by Alec, Joyce
A short silence followed and Henrietta blinked rapidly, still feeling her limbs settling about her like heavy weights pulling her down.
“Undoubtedly,” said the third voice, eventually. “You are quite correct there, Newton. I must agree with you, I think.”
“Newton?”
The word was dragged from her lips, her eyes still struggling to focus on what was before her.
“Yes, Lady Chaucer, it is I,” said the first voice, the one she now knew to be Mr. Francis Newton, whom she had met only the previous night. “You are safe.”
“Safe?” Slowly, her vision began to clear and she accepted the glass of water pressed into her hands. Drinking it slowly, she felt her throat loosen, the sand disappearing from her mouth.
“Yes, indeed, Lady Chaucer,” said the third voice, whom Henrietta saw came from another gentleman with fair hair and startlingly blue eyes. She did not recognize him but did not feel the immediate tension and fear she expected come into her heart. It was as though she knew that any friend of Francis Newton’s could be trusted.
“You look quite ill, Lady Chaucer,” said the second voice. “I shall send for tea, shall I?”
“Yes, that is a good idea,” Mr. Newton replied quickly. “Although you should collect it from the maid instead of her coming into the room, if that is quite all right.”
“But of course.”
The young lady, clad in a gown of light yellow and wearing an expression of deep concern, rose to her feet and went to ring the bell, before taking her place by the door.
“That is Miss Charlotte James,” Mr. Newton said, touching her hand gently. “She is the sister of Viscount Wickton, whom you see standing before you now.”
Henrietta let her eyes move back towards the gentleman she had not recognized, seeing him smiling gently although he still wore a slightly strained expression underneath. “I do not understand.”
“Lord Wickton and I came to call upon you and your husband this afternoon,” Mr. Newton began, getting up to pull a chair closer to her. “Neither of you were to be found and, given my concern for you, I insisted on searching through a few rooms for you under the guise that I had urgent felicitations to pass on from one Duke of Hampton.”
“Entirely false, of course,” Lord Wickton added dryly. “I am afraid, Lady Chaucer, that Mr. Newton here is quite concerned for your wellbeing and would not be dissuaded from his task.”
Mr. Newton leaned forward and held Henrietta’s gaze. Henrietta, whose eyes had cleared completely, saw the darkness flickering in his stare and felt herself shrink inwardly. What was it she had done? Why was she here? She suddenly felt afraid, as though the walls were closing in around her, as if she were in a trap that she could never hope to free herself from.
“I removed you from the scene, Lady Chaucer, simply because I wanted to give you the opportunity to tell us the truth about what has occurred.” He winced slightly. “I have been in a similar situation, where I was accused and found guilty of something I had not done. I wish now to ensure that you also do not fall into the very same trap.”
Henrietta blinked rapidly, her mind trying to drag itself free of the mire that held it tightly. “I do not understand what you are speaking of, Mr. Newton. What ‘scene’ is it that you are describing?” She watched him closely and saw him exchange a sharp glance with Lord Wickton. “And where am I? I do not know how I came to be here.”
Mr. Newton sighed and dragged one hand through his hair. “It is as I expected. You were drugged.” He let out his breath again before lifting his head to look at her. “Pray, tell me, Lady Chaucer, what is it that you remember?”
She gazed at him. “Remember?” Her heart was beginning to pick up speed yet again, freeing itself from the fear that held it, only to feel anxiety and tension rise up within her, filling the room. “I—I remember talking to you.”
A small smile crossed Mr. Newton’s face. “As do I,” he said gently. “I recall you quitting the room so that you might return to your bedchamber. Is that correct?”
“Yes.” A line of tension formed between her brows as she rubbed at her forehead. “I did just that. I went to my bedchamber, where I sent my maid away as I was not quite prepared to retire for the night.”
“And did you eat or drink anything?” Lord Wickton asked, sounding a good deal more interested now. “Anything that you felt would help your… anxiety?” He gave her a knowing smile and Henrietta felt her face flame.
“I—I took a little brandy, under Mr. Newton’s advice,” she whispered, looking down at her hands in embarrassment.
“Francis, if you please,” Mr. Newton interrupted. “After what we have shared and what we will have to do together, I do not think there is any particular need for formality.”
Henrietta looked at him in confusion, entirely unsure as to what he meant. It was only then that she realized that she had somehow managed to find herself in Mr. Newton’s townhouse, instead of waking up in Lord Chaucer’s home.
“You need not feel any mortification, my dear lady,” Mr. Newton continued carefully. “I removed you from the dreadful scene because I wished to spare you pain.”
She shook her head, not quite sure what to say. “I do not understand what you mean when you speak of the ‘scene’, sir.”
Just then, the door opened, and Miss James accepted a tea tray from the maid and walked over to them all with it. Henrietta watched the lady as she approached, noting her tall and elegant frame as she made her way towards them. The lady did not smile, however, and her eyes were fixed on Henrietta’s gown, although Henrietta did not know why. Her stomach knotted uncomfortably, and, for the first time, she looked down at herself.
A scream escaped from her throat and she pushed herself back in her seat, as though trying to remove herself from the blood that stained her arms and her gown.
“Please, Lady Chaucer, please!”
Francis was by her side in a moment, one hand settling on her arm.
“You need not fear this. You need not worry!”
She could not remove her eyes from the scarlet stains, her mouth open but no sound coming out any longer. This was blood. Blood stained her. From where had it come?
“Tell me.” Looking up into Mr. Newton’s face, Henrietta felt herself tremble inwardly but refused to allow her gaze to settle elsewhere.
“Please,” she said again, seeing him look away. “I must know all. I must understand.” Desperation rose within her like a crescendo, growing louder and louder until she felt she could stand it no longer. Unable to look anywhere other than at Mr. Newton, she did not even accept the cup of tea offered to her by Miss James, her fingers twisting together painfully as she waited for his response.
“She is strong enough to hear this, I think,” Lord Wickton said, breaking the tense silence that tugged at them all. “You need not hide anything from her. It would be best to tell her what you discovered and why you plucked her from the house.”
“The house?” Henrietta felt shame wash over her. “I was seen?”
“You were not seen,” Francis reassured her, reaching out to grasp one of her cold hands and press it tightly. “Fate was on our side, it seemed, and now that it is apparent you had nothing whatsoever to do with what I stumbled upon, I am all the more glad that I rescued you from that place. Propriety be damned!”
Henrietta closed her eyes, feeling tears prick at the corners of her eyes. She had no understanding of what Francis Newton spoke of, but the fact that he had been so willing to risk so much in order to remove her from whatever dread had surrounded her house spoke of a kindness and a consideration she had never experienced before. Her heart ached with the knowledge that she could never accept such kindness from him again. She was a married lady and therefore belonged, body and soul, to another.
“Your husband is dead, Lady Chaucer.”
The air pulled itself from her lungs as her eyes flared wide in horror.
“I discovered you both in the library,” Francis continued,
speaking plainly but with a gentleness to his tone. “You were seated in the chair, your eyes closed and a knife upon your lap. Your husband lay on the floor, one arm flung out, as though he had fallen and simply lain there. I am sorry to inform you that he was dead.”
Her lungs were screaming for air, but Henrietta was unable to satisfy their need.
“It appeared that he was stabbed,” Mr. Newton continued, the words coming a little quicker now, “although I did not take a prolonged look. If the staff were to come upon you, they would presume that with the knife and the blood on your gown, you were responsible. And since you have no memory of last evening, I am very much afraid that you would then be accused of murder.”
Henrietta shook her head wordlessly, her throat tightening.
“I suspect that someone has tried to use your fear of your husband as reason to push you forward as the guilty party,” Lord Wickton added. “Although I must admit, I do not believe you did such a thing.”
“I did not kill my husband,” Henrietta whispered, her eyes glassy. “I do not know what occurred. My last memory is of drinking liquor to ease my anxiety and then…” Frowning, she closed her eyes tightly, trying to recall what came next. “You took me from the house?” She looked up at Francis, seeing the fierceness of his gaze. “Why?”
“As I said,” Francis replied clearly, “because I did not wish for you to be found guilty of something you had no knowledge of. I am glad that I did so now, for even though there was always the possibility that you had done what was meant to implicate you, something about the scene did not appear to be correct. It was much too… apparent.”
A little confused, Henrietta waited for him to explain further, her fingers twisting painfully as she held them in her lap.
“To my mind, at least, one would not sit with the knife one has used to stab one’s husband, and then choose to fall asleep. It seemed altogether strange and I could not be convinced of your guilt.” He gave her a small smile, which brought her some comfort. “In a way, Lady Chaucer, I only wanted to protect you as best I could and now that I see your distress and your confusion over what has occurred, I am truly glad that I have done so. To leave you there to be discovered would have been quite unconscionable.”
“I am sincerely grateful for what you have done,” Henrietta whispered, quickly realizing what might have occurred should she have remained within the house. It would have made her a public spectacle and she would have had very little defense given that she could not precisely recall what had occurred. “But what must be done with me now?”
“That is where I come in.” Miss James, finally able to hand Henrietta her cup of tea, waited until she had accepted it before giving Henrietta a smile. “You have a fresh gown here waiting for you, although if there are alterations, then my maid can do just that for you.” She waited again until Henrietta had taken a sip of her tea, feeling it restore her somewhat as she drank. “The story shall be that you quit the house early this morning, allowing your husband to remain asleep and abed, as he wished. You came into town to call upon me and we have spent the afternoon together with my brother and his acquaintance, Mr. Francis Newton.” Another smile, although the look in Miss James’ eyes was one of concern. “Thereafter, we shall all accompany you home and allow you to face what is waiting for you with us by your side. You shall be able to claim perfect ignorance, with the story that you have spent most of the day with myself and my brother. I know that we are not particularly well acquainted as yet, but I highly doubt that anyone will find such a story questionable, although some may comment that it is most unusual to see a new bride away from her husband and her home the day after her wedding.”
Henrietta winced but shook her head. “If that is all I have to contend with, then that is of very little trouble.” She shuddered violently, knowing how she would have to act. “I must pretend to be heartbroken over his loss.”
“Precisely,” Francis said gravely. “But we shall be there with you. You must be on your guard, Lady Chaucer.”
Her head shot up, her heart suddenly beating furiously against her ribs. “Why so?”
“Because someone has tried to ensure that you appear responsible for your husband’s death,” he said simply. “I have been in such a situation before and was, unfortunately, convicted. Whoever it is that has killed your husband, whoever it is that has tried to make you appear guilty, may still wish to remove you from Lord Chaucer’s house. I do not know why, and I can see from your own shock, that you have no consideration of whom it might be either.”
Henrietta put her head in her hands, struggling to contain everything that was racing through her. She wanted to cry, wanted to break down completely, but knew that she had to continue finding a way to be strong despite all of her grief and distress. It was the only way she would be able to continue with the appearance of being a shocked and distraught wife, when the time came.
“I did not mean to upset you further, Lady Chaucer.” Francis sounded deeply apologetic, his voice low and grave. “It is only that I must speak the truth to you about such matters.”
“I well understand,” she whispered brokenly. “It is only that I fear I can give you no answers. My father ensured that my life was lived to his standards, to his demands. I have no acquaintances nor friends. I have no enemies, for I knew no one.” Looking up at him, her wretchedness growing with every second that passed, she shook her head again sorrowfully. “I cannot give you any names, Mr. Newton, sir, for I know none.”
“Then your father, mayhap,” Francis said at once, reaching for her hand and taking it gently. “It may prove a little more difficult, but we must consider the possibility that someone is determined to ruin your good name in order to bring pain and suffering to your father.”
Henrietta sighed heavily, tears welling in her eyes. “I do not think that my father cares about me sufficiently to be particularly concerned with my good name or my wellbeing,” she said honestly. “He has always feared that I would be as strong willed and as determined as my late grandmother was, and so has done all he could to ensure that I am entirely the opposite. I am quite certain that he is glad I am no longer associated with his name.” She shook her head. “It is, perhaps, that the perpetrators wish the name of ‘Chaucer’ to be so thoroughly discredited that no one will speak a good word about it again. I know full well that my husband was not a good man.”
There was a brief silence, and Francis leaned back in his seat, letting go of her hand.
“There is an idea,” he murmured thoughtfully. “It is therefore imperative, Lady Chaucer, that you take the greatest of care in your daily living. I wish that I could send someone to reside with you.” He let out his breath impatiently, only for Miss James to chime in.
“Lady Chaucer, I might ask you to reside with my brother and me for a time, once the discovery of the… incident has been made known.” Her face paled for a moment as Henrietta held her gaze, as though she did not even wish to think about the blood and the death and the stench that would be filling the library, even at this very moment. “You could have no reason to refuse, and society would be more than understanding, I am quite sure. That way, my brother and I could ensure that you were protected.”
“And you could attend whenever you wished, Newton,” Lord Wickton interrupted, apparently approving his sister’s plan. “What say you?”
Francis nodded and set his warm, brown eyes back onto Henrietta, who felt herself shiver inwardly.
“Yes,” she agreed at once, seeing all three sets of eyes waiting for her to speak. “I would be glad to do so, Miss James. You are most kind.”
Another brief silence, where all four drank their tea and contemplated what was to come. Henrietta allowed herself to finish her cup and then ask for a little more, feeling the first beginnings of strength run through her. She had been saved from what could have been the direst of circumstances, and for that, she was more grateful than she could say.
Mr. Newton, Lord Wickton, and Miss James had prov
en themselves to have more loyalty and consideration towards her than even her own kin. To have such friends, for that was how she must begin to consider them, was more wonderful than she had ever thought possible. They brought light to her dark circumstances, hope to what was otherwise a deep, dark pit filled with despair and trouble. She would cling on to what they offered, trusting that, together, they would find a way through. Perhaps she could allow herself to believe that she would have a very different future from the one she had been shown. Perhaps there could be a little happiness, a little joy, yet to come in her life.
“What must we do next?” she asked, glad that she had not allowed any further tears to fall. “What should I do?”
Francis gave her a small smile, as though he were proud of her resoluteness. “We shall take tea and other refreshments. In fact, you may take as much time as you wish to prepare yourself. Once you are ready, Miss James will help you change into the new gown that is waiting for you. Together, we shall all return to your townhouse. I fully expect your staff to be in an uproar, not certain what to do over what they have discovered.” His smile did not slip but his eyes became steely. “You will have to play the part of the shocked, broken-hearted widow who cannot quite believe what has been told to her. We may have to go to the library together, to see the scene for ourselves.” Pausing, he waited until she nodded, as if he wanted to ensure that she was prepared for what he had to tell her next.
“Thereafter, Miss James will invite you to reside with her and, if it still pleases you, you will accept.” He glanced in Miss James’ direction and Henrietta felt her heart twinge painfully in her chest, although she did not know why.
“And we shall wait with you until your things are prepared and then make our way to my brother’s townhouse, where you shall stay for as long as you wish,” added Miss James.
“Until the person responsible for your husband’s death is found, I hope,” Francis muttered, a little darkly. “Just so long as you are safely away from your house and the suggestion of culpability, Lady Chaucer, then I shall be quite content.”
