Vincent’s death.”
“You are correct. The first time I heard her name was when someone told me she had been expecting a proposal from Mr. St. Vincent before he made his offer of marriage to me.
“If she came from a respectable family and found herself in a family way, there is a good chance they cast her out.” She turned and looked again at Miss Hemphill. “Poor woman. ’Tis such a shame that society looks down on a woman for making a mistake, but the gentleman’s actions are never called to account.”
“Did you find Miss Hemphill?” The maid from downstairs walked into the room, took one look at the dead body on the bed, and screamed loud enough to raise Miss Hemphill from her eternal sleep. She threw her apron over her face and continued to scream. “She’s dead! I saw a dead person.”
Amy cast an I told you so glance at William. Looking very uncomfortable, he nodded toward the maid, and Amy took a deep breath and approached the girl. “Miss, you must calm yourself.”
She stopped wailing long enough to peek at Amy from under her apron. “Did you kill her?”
Amy was getting mighty tired of people accusing her of murder. Did she look so very minacious, then? “No, I did not kill her. And his lordship did not kill her either. She was decidedly dead when we arrived.”
The maid began to shake. “I never saw a dead person before, milady, so you must excuse me. I meant no disrespect.”
Amy, on the other hand, was afraid discovering dead bodies might become a habit of hers. She patted the girl on the back. “Do you have someone you can send to the police department?”
She bobbed. “Yes, milady, I can send the man Mrs. Hubbard keeps around to do the heavy chores.”
William stepped over to where they stood. “Would you please send for the police, then? And I think perhaps, given the circumstances, Mrs. Hubbard would allow you a short tea break.”