by Beth Byers
“Oh,” Marian gasped. “Of course.”
She ran for the window. It wasn’t even locked. Marian pushed it up and yelled, “Fire! Help.”
Georgette was just behind Marian, leading the vicar’s mother. Harrison Parker had arrived at the sound of Marian’s call with Charles and Joseph close behind, followed by several other fellows who were shouting questions.
“The door is locked,” Georgette called to Charles and Joseph. “We’ll get out through the windows, but…”
Joseph and several of the local men ran for the front of the building while Georgette helped the elderly women into Charles’s waiting hands. Person after person was helped through the window in between coughing fits.
Georgette was struggling to breathe when Marian said, “It’s just us left.”
Georgette nodded and took an ill-advised deep breath. She grabbed her side, leaning against the wall and a few moments later, someone lifted her into their arms and stepped out into the clear air. She couldn’t focus on who was carrying her for the coughing and the way her eyes were streaming.
“I’ll take her,” Georgette heard Charles say and then opened her gaze to see who was holding her. Somehow she’d ended up in Harrison’s arms.
“I’ve got her.”
Georgette stiffened and wriggled, and she was set down next to Marian. The two of them leaned against each other. There was something happening between Harrison Parker and Charles, but Georgette was just struggling to breathe.
After a few minutes, Georgette could breathe well enough to accept Charles’s handkerchief. Her lungs hurt and the coughing was coming and going, but she had awareness enough to ask, “Everyone got out?”
Her breath was wheezing. Joseph answered. “Yes. Someone locked the doors. The key was on a ring in the closet, so it could have been anyone.”
“Why?” Georgette asked and then coughed into her arm. She staggered a little and Charles stepped in to wrap his arm around her and give her support. It was an odd thing to note that his touch was less bothersome to her than Harrison’s touch.
Georgette tried clearing her throat and then happily took a glass of water that someone from the nearby pub was handing around. She sipped slowly, realizing her throat hurt along with her eyes. She wanted to scrub herself raw and never stop drinking this water. If only it were cooler.
Finally she tried again, “Why would anyone do that?”
“There was a note nailed to the front of the hall,” Joseph said. “We’ll lose the hall, I think. Someone did a very good job of starting a series of fires.”
“What did the note say?” Marian asked. She was leaning into Joseph as heavily as Georgette was leaning into Charles.
“It said the blackmailer needed to stop or next time there would be more than just wood and stone as a casualty.”
Georgette sighed and leaned harder into Charles. Perhaps she should have tried to say something earlier? She paused at that thought and knew that she was entirely innocent in this situation. Nothing she’d done had caused this. Even her books weren’t the reason that someone had started blackmailing the others.
Georgette looked up at Charles. “I’d like to go home.”
He nodded and swung her up in his arms.
“Here now? What’s this, Etta?” Harrison Parker demanded. “Where are you going with her?”
“I am taking Miss Marsh home,” Charles said. “Did you want to bring your cousin?”
Parker grunted and then said, “I’ve got my auto. We can put both of them into it and my aunt as well.”
Georgette mind and heart weren’t fully engaged in what was happening around her as she was placed in the auto. She heard Mrs. Parker’s continuous bemoaning diatribe about the fire, but Georgette was withdrawing into herself rather than interacting. Her hand was clasped in Marian’s while they motored across the village.
How had this happened? Why were people so unkind to each other? Georgette found herself unable to truly form a series of connected thoughts. Each breath was difficult and Georgette realized she was shivering. She would have pulled her sweater around her, but she had left it in her haste to get to the ladies meeting.
Georgette wasn’t sure how much time passed while the gents took Marian and her aunt inside the house, but she was nearly unaware when they returned. Charles wrapped an arm around her and then said something to Mr. Parker. Her teeth were chattering when Charles picked her up out of the auto and carried her inside of her cottage.
Chapter 10
Georgette Dorothy Marsh
Georgette realized she’d been a damsel in distress when she looked up from the cup of tea and whiskey that had been pressed into her hands.
“Oh my,” she rasped. She paused at the sound of her voice and then repeated, “Oh my.”
A cough struck her a moment later, and once it stilled, she dared to sip her tea concoction until the itchiness at the back of her throat faded.
“What happened?” she finally asked.
Charles took hold of her hand. “I was going to ask you.”
Eunice entered the parlor with a bowl of water and a wash cloth. “You’re pretty sooty.”
Georgette wiped her face. “I was telling everyone who I was and in the process, smoke started coming into the room. The door was locked and people started panicking until Marian and I opened the window and started helping the ladies out the window.”
Charles shook his head and then told her, “Someone left a note on the door. It was about the blackmailing. Someone else must have realized that it had to be one of the ladies who was doing the blackmailing.”
“It doesn’t make any sense,” Georgette told Charles, speaking low and quiet so she didn’t strain her voice.
“It’s the plan of an idiot, certainly,” Charles agreed.
“Don’t talk about it,” Eunice ordered. “She was barely aware of what was happening a few minutes ago. She needs to rest. She’s been in shock and quite frankly neither the blackmailer nor the fire are any of our concern.”
Charles agreed, and Eunice harassed Georgette until she was in the bath with lavender oil and bath salts. When she was helped from the bathtub, she dressed in pajamas and put a heavy dressing gown over the top. She was struck with occasional shivers, but Georgette made her way down to the kitchen and then paused in the doorway. Charles was still in the cottage, and Georgette felt instantly like a drab mushroom.
“I—”
“Your color is better,” Charles said. “I’ve been worried.”
She pressed her hands to her cheeks, which were suddenly burning, and then said in a strained whisper, “I am feeling better. Except for my throat and lungs.” She paused for a moment and admitted, “And my heart.”
Charles took her hand.
“I’ve prepared a chicken soup for supper,” Eunice said. “I thought it might help you feel better.”
Georgette agreed and took in the scent of freshly made bread. Soup and bread were just what she needed after what she’d been through.
“Eunice,” Georgette rasped, “we’re leaving Bard’s Crook. As soon as can be arranged. Charles found a set of rooms in London we can take while we sell the cottage and find a new place.”
Eunice nodded, muttering, “We’ll be lucky to survive Bard’s Crook given that everyone will know you’re Joseph Jones by the end of the day.”
Georgette flinched at the sourness in Eunice’s voice, but she was also well aware that her maid wasn’t wrong. Two people had been murdered and there had been an act of arson. Georgette was coming to the conclusion that Bard’s Crook was never what she had imagined. It was possible she had only believed that Bard’s Crook was an idyllic little village because she hadn’t known any better.
They ate soup in near silence while Georgette struggled with her cough and the itchiness in her throat. It ended with Joseph arriving at the door. He brought a tin of peppermint sweeties.
“Marian sends these,” he said. “You two are the worst given you were the last ones
out. You and Marian both sound terrible. Dr. Wilkes is planning to stop by to check everyone, but he started with the elderly.”
Georgette took one happily and then sighed in relief a few moments later. She was, she thought suddenly, wearing a dressing gown with gentlemen visitors. Normally, she would never—ever—be this casual. Today, however, she wanted tea, her dogs, and her home.
“Did you find the fiend?” Charles asked.
Joseph’s expression was morose, and Georgette was suddenly sure that something else had happened.
“Did someone get hurt fighting the fire?”
Joseph shook his head. “We were so busy getting you ladies out, it took a bit to look through all the rooms.”
Georgette shook her head, certain that there was worse news ahead.
“But someone was hurt?” Charles asked, sounding doubtful as well. Joseph’s expression was answer enough.
“Someone named Miles Brown died.” Joseph’s disgust was evident, and Georgette examined his face, hoping it wasn’t true. “Apparently the caretaker tended to nap in the attics. He died of smoke inhalation, they think. Dr. Wilkes said he can’t spare the time for the dead until he’s seen to the living.”
“That’s two murders that can fall to the feet of this blackmailer,” Charles groaned. “And the loss of the village hall.”
“We need to find the blackmailer,” Georgette said and then coughed into a handkerchief. “And the murderer, and then never come back to Bard’s Crook. I feel certain our life span will be shortened if we stay here too long.”
“Most certainly,” Joseph said. “The worst of the cases I’ve worked lately have been Bard’s Crook cases. And I generally work London cases. How is this even possible? People who were moving out of London would think they were moving to a safer location.”
Georgette faded in and out of the conversation. She wasn’t sure that anything had ever been more traumatic than helping elderly women out of a window while the building was on fire. The memories of the event were playing through her mind. The soft whisper of the vicar’s mother as she said, “Oh no, dear, you go first.”
Of Mrs. Yancey who said, “Georgette, you are such a dear.”
Of Miss Hallowton who said, “I still don’t believe you’re Joseph Jones though why you’d lie, I’ll never know.”
Georgette didn’t reply then but the memory reappeared over and over again. Why would anyone start a fire in a building where elderly women were trying to organize to do good works? Georgette understood the blackmailer was the target, but it was cruel to include people who couldn’t possibly be the villain, threatening their lives as well.
Eunice came back into the parlor, examined Georgette, and then left again. She appeared again with tea. “I am worried about you, Miss Georgie. When is the doctor coming? Surely if you were one of the last ones out, he should be here first?”
Georgette took the tea. She wasn’t worried about herself, but she knew things were askew. She was well aware that Charles was giving her worried expression after worried expression and that Joseph was pacing.
“I can’t ask her questions right now,” Joseph said to Charles.
“She started out worried and anxious,” Charles told Joseph, “and then she revealed her deepest secret, and then she helped twenty women escape a fire while she breathed in smoke. Knowing Georgette, she’s probably taking responsibility as well.”
“This one isn’t my fault,” Georgette whispered. “My head is so fuzzy it feels like it’s wrapped up in wool.”
“You need to sleep,” Charles told her. “Rest and let yourself recover from this afternoon. Anyone would have a reaction to your day.”
“She can’t go to sleep until the doctor comes. You,” Eunice ordered Joseph, “Marian is well?”
He nodded.
“Find the doctor. Send him to us, and then find the criminals.”
Georgette chuckled and then one of her dogs whined at her. She patted her lap, little caring that the dog leapt onto the sofa with her. The first was followed by the second and the third. Susan licked her chin and Bea whined and snuggled closer.
“They know I’m upset,” Georgette told the others. Her eyes were burning with sudden tears, and she asked again, “Was everyone else okay? Is Mrs. Yancey all right?”
Joseph shook his head and at her look of alarm said, “No, yes, goodness! Mrs. Yancey is well. Everyone but the caretaker is all right, Georgie. The doctor won’t let me interview any of the victims. Everyone else is working on the hall. The local bobby is taking names for people to talk to tomorrow, and I am both enraged at the delay and at having to stay away from Marian because her aunt requires that Marian rest quietly in her bed.”
“You know,” she rasped, “I would have felt safe anywhere in Bard’s Crook. Until today.”
“You don’t have to stay here,” Charles told her.
Her gaze narrowed. “We aren’t leaving until things are set right.”
Charles glanced at her and then at Joseph. “Well, what do we know so far?”
“Someone came into the ladies meeting after the rest of you were there, started a series of fires, and locked the doors. Given the locks, the villain could have been inside the room, outside the room, or working with a partner.”
Georgette shivered, wondering if she’d helped the murderess out of the window.
“It wasn’t a planned murder,” Georgette said. “They had to know we’d get out the windows. On the first floor, working together, it wasn’t even that difficult.”
“Someone just wanted the blackmail to stop,” Charles said. “I suppose I can understand that. Being Joseph Jones isn’t the most terrible of things. Most wouldn’t even consider it shameful, especially outside of Bard’s Crook. Whoever is being blackmailed and started that fire—their secret is far worse.”
Georgette shivered and then pulled her feet up under her, making the dogs shift and then tuck back into her side. One of them whimpered and then licked her.
“What sweet girls,” Georgette said, hearing the vicar’s mother whimper instead of the dog.
Joseph stopped his pacing. “Marian wanted me to ensure you were well. I’m going to find the doctor, let her know that you’re all right and find out the state of things with the hall. The investigation will begin as soon as possible.”
Charles stayed until the doctor arrived, who listened to Georgette’s lungs, propped her up with several pillows and gave her something to help her sleep.
“Everyone is all right?” Georgette asked, her face falling a moment later as she added, “except for poor Mr. Brown.”
“Everyone else is fine,” Dr. Wilkes answered. He watched her swallow her sleeping pill and then asked, “You wrote those books?”
“I needed money,” Georgette said simply. “I never thought anyone I knew would read them or be hurt. I’m sorry if I hurt you.”
Dr. Wilkes shook his head. “You were kind to me and my wife.”
“Well,” Georgette said, “I have always liked you.”
A great yawn hit her and then her cough struck her as well.
“Plenty of honey for that cough,” he ordered. “It works as well as anything you can buy at the chemist.”
Chapter 11
Georgette Dorothy Marsh
Georgette woke the next morning with a much clearer mind. Her throat and lungs hurt, but she wasn’t going to let that stop her. She took a bath in order for the steam help her calm her lungs. After she finished dressing, she went down to the kitchen and found Eunice.
Eunice was wearing the same dress as the day before, and she had great bags under her eyes. Georgette glanced around and found crates throughout the cottage, many half-filled with items. Eunice must have worked through the night given the state of the cottage. Georgette found Charles sitting at the table with a cup of coffee and toast and a stranger across from him. Both men had their own great bags under their eyes.
“Georgette,” Charles said, sounding almost as hoarse as she did, “meet
my nephew, Robert. He’s brought my auto.”
Georgette stared in shock between the men and then glanced down at herself, incredibly grateful she was wearing a dress and shoes instead of a dressing gown. The memory of sitting in her parlor in her dressing gown the previous evening made her cheeks burn.
“We’re moving,” Eunice told Georgette flatly. “We’ve ordered a truck as well. It’ll be here soon. Robert and I will pack up the house. Join Charles and Joseph in finding the blackmailer if you must, but we’re going.”
Georgette gaped but it was nothing less than what she’d declared. She knew that her time in this village had come to an end. She glanced between all of them, taking in their wide, worried gazes.
“I think that’s a good idea,” Georgette told them. “I think I will say goodbye and see what I can find out for Joseph at the same time.”
Charles huffed out in relief, and she took a deep breath in and asked, “Would you like to go with me?”
“He’s going,” Eunice answered. “We’re staying together. We’re being careful and smart and then we’re leaving.”
Georgette grinned for a moment and then laughed, but her laughter turned into a coughing fit.
Eunice scowled. “I am not all right with you being unable to laugh without coughing.” She shoved a teacup at Georgette. “Drink that. Where are those sweeties? Take those with you to keep your throat moist. I have the honey here somewhere.”
Georgette was doctored with every old wives’ cure that Eunice had been able to uncover and then Georgette said, “We should start with Harriet. Has anyone heard from Marian?”
“She and her aunt are well,” Eunice said. “One of the girls who help them stopped by with honey for us from them and a report. They’re both going to spend some time by the sea with Marian’s parents until Marian’s cough stops.”
Georgette’s eyes glinted with envy and then Eunice added, “We’ve been invited as well. I already accepted on your behalf. I’ll get us settled; you’ll heal by the sea.”
