In Good Company

by Jen Turano

  Millie picked up Rose, who was looking close to tears again, and snuggled her close. “Do you honestly believe that Fred would have left these little angels to a man who would carelessly toss them aside?”

  Mr. Victor stared at her for a moment. “No, he wouldn’t, and I now believe that Fred left the children to Everett because he knew his friend would guard them carefully.”

  “I’ve done a poor job of that.”

  Millie looked up as Everett and Elizabeth reentered the room, Everett carrying a pistol in one hand and a rifle in the other.

  “There was no possible way you could have known the danger the children were in,” she said softly.

  “I know it now.” He moved up to her, and even though she was still holding Rose, bent close and pressed his lips briefly against hers. “You’ll see them safe?”

  “Of course.”

  Nodding to her before he kissed Rose’s forehead, Everett turned. “I’ll need someone to summon the authorities.”

  Mrs. Victor surprised everyone by saying, “I’ll do it—even if I have to knock on every door to find a neighbor who’ll assist me.” She placed her fists on her hips and nodded at Everett. “Duncan’s going with you, and before you argue with me, he can be trusted.”

  With her heart in her throat, Millie watched as Everett, followed by Mr. Victor left the room. She headed for the door, motioning Elizabeth and Thaddeus to join her. Lucetta scooped Thaddeus up in her arms, Mrs. Victor took hold of Elizabeth’s hand, and they hurried toward the front of the house, even as Millie prayed Everett would be safe.

  “I don’t know if all of you saw this or not,” Elizabeth said. “But Uncle Everett just kissed Miss Millie right on the lips.”

  “It was disgusting,” Thaddeus proclaimed.

  “Disgusting or not,” Elizabeth continued, “if we get out of this alive, I think Miss Millie might just become our new aunt.”

  20

  Rage such as he’d never felt before traveled through his veins, clearing Everett’s head and leaving him with a clear purpose.

  Franklin Robinson had murdered two innocent people, taking Fred and Violet from their three precious children, and for that . . . he would pay.

  Spotting an abandoned pail lying on its side right next to what had surely been a sandbox at one time, although now it seemed to be filled with dead leaves, Everett’s sense of rage increased. That Fred had provided that sandbox for his children, there was no doubt, but he’d never again be able to enjoy watching his children play in it.

  With every step he took, Everett saw additional signs of how much Fred had invested in his children’s lives, from the swing hanging forlornly from a tree, to the miniature house patterned after Fred’s real house sitting right before the beginning of the forest. White curtains hung in the playhouse windows, and miniature chairs rested on the small covered porch, seemingly waiting for the children to once again return to sit in them.

  “Do we have a plan?”

  Glancing to his right, Everett found Mr. Victor looking incredibly somber, yet fierce at the same time. “We can try to capture him, but if he balks, I’m shooting him.”

  “Don’t shoot to kill though, Everett. Mr. Robinson needs to be held accountable for his crimes, of which I’m sure there are many.”

  “I wasn’t planning on killing him, even though he seems to have no remorse for murdering Fred and Violet.”

  “A nice leg wound might do the trick. I’ve heard those are incredibly painful. But he will pay for their deaths, Everett. I am an attorney, after all, and I promise you, that man will never again see the light of day, except through a very small window from a very small cell.”

  Nodding, Everett led the way through the trees, using the sound of a shovel plying industriously at the ground as a guide. Slipping up behind a large tree, he waited as Mr. Victor joined him. He then drew in a breath, sent up a quick prayer, something he was beginning to find very reassuring, and stepped from behind the tree, the pistol he’d taken from Fred’s safe held in front of him.

  “Find what you’re looking for?”

  Mr. Robinson froze in the act of shoveling, but only for a second. Throwing the shovel directly at Everett, Mr. Robinson dove for his gun right as Everett fired.

  Dirt and leaves scattered about as the gun Mr. Robinson had been diving for skittered across the ground, stopping out of the man’s reach. A blur that turned out to be Mr. Victor rushed past Everett, and satisfaction flowed freely when the attorney reached the gun before Mr. Robinson did. Mr. Victor snatched it off the ground and calmly aimed it in Mr. Robinson’s direction.

  “That was a great shot,” Mr. Victor said, with just the barest trace of a grin on his face.

  “Not really. I was aiming for his leg.”

  Mr. Victor laughed. “Might want to spend some time practicing, because—”

  “Everyone drop your weapons, get down on the ground, and keep your hands where we can see them. We were contacted by the neighbors that something suspicious was going on, and clearly, they were right, but we . . . Mr. Victor, what you doing here, sir?”

  Before Everett could blink, let alone comply with even one of the demands the police officer had yelled his way, he found himself surrounded by additional policemen.

  Raising one hand into the air, he was about to drop his gun, when all of a sudden, Mr. Robinson rushed at one of the policemen, trying to wrest the man’s gun away from him. As they began to struggle, there was a deafening bang, and then . . . Mr. Robinson crumpled to the ground.

  “Everett!”

  Turning, he found Millie racing toward him, screaming at the policemen not to shoot, and before he could reassure her that he was unharmed, she jumped into his arms, her entire body shaking as she held him tightly.

  “Thank God, thank God,” she kept saying over and over again. “We heard the shots as we were leaving in the carriage, and . . .”

  “It’s all right, Millie,” he said, soothing her with a hand to her back.

  “I thought I was going to find you dead,” she whispered in his ear.

  “I’d hardly be much of a guardian to the children if I stopped breathing.”

  “Would someone please explain what’s going on?”

  Pulling Millie to his side, Everett looked at a policeman who was rising to his feet, the same policeman who’d been struggling with Mr. Robinson. “Is he dead?” he asked with a nod in Mr. Robinson’s direction.

  “No. Just fainted, I think,” the policeman said. “An unfortunate condition brought about due to the fact the fool shot himself in the leg.” The policeman dusted off his hands. “However, we need a detailed explanation as to what transpired here.”

  Everett nodded. “I don’t have time for many details just now, but the long and short of it is this—that man, Mr. Franklin Robinson, crazed inventor it seems, murdered Fred and Violet Burkhart, and was intending to murder . . . well, quite a few more people.” He caught Mr. Victor’s eye. “Would it be possible for you to take over explaining the rest of what we know?”

  Mr. Victor tilted his head. “You’re anxious to get to the children.”

  “They’ve been through quite a bit in the last day.”

  Taking a step closer, Mr. Victor paused. “You’ll be taking them back to New York?”

  “Most likely.”

  Moving closer, Mr. Victor held out his hand. “They belong with you. I see that now, and I cannot apologize enough for not speaking with you before I brought the children here. Miss Dixon was just very convincing, but . . . that’s no excuse for me not gathering all the facts.”

  “Since you helped bring down Fred’s killer, I think we’ll just forget that nasty business of the children disappearing, me losing years off my life, and—”

  “I like you too,” Mr. Victor said before he shook Everett’s hand, nodded to Millie, and then turned and went to speak with the police.

  Taking Millie’s hand in his, they walked back through the forest. When they reached the edge of Fred’s
lawn, the swing captured his attention, and he stopped and stared at it before blowing out a breath.

  “We have much to discuss, Millie, you and I.”

  Millie squeezed his hand. “We do, but not just yet.”

  Looking down at her, he smiled, but his smile faded when she reached up and pulled his head toward hers. The second their lips touched, the horror of the day faded away, and as he pulled her closer to him, he knew without a doubt that he was in the very best of company, the company of the lady he loved.

  “The children are playing with their toys in the nursery,” Millie said thirty minutes later, as she rejoined everyone in the drawing room, a room Lucetta had already stripped of the dustcovers. Moving over to a settee done up in yellow, Millie took a seat. “Since they haven’t seen those toys in quite some months, I think we’ll have plenty of time to speak of matters they really don’t need to hear.”

  “Did you tell them about Mr. Robinson?” Lucetta asked as she walked across the room to join Millie on the settee.

  “I told them he’s going away forever, but I left it at that. They don’t need to know more about that depraved gentleman, at least not until they’re older.” She pushed some bothersome curls out of her eyes. “It’s been quite the day.”

  “It’s been quite the summer,” Lucetta corrected. “And here I thought I’d be getting a lovely rest away from the theater, but I’m not exactly feeling rested.”

  Footsteps coming down the hallway had Millie turning in that direction. She smiled when Everett came into the room, her smile dimming when she noticed the expression on his face. “What is it?”

  “We finally found what Fred buried.”

  “And?”

  “Everett hasn’t opened it yet, because the box is locked,” Mr. Victor said, sending Millie a small smile before he joined his wife on a chaise placed at an angle in front of the fireplace. “We’re hoping Fred left a key for it in his desk, unless you, Miss Longfellow, know how to pick locks as well as get untied from bindings in dastardly situations.”

  Pulling one of the few remaining pins from her hair, Millie grinned. “Please, call me Millie, and of course I know how to pick locks.”

  Handing Everett the small box a moment later, a box that had probably been used at one time to store letters, Millie sat beside him as he opened it and began pulling out papers.

  “These look like the documents Mr. Robinson was looking for.” Everett handed the papers to Mr. Victor before returning his attention to the box. He reached back into it, pulled out a letter, and then stilled. “It’s addressed to me.”

  Placing the letter on his leg, Millie watched as Everett took a finger and slowly traced it over the name Fred had written across the envelope. “He always did have horrible penmanship.” Sliding a finger under the flap, Everett pulled the letter out of the envelope and cleared his throat before he began reading.

  “I hope this letter has found you, Everett, although if it has, I’m probably dead, as is Violet. I’ve been hoping whoever is out to do me in spares her, but . . . time will tell.

  I should have contacted you when I first began having suspicions someone was out to harm me, but . . . you must remember I’m a stubborn sort and thought I could handle this on my own, especially when I contacted the authorities and, since I didn’t have any substantial proof, they acted as if I’d lost my mind.

  I’ve sent Mr. Duncan Victor and his wife away. Their safety is probably in jeopardy as well, but I will be honest and admit I don’t entirely trust Duncan. My suspicion might turn out to be unfounded, and if it does, and if you happen across him someday, tell him I’m sorry for doubting him.”

  Everett looked up from the letter and smiled sadly at Mr. Victor, who was blinking through tears that had filled his eyes. “Fred’s sorry about not trusting you.”

  “So I gather,” Mr. Victor said in a rather raspy voice.

  Bending his head again, Everett continued.

  “I’m sure you were surprised that Violet and I left you the children. I know you’ll be confused by that, and perhaps even angry, but I know your heart, Everett. You’ll protect my children from the evils of this world. I just wish I hadn’t had to ask you to do me such a favor. I wasn’t intending to give you such a responsibility, but I had this dream as I felt danger closing in around me. You were in that dream, Everett. You were holding Thaddeus in your arms, and smiling at my girls, and when I woke up, I knew what I had to do.

  Love them well for me, my dear friend. Tell them how much Violet and I loved them, and help them live happy lives. They’re the greatest treasures of my life, and I wouldn’t trust them with anyone but you.

  May peace be with you, Everett, and know that Violet and I, if we are, indeed, gone from this earth, will be watching you from above.

  With my sincerest love and gratitude.

  Your friend,

  Fred

  And . . . if it is not Everett reading this, but Franklin Robinson . . . you’ll have to meet our Maker in the end, something I don’t believe you’re going to enjoy.”

  Millie watched as Everett stopped reading yet didn’t take his eyes off the single page Fred had left him. Two tears trailed down Everett’s face, but he didn’t brush them away. He simply sat there, rereading Fred’s letter.

  “He must have thought very highly of you, Everett,” Lucetta said softly, “to have given you the care of those precocious scamps.”

  Everett drew in a shuddering breath. “I’m humbled and honored beyond belief.”

  Millie rubbed his arm, and leaned closer to him, but before she could speak any words of comfort, someone was pounding on the front door, the sound causing everyone to jump.

  “Who could that be?” she asked, heading for the hallway. “Do you think the authorities have more questions for us?”

  “It’s Grandmother Dorothy,” Elizabeth shrieked as she raced down the stairs, slid on the wooden floor, regained her balance and headed for the front door. “We saw from the window, and she’s brought. . . . everybody.”

  “She even brought the puppies!” Thaddeus yelled as he rushed past Millie.

  “I didn’t see my peacocks.” Rose charged after her siblings. “They’re going to be mad at being left behind.”

  Breaking into a run, Millie soon found herself on the front porch, blinking in surprise at the vast number of people grinning back at her.

  Dorothy and Fletcher were standing on the porch, Dorothy already holding Rose, while Fletcher hugged Elizabeth tightly. Thaddeus was on the lawn, being licked enthusiastically by Chip, while the other two puppies yelped mournfully by his side, until Elizabeth and Rose ran down to greet them.

  Abigail was standing with Mr. Kenton on one side of her and Mr. Macon on the other, and Davis, Ann, Mrs. O’Connor, and what seemed to be the entire staff from Seaview and Abigail’s cottage filled up the front lawn, all of them smiling back at Millie.

  “We got Everett’s note, the one telling us you were heading for Boston,” Reverend Gilmore said, stepping out of the crowd. “Since we needed to make certain you were safe and had found the children, here we are.”

  “But . . . why didn’t you just wait for us to return to Newport, or wait for us to send a telegram?” Millie asked slowly.

  “Because we’re your family, Millie, and families don’t wait.”

  With tears blinding her, Millie was soon enveloped in one lovely hug after another. Her heart was filled to bursting, and she realized for the very first time in her life that she wasn’t truly an orphan. She might have a family made up of the oddest assortment of people—from society matrons, to footmen, to dear, precious children, and Lucetta and Everett, of course—but they were her family, and she loved them dearly.

  “Mr. Victor!” Abigail barked. “Rose just told me who you are, sir, but why aren’t you in jail?”

  “He wasn’t the villain we assumed him to be,” Everett said, hefting Thaddeus up in his arms. “However, even though we have much to tell everyone, there is a matter of g
reat importance that must be addressed immediately, and in order for me to be able to do that, I need to speak with the children. If all of you would gather out in the backyard, I’ll be with you directly.”

  Lucetta grabbed hold of one of Millie’s hands while Abigail took hold of the other, and with anticipation beginning to swirl through her, Millie led the way across the lawn with the puppies now scampering at her feet.

  “I must say the two of you are looking rather bedraggled,” Abigail said with a nod to Lucetta and then to Millie. “Dorothy and I packed bags for both of you, so you’ll be able to change soon.”

  “Should I ask what you packed for us?” Lucetta asked with an arch of a brow.

  “Lovely gowns of course, with a few pairs of pants tailored by our very own Davis for you, Lucetta, since I do know how you like to be comfortable, if not always fashionably acceptable.”

  Lucetta grinned. “You really are a dear, sweet woman, aren’t you.”

  “Of course I am,” Abigail returned as they rounded the house and moved across the backyard. “And I’ll be sure to remind you that you made that claim after we get back to the city and . . . Well . . . no need to delve into that.”

  She turned away from a now-sputtering Lucetta to settle her attention on Millie. “Mr. Kenton told me about the kiss you shared with Everett. The poor man was completely baffled about how to handle the situation, although he did mention something about a bat being involved, and not the type of bat that flies through the air at night.”

  Millie’s lips curved into a grin as she looked to Mr. Kenton, who smiled back and sent her a wink. Looking around the backyard, she was about to thank everyone for coming such a long way when Everett and the children reappeared, the children grinning from ear to ear and Everett looking rather . . . determined.

  He strode across the lawn and came to stop directly in front of her, silence descending as he took hold of her hand. Giving that hand a little squeeze, he smiled.