by Blythe Baker
“There, there, my love…” he whispered, running his calloused fingers through my chestnut hair, just like he always used to when I was upset. “It’s all right, now. I’m here. You don’t have to cry.”
But I couldn’t stop, not for some time. Seven months of grief and agony poured out of me until there was no strength left within my soul.
“There, now…” he said.
I pulled away from him, keeping my arms securely locked behind his neck, and stared up into his face. “It really is you…” I breathed. “I was…I was so certain it was you, but I never wanted to let myself hope, not too much, fearing that I would have to suffer losing you again – ”
He pressed his lips to mine, and it was as if an explosion went off inside my mind. Every one of my nerves sang in triumph, and the blood rushed in my ears, making me dizzy.
“Helen…I am so sorry…” he said a moment later, pressing his forehead to mine, keeping me as close as possible. “These seven months have been torture for me. I was absolutely furious with my superiors for making me lie to you like they did. I knew it would break you, and it broke me to have to watch you suffer through the funeral and the phone call…I hated that they wouldn’t let me tell you the truth.”
“But why wouldn’t they?” I asked. “How can you reveal yourself to me now?”
“I shouldn’t,” he said. “But this may be the only place where no one will see or hear us. When I saw you getting into that cab, I overheard you mention the castle to Irene’s brother – yes, I’m aware of the names of everyone you know – and I knew it might be my only chance to speak with you. And aren’t I glad I came, because if I hadn’t who knows what that boy might have done to you…”
A chill ran down my spine. “He killed Sam.”
“I know,” Roger said.
I looked up into Roger’s face, the tears returning. “Oh, Roger, can you ever forgive me? There was a short time where I thought it might have been you, attempting to keep your secret safe, or perhaps out of – out of – ”
“Out of what?” he asked.
“Jealousy,” I said.
He kissed my forehead, and then the tip of my nose. “My darling, if you had found another man to love when you were convinced I was dead, how could I have blamed you for it? It would have killed me, but my superiors warned me that it might happen, but that I was still not to interfere… But I had noticed the way Sam Graves was looking at you when you didn’t know he was looking, and knew I had to do what I could to get you to notice me.”
“That’s why you let me catch you that day in the alley?” I asked. “Because of jealousy?”
“I suppose it was,” Roger said sheepishly.
Darkness had fallen properly over the tower, and the only lights up where we were came from further inside the castle and from the few lights in the courtyard on the other side of the property.
Roger hugged me against himself once again. “Helen I am terribly sorry, but I cannot linger here long. I am meant to travel to London tonight to give my reports – ”
“Reports on what?” I asked.
“I’ve been tracking any associates of Sidney Mason’s,” Roger said. “I’m sorry you had to go through all of that. I had hoped to find a way to eliminate him, but you certainly have become quite a detective, haven’t you? You snuck into his house one evening when I wasn’t around and hadn’t seen you.”
“Yes…” I said, relief washing over me at finally being able to tell someone. “I killed him. In self-defense.”
“Oh, Helen…” Roger said. “You never should have had to endure anything like that.”
“It’s all right,” I said. “I’m fine. Perhaps shaken up about it all still, but he wasn’t who I thought he was.”
“No,” Roger said. “And I’m sorry that a great deal of what’s happened to you the last year has been that way. Not as it seemed.”
I embraced him once again, knowing that our time now was short.
“I must go, Helen,” Roger said in a low murmur. “And I know that you have news to report to others, as well. You must not tell anyone about me, though. It will be best if they believe this young man slipped – ”
“That is precisely what I was thinking as well,” I said. “Don’t worry. I’ve protected your secret thus far, and I won’t falter now.”
He kissed me once again. “I love you dearly, you know that, yes?”
I closed my eyes for a moment, savoring the words as they rang in my mind. “And I love you…” I breathed in reply. I still couldn’t believe he was here.
He squeezed my hand tightly, and I knew that it was time to go.
“Roger, what are we to do now?” I asked. “I can’t go back to a life without you. Why must I keep pretending?”
He looked down at me, and that sweet, small smile appeared on his face that I loved so dearly. “Do not fear, my love. Roger Lightholder must remain dead for the time being. With my current assignments, it is necessary for me to stay undercover. It will allow me to work better this way.”
I had feared he might say that.
“But know that this is only temporary. It is just until after the war, after which we can be together.”
My eyes widened. “Truly? After the war is over?”
He nodded. “When the war is over, I have been given permission to step back into my life. At that time, it won’t matter. I will of course have to be under some sort of supervision, but that is only in case some of the enemy who might not have been captured or killed still come after me. I will likely have to take on a different name, but for our families and friends, they will know that I’m alive.”
“Take a different name…” I said.
Roger grinned at me. “I suppose that means I will have to just happen into your life one day and sweep you off your feet as I did once before. To the rest of the world, you will have happily moved on from your late husband’s passing. To us, it will be just picking up where we left off.”
The idea certainly intrigued me.
“But we must go now, Helen,” Roger said. “You must tell the police about the butcher’s assistant’s attack on you, and his confession to killing Sam Graves. At least there will be one less mystery to solve in this crazy world.”
“You’re right,” I said. My thoughts drifted to the body now lying at the bottom of the tower. “His family…what a terrible night they are about to have.”
“Do not take on the burdens of others as your own, dear one,” Roger murmured. “There is no reason why you must carry all that pain as well.”
“I know.” I said.
We walked hand in hand as far as we could, before Roger glanced down a long, dark passage in the castle.
“I must leave through one of the back doors,” he said. “No one can know that I was here.”
“Of course,” I said.
He pulled me into his arms once again, kissing me deeply.
“I love you,” he whispered.
“And I love you,” I said, knowing I meant it more now than I ever had before in my life.
Epilogue
“Mrs. Lightholder, could I bother you for a moment?”
“Of course, Mrs. Georgianna, what can I help you with?”
It was the third of October, and the weather had been pleasantly cool. The countryside was preparing itself for winter, with the farmers harvesting their crops and the sheep enjoying the last bits of green grass scattered along the hillsides.
The townsfolk of Brookminster, too, were scurrying about, readying themselves for winter. Many of the ladies were doing their best to preserve the last of the autumn’s harvest, from the apples to the squash, they and their husbands did what they could to ensure their families could survive through the winter.
Some were frightened the war might make the transfer of goods rather complicated in the bitter winter months. Most, though, were optimistic, as they knew how to prepare.
“I was wondering if you had any of these buttons, but perhaps in a deep bl
ue?” Mrs. Georgianna asked me as I met her at the small, round table where I’d been keeping the newest arrival of buttons.
“Oh, how clever of you, Miss Georgianna,” I said with a smile at the older woman. “I certainly do have some blue buttons. How did you know that they arrived yesterday?”
She grinned at me. “Well, I thought I overheard you saying something to Mrs. Driscoll, and that sort of blue would be so fetching with my new coat I just finished.”
“A new coat, you say?” I asked as I made my way back to the storage closet. “I suppose there is no better time than now to have that prepared, hmm? I should like to see it sometime.”
“Of course, I shall wear it on the next unseasonably cold day we have,” she said.
I smiled as I dipped into the storage closet, pulling free some of the boxes I’d received just the day before.
I heard the bell chime above the door, and Irene’s voice trickled in after it.
“Hello, Mrs. Georgianna, fancy seeing you here,” Irene said.
“Oh come now, Irene, I’m here very nearly every day for one project or another,” Mrs. Georgianna said. “If I wasn’t quite so forgetful, I might be able to make it a few days before needing to return for something.”
Irene laughed.
I reappeared with the box of blue buttons and carried them out. “Hello, Irene,” I said. “How are you doing today?”
“Oh quite well, of course,” she said, beaming at me. “Is it ready?”
I grinned at the glee on her pretty face. “It certainly is,” I said.
I ushered her toward the back of the shop with me, noting Mrs. Georgianna’s curious stares after us, even as she ran her fingers through the box of buttons.
I picked up a small, golden box on the counter beside the till, and passed it to her.
Irene’s face split into a broad smile as she lifted the top, and gasped. “Oh, Helen, it’s lovely…he is going to absolutely love it.”
“Go on and open it,” I said.
Irene reached inside and pulled out a gold pocket watch. It was handsomely made with an intricate carving of a crown of ivy on the front. She popped it open, and her eyes filled with tears.
I leaned around to see it once more.
“To Nathanial, my wonderful husband and soon to be father to two wonderful children.”
“Helen, it’s perfect…” she said, smiling at me with tears glittering in her eyes.
“And you don’t think he suspects anything?” I asked.
Irene shook her head. “Not yet, no. He keeps wondering when I am going to get over this stomach ache I’ve been dealing with, but it’s been so long since we had Michael, I’m not sure he remembers much of what my first pregnancy was like.” She gazed down at the watch once again. “Who did the engraving?”
“I tried my hand at it,” I said. “Does it look all right?”
“It’s wonderful,” Irene said.
“And the silk in the box is from an old tie here that never sold,” I said. “Perhaps a bit garish for most men, but I think it looks lovely sitting inside that box.”
“Oh, it certainly does,” Irene said. She closed the lid on the box.
“The chain is brand new as well,” I said. “I went through several different boxes of watches that my aunt never managed to sell and found the best one.”
“I’m so pleased…” Irene said.
“As am I!” I said, smiling at her. “It’s absolutely wonderful.”
“Now, what do I owe you for all this?” she asked.
“Nothing,” I said, taking a step back from her.
“You cannot be serious,” she said, her grey eyes shadowed by her now furrowed brow. “Helen, I must give you something for all this – ”
“Nonsense,” I said. “It’s his birthday present, isn’t it? And with your big news, I imagine you are going to need all the extra money you can save.”
Irene’s face fell, but she threw her arms around me and gave me a tight hug.
“Thank you…” she said. “This is one of the best gifts I’ve ever received.”
I smiled as I hugged her in return. “I am happy to do it,” I said. “I wouldn’t be much of a friend if I couldn’t help you out from time to time.”
She changed the subject, then. “How about you? Have you heard from…well, you know,” she asked.
I grinned.
After telling Sergeant Newton about Arthur Barnes’ confession to murdering Sam Graves, I had hurried to tell Irene what happened…and to come clean about Roger. I had asked him, after all, if I was allowed to tell her, and only her, the truth, just before we parted ways.
He hadn’t been entirely thrilled with the idea, but he agreed to it nevertheless, knowing that I would need someone to confide in, lest I entirely lost sense of myself with all the secrets I was keeping. “But nothing about what I’m doing,” he instructed. “That must remain secret.”
It hadn’t been hard to agree to, and when I admitted it to her, she’d been overjoyed with me that Roger was still, in fact, very much alive.
“His most recent note was tucked away inside a boot on my front step,” I said. “And it was entirely in Italian.”
“Italian?” Irene said. “Do you even read Italian?”
“Not in the slightest,” I said, shrugging my shoulders. “Ever since he and I have found these secret, hidden ways of speaking with one another, I think he’s been rather amused to give me something more challenging each time.”
“It certainly seems that way,” Irene said with a grin.
“I shall have to spend hours at the library, in hopes of finding a decent language book to translate it,” I said.
Irene and I laughed together, and my heart was full. My closest friend and her husband were going to have another baby, and I was reconnecting with my husband, slowly but surely.
Life, it seemed, was still quite good, despite the ups and downs we’d experienced over the last several months.
“And what of this new side business?” Irene asked, leaning against the counter, folding her arms. “How has that been?”
I glanced over at Mrs. Georgianna, who was doing nothing to hide the fact that she was listening in on our conversation.
I smiled at Irene. “It’s quite good. I have my first appointment this afternoon. Mrs. Trent, believe it or not.”
“Really?” Irene asked. “I wonder what sort of stories she wants to tell…”
“What’s this about a new side business?” Mrs. Georgianna asked. “What are you up to?”
I smiled. “I’m not up to anything, Mrs. Georgianna. Truthfully, it isn’t so much a business as a service I hope to offer. I simply realized that everyone has a story to tell, and sometimes it is better for them to be able to have their stories heard than for them to build up and become problems for them in the future. For instance, I believe that if Arthur Barnes had been able to tell his troubles to someone, he might not have felt the need to break into the Mayfield’s home, which then put him in the position of killing Inspector Graves…He told me some rather sad truths about his life, and I think a great deal of it is what led him to the choices he made. I want to give people the chance to share their struggles, to talk it over with someone, before it makes them react poorly down the road.”
“How wise of you…” Mrs. Georgianna said.
“I am not certain it will work,” I said. “But I do know that I would like to see Brookminster return to the quiet, cozy village that it always has been.”
It would be difficult, I knew. With Sam gone, I still had the desire to help people. Seeing others grieving and losing their loved ones, I realized there had to be a better way.
Perhaps this could work as a preventative measure, I thought, and it gave me hope. Hope that there could be an end to the darkness that seemed to have taken hold in Brookminster.
The world certainly seemed brighter, these days, even amidst the stories about the war that still streamed in through the papers. In such times it was best
to find joy where one could, while we all waited together for a better future – one I felt confident would eventually come.
Travel back to the 1920s to begin another historical mystery series from Blythe Baker, starting with “A Subtle Murder: The Rose Beckingham Murder Mysteries, Book 1.”
About the Author
Blythe Baker is the lead writer behind several popular historical and paranormal mystery series. When Blythe isn't buried under clues, suspects, and motives, she's acting as chauffeur to her children and head groomer to her household of beloved pets. She enjoys walking her dog, lounging in her backyard hammock, and fiddling with graphic design. She also likes binge-watching mystery shows on TV.
To learn more about Blythe, visit her website and sign up for her newsletter at www.blythebaker.com
