The Girl at Rosewood Hall (A Lady Jane Mystery)

by Annis Bell

  “What the hell is going on out here?” At the sight of Jane, he pulled up in surprise, but the pistol leveled in his direction did not seem to impress him. He smiled. “You? So you’ve changed your mind after all and accepted my invitation?”

  Very calmly, he reached around and pulled the doors closed behind him. Then he slowly took a step toward Jane, who kept the pistol trained on him.

  “Don’t come any closer!” she cried, and fired a shot over his head.

  Devereaux barely flinched, but the amusement on his face disappeared. “Mrs. Avery, go and get Ramu.”

  Mary screamed and clung to Jane.

  “Run, Mary! Down the stairs!” Jane shouted and fired again, this time in front of Devereaux’s feet. He jumped back and banged into the door behind him.

  The girl let out a strangled cry and ran. Jane momentarily turned to look after her, and that moment of inattention was enough for Devereaux. He threw himself on her and tore the pistol out of her hand. Then, with brutal strength, he grabbed hold of her and shoved her backward into the room from which she had freed Mary. Jane caught a glimpse of the double doors swinging open behind Devereaux, and Lord Hargrave coming out into the corridor.

  “Charles? What the devil is going on?”

  “Were those shots we heard?” Rutland joined Hargrave, but Devereaux closed the door behind him without responding, and Jane was alone with him in Mary’s prison.

  Jane’s cap had fallen off, and her pinned hair came loose and tumbled over the shabby jacket she wore.

  “Lady Jane. I must say, what an entrance!” Devereaux said, his voice full of admiration. “But why go to all this effort? All for the little orphan girl? You could have asked me.”

  “Really? And you would have handed Mary over, just like that?” Jane’s words dripped with sarcasm.

  Devereaux smiled thinly. “No. She knew too much. But you could have saved yourself a lot of trouble. I admit I find your appearance quite impressive, though.”

  “I guess that’s the price I pay. Give me back my pistol and let me go, and we’ll forget the whole thing,” Jane demanded.

  He threw back his head and laughed. “Oh, Lady Jane! Even if you wanted to, you could not. You’ll set the police or your curious husband on me. But you’ve already done that, haven’t you?” His eyes flashed dangerously. “The captain seems to have discovered a new field. He’s been sticking his nose into things that are none of his business and confounding my interests left and right. That is something that I cannot stand.”

  Jane tried to hide her surprise. “Is that so? If you don’t let me go, he’ll come looking for you. He will hunt you until he finds you.”

  “I don’t doubt it for a second, my lady. But he’ll leave me in peace as long as I hold you. Which is why you will accompany me until I’ve reached safety.”

  There were shouts in the corridor outside, and a shot rang out. Someone banged a fist against the door.

  “Sir, they’re in the house!” Mrs. Avery screamed.

  Devereaux turned around angrily and jerked the door open. “Who?”

  A frantic Mrs. Avery was standing in front of him. She looked uncertainly to Jane. “I don’t know. The police maybe, I don’t know. You can hear them!”

  Jane’s heart leaped when she heard Wescott’s voice shouting. “Where is she? Jane! Devereaux, I’ll kill you! Jane!”

  Devereaux did not hesitate. He grabbed Jane’s arm and pulled her with him. He pushed Mrs. Avery aside heedlessly and ran to the other end of the corridor. “Ramu! Where is the man?”

  Suddenly, the Indian was standing in front of them. He pointed into the darkness, and Jane saw another stairway. She feared Devereaux would escape if there was another secret exit. She fought against his grip with all her strength. The knife! How could she have forgotten the knife? As they stumbled down the stairs, she drew the knife from her belt and stabbed Devereaux’s arm with all her strength. The man howled in fury and pain and let go of her. She desperately turned and ran back the way they’d come.

  “David!” she cried as she ran back toward the commotion she now heard in the corridor. She saw Blount first. He ran past her, followed by Hargrave, who carried a knife. Behind them, she saw the dark form of Wescott.

  Blount and Hargrave took no notice of her, and ran down the steps behind Devereaux and Ramu. Jane was still holding the knife in her hand when Wescott reached her. He looked her up and down, angry and relieved at the same time. “Are you planning to stab me?” he asked. He took the knife out of her hand and raised her chin with his fingers. “Are you hurt?”

  She shook her head breathlessly.

  “Wait here!” And with that, he followed the others down the dark stairway.

  37.

  Jane ran past a bewildered Rutland, standing in the doorway with his shirt open and a cigar in his hand. “What’s all this then? Women were not invited!”

  Mrs. Avery was nowhere to be seen, nor was Mary. Jane, fearing the worst, rushed back toward the room where she’d left Jenny. As she ran down the spiral staircase, tears came to her eyes. It can’t all have been in vain, she thought.

  “Mary! Jenny! Where are you?” she shouted desperately.

  She pushed through the door and ran into the wood-paneled salon. It was empty. But then the curtain covering the embrasure moved, and Jenny cautiously peered out. “Is that you, ma’am?”

  The noises coming from the gallery made it clear that everyone in the house was on their feet.

  “Have you seen Mary?” Jane asked, looking around.

  A pale face appeared from beneath Jenny’s arm, and Jane sobbed with relief, ran to the two girls, and wrapped them both in her arms. Then she kneeled and took Mary’s hand in hers. “Did they hurt you?”

  Mary’s big eyes widened, but she shook her head. “Not like they were going to.” The girl bit her lips and began to cry.

  “It’s all right,” Jane said. “It’s all right. Everything will be good again. Shh.” She stood and picked up Mary. Over the girl’s head, she asked Jenny, “Did Mrs. Avery come past this way?”

  Jenny nodded. “I’ve never seen her in such a state. Her room is downstairs.”

  “Who’s here besides Wescott and Blount? The police?”

  “I don’t think so, ma’am. But there’s another gentleman. That’s him!” Jenny pointed behind Jane.

  “Jane! My gosh, but you put a scare into us!” Thomas, Alison’s husband, came into the salon, his pistol drawn.

  Jane released Mary and pushed her to Jenny. “Take her downstairs, Jenny.”

  “I will, ma’am.” Jenny smiled and grasped Mary’s hand in hers.

  Jane ran one hand through her hair and straightened her jacket. “Excuse the inappropriate attire, but the circumstances called for unusual steps to be taken. Did Ally give me away?”

  Thomas, who towered a head and a half over her, frowned and put his gun away. “I practically had to drag it out of her. When Wescott pointed out what a nasty character Devereaux really was, she saw that it would be stupid not to put us in the know.”

  “And how did my husband—”

  Just then, Wescott charged through the door, with Blount close behind. “Your husband, Jane, was setting plans in motion to have Devereaux’s businesses searched. Then Levi sent me a message reporting your nocturnal outing. How could you be so foolish?” he snapped. He had blood on his cheek and wiped it impatiently away with the back of his hand.

  “Don’t yell at me!” Jane shot back. “If I had done nothing, Mary would now be the victim of rape. Or dead.”

  “You could have told me! I would have helped you!”

  “Oh, yes? Would you have come here with me tonight? I doubt it. And where is Devereaux now?”

  Wescott looked at Thomas. “Gone. The cur got away. He must have known he’d be raided sooner or later. He’ll be out of the country before
anyone can stop him. But at least he’ll be gone, never to set foot on English soil again.”

  “My goodness, Hettie’s still in the garden!” Jane said suddenly and turned to leave, but stopped. “What about Hargrave and Rutland?”

  Thomas shrugged. “We’ve got nothing on them except being invited here by Devereaux. They’re not about to tell us what took place here, and there are no witnesses. There are many men like them. Too many. Dubious morals, reprehensible behavior, but as long as they don’t accost children under thirteen, you can’t touch them.”

  “What if Mary’s younger?”

  “Did they molest her?” Thomas asked.

  “She says no.”

  Just then, Lord Hargrave and the Duke of Rutland came down the stairs in the company of another man whom Jane recognized, the cricketer.

  “Devereaux has escaped, Lady Jane,” said Hargrave.

  “I don’t want to talk to you. To any of you.” Jane turned her back on them.

  Wescott tilted his head to one side as a sign to Hargrave, and the three men quickly disappeared into the gallery. The moment they disappeared from sight, a servant came running, calling, “Come quickly! Two women are fighting down below. One of them is Mrs. Avery.”

  “Hettie!” In a flash, Jane and the men followed the servant downstairs and outside, getting there just in time to see Hettie with the dagger held threateningly in her hand and Mrs. Avery backed up against the trunk of an enormous tree.

  Wescott and Blount manhandled her into her own room in the domestic wing and locked the door. Jane was overcome by her maid’s bravery and hugged her tightly.

  “Hettie, you’re amazing!”

  Hettie’s eyes lit up. “Oh, that was a lot of fun. The woman practically bowled me over, and she had a bag with her. It looked to me like she was trying to make a run for it, so I used this pointy little thing to stop her.”

  “Well done is all I can say!” said Thomas with a smile, and clapped Hettie on the shoulder.

  Wescott walked out of the house with Blount, looking less than thrilled. After a brief exchange of words, he sent his valet away. “He’s going to advise Police Inspector Stamford to have a word with Mrs. Avery, although I doubt she’ll ever betray Devereaux. She seems completely besotted with the man.”

  Jenny brought Mary outside to them; she’d draped a blanket around the girl’s shoulders. Mary pointed to the plane tree behind the washing lines. “That’s where Ramu killed Jedidiah. Mrs. Avery was there. Where is Ramu?” Mary looked around anxiously.

  “He can’t hurt you, Mary,” said Jane, and reached for her hand reassuringly.

  Wescott looked around uncertainly. “What will we do with her now? We have to hand her over to the police so they can take a statement from her.”

  Jane shook her head vehemently. “Do you have any family, Mary?”

  “I have a brother, ma’am, but I don’t know where he is.”

  “Then she’s coming with me. If someone needs her statement, I’ll go along with her,” Jane said.

  In the week after that memorable night, Wescott and Jane barely exchanged two words. He was still terribly angry with her. Mary was examined by a doctor, who reported that the abuse she’d suffered was exclusively external. He ordered peace and quiet and some decent food. Everyone in the townhouse lavished attention on the shy orphan girl. Josiah especially seemed smitten with Mary, and loved reading stories to her. But the girl’s greatest enjoyment came when Polly’s book was returned to her.

  When Jane sat down at the breakfast table one morning and opened the newspaper, she sniffed indignantly and murmured, “Two inches in the margin, that’s all! That man must have some extremely influential friends.”

  Wescott entered the dining room and sat down across from her without a word.

  Jane set the paper aside and said, “Good morning. Or aren’t you speaking to me at all?”

  Wescott said nothing.

  Jane drummed her fingers on the article in the newspaper. “Have you read this? A few measly lines about the overnight disappearance of one of the richest men in London. Nothing else, and no background. A suspected unhappy love affair. They have got to be kidding! Won’t there be a trial? Devereaux could be tried in absentia. That’s been done before.”

  Sullenly, Wescott said, “Yes, it has. But those cases could be prosecuted because there was tangible evidence. We have a statement from an orphan who had been locked up and beaten, neither of which is a punishable offense. Oh, and the same girl witnessed a murder committed by an Indian man. The murderer has disappeared, and the body, too. If the next flood washes up a decomposing male corpse, it still won’t help. Mrs. Avery is keeping tight-lipped. I think it’s fair to say that every servant in Devereaux’s house agrees that she is a despicable woman, but she’s done nothing she can be charged with. Polly ran away and died, as we know, which makes her no use as a witness.”

  “What about Ledford? Mary said she thought that Cooper was behind Gaunt’s murder.”

  Wescott ran one hand through his hair. He looked tired. “The grounds of Ledford’s property in Newbridge have been searched, and the teacher’s personal items turned up. Ledford will do time, that much is certain. We have proof that he sold children, and I’m confident he’s one of those who’ll talk sooner or later. He’s already identified one of the intermediaries, a ship’s chandler in Plymouth. And we’ve arrested a madam named Lulu at a brothel here in London. Inspector Stamford is confident that he’ll be able to bring in a few more helpers and go-betweens. Oh, yes, there’s also an aid organization called Friends of Wayward Girls in Need that was under Devereaux’s patronage. We’ll be taking a very close look at that.”

  “That’s perverse . . . Friends of Wayward Girls in Need!” said Jane indignantly. “But even with all of that, it’s not enough?”

  “No. Devereaux set everything up very cleverly. All of the threads seem to lead in one direction, then they get tangled into a knot of middlemen and abettors who vanish as soon as you get too close. Thomas and I fear there’s someone at the top pulling strings. They seem to be a step ahead of us at every turn.”

  “What are you implying? The royal court?” Jane leaned forward excitedly.

  “Jane, I want you to leave things as they lie. I can’t always arrive in the nick of time to save you from some absurd or ridiculously dangerous predicament. That goes beyond my powers and tries my patience! Besides, you put your own maid in harm’s way. What if something had happened to her? Is that what you want? Does something serious have to happen to make you see what you’re doing?” Wescott’s eyes burned with anger, and his scar flushed red.

  Jane sighed. “I’m sorry. That’s not what I wanted. But—”

  Wescott slammed his hand onto the table, and the teacups rattled on their saucers. “No buts! Use your wits. You still have them, at least!”

  Jane smiled sweetly. “Thank you. I’ll take that as a compliment, even if it wasn’t meant as one.”

  The muscles in Wescott’s neck tightened and he stood up. “I’d better go. Before I forget myself.”

  After their conversation, if she could call it that, Jane left the house to pay a visit to Alison. She was so upset that the moment she was alone in a room with Alison, she threw her arms around her friend’s neck and burst into tears.

  “Jane, what’s happened? I mean, well, plenty has happened, but . . . Is it Mary?” Alison stroked Jane’s hair and led her to a sofa. “Sit down. We’ll have a glass of port.”

  Jane obediently lowered herself onto the sofa and drank the glass of port that Alison handed her. It reminded her of her uncle, and she felt more miserable than ever.

  “Well?” Alison asked, looking at her sympathetically.

  “Mary’s a wonderful girl. She’s recovering, and her hair is growing back slowly. She says she’s looking forward to going to school. When she’s really feeling well again
and feels strong enough, I’ll go around with her and we’ll look at schools together. Sometime in the future, she can visit Polly’s grave in Fearnham. We’ll have Polly’s name engraved on the stone.”

  “That sounds lovely, Jane. But that’s not what’s making you so sad, is it?” said Alison gently.

  “It’s Wescott! To the devil with him! We actually talked to each other this morning for the first time since Mary’s rescue, and all we could do was fight! He could at least admit I was right about Mary,” Jane complained. She took a deep breath and looked accusingly at her friend.

  Alison, looking as enchanting as ever with her blond hair and wearing an airy summer dress, began to laugh. “Oh, you really are too much!”

  “For goodness’ sake, Ally!”

  Her friend wiped her eyes and blinked impishly at Jane. “Why do you two make your lives so hard? You love each other! A blind man could see that.”

  “Don’t talk nonsense. The moment he sees me, he starts criticizing me or accuses me of something. No, wait, today he actually praised the continued existence of my wits—but only to advise me to use them. You call that love? Leave off, Ally.” But deep down, Jane had long suspected that Alison could see what she couldn’t quite admit to herself.

  “Actually, yes. That’s love,” said Alison. “You have no idea how frantic he was the night he was here with Thomas. I knew you were planning something mind-bogglingly mad, but I didn’t want to be disloyal to you. I trust you, you know.” She smiled lovingly at Jane. “Unfortunately, men find it hard to trust women with any more than the standard wifely duties. At most, something artistic. You understand that. Wescott was out of his mind with worry about you. I only told him where you were when I feared he would drag me off to a magistrate if I didn’t.”