Symptoms of Death (Dr. Alexandra Gladstone Book 1) by Paula Paul

this: if you wants to help the lass, ye’ll find that bloody corpse.”
    Alexandra stopped the massage, but still held his knot of a hand. “What are you saying, Mr. Beaty?”
    “The Blue Ram speaks you know, with a hundred voices.” He removed his hand from her grasp, carefully. “What one says, the other says the opposite, but it adds up to one thing.”
    “Which is?”
    “Which is, ye best be careful, Dr. Gladstone. If ye wants to help Elsie, ye best be careful. Ye best not be seen together.”
    “Mr. Beaty !” She took his frail shoulders in each of her hands and forced him to look at her. “I’m not certain what you’re attempting to say, but if you know where Elsie is, tell me.”
    Old Beaty shook his head. “I knows but naught.”
    “But you don’t think she killed Lord Dunsford, do you?”
    “I don ’t know the lass, so how could I make a judgment? And I told ye, I knows but naught, so ye mustn’t let on that I told you but naught.” He got up from his chair, creaking and groaning, and walked toward his bed, leaning heavily on his cane. He stopped once and spoke over his shoulder. “I’ll be needin’ more of yer fine medicine, Dr. Gladstone.”
    Alexandra watched him silently for a moment then, knowing it would be futile to push him further, she picked up her bag. “I ’ll bring it when I visit tomorrow.”
    She bid him goodbye, signaled to Zack to follow her, and rode Lucy back to her house. When she arrived, the surgery, which could be entered by a side door, was already beginning to fill with patients, and Nancy was doing her best to keep order. It was almost time for tea by the time the last patient left. She was very tired indeed, but a good strong cup of tea and one of Nancy’s delightful chocolate biscuits would revive her, then she would ride over to Montmarsh to confer with Mr. Forsythe.
    She was about to summon Nancy for the tea when there was a knock at her door. It opened slightly, and Nancy stuck her head around the edge.
    “There ’s one more, Miss Alex.” Nancy, who had been her playmate when they were younger, had never been able to develop the habit of addressing her as Dr. Gladstone. Alexandra did nothing to discourage her chosen form of address. Truth was, she would have felt a certain loss of closeness to Nancy if she’d used the more formal title. Besides, to both of them, Dr. Gladstone would always be her father, Dr. Huntington Gladstone.
    “One more?” Alexandra could not keep the weariness from her voice.
    “I’m afraid so,” Nancy whispered. “He’s been waiting for over an hour now.”
    “Very well. Show him in.” Alexandra picked up a medical volume from her desk and went to the book shelf to put it away while she tried to shore up her energy for one more consultation and examination, knowing that it would make her too late to ride all the way to Montmarsh to visit with Nicholas Forsythe.
    She heard Nancy’s voice from outside her door. “The doctor will see you now, sir.” Her back was turned to the door while she shelved yet another volume when she heard the patient enter.
    “Loosen your clothes, please, and have a seat on the table. I ’ll be with you short…” She stopped with the word unfinished as she turned around and saw that the patient was none other than Nicholas Forsythe.
    “Loosen my clothes? An interesting suggestion,” he said.
    “Mr. Forsythe! I…”
    “Perhaps you should call me Nicholas, given the fact that our relationship has so quickly evolved.”
    Alexandra felt her face grow warm, and she knew she was blushing—something that rarely happened. She had thought her profession had made her immune to it. She did her best to recover.
    “Are you ill, Mr. Forsythe?”
    “Nicholas.”
    “Very well…Nicholas.” She found it difficult to say his name. It suggested a familiarity and informality she was not sure she was ready to accept.
    “Good! And why would you think I was ill, Alexandra? If I may call you