Secret Promise

by Marin McGinnis

  Edward felt the color leave his face, and he sank into his chair.

  “But how? He was alive and well when I left him last evening.”

  “And what time would that have been, my lord?” The constable squinted, looking as though he was prepared not to believe whatever Edward said.

  “Around nine, I believe. But you haven’t answered my question. What happened?”

  “He was murdered.” The constable watched Edward carefully, as if trying to gauge his reaction.

  Edward did not have to feign shock and distress. He opened his mouth once or twice to speak but could find no words. His eyes met Caldwell’s, and he suspected his own confusion and distress were mirrored in the other man’s face.

  “Do you recognize this, my lord?” The constable pulled a handkerchief out of his breast pocket and unfolded it to reveal a dagger contained within its folds. It had a jeweled handle, but the blade was crusted with a reddish brown substance Edward imagined was blood.

  “I don’t…Wait, that’s my father’s dagger. He always kept it in his desk drawer, in the office. Is that what killed John?”

  “It was found buried to the hilt in Baxter’s back.” The constable tucked the dagger back in the handkerchief and returned it to his pocket. “Can you account for your whereabouts last night and this morning?”

  “You can’t possibly be suggesting…” Edward’s throat filled with bile. It was happening again. He was being accused of a crime he did not commit.

  The constable smiled in what Edward supposed to be a reassuring manner. “Just answer the question, please, my lord. It’s simply routine.”

  Edward swallowed hard. “Of course. I, uh, played cards with the Grahams until about midnight. Then I went to bed.”

  The constable turned to Mr. Graham. “Is this true?”

  Mrs. Graham bristled with indignation. “Of course it’s true! What could ye possibly be thinkin’, to suggest—?”

  Graham placed a calming hand on his wife’s arm. “It’s all right, Missus.” He turned to the constable. “Yes, it’s true. His lordship and I played cards until about a quarter past midnight. Then his lordship went up to bed, and I locked up the house.”

  The constable looked thoughtful. “Could he have left the house any time after that?”

  Mrs. Graham sputtered but didn’t speak, as her husband said, “No.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “Because I would have heard him. His room is just above ours, and I am a light sleeper, have been ever since…” His voice trailed off. Edward had no trouble filling the void with “the fire.”

  The constable nodded. “Very well. The coroner thinks that Mr. Baxter was killed overnight, perhaps one o’clock. It would appear that he interrupted a burglary.”

  Edward leaned back in his chair. “Poor Baxter. I had asked Mr. Caldwell to appoint someone to stand guard. I never thought it would come to this.”

  “Why did you need a guard, my lord?”

  “It had come to my attention that Mr. Weston had visited the office without supervision a few days ago. I was concerned that he may try to…well, I don’t know what, exactly. There’s not much in the office that is worth stealing.”

  Caldwell spoke up. “It was my suggestion, sir. I was the one who discovered Mr. Weston in the office, and I thought he was acting suspiciously.”

  The constable raised an eyebrow. “This would be Mr. David Weston, who used to manage the yards?”

  “Yes.”

  “Mr. Weston’s clerk is the one who found the body.”

  “What? Why was he there? Neither Weston nor his clerk have any right to be at the shipyards. Why are you not looking at him as a suspect?”

  The constable bristled. “I am. But he said that he saw you there in the wee hours, your lordship. One of you is lying. Is it you?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I’m not lying.”

  “Weston’s clerk also advised me that you were in America for so long because you were in prison. For spying.”

  Mrs. Graham gasped, and the heads of Caldwell and Mr. Graham swiveled to look at Edward, shock etched upon their faces.

  Edward sighed. “I won’t ask how Mr. Weston’s clerk gained that information, but it is not a secret, and I have never lied about it. Yes, it is true, I was in prison in America. However, I was innocent of that crime. I am innocent of this one as well.”

  “If you were innocent, how did you come to be accused?”

  “I was practically a child. In the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  The constable looked dubious, but he nodded. “Very well. Your lordship, if you could come with me to the yards to see what, if anything, might be missing?”

  “Of course. I’ll just get my coat.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Anna watched the comings and goings at the shipyard through the window of her sitting room. As it was Sunday, the pub was closed, and she didn’t expect any of her neighbors to come knocking on her door. She had given up church when she was pregnant with Zachary, after receiving more judgmental stares than Christian compassion from her fellow parishioners. Sundays were spent at home with Zach or collecting shells and pieces of driftwood on the beach.

  She was incredibly curious—there had been a constable, and someone she thought was the coroner, which could only mean that someone was dead. She was afraid to find out what was happening. What if something had happened to Edward? She was angry with him, but she couldn’t bear knowing he was hurt. Or worse. She thought again about the figure she had seen leaving the yard late last night. It certainly had not been Edward. She knew his figure, knew the way he walked, the set of his shoulders. She wondered if she ought to tell anyone.

  Zachary came into the room, rubbing his eyes sleepily. His hair was tousled, lying flat in some places and standing straight up in others. She rolled her eyes, glanced at the clock on the mantel and laughed.

  “I was wondering how long you’d stay abed, but I didn’t think you’d leave it this late!”

  He looked at her and blinked. “What?”

  “Never mind. Would you be wanting some breakfast, sir?”

  “Oh, yes, please, Mam.” He rubbed his belly and grinned. “I’m starved!”

  “No doubt. You always are.” She stood and rubbed the top of his head. “Why don’t you wash up and get dressed, darling? I’ll make pain perdu.”

  “Brilliant!” He ran back to his room with great enthusiasm, which was, she had to admit, how he did almost everything. Except perhaps bathing.

  She looked out the window again, half hoping she would see Edward but not inclined to admit it, even to herself. Seeing nothing new, she went into her small kitchen to start breakfast.

  ****

  Hours later, Anna and Zachary were playing a spirited game of chess—she was embarrassed to admit he was better than she was—when there was a knock on the door downstairs. They exchanged a look.

  “Do you want me to see who is at the door, Mam?” Zachary strained to jump out of his chair.

  “Sit.” She rose and laid a hand on his shoulder, then peered out the window through the gloomy afternoon to see who it was. A gentleman, wearing a hat. “I will be right back. Don’t move my pieces, Zachary,” she said, with mock severity.

  Zachary put a hand over his mouth and giggled, making it clear the board would look completely different when she returned. She chuckled and hurried downstairs to open the door.

  “Edward! What’s wrong?” There were shadows beneath his eyes, and his lips were set into a grim line.

  She ushered him in and he removed his hat, shaking off the rain.

  “John Baxter is dead,” he said, without ceremony.

  Anna’s hands flew to her lips as her mouth opened. “What? How?”

  “He was standing guard at the shipyards, at my request. Against Weston. After what happened to you—yes, Caldwell told me—I worried Weston would return, cause mischief. Someone knifed poor John in the back, with my father’s dagger.�
�� He held his hat in front of him, as if it could ward off the dangers of the world. The dangers that had entered her own little village, and, she feared, would enter her own little pub.

  Anna took a deep breath. Baxter was perhaps not the sweetest of men—he had given her a pinch on the arse more than once—but he had had a wicked sense of humor, an infectious laugh, and played the fiddle so beautifully it could make you cry.

  “Does the constable know who killed him?”

  Edward snorted. “Oh, he thinks I did it.”

  “What? That’s ridiculous!”

  “He knows I was in prison. Apparently that makes me a common thief and murderer.” Edward shrugged and began to pace.

  “Edward. Stop.” Anna put a hand on his shoulder, and her touch seemed to calm him.

  “Anna, I’m afraid he won’t look for the real killer, even though I have discovered plans for a new ship are missing from my office, and I had no reason to kill the man.”

  “What does the coroner say? What time did this happen?”

  “Late last night, perhaps about one o’clock.”

  Anna stilled. “I saw someone about that time last night, leaving the yard. I, uh, couldn’t sleep, and I looked out the window. There was a figure, walking quickly away.”

  Edward placed his hands on her shoulders, gripping hard. “Did you tell anyone?”

  “No, I haven’t seen anyone today, except Zach…” Fear gripped her heart. “Zachary!”

  “Where is he?”

  “Upstairs. I need to make sure he’s all right.” Anna hurried up the stairs, only to stop short. Zachary sat at the top, tears streaming down his face.

  “Oh, Zach. You were listening, weren’t you?” She sat on the step, and he scrambled into her lap, his little arms reaching around her neck.

  “How could John be dead? He was always so kind to me. Who would do that?”

  “I don’t know, darling.” She smoothed his hair back and pressed a kiss to his forehead. Edward appeared at the bottom of the stairs and looked up at them, his expression somber and sad.

  “Let’s go have some chocolate by the fire,” Anna said to Zachary with a cheer she did not feel. She looked down at Edward. “Please join us.”

  “Are you sure?” He cleared his throat and looked away nervously. He clearly had not forgotten their argument from the day before.

  Neither had Anna, but it no longer mattered. She smiled. “Yes, I am sure. Please.” She gathered Zach in her arms and rose. He acted so mature she sometimes forgot how little he still was. She pressed her nose into his tousled hair, inhaling the little boy scent of him. When Edward started climbing the stairs behind her, she turned and led him into the sitting room.

  Anna set Zachary into his favorite chair and tucked his stuffed cat into his arms. It was a bedraggled looking thing which Zachary ignored most days, until it was time for bed, he was sick, or otherwise in need of comfort. He pulled it close to him and snuggled it, staring into the fire.

  Anna kissed the top of his head and led Edward into the kitchen.

  “I am sorry that he had to find out that way, Anna. If I had known he was listening, I—”

  “You couldn’t have. I left him upstairs and should have known he wouldn’t stay put. I was just so shocked by your news.” She pulled out a pan and added milk to it, then set it on the stove. She lit the fire underneath it and turned back to Edward. “Zachary is bound to take it hard. John was teaching him to play the fiddle. Not very seriously, of course—John was not a very serious man—but he loved music, and his enthusiasm was hard to resist. I certainly didn’t discourage it. I would love for Zachary to play.”

  “Like my father?” Edward asked, a sad smile on his face.

  Anna sighed wistfully. “Yes. Do you remember that night when I got caught in your house by a storm, and your parents played for us?”

  “I do. My father on the violin, Mother on the pianoforte. I always resisted my lessons. There was always something more interesting I wanted to do.” He sank wearily into a chair by the table. “Now I would give anything to have either of them give me a lesson.”

  Anna placed a hand on his shoulder. “I am sorry. I know this homecoming must be hard for you. I haven’t made it any easier.”

  “I know I hurt you, Anna. I never meant to. I wanted to come back as soon as I left your side.”

  “I know. I hope you can forgive me, for not telling Zachary. Or anyone.”

  Edward was quiet, and Anna was suddenly afraid that he would never forgive her. Then he placed a hand on her own. He rose and turned to face her, then bent down to kiss her. His face moved closer, and she parted her own lips in anticipation. Before they touched, the milk on the stove started to hiss and bubble over the sides of the pot.

  “Oh!” She pulled away and raced to the stove, while Edward chuckled behind her.

  It was an absurdly domestic moment, and as she skimmed the skin off the top of the milk, then added cocoa powder and sugar, she felt a sense of contentment settle over her. Whatever happened between her and Edward, he would be a part of her life again, and Zachary would have a father.

  She sent Edward into the sitting room with mugs of chocolate while she cleaned up the spilled milk. When she had finished, she found the two of them snuggled in Zachary’s preferred chair, sipping chocolate, murmuring softly. She stood in the doorway for a while and watched them. They were so alike. She had always known Zach resembled Edward, but she had never realized quite how much. Now she could see that not only was their coloring the same, they shared mannerisms as well. They held their cups the same way, and they both had a lock of hair that persisted in falling over one eye.

  Zachary’s eyes brightened as he looked up and saw her. He still looked sad, and he would miss John, but small boys were nothing if not resilient. Edward looked up then too, and she almost gasped when she realized that his expression was nearly the same as Zachary’s.

  He still loved her.

  She wished she knew how she felt.

  “Mam!” Zachary said, interrupting her musings. “Come and drink some chocolate with us.”

  “I’m not sure there’s quite enough room on the chair.” Anna moved toward the chair just to the other side of the small table. “But I’ll sit over here.”

  “Shall I come sit with you?” Zachary asked, concern on his face. He never wanted her to feel lonely.

  “No, you stay where you are. I shouldn’t want his lordship to feel you are rejecting him.” Edward raised an eyebrow and she laughed.

  Then Edward assumed a more serious expression as he gazed at his son. Anna was on the verge of telling him that Zachary knew the truth when she was interrupted by a knock on the door downstairs. She gave Edward a pathetic smile and went down to answer it. Part of her hoped Zachary would mention it while she was gone, so she didn’t have to be there.

  Constable Jones stood on the threshold, looking tired and bedraggled. Anna spared him a moment of sympathy; a murder was hardly something he was practiced at handling. But then she remembered the man was considering Edward as a suspect, and her body tensed.

  “Good evening, constable. May I help you?” She gestured him into the room.

  “I’m sorry to disturb you on a Sunday, Miss Templeton. I won’t take much of your time. I don’t know if you have heard what happened across the way this morning?”

  “About John? Yes, I heard. I was so sorry. Do you know who did such a terrible thing?”

  “Not yet, miss.”

  Anna was quiet for a moment, waiting for the constable to come to the reason for his visit. Finally, he said, “Did you happen to see anyone last night, late?”

  “As a matter of fact, I did. I could not sleep, and about one o’clock or so, I chanced to look out the window and saw a figure hurrying away from the yards.”

  The constable pulled out his notebook and pencil and began to scribble something. “Do you know who it was, Miss Templeton?”

  “No, I’m sorry. He was walking away from me; I didn�
��t see his face.”

  “You’re sure he was male, though?”

  “Yes. He was wearing a hat, and his shoulders were broad.”

  “Do you know Edward Mason, Baron Tisdale?”

  “Yes, of course. We were…childhood friends.” She considered telling the man that he was upstairs, but then thought better of it.

  “Do you think the man you saw was Edward Mason?”

  “No, definitely not. He was shorter, stouter, than Ed—his lordship. His coat was also a different color.”

  “How do you know what color coat his lordship wears?” the constable asked, his eyes narrowing.

  “Because he was here the night before.”

  “Is it possible he has more than one coat? He is wealthy, after all.” The constable’s voice held an undercurrent of resentment.

  “Perhaps. I have no idea. But I do know his lordship has been away for many years and has only just returned to a family home that was nearly burned to the ground. I am reasonably sure he has not had much of an opportunity to obtain a new wardrobe.”

  “The coat I was wearing yesterday is camel-colored.” Edward entered the room. “What color was the coat you saw, Miss Templeton?”

  The constable sputtered. “Miss Templeton, why did you not tell me his lordship was here?”

  “You didn’t ask,” Anna said wryly. “He came over to tell me of Mr. Baxter’s death. He was afraid I had not heard, since the pub is closed today.”

  The constable seemed to recover himself. He scribbled in his notebook again and eyed both Anna and Edward suspiciously.

  “Had you heard?” he finally asked.

  “No, I had not. The weather was unpleasant, so Zachary and I stayed inside. We have been playing chess.”

  “So what color coat was the man wearing?”

  “It was dark in color, either black or dark gray.”

  “Very well. Did you hear anything untoward this morning?”

  “No. Other than the commotion of the police, it has been quiet.”

  The constable looked from Anna to Edward, then sighed in what Anna assumed was disappointment. He snapped his notebook shut and returned it and the pencil to his pocket. “It would appear, my lord, that you are not guilty of this crime. Both your servants’ story and Miss Templeton’s account would suggest that it must have been another party.”