Wait Until Midnight

by Amanda Quick

  He told himself to stay calm.

  “Are either of her aunts home?”

  “No, sir. They’ve gone off to dine with friends and play some cards. They won’t be back until quite late. Is something wrong, Mr. Hardesty?”

  “I’m sure all is well, Mrs. Plummer.”

  But he knew that he was lying to both of them.

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  Caroline drifted back to full awareness a long time later.

  She opened her eyes and stared at the night-shadowed ceiling while she mentally assessed her physical condition.

  The nausea had disappeared, she noted.

  She sat up cautiously and abruptly recalled that Reed had placed her on a bed. A fresh wave of fear choked her so that she could not breathe. What had happened to her while she had been sailing in that gray fog?

  Frantic, she scrambled to her feet beside the large bed. An overwhelming sense of relief descended when she felt the familiar weight of her skirts and petticoats fall into place around her legs. She was still fully dressed. Her stockings were neatly gartered and her drawers were fastened, just as they had been when she had left home. That was reassuring.

  She forced herself to give the matter close thought, summoning up memories from the eerie twilight world in which she had been drifting. She would know if Reed had assaulted her, she thought. She had not been rendered completely unconscious by the drugged tea, most likely because she had consumed only a few sips. Indeed, she had a hazy recollection of the oddly decorous manner in which Reed had placed her on the bed. He had even taken time to arrange her skirts modestly around her ankles before he had left her in this room.

  She turned on her heel, examining the shadowy chamber. She had to get out of here before Reed returned.

  She crossed first to the door and tried it in the vain hope that it was not locked. But of course it was.

  Faint, muffled sounds of activity came from somewhere far below. Music played in the distance. The reception for Julian Elsworth had begun.

  She hurried to the window and saw at once that it had been nailed shut. Through the tiny panes of leaded glass she could see the vast expanse of the empty gardens at the back of the big house. Moonlight reflected off the light fog.

  It was a long way down, she noticed, dismayed. The room in which she was trapped was evidently on the top floor of the old mansion.

  Shouting for help would be useless. Given the thick walls and the commotion on the ground floor, no one would be able to hear her.

  She turned slowly back around to examine the room in detail. There was enough light coming from the moonlit fog to reveal the bed, a wardrobe and a chair. There were no lamps or candles visible in the chamber.

  She crossed to the wardrobe and opened it, expecting to find it empty. Shock reverberated through her when she caught sight of the unmistakable sheen of white satin.

  She pulled the old-fashioned gown out of the wardrobe and held it up to get a better look at the bodice. Recognition jolted through her.

  Sarah Reed’s wedding dress.

  The long, lacy veil was neatly folded on one of the wardrobe shelves. It was matted with dried blood. She found the black enameled mourning brooch in a drawer together with a pair of white gloves.

  Sooner or later Reed would return. She had to come up with a plan. The word that Adam had used once or twice to describe the various twists and turns in his investigation came back to her. He had said something about it being the oldest and most reliable trick in the world.

  Distraction.

  THIRTY-NINE

  Adam looked at Elsworth, who sat on the opposite side of the carriage, dressed in formal evening attire.

  “I require a distraction,” Adam said. “You will provide it. I doubt that anyone is more skilled in such matters.”

  “I shall take that as a compliment.” Elsworth adjusted his white bow tie. “But bear in mind that even the most accomplished practitioner can succeed only if the audience is a willing participant in the game. I cannot be responsible for what might happen if Reed walks out of my performance and discovers you searching his mansion.”

  “You attend to your role.” Adam patted his jacket, feeling for the familiar shape of the knife sheath. “I shall take care of mine.”

  “Very well.” Elsworth smoothed his gloves, collected his overcoat and got out of the hansom. He hesitated. “Believe it or not, I wish you luck, Hardesty. I must admit I have grown rather fond of Mrs. Fordyce’s work. I would hate to miss the ending of The Mysterious Gentleman.”

  “In that case, make certain that you give the most compelling performance of your career this evening, Elsworth.”

  Elsworth inclined his head, turned and walked away toward the lights of the big mansion.

  If Reed had Caroline, which now seemed the most likely possibility, he would have hidden her somewhere in that old mausoleum of a house, Adam thought.

  There was another possibility, of course, but he would not allow himself to consider it. For the past hour he had been assuring himself that Reed would not kill Caroline, at least not before he had used her for whatever strange purpose he intended. With all of the excitement related to the reception tonight and Elsworth’s latest demonstration of psychic powers, presumably Reed had not had time to carry out his plans.

  Adam waited until he saw the medium go up the steps and disappear into the brightly lit front hall of the Society’s headquarters. Then he got out of the cab, tipped the driver and moved into the shadows of a nearby alley.

  From that position he took another look at Wintersett House. The contrast between the well-illuminated windows of the ground floor and the ominous darkness that oozed from the upper floors chilled his soul.

  Caroline was up there somewhere. He could feel it.

  He went swiftly down the dank alley.

  When he emerged at the far end, the high stone barrier that enclosed the mansion’s gardens loomed directly ahead in the foggy darkness.

  It had been a few years since he had last climbed a garden wall. He was relieved to discover that he had not lost the knack.

  Without a stiff crinoline to shape the gown into the wide bell that had been fashionable ten years earlier, the skirts of Sarah Reed’s wedding dress hung limp and overlong around Caroline’s feet.

  But a crinoline cage would not only have been dangerously unwieldy, it would have taken up far too much space and given away her hiding place, she thought. She would never have been able to conceal herself inside the wardrobe.

  She had left the doors of the large wardrobe slightly ajar. Through the crack, she had a clear view of the bedchamber door and a portion of the four-poster bed. When Reed returned she would have to time her escape with exquisite care if she was to have any chance at all.

  It seemed to her that she had been trapped in the wardrobe for aeons but she knew that, in reality, she had been there for only an hour at most. She dared not move. There was simply no way to know when Reed would return.

  Standing in the close confines of the wardrobe was taking a toll on both her nerves and her stamina. She had recovered from the worst effects of the drug, but her senses had not entirely returned to normal. It seemed to her that the distant sounds of the crowded reception going on below ebbed and flowed like an eerie, invisible tide. A sense of morbid unreality had settled upon her. She wondered if it was the result of wearing the dead woman’s wedding dress.

  The rasp of iron on iron jolted her out of her strange daze. Her pulse leaped and her skin went cold and prickly.

  Stay calm, she thought. Make sure you hold up your skirts so that you can run. You must not trip as you did three years ago. There will be no second chance.

  Through the slender crack in the wardrobe panels, she watched the bedchamber door open. Lamplight spilled across the floor.

  “Have you awakened yet, my dear Mrs. Fordyce? The reception is at its height downstairs. Elsworth is the center of attention, so I was able to slip away to see how you are faring. That drug I was
forced to use can be extremely unpleasant, I’m told.”

  Reed walked into the room, leaving the door ajar behind him. He carried a lamp in one hand. In the other he held a pistol.

  “Still asleep, I see.” He moved closer to the bed, holding the lamp aloft. “Or perhaps you are merely pretending, eh? Either way, it does not matter. This unfortunate business will soon be finished.”

  He had almost reached the bed. For some reason he paused. Caroline held her breath, watching as the lamplight illuminated the folds of her green gown. She had done her best to pad the bodice and skirts with the wadded-up sheet and some pillows. But she knew that the ruse would not hold up long under close scrutiny.

  “What a pity that you allowed yourself to be seduced by Hardesty to the extent that you would be drawn into a great scandal,” Reed said, moving forward again. “Have you no care at all for your reputation? You succumbed to your weak, feminine nature, just as Sarah did, I suppose. I cannot begin to describe to you my anguish and my rage when I discovered on our wedding night that Sarah was not pure. Her lover had died, you see. She never told me about him. But on our wedding day she wore a mourning brooch devoted to him on her beautiful white gown.”

  He reached the bed and halted.

  “When I realized how she had deceived me, I went mad. I am certain that some dark spirit from the Other Side took possession of me, forcing me to wrap the scarf around her beautiful throat, forcing me to tighten it until she—”

  He broke off suddenly and appeared to collect himself.

  “Later I was grief-stricken, horrified by what I had done. I knew I had to get rid of the body so that no one would know what had happened. Shortly before dawn, I dressed her in her best walking gown and carried her across the street into the park. I took the brooch, and later I replaced her lover’s photo and hair with her own. But by then it was too late. She had already begun to haunt me.”

  Caroline saw him reach toward the pillow she had propped over the space where her head would have been if she had still been inside the gown.

  “But you are the one I have been waiting for, the one who can contact my Sarah on the Other Side. I know that now. When you reach through the veil, I will explain to her that I was not myself on our wedding night, but rather a man possessed. She will forgive me and leave me in peace.”

  He pulled aside the pillow.

  “What’s this?” Reed stared at the empty dress. He appeared frozen in disbelief.

  She would never get a better opportunity, Caroline thought. Clutching the white satin skirts, she pushed open the wardrobe door, jumped down and ran for the door.

  Reed turned slowly, as though confused.

  “Sarah? It cannot be. Sarah.”

  Caroline dashed through the door and found herself in a shadowy hallway. A weak wall sconce cast just enough light to allow her to see a row of closed doors on either side of the corridor.

  Frantically she looked in both directions, searching for the main staircase. But all she saw was the endless series of doors.

  Footsteps sounded behind her. Reed had snapped out of his momentary shock and disorientation. He was giving chase.

  “Come back, Sarah.”

  She had to choose a direction.

  Instinctively she turned to the right and fled down the hall toward the dimly illuminated window at the far end. If she did not come across the main staircase, perhaps she would at least find a flight of servants’ stairs.

  “Sarah, stop. You must let me explain. I was not the one who killed you. I was possessed.”

  Caroline glanced over her shoulder and saw Reed in the shadows behind her.

  “Tell me what I must do to be free of your spirit,” he raged. “You are driving me mad.”

  The gun thundered in the hallway. Caroline heard wood paneling splinter somewhere nearby. She had almost reached the end of the corridor and still saw no sign of a staircase. Maybe she ought to try one of the doors she was passing. If she could get inside and find a way to secure it, she could buy a little more time.

  She would also be trapped again.

  “Sarah.”

  Reed’s gun roared. The glass window in front of her exploded.

  A door slammed open in the middle of the hall behind Caroline.

  “Reed,” Adam shouted. “Halt or you’re a dead man.”

  “Hardesty.” Reed stopped, whirled and raised the gun, aiming at Adam, who was no more than a few steps away.

  “No,” Caroline screamed. At that distance, Reed could not possibly miss.

  She saw Adam’s arm move in a swift, tight motion, as though he were throwing an object.

  Steel gleamed in the lantern light for an instant.

  Reed jerked violently. The gun in his hand fired one more time but the shot must have gone wide of its mark because Adam did not falter.

  Reed crumpled facedown onto the floor and lay very still.

  Adam kicked the gun aside and looked at Caroline.

  “Are you hurt?” he asked in a voice that seemed to emanate from the coldest rings of hell.

  “No.” Clutching the bridal skirts, she drifted slowly back along the hallway. “No, I am all right, Adam. He did not touch me.”

  He held out one arm. She ran to him in a swirl of ghostly white satin. When she reached his side, he pinned her tightly to him.

  He held her fiercely for a long moment. Then he released her to crouch beside Reed.

  Caroline had been certain that Reed was dead. But he groaned when Adam turned him face up. For the first time, Caroline saw the hilt of the knife that was buried in Reed’s chest.

  Reed opened his eyes and stared up at Caroline.

  “Sarah. You have haunted me all these years. Now, at last, I will join you on the Other Side.”

  Reed closed his eyes. He did not open them again.

  FORTY

  The following afternoon they sat together in the library at Laxton Square. Adam poured brandy for Wilson, Richard, Elsworth and himself. Caroline, Julia, Emma and Milly contented themselves with tea.

  He examined Caroline’s face covertly while he replaced the decanter. Her eyes were shadowed, and the strain of last night’s harrowing events etched her face but he could see that her strong, resilient spirit still burned with a bright flame. She was recovering nicely.

  He was not nearly so certain of his own progress in that regard. He suspected that he would have nightmares of those last few moments in the corridor of Wintersett House for years to come.

  If he had arrived only a few minutes later or if he had not eventually stumbled onto that flight of servants’ stairs . . .

  Don’t think about it. You’ll go mad.

  He swallowed some of the potent brandy and sat down behind his desk.

  “It was the fact that Toller and Delmont were each involved with both Reed and Elsworth that complicated the situation,” he said to the others. “It seems that Elsworth here had established a relatively straightforward business connection with a number of mediums, including Toller and Delmont.”

  “But that was all there was to the arrangements.” Elsworth took a sip of brandy and lowered the glass. “I make it a practice never to become romantically involved with my business associates. In my experience such liaisons always lead to financial disaster.”

  Caroline looked at him. “Did you know that Mr. Reed had established a more intimate sort of connection with both Delmont and Toller?”

  “I had my suspicions,” Elsworth admitted. “It seemed to me that Reed was a little too generous in allowing Toller to advertise her rather amateurish services with those ridiculous demonstrations of the planchette at the Society’s headquarters. But I also suspected that the arrangement was rapidly coming to an end. Reed was paying more and more attention to Delmont.”

  “Did he ever approach you to request a séance in hopes of contacting his dead wife?” Julia asked.

  “No.” Elsworth swirled the brandy in his glass. “I made it clear from the outset that I do not claim to
be able to contact the dead. My powers are of another sort altogether.”

  Richard eyed him skeptically. “As a matter of sheer curiosity, how many other mediums in London do you use to carry out your investment schemes?”

  Elsworth contrived to appear both innocent and affronted. “You cannot expect me to reveal a professional secret, sir.”

  Adam looked at him. “Elsworth has, however, agreed to repay those clients of Delmont’s and Toller’s who gave him money to invest. Isn’t that right, sir?”

  Elsworth sighed. “Indeed.”

  Wilson drummed his fingers on the leather arm of his chair. “If Toller and Delmont were inept mediums, why did Reed favor them?”

  Elsworth wrinkled his elegant nose in disgust. “Reed was remarkably obtuse in such matters. The fool did not know a fraud when he saw one. After all, he married a medium, if you will recall. He may have done so to secure her fortune, but he genuinely believed that she had powers.”

  Adam hefted the large volume on his desk. “This is Reed’s private journal. I found it in his study this morning when I met there with the police. It appears that Reed had little interest in male mediums. He had concluded that a female would be more likely to be able to contact the spirit of his dead wife.”

  Elsworth shrugged. “Most people in the field of psychical research are convinced the women are, generally speaking, more adept at communicating with the Other Side.”

  Adam turned a couple of pages, noting names and dates. “Reed appears to have systematically worked his way through any number of attractive female mediums in recent years. He makes no secret of the fact that he established an intimate liaison with each one because he believed that such a connection enhanced the medium’s powers.”

  Caroline shuddered. “It is a common assumption in certain quarters.”

  Adam turned another page. “After a suitable period of seduction and testing, as it were, he gave his favored medium the final test in Sarah’s old bedchamber. He was convinced that his dead wife haunted that room. If the medium failed the last test, he moved on to another candidate.”