“I guess it really doesn’t matter now how I kill you. Considering my present condition and without Rudd to help me, taking you back to England seems rather farfetched. I can only hope that after killing you here, I’ll be able to collect on some of the inheritance before your husband sends investigators to England to search me out.”
Alistair winced and raised his weapon, aiming it toward her heart. “I can’t say that it’s been a pleasure knowing you.”
Cerynise had already cocked the pistol in her pocket for the sake of safety some time ago, but she couldn’t foresee having enough time to draw it forth from her skirt before she fired. Her finger tightened on the trigger, but in the next instant the front door was flung wide, and Beau swept in, clothed in rain gear. Alistair glanced around in sharp surprise and immediately swept his own weapon around and centered its bore on the other man’s chest.
“Nooo!” Cerynise shrieked, pulling back the firing mechanism in swift reaction. The recoil of the pistol knocked her backward, but in a quick, hazy glimpse she saw blood fly outward from Alistair’s chest as the lead shot burrowed deep. He seemed to convulse forward, and a wry smile twisted across his scorched lips as he peered up at Beau, who, surprised by it all, could only look death in the face as the man centered the weapon on his chest.
Cerynise screamed again, her heart all but stopping. It was a fleeting moment of terrifying, wrenching suspense as the hammer fell. A deafening explosion of sound was fully expected by all three, but there was only a dull, rasping click of metal.
Alistair stared down in amazement at the pistol. “Should’ve known,” he mumbled as the weapon toppled from his loosening fingers. “Got wet, it did.” He slumped to his knees and stared down at his rapidly reddening chest. Then he canted his head toward Cerynise, and his unruly lips curved awkwardly. “Should’ve taken Rudd’s advice and left before you kilt me.…You were always far luckier than I.…” He collapsed forward to the floor and, after a choked gasp, breathed his last.
Cerynise leapt across his still form and, despite her husband’s sodden gear, threw herself into his opening arms, sobbing harshly in relief as he clasped her hard against him. “Oh, Beau! I thought he was going to kill you! I didn’t know his gun wouldn’t fire!”
“Rest easy, madam,” her husband gently soothed. “His intent was to kill me, and he paid for it with his life.”
“He killed Wilson and Lydia…and others,” she gasped through her sobs. “He told me so.”
Beau drew back and searched her face. Noticing that her gown had become soaked by his rain gear, he began to shrug out of it. “Did he kill Wilson because he was afraid that the tar would talk?”
Cerynise shook her head, trying to wipe away her tears with the back of a hand. “No, not at all. As farfetched as it might seem, Alistair killed him because Wilson was trying to murder me. Wilson also had an accomplice…that man whom you talked to Germaine about the night of Suzanne’s engagement party…Frank Lester. He and Wilson were being paid to kill me for someone who wanted to exact revenge on you.”
“Germaine,” Beau muttered with sudden certainty. “She all but threatened us that night on the porch. I didn’t take it much to heart at the time, but I might have underestimated her.”
Cerynise glanced down at Alistair and shivered as she averted her face. “What are you going to do about her?”
“Leave her to the sheriff,” Beau answered without pause, laying his raincoat over the dead man. “I don’t ever want to see that bitch’s face again.”
He went back to close the front door and, taking Cerynise’s hand, pulled her with him as he stepped around the body and moved into the central hall. The house was dark except for a hurricane lamp burning on a table, and though he glanced around and peered into the shadows beyond the meager light, he saw no evidence of any of the servants. “But what happened to the men? Did Alistair kill them, too?”
“No, thank heavens,” Cerynise replied. “Moon and Thomas are presently locked up in the carriage house, and Jasper and Cooper are in the pantry.…”
“In the pantry?” Beau queried in surprise, taking up the lamp. “Did Alistair put them in there?”
“Aye. Rudd helped him do it, but the last time I looked, Jasper and Cooper were both unconscious.”
When they came to the remains of the vase and flowers scattered over the stairs and the marble floor, Beau paused, lifting the light higher. “But what happened here?”
Cerynise glanced around at the mess she had caused. “Well, I had to do something to thwart Alistair’s devious plans.”
Beau cocked his head as he awaited her answer. “What did you do exactly?”
She lifted her slender shoulders, only just now realizing how costly the container had been. Perhaps it, too, should have been put in the linen closet. “I dropped the vase down upon Alistair from above. It cut off his ear.”
Beau chuckled in rueful amusement. “Cut off his ear?”
“Alistair was quite perturbed about it. Threatened to sever mine with a saw.”
“Well, the way he looked when I came in, I thought he had already ventured into hell and somehow managed to come back,” her husband remarked, unable to squelch a grin. “What else did you do to him? Roast him over an open fire?”
“I’m afraid I threw a bookend at the lamp he was carrying. It broke and the oil spilled over him and he caught fire. He ran outside to douse the flames, but he wasn’t entirely the same when he came back. Neither was Rudd.”
Beau could only stare at his wife in amazement. He hadn’t known her capable of such tactics, but he was immensely relieved that she had had the grit and fortitude to prevent the culprits from doing their mischief and that she was now safe. “Where is Rudd?”
“He’s in the kitchen.” Cerynise bit her lip worriedly, fretting over what she had been forced to do. “I hope I didn’t kill him, but I had to make sure that he’d remain unconscious while I dealt with Alistair.”
Beau’s amazement was advancing by leaps and bounds. “What did you do to Rudd?”
“I hit him with a poker.”
“Good heavens, madam! Do you mean to say that you served those men their just due all by yourself?”
Cerynise shrugged her shoulders in a lame gesture of admittance. “I had to do something, Beau. I overheard them making plans to kill you if you came back early. They were going to take me back to England where eventually they were going to murder me so Alistair could gain the inheritance.…”
“But I thought he had already inherited everything…or was it true what he told you on his last visit?”
“He’s been lying all along, at least since the day he learned that Lydia had changed her will, leaving everything to me.” Cerynise leaned her head against her husband’s shoulder as they moved past the stairs. “It must have come as a terrible shock to him after he threw me out of Lydia’s house.”
“So that’s why he was so anxious to reclaim you as his ward.”
“He wanted me to expire before witnesses in England so he could claim Lydia’s fortune as her only living kin.”
Beau paused as he caught sight of something that looked very much like a wraith hovering in the shadows beneath the spiraling staircase. He peered intently at the thing, trying to make it out. “What in heaven’s name is that?”
“Oh, that’s my friendly ghost,” Cerynise announced, waving a hand toward it. “He helped me knock the wind out of Rudd.”
Her husband looked at her, truly flabbergasted at her inventiveness. “But what is it?”
“A large kettle with a bag of flour in it and a sheet covering it all,” she explained, rather proud of her creation. “I think Alistair and Rudd actually thought it was real for a moment. They screamed as if they thought the banshees of hell were coming after them.”
Beau chortled. “Oh, my dear, dear wife. To think that I missed it all!”
“Are we going to leave Alistair in the house while we travel to Harthaven?” she queried worriedly, reverting back t
o her real concern.
“As a matter of fact, I don’t think we’ll have to go now,” Beau replied. “The storm has changed course and is blowing out to sea. If it doesn’t revert back, we’ll be safe enough here.”
Cerynise heaved a deep sigh in relief. “I wasn’t looking forward to the long ride after what I’ve been through tonight. If not for the fact that I’m a nursing mother, I’d try some of that brandy of yours to calm myself.” In some amazement she thrust out her hands to show him how much she was trembling now that he had come home.
“What did you do with our son while all of this was going on?” Beau queried.
“I locked him in the linen closet upstairs.” She rose on tiptoes to bestow a kiss upon her husband’s lips, and then stepped away. “I’ll go and fetch him.”
“You’d better wait until I can light a lamp for you. The rest of the house is as black as a bats’ haven. I thought when I came home that you had already left because everything was so dark.”
“I doused the lanterns so I’d know where those two brigands were. They couldn’t get around the house without light, so it was easy for me to keep track of where they were.”
Beau lit an oil lamp and handed it to her. “I’m truly amazed at your resourcefulness, madam. I’m also very proud of you for defending your family so well.”
“Alistair and Rudd forced me into it.” Cerynise accepted his offering with another sigh. “I could have done nothing less.”
“Madam, from what you’ve told me, I can only imagine that you were superb. I’m just sorry I missed it all.”
“If you had been here, you’d have taken care of those two in short order.” She nodded as she came to a firm conclusion. “I think the next time you have to secure your ship before a storm, I’ll either go with you or take your son to Harthaven at the first mention of bad weather. I don’t believe I can stand another evening the likes of which I’ve just experienced.”
Beau placed a doting kiss upon the top of her head. “If it will ease your mind, my pet, I’ll make a point of staying close beside you whenever storms are approaching. Would you like that?”
“Oh, yes!” Cerynise smiled as she searched his face. “Then I can be assured you’re safe, too. The fact that my parents were killed during a storm makes me worry about your safety when you’re gone during bad weather.”
“Don’t fret yourself, madam,” Beau urged his young wife. “I’m just as anxious to come home to you.”
Cerynise released a long sigh of relief. “I know that, but I shall continue to pray and trust to the heavens to keep you safe for me and Marcus.”
Beau grinned and swept his hand toward the stairs. “Go get our son, madam. I haven’t seen him all day, and I’d like to bestow a little fatherly attention upon him.”
“Yes, sir.” She dipped her head in an eager nod and hurriedly picked a path through the broken glass on her way to the stairs.
When Cerynise unlocked the door of the linen closet upstairs, she found that her son had just begun to rouse from sleep. Gathering him close, she murmured loving words against his cheek. “Your papa is down below, my son, and he’s wanting to see you.”
Marcus blinked his eyes at the light she carried, as if he wasn’t at all sure he liked being disturbed by such brightness. Still, he stretched in the curve of her arm and yawned, drawing a smile from his mother.
The kitchen was ablaze with light by the time she entered. Jasper and Cooper were sitting at the table, groggily submitting themselves to their employer, who was in the process of wrapping bandages around their heads. Moon and Thomas, who had been tied up and left in the carriage house, were otherwise unharmed. As for Rudd, he was still living, but no determination could be made as to his condition or if he would actually revive.
Moon and the servants sat around the kitchen table, listening intently as Beau told them what his wife had done. All of the men were clearly astounded by Cerynise’s ingenuity and mettle to confront the two villains by herself. The fact that she had shot Alistair after he had tried to kill Beau was understandable in their minds, considering how much she adored her husband.
“It’s been a very traumatic day,” Cerynise declared, setting her mind to other matters. “And I’m hungry. Where is the food that Philippe packed for us before he left for Harthaven?”
Beau inclined his head toward a pair of baskets that had been left on a far worktable. “I think we could all use something to eat, my love.” He glanced around at the men to see if they were in agreement. “Is that right?”
“Ye can bet yer bloomers on that, Cap’n,” Moon rejoined jovially. “Me belly’s gnawin’ on me backbone, an’ if’n ye don’t mind, I’ll have a pinch o’ me own rum ta settle me hands.” The tar stretched forth the knobby extremities and exaggerated their trembling for their benefit. “I ain’t quite o’er that there Rudd fella thrustin’ a pistol in me face. He was shakin’ worse’n I was.”
“I noticed he had some difficulty with that when he held the pistol on me,” Beau rejoined with a chuckle. “I was more afraid of it going off by accident than I was of him pulling the trigger. And by all means, Moon, drink whatever you like. I’m sure you could use some strong libation after what you’ve gone through. In fact, men, feel free to indulge yourselves in something other than tea and coffee. My liquor cabinet is open in the parlor, so help yourselves.”
“I wish I had something to comfort me,” Cerynise sighed wistfully.
Her husband smiled at her above the houseman’s head as he tied off the bandage. “The suggestion you made this morning might serve such a purpose, madam. Perhaps you’ll have to try it later.”
Cerynise’s eyes glowed back at him and held a promise that readily communicated the fact that she was agreeable. “I definitely will, but as for now, I’m famished.”
Beau took their son from her, allowing Cerynise to unpack the victuals. Soon a delectable supper was laid out for all of them, and as her husband pulled around a chair to sit beside her, he leaned across his son to pluck at the large hole in her pocket.
“You ruined your dress shooting Alistair.”
Cerynise slipped a hand into her pocket and ruefully examined the rent as she thrust three fingers through the hole. “I really didn’t expect it to cause so much damage.”
Moon cackled in sudden amusement, feeling no pity for the men who had tried to kidnap her. “Jes’ think o’ what it did ta poor ol’ Alistair Winthrop.”
Cerynise realized she hadn’t seen Alistair’s body in the foyer when she came downstairs. “Where did you put him, anyway?”
“Moon and Thomas hauled his carcass out to the carriage house,” Beau replied. “There was no sense in keeping it in the hall where we’d stumble over it. The last of the storm should be beyond us by morning. If so, Sheriff Gates can be fetched as soon as it’s light. He’ll want to know about Frank Lester and my other suspicions.”
If Germaine had truly connived to kill, Cerynise had no doubt that justice would have its day. A shiver was elicited from her as she began to think of the verdict a jury would arrive at and wondered if a woman had ever been hanged in Charleston. Whether for man or woman, it was a gruesome train of thought for her to dwell on. “Let’s talk about something else right now.”
Beau readily conceded to her wishes. “Mr. Oaks said this afternoon that he and Bridget have finally set a date for their wedding. ’Twill be the second week after he returns from the Caribbean.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful,” Cerynise replied, but as she realized that she’d be losing Bridget, she grew suddenly glum. “But I shall miss her terribly.”
“No need, madam,” her husband reassured her. “Bridget will be staying on as your maid and, in that capacity, will be traveling with us on the next voyage, much to Mr. Oaks’s delight. Of course, she’ll have to content herself with sharing his cabin, for my parents are also talking about coming with us.”
“Ye know, Cap’n,” Moon interjected with a chortle, “maybe ye oughta think ’bout takin
’ on passengers on a regular basis. Ain’t no ship finer ’an the Audacious.”
Beau grinned and shook his head. “I rather enjoy searching out all that cargo I bring back to the Carolinas and I don’t think the passengers would be willing to pay fares that would equal the profits I now make.”
“Well, then if’n ye won’t consider that, maybe I can offer ye ’nother suggestion. I hears Billy Todd’s been lookin’ toward a naval career lately. If’n that be true, ye’ll be needin’ a cabin boy like meself ta see ta yer needs aboard that there fancy ship o’ yers.”
“That might be a possibility,” Beau allowed and then chuckled. “But you know you’ll have to tolerate Monsieur Philippe’s cooking.”
Moon drew his face up in a disgruntled frown. “Ye wouldn’t want ta choose betwixt the two o’ us, would ye, Cap’n?”
Beau shook his head as if sorely distressed by the choice presented him. “If I do, Moon, I’m afraid I won’t be letting Philippe go. I’ve gotten quite fond of his cooking over the last few years.”
Moon winced at the captain’s decision and tentatively took another taste of the clam croquettes. He gummed the food for a long moment reflectively before heaving a laborious sigh. “I su’pose I could get used ta this here stuff if’n I had ta.”
“I’m afraid you’ll have to if you want to sail under me,” Beau stated candidly.
Moon cocked a squint toward him and chided, “You drive a hard bargain, Cap’n.”
Beau chuckled. “Aye, I do.”
* * *
The worst of the storm had passed by the time morning arrived. By the ninth hour the authorities had already been out to the Birminghams’ residence. When they left, they took Alistair’s remains and the injured Rudd with them. The barrister’s skull had been fractured, it was later determined, but he would likely recover. If he did, he’d probably spend the rest of his days in prison. There was, of course, a chance that he would hang, but that was for the jury to decide. The injured servants were far more fortunate, for Jasper and Cooper were already much improved and bent on restoring the house to its former splendor.
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