Somewhere Between

by Patty Wiseman

  Her resolve to let the supernatural intrigue go started to crumble. Elizabet is involved now. The so-called appearance might end her natural curiosity or spark it even more. Only time will tell. I refuse to go upstairs again, so it’s imperative I find a better hiding place for the diary.

  Back in her bedroom, she tried to will the diary gone, praying its appearance was only an aftermath of an overactive imagination. But, when she lifted the pillow, it lay there mocking her.

  She picked it up. It tingled in her hand.

  This isn’t over. It won’t be over until I find out who killed Edmund. They’ve come to Elizabet, it’s possible they will come again. But, why? So she’ll know the truth? She’s only five years old. How will she ever understand all of this?

  She turned it over, back and forth, trying to decide what to do. Finally, she sat down and opened it to the last page she’d read. It told of Anthony’s birth.

  ‘This child is my first, my everything. It is all I have left of Edmund.’

  Phebe skimmed over this part, hoping to reveal more of Jonathan’s confession. Finally, she stopped. There it is.

  ‘Jonathan confessed to me today. He wants another child. Soon. He doesn’t pay any attention to Anthony. Avoids him at every turn. Looks away when he’s brought into the room. Never visits the nursery. I know what he’s thinking. Anthony is Edmund’s child. He’ll never forget that. Anthony is not yet a year old, but Jonathan is insisting. I don’t want to bring another child into this loveless marriage.’

  She looked up as tears stung her eyes. “Poor Mary.” The pages swam before her eyes as she skimmed through the hard parts. Jonathan wouldn’t take no for an answer and came to her every night until it was confirmed she was with child again. Mary told of a difficult confinement and the day little Emma was born. “Elizabet’s mother,” Phebe murmured.

  She continued reading. ‘I barely see the baby. She was whisked away from me shortly after birth. A governess is assigned to the nursery. I’m encouraged to let her perform all the tasks I took such joy in lavishing on Anthony. I miss that. Emma’s birth left me weak. I have no strength to fight. Now that she’s here, I never see Jonathan. He spends all his time with the baby. At least, I have Anthony. Even though they do their best to keep me from Emma, their interest in Anthony is minimal. I see the writing on the wall. When I get my strength back, I must take my children and leave this place.’

  “So, this is why the trunk was packed upstairs. Mary was leaving. But, she didn’t. Her things are still in her room, neatly packed. What happened, why didn’t she leave?”

  She turned back to the diary. The next entry was short and terrifying.

  ‘I heard the lock click on my bedroom door late last night. I eased out of bed and tried to open it. They locked me in! But why? Where is my dear Anthony? My strength hasn’t returned. I’m still very weak. I suspect they’re putting something in my food. I was able to stand long enough to go to the window and look down on the front lawn. Jonathan held Emma while his parents and the governess got into the carriage. What is the governess’s name? I can’t seem to remember. Their formal clothes suggest a trip to church. Is this Sunday? Where is my little Anthony?’

  Phebe flipped to the next page. It was blank. She shuffled through the rest of the pages. All empty. This was Mary’s last entry. “What happened to her?”

  A sudden chill settled over the room as she focused on the date of the entry. May 5, 1819. The day was eerily familiar. She sprang from the bed, tucked the diary under the pillow, and grabbed her cloak.

  Downstairs, Myrtle stopped her at the door. “What on earth are you doing? Why it’s almost dark. You can’t be wandering out alone at night.”

  “I’m just going to the stables to knock the cobwebs from my head. The horses give me such joy. I won’t be long.” She flashed her a smile and scurried out the door.

  Jake was home by now, so no fear of running into him. She made a straight line to the stables, ducked inside, and hurried to the back of the barn. The single door opened easily as she slipped through it and out into the night.

  Darkness was falling fast, but twilight couldn’t deter her from the mission to confirm her suspicions.

  The hinges on the old gate creaked, giving the dusky evening a surreal atmosphere. But, she wasn’t afraid. Edmund was her friend, she had no fear of him. In fact, she hoped he would appear.

  She picked her way through the tombstones, confident of the way. Mary’s grave came into view. By now, the sun was gone, and a dim moon lurked behind a cloud. She could barely make out the markings on the granite. May 7, 1819.

  PHEBE’S KNEES GAVE WAY. SHE sank onto the damp, lush grass as the date on the tombstone danced before her eyes, distorted by a flood of tears.

  Mary died two days after the last entry in her diary.

  Unbridled emotion was not a natural trait for her. She wondered at its sudden appearance, filling her chest with sadness to the point of bursting for a woman she never met.

  Alone in the peaceful cemetery, she let the tears fall, mourning Mary’s untimely demise. A faint whiff of jasmine caressed her senses, cloaking her with an aura of calm in the cool beauty of the night.

  After a while, questions replaced the anguish. Why did she die so suddenly?

  One by one, she thought of the passages she read in the journal. They kept Emma from Mary, she grew weaker every day. Even Anthony’s visits were limited in the end. They locked her in the bedroom and two days from her last entry, she was dead. Something didn’t add up.

  Finally, the cold ground seeped through her clothes. A shiver shook her body as she stood. As she prepared to leave, she lightly traced her fingers across Mary’s name engraved on the tombstone. “Both you and Edmund died mysteriously. I can’t leave it alone. I must find out what happened. Not to assuage my own curiosity, but for Elizabet.”

  The night wrapped her in darkness, the narrow lane barely visible. The horses whinnied softly when she entered the barn. At every stall, she stopped to caress each horse’s velvety muzzle.

  Time stood still in the cemetery, now she worried she’d been gone too long. “I’ll get a tongue lashing, no doubt. But, you’ll back me up, won’t you, Rowena?” She rubbed the beautiful bay’s nose while it snuffled her sleeve. “No carrots today. I’ll bring double tomorrow.”

  After a last pat, she squared her shoulders and prepared to face the consequences.

  As suspected, the cook stood at the stove, wooden spoon in hand.

  “And just where have you been, young lady? It’s unseemly for you to wander around in the dark. Why, what will people say?”

  “I’m not a child. I spent some time with the horses. You needn’t worry.”

  Myrtle flushed, two little spots of pink adorned her cheeks. “Well…it’s just…why, you haven’t had any supper.”

  “You’re right! And I’m starved. Is it too late for me to have a bowl of whatever smells so good?”

  Always vain about her cooking, it was easy to distract her from the point at hand. “Never too late for a good meal. Sit down, I’ll dish it up.”

  Constant sideway glances and throat clearings from the cook prompted her to ask, “Something on your mind, Myrtle?”

  “Well, no, I mean, it’s Miss Elizabet. Her mother mentioned the child was quieter than normal today. Smiled to herself a lot. Did you notice it? Elizabet is much more mischievous than the boys. Seems out of character. I’d think she might be ill, except for the smiling.”

  It was hard not to choke on the bite she just swallowed, but hid her surprise rather deftly. “Why no, I’ve noticed no difference. She is almost six, maybe she’s growing up a bit.”

  “Maybe…”

  “I wouldn’t worry about it. Stages, you know.” She stood. “As always, supper was wonderful. I’m rather tired and still need to finish my lesson plan for tomorrow. See you in the morning.”

  She didn’t pause for acknowledgement.

  The diary was where she left it.

  Te
ars welled again as she flipped it open and read the last line. Where is my little Anthony?

  “There are no more clues to be found,” she said to the empty room. “The journal has left me more questions than before. Now, there are two deaths to figure out. Edmund’s and Mary’s. I promised myself I wouldn’t pursue this any longer, but little Elizabet is involved now.”

  She snapped the journal shut and stood. “There is only one person who can give me more information. Anthony.”

  A risky idea formed while she paced the room. I can’t ask Elizabet, but maybe someone in town would know something. It’s time I made a trip to the market myself. There are people who must know what happened to him.

  Elizabet didn’t mention the appearance of her grandparents during the next day’s lessons. Phebe was content to leave it that way.

  A daring thought niggled at her during class. Every few minutes, she glanced at the small clock on the wall, anticipating the end of the school day. Finally, the chime indicated class was over. She was free to pursue the intriguing idea of gleaning more clues about the illusive Anthony.

  Part of her plan included Winston. A candid explanation would show an innocent intent. He wouldn’t expect that.

  All three children left the class room with a book in hand to read and discuss on the next day.

  If she was to catch Winston, she must hurry.

  He was in the dining room inspecting the silver.

  “Hello, Winston. It’s a fine day, isn’t it?”

  A quick glance was his only response as he held a silver table knife to the window light for any sign of a smudge.

  “I’d like to take a buggy into town, if it’s all right. I wasn’t sure who to ask. I’m an experienced driver, so you needn’t worry. I’m sure Jake would prepare one for me.” She held her breath awaiting his reaction.

  “And why do you feel the need to go into town? Don’t we provide everything you need?” His eyes remained on the silver flatware shining in the window’s light.

  “Of course, you do. It’s a lovely day. I’d like to see the town. I need a little diversion. Surely you won’t begrudge me that.”

  He placed the utensil into the cabinet drawer and slowly turned to look at her. “We begrudge you nothing here. If you want to drive into town, then do so. You’re free to come and go as you please, as long as you take care of your duties properly.”

  His dispassionate demeanor sent a chill down her spine. A sort of smirk played on his lips, his eyes narrowed, as if in warning.

  She shrugged it off. My imagination, again.

  “Thank you, Winston. I shouldn’t be long. A drive on a day like today is just what I need.”

  Before she exited the room, she glanced back. He didn’t move, just stared at her with an unpleasant gleam in his eyes.

  What in the world is wrong with him? He’s been unpleasant since the day I noticed the emerald ring on his finger. I don’t trust him. Or is it that he doesn’t trust me?

  Myrtle wasn’t in the kitchen and she sighed with relief.

  Jake was in the barn and smiled when she entered. “Hello, Ms. Phebe. It’s good to see you. What brings you to the barn?”

  “I thought I might take one of the buggies and ride into town. I haven’t explored much there and it’s such a beautiful day. Could you get one ready for me?”

  Jake straightened. “Well, I don’t know. It’s highly irregular for a woman to go into town unaccompanied.”

  “I’ve already mentioned it to Winston. He didn’t seem to mind.”

  He scratched the cowlick on the top of his head. “Winston doesn’t run the stables. He runs the house. Any mistakes with the horses will be on my head. I don’t know if I like taking on that responsibility.”

  She sighed and looked around the barn. “It looks like your work is done. Why don’t you come with me?”

  “Me? Come with you?”

  “Yes, it’s a grand idea. A proper chaperone. If you behave, there might be a stick of candy in it for you.”

  He stood still, blinking as the sun’s rays filtered through the dirty window over the back door.

  “Well, yes or no, Jake? I don’t have all day.”

  “I guess it wouldn’t hurt. Mother is working at the Olsen’s today. Won’t be home ‘til late. Sure, I’ll drive ya.”

  She was glad he decided to come along. His company always cheered her up.

  Together, they hooked Rowena to the older black buggy, laughing as Phebe struggled with the breast strap.

  “It’s been a while since I’ve hitched up a horse,” she said.

  “Here, let me do it. It’s faster that way.” He grinned at her as he took the straps.

  Before long, they were on the road to town.

  “What’s got you so all fired up to get into town today?” Jake slapped the reins gently over Rowena’s back.

  “Nothing in particular. Just want to look around. Meet some of the locals. I think it’s time I got acquainted with the townspeople, don’t you?”

  The smile dimmed from his face. “I guess it’s okay, but I’ll remind you, people around these parts keep to themselves, pretty much.”

  “Don’t worry, I’m all finished with the ghosts of Queens Court Acres.”

  He glanced sideways at her. “Good. No good comes from being nosy.”

  They rode in silence until the outskirts of the town came into view.

  “What businesses preside in the town, Jake? Is there a general store?”

  “There’s a mercantile, a blacksmith, a small hotel, a post office, the doc’s office, and a saloon. There’s even a dress shop. You know, where a lady can get fit for a new dress. My mother used to work there. There’s a few other shops, but that’s about it. Oh, and the church.”

  She smiled. “You know it occurs to me I haven’t met your mother. I need to call on her.”

  “Nah, she ain’t much on company. Works and keeps to herself ever since Pa died.”

  Phebe continued to watch the town as the buildings became more defined. She saw Main Street and noticed there was quite a bustle of people on the sidewalks.

  “Looks bigger than you described it, Jake. Quite a town.”

  “I guess. I don’t come here much.” He pulled up beside the hotel and hopped out to help her down.

  “I’m going to find that dress shop. What will you do while I’m gone?”

  “Goin’ by the blacksmith. Couple of things I need to see about.”

  “Meet you in an hour at the hotel? I’ll buy you an ice cream.”

  Jake’s eyes danced. “Ice cream instead of candy? Wow, that would be swell.”

  She watched him march off to the blacksmith, warmed at the excitement on his face. “All right, now to find the dress shop.”

  It didn’t take long to find Ellie’s Fine Dresses.

  The little bell tinkled as she entered. The front was neat as a pin, decorated in pinks and rose colors. Very lady like and proper. Red roses adorned the large table near the window filling the room with a robust fragrance. A tea tray stood by the side window.

  Two well-dressed women sat beside the tray sipping a beverage from china cups. The older of the women looked over the teacup while continuing to sip. Her eyes were bright blue and belied her age. Gray curls peeking out of a wide-brimmed bonnet was a truer measure of her age. Her blonde companion looked Phebe up and down with unabashed boldness, blinking blue eyes much like the older woman. Her bold stare took her by surprise.

  “Is Ms. Ellie here?” Phebe asked.

  The younger woman response bordered on rudeness. “She’s in the back.”

  The gray-headed lady offered a softer tone. “It won’t be long. She’s fitting another lady.”

  “Thank you,” Phebe said with a nod. She looked around and chose a chair on the other side of the room.

  “You must be the governess out at Queens Court Acres,” the brash lady stated.

  “Why yes, my name is Phebe Whiteside. May I ask your names?”

  Tog
ether, the two women set their cups down and stood.

  The older woman turned away. “We’ll have to come back later. Other errands to run.”

  They left, the little bell tinkling in their wake.

  “Strange,” she said out loud.

  “May I help you, ma’am?”

  Phebe turned to see a lovely, slim woman standing in the door to the fitting room. “Yes, are you Ms. Ellie?”

  “Yes,” She looked around the room. “What happened to Mrs. Jameson and her daughter?”

  “The women taking tea over there?” She pointed to the empty chairs. “They left, said they had other errands to do.”

  Ms. Ellie pushed a brown curl from her brow. “Unusual, since they insisted on an appointment today. Oh well, it’s to be expected from those two. Think they own the town.”

  Phebe stood and extended her hand. “I’m Phebe Whiteside, the new governess at Queens Court Acres. I wanted to talk about a new dress.”

  Ms. Ellie laughed, a jovial, friendly laugh. “That explains it. Did you perchance tell them your name and where you worked?”

  “Why yes, I did.”

  “Town gossips. They probably couldn’t wait to tell their cronies.”

  “But why would they want to gossip about me? I’m nobody.”

  Ms. Ellie walked to the tea tray, poured a cup, and offered it to her. “Anything that goes on in that house is of interest to everyone in this town.”

  She took the cup from the store owner. “Then there is something not quite right there.”

  “Hasn’t been right with that family for years. I hope you’re being careful.” Ellie poured herself a cup of hot tea.

  “Well, I’ve been told more than once to stop asking questions.” She put her cup down and looked directly at Ms. Ellie. “I don’t know you, but you seem to know the history of the family. I’m looking for someone.”

  Ellie stood, her lovely smile gone. “I thought you came here for a dress. I have another customer in the fitting room. I really don’t have time to answer—.”

  Phebe asked the question anyway. “Where’s Anthony?”