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Elusive Flame

Page 39

by Kathleen E. Woodiwiss


  “Are you all right?” Beau questioned worriedly as he halted before her, not daring to touch her with all the gore on his hands.

  “Ye—” Her voice faltered before she could get so simple an answer out, and she responded with a dazed nod before she collapsed against him in relief, not caring how bloodstained he was.

  Beau tossed aside the poker and, holding his hands carefully away from her, clasped her close within his arms. For a long moment Cerynise could do nothing more than sob and cling to him until the worst of her terror began to subside. Drawing a handkerchief from his pocket, she began to dab at her eyes and took a long, deep breath that seemed inclined to catch in her throat.

  “How did that beast get in here, anyway?” Beau asked when she had recovered enough to talk.

  “Someone…let him in…through the gate,” she explained haltingly. “I couldn’t see who it was…but I heard the man give the dog a command to kill.”

  Beau jerked back enough to search her face. “Kill you? Are you sure?”

  She nodded. “I remember that part distinctly. Whoever the man was, he held the gate open just long enough to let the dog in. He wasn’t taking any chances on being seen. If not for you, that beast would have killed me.”

  “Stay here, my pet,” Beau bade, gently easing her back into a wrought iron chair behind her. “I’m going to have a look at the gate. I won’t be long.”

  He strode across the lawn to the portal and, stepping through it, looked up and down the street. As he might have suspected, there was no sign of the scoundrel. Beau searched closer around the garden entrance, finding nothing of any great significance except a large shoe print left in a small worn patch of rain-softened dirt where the grass had been killed back by constant passage through the gate. Only that morning they had had a light sprinkling, which left Beau no other choice but to believe that the footprint was fresh. He had seen that same kind of impression many times before, for it was exactly like those made by the canvas shoes of common sailors. The idea that a seaman was to blame led Beau to wonder if the attack on Cerynise had been intended as a way to take revenge on him for some unknown offense, for he couldn’t imagine any deed that would have devastated him more than the murder of his wife.

  Beau closed the wooden barrier to test the degree of ease with which the lock could be unlatched from outside. The gate was primarily used by servants, who, on their days off, came and went through this particular portal rather than traipsing through the house. The portal was tall enough for him to rest his chin squarely on its top. Thus, in order for someone to unlatch it from the street side and still keep his head down so as to remain hidden, it would have required a man of his height to be able to unfasten the lock on the inside without aid, for the latch was too far down for a shorter man to reach it without stepping onto the wooden block which was available nearby. To reach it himself, Beau had to step into that same bald area of dirt where the footprint had been left.

  A tall sailor, Beau mentally concluded, and one who was now lacking a dog. Moon was in the Charleston area, and Beau knew the old tar was acquainted with many of the seamen in the area. He had certainly been around longer than anyone in his profession. Perhaps the ancient cabin boy would be able to supply him with names of sailors who fit that particular description. If Moon could come up with such a list, selecting the ones who held a grudge against him would be fairly easy, Beau concluded, for he didn’t think he had that many enemies.

  Beau returned to Cerynise and, after lifting her in his arms, carried her upstairs to their dressing room. As she doffed her bloodstained gown, he stripped his outer clothes, washed and donned fresh apparel. Then he led her to the bed with an exhortation to rest while he went and had a talk with the servants. Upon meeting Cooper in the hallway, he sent the young houseman out to bury the dog beyond the servants’ privy and to put a padlock on the gate. Then Beau searched out Jasper and found him in an upper-story bedroom where he was industriously cleaning the ceiling.

  “It seems that someone may be trying to kill Mrs. Birmingham,” Beau surmised, drawing a shocked gasp from the man as he stepped away from the ladder.

  “The madam, sir?” The servant looked appalled. “Why, it’s hard for me to imagine such a dastardly thing, sir. Who would want to harm the madam?”

  “I don’t know, Jasper, but someone let a dog into the backyard after giving the animal instructions to kill. Mrs. Birmingham is quite sure about what she heard, and she was the only one in the garden at the time. It distresses me to think what I might have found had I come home at my regular time. If this was truly an attempt on her life, and I certainly have no reason to believe otherwise with the evidence I’ve seen, I must set up safeguards to insure that Mrs. Birmingham is protected at all times. From now on, during my absence, your first duty must be to watch over your mistress. If you see any strangers loitering around the house, in the road or anyplace else nearby, I wish to be informed posthaste, even if you have to send Cooper or someone else to fetch me home from the warehouse. I rather suspect that the blackguard is about my height, a seaman or at least garbed as one. From the impression he left in the mud near the gate, I would be inclined to say that his feet are larger than mine, which may indicate that he’s taller, but not necessarily. I want you to keep an eye out for anyone looking even remotely suspicious. We can’t take any chances.”

  “You can count on me, sir.”

  “You can also warn the other servants what to look for, but they must be discreet,” Beau continued. “I don’t want them prattling about this to anyone outside the house and possibly alerting the brigand.”

  “I will guarantee their discretion, sir. You needn’t worry.”

  “Thank you, Jasper,” Beau replied, and heaved a laborious sigh. “I doubt that mere words could adequately express what I’d suffer if something happened to my wife.…”

  A faint smile softened the butler’s normally stiff visage. “Perhaps not, sir, but your love for the madam has been made significantly more evident to us by your tender care of her. In my mind, that is proof of far greater value than mere words. I shan’t disappoint you, sir. I once shamed myself by allowing Mr. Winthrop to throw the madam out into the cold rain. I couldn’t live with myself if I allowed a similar occurrence to happen, much less something of a more serious nature.”

  Beau nodded, unable to find further words to speak, and returned to the bedroom. Upon espying the empty bed, he crossed to the dressing room, where he found his wife sitting before her dressing table smoothing her hair. She had garbed herself in a fresh gown and was looking beautifully unaffected by what she had just experienced. He stated the obvious. “You’re not resting.”

  “I’m going down to have lunch with you,” Cerynise informed him in a way that brooked no argument. “After you leave, I’ll come back and rest.”

  Beau approved of her plan well enough to offer his arm. “Philippe should be back by now, madam. When I came home, I passed him on his way to the market. He told me that he was going to get you some fruit.” He grinned down at her. “It seems you’ve been craving more of it lately.”

  “Philippe pampers me too much. And so do you, sir.”

  Affectionately Beau caressed her distended stomach. “We both relish doing so, my pet, so let us have our pleasure.”

  “Yes, sir,” she murmured with a loving smile, and yielded her brow to the doting kiss he placed upon it.

  Several days later Beau walked home after work with a short, bald-headed companion. He ushered the man into the study, where Cerynise was filling in the background for the portrait of his mother and sisters, painting highlights and shadows to depict folds in a silken drapery, the soft sheen of which nearly amazed him with its realism. As she turned with a smile to welcome him, she caught sight of the wiry sailor and clapped her hands together in glee.

  “Moon! My goodness, what are you doing here?”

  The old tar had politely doffed his cap and now used it to punctuate his statements, first by indicating Beau
. “Well, missy…yer husband…that is, Cap’n Birmingham here, wants me ta watch around this here house for a while just ta see if’n I can spy the toad what tried ta do ye hurt. I’ve been around a long time an’ met a goodly number o’ seamen, but I knows nary a one what’s got a dog as mean as that there beasty the cap’n described. If’n I’m right, though, that brute might’ve been the one what was stolen only a few days ago from a couple o’ English gents. They matched him for blood sport with other dogs. The animal kilt e’er one he fought, an’ when he weren’t fightin’, his owners kept a muzzle on him ta make sure he didn’t take a bite out o’ none o’ them. I knows for a fact they’d set off his temper by lettin’ him go a day or two without food, which in me mind should’ve made him weaker. Not Hannibal. Whene’er they’d throw meat ta the other dog an’ turn Hannibal loose, it became a savage fight to the death.”

  “How gruesome.” Cerynise shuddered. If it was truly the same one, then the poor animal had been sorely abused.

  “Moon will be staying in the servants’ quarters for a while,” Beau informed her. “I’ve told him to watch over you in the garden while you’re out there so Jasper can keep an eye out from the house.”

  Cerynise didn’t really like the idea of the men having to watch over her. “I can’t imagine the brigand trying anything like that again, Beau. He’d be a fool to. He’ll surely get caught the next time.”

  “The sod may try to do something far worse, my pet, and I want to be ready for him when he does,” Beau stated. “So oblige me by letting Moon look after you.”

  Cerynise moaned in petulant tones. “I hope the scoundrel is found ere the baby decides to come. Otherwise, Moon might get in the way.”

  Hurriedly setting her teacup aside, Heather left her chair and ran to pull the study door back for Cerynise, who was struggling to carry in a framed canvas which, only a moment ago, she had gone to fetch. The painting seemed far too immense for a woman to maneuver, especially one due to give birth in a month’s time. “My goodness, dear, you’re going to hurt yourself. Let me take that.”

  “Just help me get it through the door,” Cerynise urged, huffing a bit from the exertion of her feat. “And don’t look! I want this to be a surprise.”

  Together they wrestled the massive piece through the opening, and then with a sigh of relief, Cerynise braced the bottom of the frame against the Oriental rug that carpeted the room. “Now, Mama Heather, I’d like for you to take a chair beside Beau’s desk. The light from the window will display the painting better from that angle.” As she waited for her mother-in-law to take the indicated seat, she explained, “Beau selected the frames for both your portrait and this painting, and as I’m sure you’ll agree, his choices are superb.”

  Heather’s brows lifted in surprise. “But I thought this was the portrait.…”

  “Oh, no, this is a different one entirely. I’ll bring your portrait in after you see this one. I just thought you might enjoy looking at your birthday gift first.”

  Heather waited eagerly as the framed piece was slowly turned, and then she caught her breath, overwhelmed by the girl’s generosity. It was a portrait of Beau, lovingly painted and quite true to character. “Oh, Cerynise! It’s magnificent! But how could you dare part with it?”

  Cerynise smiled, pleased to bring such delight to the woman who had proven to be as good a friend as any she had ever known. “I have the real Beau with me daily and can paint another one for myself.”

  “Bless you, child,” Heather said fondly, struggling with a wealth of tears as she came forward to embrace the girl. “I don’t know when I’ve ever been more pleased with a gift. Of course, you and Beau must come out now and help us decide where to hang the portraits. And then, I want to commission you to paint one of Brandon…if he will sit still long enough to let you.”

  Cerynise cast a dubious glance down at her protruding belly. “I’m afraid that project will have to wait until after the baby is born, Mama Heather. As round as I am now, I have a hard time reaching the canvas, and with another month to go, I know ’twill be nigh impossible.”

  A glow of amusement replaced the tears in Heather’s eyes. “Oh, it will be such fun having a grandchild. I can assure you that everyone at Harthaven is thoroughly excited at the prospect of having a baby in the family again. Hatti is nearly beside herself at the prospect of another generation of Birminghams being born in the family.”

  Cerynise looked at her mother-in-law hesitantly. “Beau has been wondering if Hatti will be wanting to assist me during the birth. I’m afraid he’s worried that she’s getting too old. I’ve been seeing a doctor who lives down the road a piece, and I guess if it won’t offend Hatti too much, I’d like for him to help in the delivery. He seems quite knowledgeable, and from what I’ve heard from some of the women who drop in for tea, he tends most of Charleston’s elite.…” She lifted her shoulders in a tiny shrug as she added, “Though I’m not sure that fact verifies his abilities very much.”

  “By all means, Cerynise, you do what you’re most comfortable with,” Heather urged with gentle understanding. “That’s important to your well-being. Besides, Hatti realizes that she’s not getting around very well anymore and can’t take charge like she used to, but I’m sure she’d like nothing better than to be on hand when our grandchild is born, if only as a witness. And as for that, I think Brandon and I would like to be here, too…if that’s all right with you.”

  “Oh, of course! You must! Beau will expect it.” Cerynise laughed gaily. “We shall plan on having houseguests that last week.…”

  “And let us all hope there’ll be no delays,” Heather interjected with a chuckle.

  “Now,” Cerynise said, pressing her hands together, “the moment you’ve been waiting for has arrived. The portrait of you and your daughters is finished, and this time, I think I’ll have Jasper bring it in for me. Would you like more tea in the meantime?”

  Heather waved away the idea. “I may have another cup after the painting is fetched, but definitely not now, dear. You haven’t allowed us to see the portrait at all, remember, and my curiosity is nearly eating me up.”

  After another moment of suspenseful waiting, Heather was presented with a second portrait, and all she could do was stare at it in awe, feeling much honored by the beautiful likeness of herself sitting between her two daughters. Cautiously she asked, “Do I really look like that? Or are you trying to be kind, dear child?”

  Cerynise smiled, totally charmed by her mother-in-law’s lack of vanity when, in truth, the woman had every right to be proud of her looks. “It’s the way I see you…and the way Beau sees you. It’s also the way Papa Brandon sees you. He said as much when he gave final approval to the painting. In all, I think it’s a fair likeness of you and your daughters. They’re just as beautiful, you know.”

  During all of her visits to acquaintances’ residences in Charleston and the surrounding area, Heather couldn’t remember ever having seen a more exquisite likeness of individuals than this portrait that Cerynise had painted. “I have no doubt that you’ll be in high demand once visitors to our home view this painting and the one of Beau. Truly, Cerynise, there’s no question that your talent far exceeds other artists in the area.”

  “I’m thrilled that you think so, but frankly, Mama Heather, I don’t know that I’ll have much time…or even the desire to paint that much after the baby comes.” Cerynise smiled as she picked up the teapot and stepped near her guest to pour her another cupful. “I’m sure I’ll be quite enchanted with having a little one to care for.”

  Heather laid a hand over the cup, forestalling Cerynise’s effort to fill it. “I’ve changed my mind about the tea, my dear. How would you like to accompany me to Madame Feroux’s? I’m having some new gowns made for fall, and I would greatly enjoy your company while I’m there. Sometimes that woman’s incessant chatter wears on me. I’m sure you can understand since you’ve been there yourself. It would help tremendously if I’m fortified by a calmer companion.”
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  Cerynise looked suddenly distressed. “I fear Moon would have to accompany us, Mama Heather.” Then she pressed her hands alongside her belly worriedly. “And what will Madame Feroux think of me coming into her shop so late in my pregnancy?”

  “You’re looking absolutely beautiful, my dear,” Heather rejoined with fervor, “and since you’re Beau’s wife, Madame Feroux will be eager to hear all of the details so she’ll have something more to talk about. But tell me, dear, why must Moon accompany us?”

  Cerynise lifted her shoulders briefly. “Beau is afraid something will happen to me and has given both Jasper and Moon the task of guarding me.”

  Heather raised an eyebrow wonderingly. She suffered no uncertainty that Beau and Cerynise were blissfully happy, but she hadn’t realized her son was so possessive of his wife that he would set guards to spying on her. She didn’t want to pry…well, perhaps not much. “How long has Beau had these other men observing you?”

  “Since the incident in the garden last month.”

  “What incident?”

  Cerynise didn’t want to worry the woman, but she had to talk to someone, and she thought Heather would understand. “I was cutting flowers in the garden when a man opened the back gate. He let in a monstrous dog and gave it a command to kill. The next thing I knew, the animal was snarling viciously and coming after me. Beau arrived home just in time to save me from being attacked. He killed the dog, and ever since then he refuses to let me out of his sight unless Jasper or Moon is watching after me. I know Beau is genuinely concerned, and heaven knows, the incident left me shaking for a whole week. But can you imagine having Moon and Jasper constantly underfoot?”

  “I hadn’t heard about the dog,” Heather said, clearly worried. “Did the man get away?”

 

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