"Well?" Vinnie said, stepping out from the shadows around the corner of the church. She was very damp.

"Oh!" Emily's hand flew to her mouth. "You gave me a start." She narrowed her eyes. "Did you follow me again?

Vinnie nodded vigorously. "Henry Langston is rather handsome, but he's a suspicious character. I wasn't going to let you go alone."

Only a curmudgeon could resist Vinnie's devotion. Emily reached out and clasped her sister's hand. "You take better care of me than I deserve." She felt the stirrings of a cough deep in her chest, but she smothered it before it could be born. No need to worry Vinnie, who would be sure to tell their mother.

She noticed that Vinnie's cloth shoes were soaked and stained. She had refused to wear the practical boots that Emily's father had had made for them.

"But I'm perishing of curiosity-I couldn't hear a thing. What happened?" Vinnie asked.

"Mr. n.o.body has a name," Emily said. "He's James Wentworth, Henry's cousin."

A slow smile appeared on Vinnie's face. "You thought he might be!"

Emily nodded sadly.

"But he was supposed to be dead already. How is it that he came back to Amherst to die again?"

"I'm more concerned about how he died in Amherst." Emily tucked a hand in Vinnie's elbow and led her toward home. "I wish Father had a criminal practice. Then we would be more knowledgeable about sudden death."

"Mother tells us enough stories out of the newspaper," Vinnie replied tartly. "What don't we know about grisly deaths?"

Emily laughed, grateful to her sister for leavening her mood. "Dr. Gridley suggested James Wentworth was poisoned, but he couldn't determine which poison."

"Can't he perform some sort of test, like they do in our chemistry lectures?" asked Vinnie.

"Only if he knows what poison to look for. I learned that in botany when we talked about antidotes."

They walked down South Pleasant Street, past the Common on their right. In the best of weather, the Common was a large soggy field, suitable only for hungry cows. Today it was a veritable frog pond. Emily could hear the tiny creatures croaking to one another, drowning out the persistent crickets. The Amherst House on the corner was doing good business, although the shops and offices were already closed for the evening. The gentle downward slope made the walk an easy one. They pa.s.sed the widow Kellogg's house, with its tall hedge of yew.

Emily wrinkled her nose at the bitter smell of the trees. "Remember that little boy who died after he ate yew berries? Mother read it in the newspaper. The poison was called taxine."

"Who could forget?" Vinnie said with a smile. "Mother made us swear to avoid yew berries for the rest of our lives."

"It worries her how easy it would be for all of us to die. Killing a man is as easy as crushing berries from this tree and dropping it in his tea."

Vinnie stopped abruptly. "You think a yew berry killed your friend?"

"I don't know." Emily sighed. "There are so many ways to kill someone with ordinary plants." She paused, remembering her lessons. "And not everyone reacts to a plant toxin in the same way."

Miss Phelps had shown them how the brush of a tulip petal might irritate the skin. Ursula had shown no reaction, but Emily's skin had turned bright red and developed a rash. Miss Phelps said that meant she was "exquisitely sensitive," which was a botanist's term. Emily remembered how envious Ursula had been . . . of a rash! Apparently Ursula craved to be the center of all eyes. Again, Emily remembered how Ursula had worked tirelessly to make her herbarium outshine Emily's.

"I had no idea that plants were so dangerous. Let's hurry home," Vinnie said.

"Be grateful I don't tell you how toxic the forest is," Emily teased. But her steps quickened homeward as well.

Emily woke the next morning with the dreaded and familiar cough. She tried to hide it, but Vinnie propped herself up and began scolding. "Emily, you've been overdoing it. You should never have gone out in the rain yesterday."

"I'm fine. Stop coddling me." But Emily lay back on her pillow, her chest feeling hollowed-out and cold.

Vinnie slipped out of bed and put on her robe. "I was going on a picnic with Jane Gridley, but if you are ill, I'll stay home."

"Absolutely not!" Emily cried. "You go and enjoy yourself." She tried to keep the disappointment out of her voice. The picnic sounded fun, but Emily had not been invited. "I'll rest for a bit this morning, then I'll help Mother." She had planned to pursue her investigation today, but her duties at home took precedence.

"Well, if you insist, I'll go," Vinnie said. She looked as sly as one of her cats with cream dripping from its whiskers. "If you promise to rest, I'll bring you a clue when I get home."

"Have you been investigating on your own?" Emily accused.

With a secretive smile, Vinnie said, "I've just been doing exactly what I'm supposed to do . . . unlike another sister I could mention. Now sleep, or I won't tell you."

Emily rolled over and buried her head under the covers. No sooner had she begun to doze than she heard her mother enter the room. The only thing that could distract Mrs. d.i.c.kinson from her own ill-health was the prospect of nursing Emily.

Emily peeked out. "Good morning, Mother."

Her mother adjusted the blanket at Emily's feet, tucking it in at the corners of the bed. "Vinnie told me you're coughing. I sent for Dr. Gridley, but he's out of town until Sunday."

"That's not necessary. I feel fine now." Emily kicked the blanket loose.

"I thought you might like to speak to Dr. Gridley anyway-about your dead body," her mother continued, as though Emily hadn't spoken.

Startled, she glanced at her mother's pale face. There were shadows under her eyes, and Emily felt as guilty as if she had painted them there herself.

Her mother went on, "Isn't that what you've been sneaking out to do? Wouldn't it be more convenient if the doctor just came here?"

Emily wanted to pull the too-warm blanket over her head. She had underestimated her mother's powers of observation. "I found out the dead man's name," she admitted. "He can have a decent Christian burial now."

"That's admirable, I'm sure. But why was it so important to you?" Emily's mother sank down on the bed as though her legs wouldn't support her any longer.

Emily reached out and took her hand. "No one cared except me," she said.

"You aren't strong enough for such a crusade." Her mother's hand trembled in Emily's.

"If you keep me trapped in this house, I'll never get stronger," Emily retorted. At her mother's stricken look, she relented. "Besides, you and Father taught me to do the right thing."

Mrs. d.i.c.kinson's spine straightened and her chin lifted. "I've also tried to teach you how perilous the world is. Home is the only place you can be safe."

Emily felt as though she couldn't breathe, but it had nothing to do with her weak chest. "Safe-but suffocating."

"Suffocating?" Her mother pulled away from Emily's grasp and went to the window that faced the pond. Her back was rigid, and Emily knew she was remembering the corpse floating there.

Emily spoke to her mother's back. "I want to accomplish something with my life. I'll probably need to leave home sometimes, but I promise I'll always return . . . to find myself again."

"You are not meant to have adventures," Mrs. d.i.c.kinson snapped. "You're supposed to marry, have children of your own, and keep a beautiful house."

"What if I want something else?" Emily asked in a defiant voice. "Something that doesn't require a husband or children?"

"Of course you'll marry," Mrs. d.i.c.kinson said. "Lavinia will doubtless have more suitors, but there are many young men who will appreciate your intelligence, so long as you don't frighten them away with your odd ideas and your secret notebooks."

Emily's hand slid imperceptibly under her pillow, where she touched the rea.s.suring square notebook filled with clues. It felt like a talisman.

Mrs. d.i.c.kinson came back to the bed and fluffed Emily's pillow around her head. "Vinnie is picnicking with that Jane Gridley. I'm not sure she's an appropriate friend for your sister; Jane is entirely too popular." She put a hand to her temple. "I'm feeling a headache coming on. I'm going to lie down. You should rest, too. Later, we'll do the baking."

"Yes, Mother."

"While you are lying here, think about what I've said. You are almost sixteen. It's time you understood the importance of doing your duty." She paused in the doorway. "And if you won't listen to me, I'm sure your father will be more persuasive." She closed the door.

"What could be more important than solving a murder?" Emily threw her pillow at the door.

If anybody 's friend be dead

It 's sharpest of the theme

The thinking how they walked alive,

At such and such a time.

CHAPTER 16.

By that afternoon, Emily and her mother had reversed their roles.

"Emily!"

"Yes, Mama?"

"Close the curtains, please. The light is stabbing my eyes."

Emily hurried into the parlor carrying a tray bearing a gla.s.s of water and a bottle of Dr. Gridley's patented medicine for neuralgia.

"Hurry, Emily." Her mother lay on the softest sofa, her hand covering her eyes.

Emily pulled the curtains closed, trying not to let her gaze linger out the window. The brilliant August sunshine was a temptation she could not afford to indulge today.

She poured the medicine into the gla.s.s and offered it to her mother. "I don't know if I should take it," Mrs. d.i.c.kinson protested. "It always makes me so sleepy."

"Mama, it gives you relief." Emily gently raised the gla.s.s to her mother's lips. Mrs. d.i.c.kinson drank deeply, wincing at the sharp flavor of anise. "Sleep is a balm to your pain."

"But who will help you with the baking? There's so much to be done. I knew I shouldn't have let your sister go picnicking."

"Mama, Vinnie has been working so hard while I played truant that she deserves a treat. Dr. Gridley's daughter was kind to invite Vinnie to join the party." Emily concentrated to keep the envy out of her voice.

"But you've never done all the baking alone. . . . You aren't ready."

She laid her hand against her mother's cheek. "I was trained by the best housekeeper in Amherst. Think of this as my comprehensive exam."

"You'll remember to make several loaves of corn bread? And the coconut cake? I promised the Hitchc.o.c.ks that I would bring some to the tea tomorrow . . ." The doctor's prescription began to take effect and Mrs. d.i.c.kinson drifted into sleep.

Emily stared down at her mother, wrestling with a mixture of irritation and affection. With a shrug, she trudged into the kitchen. Half a dozen pans were out, waiting for batter and baking. She brought out the milk and eggs from the icebox. She compared the number of the eggs with her baking requirements. There wouldn't be enough.

Slipping wooden clogs over her indoor slippers, she went out to the chicken coop, leaving the kitchen door wide open in the hope that a summer's breeze might blow out the stifling heat from the oven.

When she returned to the kitchen, a basket of eggs on her arm, she stopped short.

Henry Wentworth was leaning against the battered table in the center of the kitchen. He wore a casual suit, and his wide grin suggested he was confident of his welcome.

"Henry! What are you doing here?" she asked, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

"I was coming to invite you for a ride and I spied you heading to the coop. I'm afraid of chickens, so I thought I would wait inside." His eyes sparkled, as though he were asking her to laugh at him. "I hope you don't mind?"

Grasping the basket tighter, Emily's thoughts were racing. When she had seen him last, he had been grief-stricken. Although she had found his tears plausible, she still harbored suspicions that Henry knew more than he'd told her. And now he was acting as though he hadn't a care in the world.

Slowly her feet brought her inside the kitchen, but she left the door propped open. Not meeting his eyes, she untied her filthy ap.r.o.n, stained with the juice of bushels of strawberries from this year's jam-making. She took Vinnie's much cleaner ap.r.o.n off the peg and fastened it around her neck.

"Of course I don't mind," she finally managed to say. "Won't you sit down? Can I get you something to drink? Cold water?" She deposited the basket on the edge of the table without her usual care. It began to tip.

"Careful!" Henry caught the basket, rescuing the eggs, and placed it in the center of the table.

"Thank you," Emily said, her pulse racing as though it were her own body that had nearly crashed to the ground. She was acutely aware that she was alone with him, and that her mother wouldn't wake up if an earthquake shook the rafters.

"Now that I've done my good deed for the day, I'll have that water." Henry pulled his tie loose and wiped the perspiration from his brow.

Emily's hand flew to her mouth. Mr. n.o.body had used that same gesture in the smithy. For a moment it was as if Henry was gone and Mr. n.o.body had taken his place.

"Emily? You did offer me water, didn't you?"

"What?" Emily regretfully returned to the present. "Of course." She pumped water at the sink into a pitcher and poured a gla.s.s for him.