“How is Roderick feeling?” Caitlin asked.
“He is healing but still complains about pains.” Bernadine informed her. “I am not at all sure that the pains are not in his head.”
Caitlin started to say something but Dillon’s eyes warned her to keep silent. She looked questionably at him but obeyed.
“Are you positive the wheel was tampered with?” Bernadine noticed the exchange of looks and didn’t like the silence. She wanted to know every move.
“Aye.” Dillon stared at her. “Are you positive you do not know anything about my mother’s painting?”
Bernadine’s good mood quickly dwindled. She stood up in a huff. “I will not be treated as a common criminal. I did nothing, and I am sick to death of your accusations. All this fuss over a painting. ‘Twasn’t a very good work of art in the first place.” She stomped to the door. “Mary this. Mary that. Mary, Mary, Mary. ‘Tis all anyone talks about in this house.” Lifting her red skirts she stormed into the hall still ranting.
“’Tis one way to get rid of her,” Caitlin commented.
“I know she did it,” Dillon stated. “I just can’t prove it.”
“Are you positive?”
“Who else would have a motive? Besides, you just witnessed her reaction to the mention of my mother’s name.”
“Seems to me ‘twas more a reaction at being accused,” Caitlin pointed out. “Is that why you did not want me to say anything?”
Dillon looked as far down the hall as he could from his position by the bed. “The painting is not the only crime I suspect her of.” Dillon barely spoke above a whisper. “I think she had something to do with the carriage accident.”
Caitlin gasped. “I will concede that she may well be responsible for destroying the painting, but trying to kill me? What would she gain from my death?”
“I do not know. ‘Tis possible that my father was the intended victim. She would stand to gain his whole inheritance.”
Caitlin shook her head. “Bernadine offered to ride with me. She thought it improper for Roderick and I to be alone. Are you sure you are not allowing your negative feelings about her cloud your judgment?”
“I do not have any answers.” Dillon stood and paced to the window. “However, strange things have been happening ever since she arrived.”
“I believe her capable of many things, but murder?” She couldn’t grasp that anyone could be so evil let alone a member of the family.
* * *
Caitlin popped her head into the bedroom. Roderick was on the bed with several large pillows propping him up. His eyes were open but he seemed lost in thought.
“May I come in?” she inquired.
“Caitlin.” His usual somber tone was enthusiastic at the sight of her. “Please.” He sat up straighter.
She carefully walked over and sat in the chair placed beside the bed.
“How did you manage to get permission to get up and walk around?” He was stuck in bed for another week.
“I didn’t ask for permission.” She leaned forward and whispered. “I snuck out when Dillon left.”
“I am so glad to see you that I shall not say a word to give you away.”
“How are you feeling?” She didn’t like the sunken eyes and cheekbones. His skin was so translucent she felt she could see through it to his very bones.
“I feel like I have been thrown from a carriage.” He placed a wrinkled hand on top of hers. “You my dear look as bad as I feel.”
They both laughed. “I look positively frightful, but my injuries are relatively small. Just some cuts and bruises.”
“I too have no serious injuries. Somehow my health problems are not due to the accident. I have been in poor health for some time now.”
“What are you doing out of bed?” Bernadine’s shrill voice startled both Roderick and Caitlin.
“I only wanted to visit Roderick.”
“He needs his rest. And so do you.” She advanced towards them with a crystal glass, which she handed to Roderick. “I brought you a glass of brandy. I thought it might help you relax.”
“Thank you.” He took the glass.
Bernadine turned her small eyes on Caitlin. “Get back to your room before I call Dillon.”
“I am not a child to be ordered around.” Caitlin crossed her arms defiantly.
“Do not treat her so unkindly,” Roderick reprimanded. “She is not hurting anyone.” He set his untouched drink on the night table.
“You are both recovering from a very serious accident which claimed the life of a young boy already.” Her slipper tapped impatiently against the wood floor. “’Tis my duty to care for you.” Her blue eyes met his dark brown ones. “Now drink your brandy then close your eyes and rest. You are not permitted to have any visitors.”
“’Tis my health and I will make the decisions. I will have whomever I wish to visit whenever I want. I will drink when I am thirsty and sleep when I am tired.” His frail voice penetrated the room. “I am sick and tired of you interfering and ordering me around.” Picking up the glass of liquid he threw it across the room. The smashing of glass was followed by the hissing of flames from the hearth. “I will not die a weak old man,” he finally said, defeat in his tone. “I may have lived my life that way, but I refuse to die as such.”
“If that is the way you feel then I shall leave you to your rude behavior.” Holding her head high she headed for the door. Stopping she looked back and said, “I have given everything to you. I have been a good wife and all I have received is contempt and condemnation. I do not know what else I could have done to please you.”
“Save the performance, Bernadine.” Contempt poured forth “You will need the strength to act as a grieving widow after I am dead. As for being a loving wife, the whole world knows that is a falsehood. The only interest you have ever shown is in my money.”
He watched her mouth gape open. “Close your mouth. You look like a bird waiting to be fed.” He had no idea where the sarcasm had come from, but it felt liberating. “You looked shocked, Bernadine.” His brown eyes darkened under his white eyebrows. “I have spent too many years making excuses for your bad behavior, and turning a blind eye to your unfaithful activities all in an effort to save face. I have tried to pretend that there was something, anything in our marriage worth salvaging. Alas, it has come to this.” Sorrowful eyes clashed with angry ones. “I no longer have the time or effort to pretend any longer.”
“You dare speak to me of unfaithfulness in love.” She stormed toward the bed. “You never loved me.” She pointed to her chest. “’Twas your precious Mary that always occupied your mind. I was nothing to you. You never allowed me to be anything. You ignored me and treated me with contempt. Then blamed when me when I sought comfort elsewhere one time.” She pointed her index finger at his face. “You are the one to blame for this marriage souring. Take that to your deathbed.” Her straight back and lofty attitude carried her out of the room.
“I am sorry for that improper display,” Roderick looked at Caitlin. “You should have taken the opportunity to leave when it presented itself.”
“Nonsense.” Caitlin tried to make her tone sound light. “We are family and you cannot keep secrets from family. Besides everyone can see what an old sourpuss she is.” She took her father-in-law’s hand. “Do not blame yourself. She only wanted to cast blame off herself.”
“I know.” He kissed the back of hand. “Thank you, Caitlin.”
“For what?”
“For bringing sunshine back into my life again. I am glad you married my son. I shall die knowing he will be well loved.”
“Enough talk of you dying,” she scolded. “You shall get better. You and Dillon have a lot of time to make up, and we are just beginning to get aquatinted. You cannot die when you have so much to live for.”
“I have no say in the matter, ‘tis up to God.”
“I do have a say in the matter. God listens to every prayer. I shall start asking for your health forthw
ith.” She immediately kneeled by his bedside and started praying.
* * *
Christmas dawned with a vengeance. The sun did little but cast a gloomy despair of the whole state of Virginia. It was not only the winter weather outside that held dimness. The household inside too had dark secrets, which were working in the hearts of everyone.
Dillon had not yet confided that Henrietta had had him arrested. Even if it had been accidentally, which he still wondered about, Caitlin would certainly not see it as such. Too many hostilities ran between the two women.
Roderick and Bernadine were barely speaking. Although Roderick seemed to be getting better physically, which Caitlin attributed to God answering her prayers, his mental contentment seemed a little shaky.
Roderick had been pondering the faith of his son and daughter-in-law. They were in an intimate relationship with their God. Turning to him with every need, and seeking diligently for answers with a wondrous hope that He would grant their petitions.
After Caitlin had started praying for his health, Dillon had joined them, bowing and taking over the praying. The love and commitment had astounded him. He wanted to know the same God they knew. He hsd stayed in the marriage because the church had not sanctioned divorce. Now he wondered if it was time to look past the church and seek God for himself. Only the Creator of the world could give him the answers he sought.
Caitlin had been in a sour mood since Dillon wouldn’t allow her to attend church service on Christmas Eve. She’d missed the ‘sticking of the church’. Helping put up the boughs of greens and decorations had always been her favorite part of the service. Of course it was because as a little girl she was allowed, on that one night, to stay up past her bedtime.
Now as an adult her favorite part was singing the Christmas carols. She was still too sore and bruised to play the piano-forte, and not much in a mood to sing without music.
However, the gloom seemed to disperse for a while. Dillon read the Christmas story from the gospel of Luke. Then everyone enjoyed the huge dinner Martha had prepared. The Christmas menu looking fit for a king, consisted of: Holiday eggnog, Virginia ham, beaten biscuits, corn pudding, pumpkin chips, chicken and oyster pie, cucumber pickles. The dessert table was also laden with mincemeat pie, filbert pudding, plum pudding, honey flummery, and to wash it down there was coffee and tea.
* * *
Henrietta briskly walked through the street, grumbling under her breath. Although Bernadine had promised her an invitation the big New Year’s celebration tomorrow, as of yet she had not received it.
“Since the confounded carriage accident was spoiled, she has barely spoken to me.” She continued on, ignoring some of the drunken partygoers who’d started celebrating early. “I don’t know why she blames me. ‘Twas not my fault they didn’t die.”
She listened to some men banter good wishes back and forth. As if there were anything good about the forthcoming year. It was shaping up to be as dull and lonely as this year had been.
The cold wind seeped into her fur-lined pelisse. She snuggled deeper into it and headed for home. She shouldn’t be out this time of night. Not only was it too cold, but the riffraff came out at night. However needing a walk and fresh air to clear her muddled mind, she’d decided to take the risk.
Turning the corner, and hearing the sound of crunching ground behind her made her think twice about the wisdom of this walk. Her heart raced faster. Looking behind, she saw the outline of a man. Hiking up her skirts, she started running, but hadn’t gotten far when a large hand halted her progress.
“Going somewhere?” The dark voice matched the dark face.
“H..h..home,” she stammered.
“How about I escort you.” Sheriff Edward tipped his hat. “’Tis part of my job.”
“No thank you, I can manage on my own.” The fear started to ebb, but anger was quickly taking its place. She jerked her arm away and took a couple of steps.
“Not so fast,” he drawled. Grabbing her arm and yanking her back. “We have some unfinished business.”
“We have nothing left to say.” Besides, he couldn’t say anything about her without incriminating himself.
“We have something to do.” His smile turned wicked.
“You cannot be serious,” Henrietta gasped. “Right here on the street?” She needed a plan. If she could evade him one more time, maybe she could leave town and he’d never find her.
Pasting a seductive smile on her lips and rubbing closer she cooed, “how about we meet tomorrow night? My parents are going to a celebration and I’ll be home all alone.”
She watched his hard face soften.
Reaching up, she coyly played with a button on his vest. “’Twill be so much better in a warm, comfortable bed than on the hard, cold ground, do you not agree?” Although her smile promised him all the pleasures a man could want, her mind was working on how best to escape before she had to follow through with his demands.
“Sounds very tempting.” His black mustache twitched.
“I promise, ‘twill be worth the wait.” She batted her long lashes.
His mouth descended with such a crushing force that she tasted blood. Squeezing her body next to his he hungrily kissed her.
She pulled away in terror. “What are you doing?”
“I want a sampling to see if you will be worth the wait.” He smiled shrewdly.
“You cannot handle me so roughly.” However, she tasted victory. One more night. That is all I need.
“I will handle you however I want.” His eyes hardened, “Has your Dillon Cade ever kissed you like that?”
“’Tis absurd. Dillon is a gentleman.”
“Yet you throw yourself at him like a cheap whore.” He grabbed her wrist as the slap came near his face. “You are going to learn that you can’t use your body and make promises that you don’t intend to keep.”
His hand covered her mouth as she started to scream. Picking her up, he carried her into a nearby horse stable. His eyes gleamed as he threw her down on loose straw.
“You cannot get away with this!”
He unbuttoned his shirt. “You forget, I am the sheriff. Who is going to believe your word over mine?” He knelt beside her. “Besides, I am only taking what you owe me.” His fingers undid the clasp of her pelisse.
She screamed and he slapped her. “One night of passion for arresting Dillon Cade, remember?” His harsh whisper whizzed by her ear.
“The deal was for Caitlin,” she sobbed.
“The deal was for the traitor. I arrested him.” He ran a finger over her shoulder and down her arm.
Her body shivered. Some from the cold. Some from fear. “Oh God, how have I gotten myself into this mess?” she cried.
“Greed,” he whispered, forcing her back onto the pile of hay. “Pure greed.”
* * *
“Are you sure you are feeling well enough to attend the party?” Bernadine asked. “You look a bit pale.”
“I am fine.” Roderick fiddled with his cravat. “Just frustrated with this thing.”
“Let me help.” She tied the black strings into a perfect knot. “You need something to calm your nerves.” She left the room, returning a few minutes later with a drink.
“I am not drinking anymore,” he grumbled.
“And you are as sour as a lemon.” She handed him the glass, knowing he couldn’t refuse the smell. “Besides, you don’t want to be on edge for Caitlin’s party. She has worked so hard planning it.”
“I guess you are right.” He took the drink, downing a third of it in one gulp. It tasted worst than he remembered. He took a few more sips before sitting the glass down.
“Is that all you are having?”
“Aye. ‘Tis enough.”
“I agree.” She smiled in the mirror as she brushed some powder on her face, watching him closely. “More than enough.”
Within the space of ten minutes Roderick started feeling dizzy. He sat down on the bed, holding his head. “I feel like my he
ad is going to explode.”
“Oh.” Bernadine continued fixing her black tresses in place.
“I feel nauseous also.” He put a finger into his cravat and tried loosening it. His heart beating so fast he thought it might jump up his throat. “I think I need Dr. Andrews.”
“He cannot help you now.” Bernadine finished patting her hair in place then turned to face her husband. “You see, my love, you are dying.”
“What?”
“My poor Roderick.” She perched the blue hat on top her head. “You have just ingested a lethal dose of Hemlock.” She tied the ribbons under her chin. “But do not fret. Death will come quickly.”
Roderick struggled to talk but his tongue felt heavy and the words wouldn’t form.
“I see that paralysis of the tongue is already starting.” She folded her arms across her chest and walked closer. “Central paralysis will set in soon. It will start with your feet, travel up your legs, then ‘twill spread through your torso and arms. Next, it will render your swallowing useless. Finally the Hemlock will attack your respiratory system until your whole body shuts down.”
She paced around the room, a triumphant smile on her face. “Everyone will think you died of a heart attack.” She shrugged her bony shoulders. “’Tis the perfect plan, especially since you have been sick for a while now.” Her eyes gleamed. “Of course that is because I have been slipping tiny doses of the poison in your brandy.”
The Unwilling Bride Page 33
