by Paula Paul
Atewater’s grip tightened on her arm. “Forgive me for being presumptuous, Dr. Gladstone, but I must say, it’s rather not a good idea for you to be in the habit of walking about so late. Especially in light of recent events.”
“Perhaps you’re right.” Alexandra stumbled in the darkness as she tried to calm Zack. “Perhaps it’s rather not a good idea for either of us.”
“Point well taken. And I for one would have gone straight to my lodgings at the inn had I not seen you and felt compelled to—”
“Excuse me, Mr. Atewater, we’re headed in the direction away from my house, and I’m afraid I really must return home. My housekeeper will be—”
“Of course. Forgive me, I’m afraid I don’t know where you live.” Atewater said.
“It’s that way.” She pointed toward her house. “And I must thank you for your concern for me tonight, and perhaps, if whatever kept you here isn’t too consuming, I shall see you again.” She was eager to get away to examine Zack. He was still acting odd, and she knew the wound was bleeding. Quince’s ruffians had hurt him, and she wanted to see how serious his injury might be.
“Oh, but I can’t allow you to walk home alone.” Atewater took her arm again.
“But, Mr. Atewater—”
“Yes, yes, I know you’re accustomed to walking alone, and you do have your dog to protect you, but I simply would never forgive myself if I allowed you to walk home and then learned some ill fortune had befallen you.”
His firm grip and his long, measured stride confirmed that it would do no good to argue with him. She only hoped he would be quiet once they reached her door so that Nancy wouldn’t awaken. She had too much to think about now to have to contend with Nancy.
Zack’s behavior was even more erratic when they reached the house, and Alexandra was sure that his low growls and occasional agitated barks would awaken Nancy, and she would have to be dealt with anyway.
When they reached the front door, and before she unlocked it, Alexandra reached down to touch Zack again, with the hope of calming him.
He yelped in pain, and Atewater drew back, alarmed.
“Sorry,” Alexandra said, “I’m afraid Zack stumbled back there along the water front, and he must have hit his head on a rock.” Alexandra was surprised at how easily the lie came to her lips. As she moved her hand gently along Zack’s head, he cried out again as she touched the wound, the same sharp scream of pain she had heard in the darkness earlier. Perhaps they had stuck him only out of fear, but it made her angry nevertheless.
“My word. Do you need help with that animal?” In spite of his offer, Atewater’s voice seemed reluctant.
“No, no, I’ll be fine. I just want to get him inside and have a look at the wound.” By now Alexandra had the door unlocked and was trying to lead Zack inside. But Zack kept stalling, looking over his shoulder as if he was expecting something unpleasant. Alexandra silently chided herself for getting him into a situation that had made him so overwrought.
In the struggle to keep the dog going in the right direction, she dropped her key, and the shawl she was wearing slipped to the floor. Atewater stepped inside to pick up both for her.
“Don’t bother, please. You’ve done enough.” Alexandra spoke in a whisper, still hoping Nancy would stay asleep.
“No bother,” Atewater said. He stood, holding the key and the shawl, but Alexandra could not let go of the nervous Zack long enough to take them. They looked at each other in an awkward silence for a moment.
“Thank you so much for your help,” Alexandra said finally. “I’m afraid I’d best see to my dog now, and I know you must get back to the inn. Good night, sir.” She led Zack off to the surgery, leaving Atewater to see himself out. Once inside, she talked to Zack in soothing tones while she examined and cleaned the wound. It did, indeed, look as if he’d been struck with something. A rock, perhaps. While there was a cut that was bleeding and was, no doubt, tender, it didn’t appear to be serious.
Zack’s unusually nervous attitude had calmed somewhat by the time she led him out of the surgery, but he still insisted upon staying very close to her side. As they walked into the hallway, she was surprised to see that a lamp had been lit in the parlor. Alexandra took a deep breath and prepared herself to find Nancy waiting there to interrogate her.
She was startled when she saw that it was not Nancy who waited for her in the parlor but Atewater. He was standing next to the lamp table, the shawl and house key still in his hands.
“Forgive me.” He appeared embarrassed. “I just…I just wanted to make sure you were all right.”
“Thank you for your concern, Mr. Atewater, and yes, we’re both—”
“What. Is. Going. On. Down. Here?” It was Nancy, coming down the stairs in her nightdress and enunciating each word with annoyance. “All the racket makes…”She stopped three steps from the bottom of the stairway, looking first at Alexandra and then at Atewater. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were entertaining. Shall I make tea?”
Atewater started to protest, but Alexandra stopped him after the second “No.”
“You look as if you could use some tea, Mr. Atewater, and you gave me such a scare out there, I believe I would like some, too.” Alexandra was feeling more relaxed now that she knew Zack’s wounds were not serious. She turned to Nancy and gave a little nod, and Nancy replied with a look of exasperated curiosity before she turned away to the kitchen. Alexandra now realized that since she would have a great deal of explaining to do to Nancy anyway, she could keep Jeremy Atewater in her parlor a bit longer to find out why he was walking along the waterfront so late at night.
Alexandra, followed by Zack, crossed the room to take the key and shawl from her guest, along with his hat and cloak. After she put them away, she sat on one of the sofas. “Please,” she said, indicating the one across the tea table from her.
Atewater sat and immediately seemed to relax. “You’re very kind, Dr. Gladstone, and to tell you the truth, I could use a bit of relaxation.”
Alexandra did her best to appear at ease herself. “Of course. Lord Dunsford’s death has been quite stressful for everyone, hasn’t it?”
“It has indeed.” Atewater looked down at his hands, tense again. “To be perfectly honest, there’s another reason for my wanting to stay.” He looked up at her again.
Alexandra waited, trying to appear interested, but not too eager.
“It has to do with my wife.”
“Your wife?”
“Yes, you see… Well, I’m not sure how well you know Isabel, but she is, shall we say, a rather spirited person.”
“I see.”
“And she… I don’t want to be indelicate, Miss Gladstone, but I’m afraid she…shall we say she…had an affair with Lord Dunsford.”
Alexandra allowed herself only the slightest raise of an eyebrow.
“This is quite embarrassing.”
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Atewater.”
“Well, you see, the point is, Eddie—Lord Dunsford, that is—threw her over, and Isabel was quite upset. Not because she was in love with Eddie, mind you, but rather because her pride was hurt. She’s not used to being turned down, you see.”
Alexandra nodded, encouraging him to continue, Zack stirred restlessly at her feet.
“Of course we’ve had our rows over it, and of course my pride was wounded, and one would think now that poor Eddie is dead all the fuss would be over, but quite frankly…”
“Yes, Mr. Atewater?”
“I’m afraid that gives Mrs. Atewater a motive to kill the old boy, you see, and I don’t want any of that to come out at the trial. So, while I am quite willing to testify as a witness, I want to protect her, because, of course, she didn’t mention any of this to the justice. So now, at this point, it’s unclear whether or not Mrs. Atewater will be called as a witness for the trial, and I’m hoping that my complete cooperation will render it unnecessary.” His eyes went to a spot behind Alexandra, and when she turned around she saw Nanc
y standing in the entry with a tray.
“Tea, Miss.” Nancy walked toward the table between the two sofas.
“Thank you, Nancy. I’m sorry to have kept you up. You may go to your room, and I’ll see to the tea things myself later.” Alexandra didn’t miss the frustrated look that flickered in Nancy’s eyes as she turned away. Her curiosity was about to get the best of her, and there was no telling how long she’d been standing there with that tray, listening.
Alexandra poured the tea and handed a cup to Atewater. “You were saying, Mr. Atewater?”
“Oh, I’m afraid I’ve said too much.” He accepted the cup and stirred in milk. “You see, I can’t afford a scandal, and I hoped to come here to nip in the bud any problem that might arise concerning Isabel. That’s why I was out walking tonight. I was trying to clear my head and trying to decide what to do.”
“I suspect you’ll just have to leave it in the hands of the prosecutor,” Alexandra said.
“You’re right, of course.” Atewater put down his cup and put his head in his hands. “I don’t know how it came to this. Lord Dunsford had his enemies, of course, but Isabel wasn’t one of them.”
“I must confess that I’m a little surprised at the idea of any suspicion falling on her.” Alexandra was stirring her tea slowly. “Isn’t it usually the cuckold husband who is suspect?”
Atewater raised his head to look at Alexandra. “Oh, of course I would be suspect, too, but, you see, there’s no point in any of that coming out. I’m quite worried, though, since poor foolish Mrs. Atewater made the mistake of telling several of her friends in London she was going to kill Lord Dunsford for what he’d done to her.”
“Oh?”
“She didn’t mean it, of course. Just an expression, don’t you know. She was just angry and hurt and embarrassed. Women do foolish things when they’re upset.”
Alexandra clamped her lips between her teeth.
“And truthfully,” Atewater continued, “Mrs. Atewater isn’t smart enough to plan a murder or even be an accomplice.”
“Indeed?”
“She is spirited, as I said. Perhaps a bit spoiled. And beautiful. But none too bright. Rather superficial at times, I’m afraid, so I shouldn’t have been surprised that she was attracted to a man like Lord Dunsford. After all, she is attracted to flamboyance, and Lord Dunsford was that, all right, wasn’t he? That red silk night shirt he had on the night he died was just what we might have expected.”
“Do you think the kitchen girl had an accomplice?” Alexandra still stirred her tea. She had forgotten to drink it. Zack was pacing the floor, drooling and growling low in his throat.
Atewater kept an eye on the dog as he answered Alexandra’s question. “An accomplice? I suppose it’s possible, isn’t it? But who would it be? Another servant, perhaps? Lord Dunsford could be unpleasant at times, and it could be he’d set off one of them. Or maybe there was no accomplice at all. That girl could have done it by herself.”
“You’re convinced the kitchen girl is guilty, then.” Alexandra tried not to sound too eager in her questioning.
“It appears that way, doesn’t it? Oh, of course I know you believe the poor old boy was strangled to death and that Elsie couldn’t have done it, but I’m not so sure. I certainly don’t want to think Mrs. Atewater is guilty.” Atewater pulled a watch from his vest and glanced at it. “Miss Gladstone, I must apologize for keeping you up so late.”
“Please don’t bother to apologize, Mr. Atewater.”
“But I am sorry, and I really must get back to the inn. And forgive me, too, for burdening you with my troubles, although I must say, it has done me good to get this off my chest.”
“I understand.” Alexandra got his hat and cloak, and she and Zack saw him to the door. When he had gone, she hurried upstairs with Zack, hoping to make it safely to her room without encountering Nancy.
She found her waiting at the top of the landing, hands on her hips, glaring.
“It’s late, Nancy, you should be in bed.” Alexandra tried to sound as authoritative as her father always had, but it had never been easy for her with Nancy.
“And how am I supposed to sleep when you’re up until the wee hours entertaining a gentleman?” Nancy still glared.
Alexandra tried a little dismissive laugh, still trying to find a way to get around Nancy so she could go to her room. “You make it sound as if you think I’m a fallen woman.”
Nancy crossed her arms in front of her. “I don’t know what to think, now, do I? What with you sneaking out of the house like a school girl, and…My God, what happened to Zack?”
“It’s a long story, Nancy, and it’s late. I’ll tell you all about it later when—”
“You got yourself into trouble, did you not? I should think you’d have learned from our childhood that if you’re going to sneak out, you must take me with you. Murderers everywhere, and one of them trying to kill you in your own stable, and still you go out alone. Why people will be saying you’ve lost your mind. And I can’t say I would disagree if it came down to—”
“Nancy, please. It’s very late.”
“I’m well aware of that, and ’tis for sure I won’t be able to sleep at all tonight after all of this. Just what were you doing, and who was the gentleman you brought home to entertain?”
“Can’t you please stop saying it that way? I wasn’t entertaining.”
“Then who was he? And what did he have to do with whatever it was happened to you and poor Zack? And where did you—?”
“All right, Nancy. I see I won’t have a minute’s rest until I tell you everything. Come on into my room. You too, Zack.”
Nancy sat cross legged at the foot of the bed while Alexandra leaned against the headboard. Zack lay next to her, snoring softly, while she related all of the evening’s events to Nancy.
“So young Quince never told you who killed the poor earl, and you’re lucky to escape with your life,” Nancy said when the story was finished. “And besides that, there’s more going on with the Atewaters than meets the eye.”
“You’ve summed it up well,” Alexandra said. “Now if you’ll excuse me—”
“I know, I know, we both need our rest.” Nancy was already on her way to the door, but she turned around just as she reached it. “But don’t go thinking you’ll get out on your own again. I’ll have my eye on you, I will.” With that, she was gone.
Zack refused to move to his customary place on the floor and slept the entire night with his spine curled against her. Apparently he, as well, was going to make certain she didn’t leave.
Alexandra was awakened from her all too brief sleep the next morning by Nancy knocking loudly on her door.
“Wake up, Miss Alex. Wake up. There are already patients at the door needing to see you, and soon, Miss. Two boys with nasty wounds.”
Alexandra dressed hurriedly, and by the time she was downstairs, Nancy had shown the patients to the surgery. In spite of the fact that she did not know their faces, Alexandra knew who they were as soon as she saw them and the nature of their wounds. They were the two boys who had tangled with Zack at the pier. She went to work immediately, treating and dressing their injuries, which should have been tended last evening.
“This is a dog bite.” She was cleaning the face of the younger of the two boys, and she was remembering one of them crying out, ‘I think the beast has tore off Artie’s face.’ She glanced at the two boys as she spoke, hoping to gauge their reaction. They said nothing, but their eyes darted toward each other. Artie’s face was far from torn off, but there was a nasty gash there that was inflamed and obviously painful, judging by the boy’s pale face and the marks that tears had made streaming down his dirty cheeks. Now he was shivering, indicating that chills had set in.
“Nancy,” she called. “Bring me a mixture of—”
“Here it is, Miss.” Nancy spoke to her from the doorway where she was carrying a bowl and pestle. “A mixture of elm and lobelia leaves with a sprinkling of bloodroo
t to keep down the proud flesh.”
Alexandra nodded, feeling grateful for Nancy’s efficiency. Obviously, she had made the same diagnosis and prepared the mixture in anticipation of Alexandra’s orders. She also immediately went to a cabinet and pulled out supplies for stitching up the wound.
“I hope the animal wasn’t rabid,” Alexandra said, still watching for the reaction of the boys.
The expression in their eyes grew even more alarmed, still, they said nothing for several seconds. Finally the older one, who had only a few puncture wounds on his hands, spoke. “You’re the one, ain’t you? The one at the pier last night with the damnable beast.”
Alexandra didn’t answer, but she looked up from her work, and the boy’s eyes caught hers.
“Quince said you’re the one,” the boy continued. “He told us to come here. That was before…”
The boy seemed unwilling to say more, but the younger boy, Artie, urged him. “Go on, tell her.”
There was a long silence and Alexandra had to encourage them to continue. “Quince told you to come here before…”
“Quince is dead,” the older boy said. “Murdered.”
Chapter Twelve
It took Nicholas a moment to realize that the cry he heard following the gun shot had come from him. He became aware of a warm trickle of blood down his face and into his eyes and of a burning sensation high on his forehead and realized the bullet had only grazed his head. Yet, he was bleeding profusely. He heard the two men who had accosted him run away into the darkness. His confusion lingered as he tried to decide whether to pursue them or see to his own wound.
In the next instant he heard someone groaning and remembered the coach driver. Wiping the blood away from his eyes, he moved in the direction of the sound.
“Is that you, Driver? Are you all right?” He groped his way in the darkness until he stumbled upon the man, still lying in a crumpled heap on the ground.
The man groaned again. “Oooh, me bloody head feels like it’s been crushed.” He groped for Nicholas’s hand. “Where’s the coach? And the ’orses?”
