by Faye Hall
“I did,” Devon replied, his head again cradling in his hands. “My Lotte’s gone, and I can never get her back.”
“She left you?”
Devon shook his head, tears welling in his eyes. “She died. There was a struggle. The gun went off.”
The bartender handed him a full bottle of liquor. “How can you be certain she died?”
Devon’s head fell on the bar, his drunkenness consuming him. “She died in my arms.”
Devon’s night was spent consuming bottle after bottle of alcohol while he wallowed in his unrelenting grief. The following morning, Devon woke alone in a cot at the Pioneer Hotel, his head rather tender from a night of alcohol.
After paying for his room and surviving the extremely bumpy ride home, Devon walked into his estate house.
“You bastard!” Elizabeth screamed, throwing a china vase in his direction. “Where the hell were you last night?”
Dodging the pieces flying through the air around him as the vase shattered on the wall behind him, Devon removed his jacket. “I was where I wanted to be, madam.”
Elizabeth threw another vase in his direction. “Were you at the hotel? Were you crawled inside some whore?”
Again, Devon dodged the air-born pieces from the shattering china as it hit the wall behind him again. “Wherever I was is none of your business. I don’t want you in my life, Elizabeth, and I certainly don’t want you in my bed. The only reason I agreed to marry you was because of my father and some threat on his life.”
“You are my husband!” Elizabeth continued to scream, similar to a spoiled brat. “I will tell the police that it was you who shot Lotte. You will lose everything, Devon!”
“I have already lost everything and now I have to be wed to you.” Devon reached for a full bottle of liquor. “And that, my dear, is punishment enough.”
* * * *
Elizabeth walked through the main street of Brandon, her thoughts consumed with how she was going to win Devon over and stop him from unraveling everything she had worked so hard for. Walking past an alleyway, Elizabeth stopped when she heard a familiar voice.
“What information do you have for me?” she heard Jack Munroy ask.
Walking up to a safe distance, Elizabeth peered stealthily at the two men in the alleyway.
“Mr. Munroy, I seen who killed that girl,” the informant replied. “Elizabeth Fanti was standing outside that old cottage with her gun raised the same night Miss Higgins was shot.”
“Are you sure?” Jack asked.
The informant nodded. “And I heard George Fanti talking to his daughter earlier that evening. They both agreed the young Miss Higgins had to die.”
Elizabeth left the two men then, rushing to her carriage and to her family’s house. If there was a witness to that night, then she would lose everything. Jack Munroy had always been a thorn in her family’s side, but now Elizabeth knew that he had to be done away with. He knew far too much about herself and her father.
Rushing into George’s study, Elizabeth told him what she had heard in town. He tried to fob her off, saying they were just words that no one could prove.
“There was a witness, Father!” she cried, desperate to find a way out.
“So someone saw you holding a gun. Many women in this town can shoot.”
Elizabeth stamped her foot. “Damn it. I wasn’t out hunting. I was…” Suddenly, an idea occurred to Elizabeth, a way to get rid of Jack Munroy for good.
“Hunting. We’ll invite Jack Munroy out hunting. Tell him it’s a way to let bygones be bygones or some such rubbish. Anything you have to so he’ll join us.”
“Us?” George asked, clearly confused. “Why the devil should I want to go hunting with that sniveling little bastard?”
Elizabeth smiled, her idea forming in her mind. “Many a man has died in hunting accidents, Father.”
* * * *
Jack met with Elizabeth and George Fanti the following morning in the scrub on the outskirts of town.
“I’m not staying,” he said as soon as he dismounted his horse. “I know what you two did to Lotte and to her brother, and I have a witness. I’m going to the police with proof this time, George. I won’t be your pawn anymore.”
Elizabeth lifted her rifle, aiming it at Jack. “You really should stay, Mr. Munroy.”
Jack scrambled to remount his horse and escape, but Elizabeth fired her gun, knocking him to the ground before he could.
“What the hell!” George yelled, turning to look at his daughter. “We agreed to just talk to him! I never told you to kill him!”
Elizabeth lowered her rifle and mounted her horse. “Plans change, Father.”
By that afternoon, news of Jack Munroy’s death had spread to nearly the whole town. Elizabeth went to where Devon was secluded away in his study.
“I heard news of your father, Devon. I am so very sorry,” she said, throwing herself at him. “If there is anything I can do—”
Devon struggled to push her away. “Don’t you touch me. I don’t want you anywhere near me.”
Staggering to the door, Devon called for his carriage.
“Where are you going, Devon?” she asked, confused by his reaction to her.
“Away from you!”
No sooner had Devon fled from his study there was a knock on the door from a servant.
“A message for you, Mrs. Munroy,” the young servant said, handing her a folded piece of paper.
Unfolding it hesitantly, Elizabeth read the note.
Rumors are circulating about the deaths. People are asking if the Higgins and Munroys were involved in drugs or blackmail or worse. The police are talking of a possible third party involved in whatever illegal actions these families were part of.
The police are looking into leads that the deaths may have some connection to the murders back in Victoria.
Scrunching the piece of paper in her hands, Elizabeth threw it across the room. “Damn and blast!”
Leaving Devon’s study, Elizabeth rushed outside, calling for her carriage. “Take me to my father,” she ordered the driver as soon as he pulled up.
She couldn’t believe that after so long, George’s past had returned to haunt them. She thought that by killing off the two men he had once been criminally involved with, their own name would be cleared. Never could Elizabeth have imagined it would only resurface the crimes of her father.
Arriving at her father’s estate, Elizabeth stormed inside. “You have to come back with me, Father,” she demanded. “I’ve just received a letter. Someone knows what happened in Victoria. We have to put a stop to this before we are both dragged back into the crimes of your past.”
Though reluctant, George gulped down the last of his drink and went to join his daughter in her carriage.
“You should have just let matters be,” George scolded his daughter. “I told you to just wait for your marriage to get the money you so desired. Why did you have to be so greedy, Elizabeth?”
“Greedy?” Elizabeth gasped. “You’re the reason we’re in this mess, Father. Had you not shot that man—”
“Had you not murdered the entire Higgins family, and then Jack Munroy, nobody would have even remembered what happened in Victoria all those years ago!”
Elizabeth was horrified by what her father was accusing her of. “I did this for us,” she cried. “For you. To get your money back.”
George pulled away from his daughter. “You did this for you, Elizabeth, and your own greed. Nothing else!”
“You bastard!” Elizabeth screamed, pushing her father hard against the door of the carriage.
The latch on the carriage door came loose and swung open. George fell toward the door, struggling to hold on.
“Help me, Elizabeth!” he roared. “Help me!”
Sliding over on the seat, Elizabeth gave her father another hard shove, making him lose his balance and fall from the speeding carriage to the rough ground below.
“Stop!” she screamed to the drive
r.
When the carriage pulled to a stop, Elizabeth rushed to her father, hoping upon hope she would find no signs of life. Kneeling down beside him, she checked for any evidence that he was still alive. She found nothing.
Hearing the carriage driver approaching behind her, Elizabeth quickly reached for her father’s body, holding his bloodied head against her.
“Noo!” Elizabeth screamed, tears instantly forming in her eyes.
* * * *
That afternoon, the police arrived at Elizabeth and Devon’s estate house.
“Mrs. Munroy, we’re looking into your father’s death and were hoping you’d answer a few questions for us?”
Elizabeth didn’t try to hide her confusion. “What questions are there to ask? My father’s death was a tragic accident.”
One of the police officers stepped forward. “It seems there have been some leads suggesting your father may have been involved in a stagecoach robbery some years back.”
“You monsters!” she roared at them. “My father’s body is barely cold and you lechers are already trying to label him a criminal. Get out!”
Waiting until the police left, Elizabeth grabbed the brandy bottle beside her and threw it hard against the wall. Even in death, her father was able to rob her of the money that was rightfully hers. Somehow, she had to clear her father’s name, and soon. If she didn’t, she very well may be held responsible for returning the money that was stolen back in Victoria all those years back.
* * * *
Weeks after her father’s death, Elizabeth met with one of her informants. “You need to kill two men for me. Make it look like it was planned by someone wanting revenge.” Elizabeth pulled a coin and folded piece of paper from her corset. “Make sure this is found on one of the bodies.”
The informant stalled, eyeing the gold coin.
“Why do you want a Victorian gold coin planted with these dead men?” he questioned. “And who is Jack Munroy?” he asked, unfolding the piece of paper.
“You are not being paid to ask questions,” Elizabeth reminded him.
He gave her a smug smile. “Unless you tell me, darlin’, I’ll take this straight to the police with your name.”
Elizabeth gave the man a stony look. “Jack Munroy robbed a stagecoach in Victoria some years back. That gold coin is all he has left of his haul. And the two men you’re going to kill were his accomplices.”
Following the informant, Elizabeth watched him do as she had bid of him. No sooner did he leave the bodies than another shot rang out. Waiting until the informant fell to the ground, Elizabeth lowered her rifle. Now all she had left to arrange was for the police to find the bodies, then all the fortunes of the Higgins and Munroy families, along with what was left of her father’s, would be hers for the taking.
* * * *
“What the hell do you mean David Higgins’s properties have been bought?” Elizabeth screamed at the deeds officer. “I’m the only remaining kin, so that property belongs to me!”
The nervous clerk handed Elizabeth the piece of paper to look at. “It wasn’t bought, Mrs. Munroy. The properties and monies were legally willed to a third party, some remaining family members of your uncle’s. Mr. Higgins’s will is iron-clad, drawn up by the best lawyers in the state. I’m sorry, but there is simply nothing we can do.”
Elizabeth stormed out of the deeds office, furious at what she had just learned. The clerk couldn’t even give her the name of the new owner.
“I will get those properties,” she mumbled to herself. “Even if I have to kill half the town to do so.”
Getting into her carriage, Elizabeth demanded the driver take her home.
Entering the estate house, a letter awaited her.
I know you killed the Higgins family. I know you killed Jack Munroy.
Fear filled Elizabeth. She had to find who sent this.
* * * *
“What has happened to your face, Patrick?” Lotte asked. “Did you get into another bar fight?”
Patrick shook his head as he sat beside his sister’s bed, holding her hand in his own. “There was no fight.”
“You need to see a doctor,” she replied. “Your face will scar terribly. Once we are home again I shall send for one.”
Patrick continued to hold his sister’s hand. “We can’t leave the hotel, honey. It’s not safe.”
“I want to go home,” Lotte pleaded. “I miss Father.”
Patrick squeezed her hand tightly, hoping to give her strength. “Father is dead, Lotte.”
“What?” she cried, tears spilling down her cheeks. “It can’t be true.”
“A lot has happened since the night you were shot,” Patrick started explaining. “I went to see Elizabeth, I wanted her to know I knew what she’d done to you. She stabbed me in the stomach and burnt my face before she threw me in the scrub like rubbish. A few weeks after that, she handed father a glass of brandy laced with arsenic.”
“How can you be sure?” she asked.
“She was seen leaving the estate house,” he replied. “And one of the servants found a small amount of white powder on the drinks tray in father’s study.”
Lotte struggled to try and get out of bed, but Patrick stopped her.
“Let me go, Patrick. Elizabeth has to pay for what she’s done to our family.”
Patrick shook his head. “You are not well enough to get out of bed, Lotte. Besides, it isn’t safe for either of us to go anywhere right now with the state of things.”
“Devon will help us.” Lotte tried again.
Patrick squeezed her hand again. “Devon is now married to Elizabeth Fanti.”
It killed Patrick to see the pain filling Lotte, but he knew he couldn’t keep protecting her from the truth.
Holding back her tears, Lotte let out a steadying sigh. “And what has happened to our father’s belongings, to our home?”
“I’ve been given a copy of Father’s will. It says upon the death of Father and us two children, everything is to reside with Father’s remaining family.”
“That’s Elizabeth!”
Patrick shook his head. “I had Abby ask Father’s lawyer, and he said none of it will go to her. Apparently, our father had other children in secret, ones the Fantis never learned of. Everything has been left to them. Sarah and Mary are to reside at the house and keep it up for when these children return to Brandon.”
“What is to become of us?” Lotte asked, her words pained.
“I’ve been working for Abby, helping out behind the bar here at the hotel, and she has said you can help out with the girls’ clothes and things back here. She said we can live here for as long as we need.”
Lotte let go of her brother’s hand and leaned back in her bed. “We don’t belong in a hotel, Patrick.”
He reached for her hand again. “Maybe not, dear, but for now this is the safest place for us.”
“I will make Elizabeth pay,” Lotte muttered. “She will pay for what she did to you, to Father, and to me.”
“Lotte, this woman is not worth you risking your life for again,” Patrick pleaded with his sister. “You survived death once. Please don’t tempt fate again.”
“Elizabeth has taken everything from us. I won’t rest until I have seen the same happen in return.”
* * * *
Almost a year had passed and still Devon was a shadow of the man he’d once been. Walking down the main street of Bowen with no direction, Devon began to wonder if he would ever feel whole again. All he’d ever wanted was to have a woman he could fall in love with, a woman he could hold and treasure until death. He had thought to have that with Lotte, but death had intervened too soon.
An ache returning to his heart, Devon bowed his head and continued walking. He was so engrossed in his in own thoughts, he never even saw the woman walking toward him until it was too late.
“Oh, I’m so very sorry,” Devon immediately said as he bumped into her, his gaze shooting up to look at her. “L-Lotte?” Devon sta
mmered in barely more than a whisper, his whole self going cold as if he’d seen a ghost.
As if in a trance, Devon reached out to touch her, just to see if she was real, but she pulled away before he could.
“Excuse me, sir,” the woman said quickly, lowering her face and darting off away from him.
“Lotte!” Devon called after her, quickly following her down the street.
Seeing her turn into an alley, Devon thought finally he had her cornered, but turning the corner, he found the alley completely empty. Out of pure frustration, Devon spun around, punching the solid wall beside him before falling to the ground in a shattered mess.
“L-Lotte, please,” he begged, his words little more than an echo of his soul as he held his now aching hand. “Please, come back to me.”
* * * *
The next day, Devon was walking toward the Pioneer Hotel, having convinced himself what he needed was a mistress or a whore, anything that might keep his mind off the woman he had lost; to remind him there were other women he could find physical pleasure with.
Nearing the hotel, he saw a woman struggling to get a trunk on the back of a carriage. Rushing to help her, Devon lifted the trunk up for her. “There you go mad—” But Devon’s words stopped in mid-air, his gaze settling on the beauty that stood before him.
This woman standing mere inches from him looked so much like Lotte Higgins. Her hair was slightly lighter and her skin a little more tanned, but her eyes…
Stepping closer to her, Devon couldn’t ignore the familiar musky smell of roses. “L-Lotte, you’ve come back to me.”
The woman looked very nervous, bowing her head suddenly away from his. “Y-you have me mistaken for another, sir.”
She tried to turn away from him, but Devon wouldn’t allow it, his hand going to her arm, stopping her.
“Please, Lotte, don’t you remember me?” he asked, begging her to be the woman he loved so much.
He would have given anything in that moment to know that this woman was his Lotte come back from the dead. He had waited for nearly a year for any word on if she had survived that night in her father’s old cottage. He had sent informants throughout the town, hoping for any news on what had eventuated that fatal night. Now, seeing this woman, his hopes returned that Lotte may indeed still be alive.
