by Death
Certainly heartless.
Sweet God, how...
I broke away to pace up and down a few times, trying to calm myself. 1 was sick and angry and ashamed, with a thousand other similar damnable feelings crowding mind and cowing spirit, filling me with their turbulent hum, making it impossible to think clearly or do anything. No good trying to question her while I was so upset, it could kill her... or worse.
Sweet God, it hurt.
And it was like this for me for many long and silent moments until it finally settled into something I could control. Only then did I dare look at her and form my first question.
"Who are you?"
"Caroline Norwood."
"Where are you from?"
"London."
"Is your oldest brother the Duke of Norbury?"
"I have no brother."
God. "Then who is James Norwood?"
"My husband."
Turned away. Quickly. Had to, to save her, to save myself. The sickness returned tenfold. For a time I just couldn't do anything, the horror of it was too much. I kept my back to her, breathing in huge gulps of air, trying to clear my mind, and, after a time, succeeding. When I was calm again, I resigned myself to the fact that everything to come was probably going to hurt like blazes, but there was no way it could be avoided. All I could do was to get on with it and over with as quickly as possible.
Pulled a chair out opposite her. Sat. Clasped my hands before me on the table.
"All right, Caroline. I want you to tell me everything about yourself."
It was a wretched story, made more so by their utter lack of conscience.
They'd come across from England over a year ago with some fine clothes and finer manners and posed as Lord James and Lady Caroline, complete with a duke as their elder brother along with a distinguished family history. The pair had had much contact with nobility in England, after all; she had been a music teacher, he a dancing master to scions of the peerage. Both were natural actors. Both were highly discontent with their lot and prepared to do anything to improve it. The titles had been predictably irresistible to certain members of Philadelphia society, and it wasn't hard to dupe the lot.
They made shameless use of their new status to acquire goods, services, favors, and stayed as guests of some of the best families in the city. Though they took out many loans they'd no intention of paying back, they were always short of cash and on the lookout for a means of getting more.
But the trouble in that city from the approaching war made it impossible for them to fulfill such plans as they'd made; escape was necessary. Enter my innocent cousin, Anne, not terribly smart, but possessing relatives with a luxuriant sanctuary far from the conflict.
Possessing money... at least on one side of the family.
Once they arrived and got their bearings, it was determined that one of them should try to marry into that money. James would come to pay court to my sister, as there was less difficulty for a husband to control his wife's property than the other way 'round. All he had to do was be what he essentially was, handsome, genial, naturally charming, but without a speck of real feeling or guilt for what he was doing.
Caroline was the same way. They were perfectly matched.
Then they'd found out that Elizabeth was my heir. Her money alone would be a fortune, but how much better would it be to double it. That's when they made their first attempt on my life. During the happy confusion of a tea party, it had been easy enough to keep Anne distracted. Caroline had slipped a good dose of laudanum into my tea and watched with approval as my blameless cousin stirred in plenty of sugar, which would mask the taste for me.
The plan was that I should simply fall asleep, never to wake. If anybody at the party noticed me dozing off in a chair, one or the other of them would prevent any attempt to rouse me. The greater likelihood was that once I felt sleepy enough, I'd go upstairs to bed, never to return.
They couldn't know that I would not be drinking it; I'd long planted that provision into their minds as I'd done with everyone else: that they should entirely ignore the fact I never ate or drank anything.
What a shock it had been to them when Rapelji had come in and raised the alarm about Father.
Father... my poor father... he might have died in my place, all unknowing.
And Mother... all these months ignorantly bearing the stigma of a poisoner.
I roughly pushed the stabbing rage aside and made Caroline go on.
Made cautious by this blunder, they held off for a time, until things could fall back into their usual routine. They did not for a moment believe Beldon's story about the flying gout and noticed right away the new lock on his door. After much speculation and observation, later confirmed when Elizabeth decided to confide in Norwood, they knew it was Mother we all suspected, not them. With relief they watched and waited for another opportunity, and James proceeded with his courtship of Elizabeth.
Caroline apparently had little objection to her husband's conquest of another woman and none at all to his going to a prostitute for the easement of such urges as come to a man forced by circumstances to be celibate. After he'd finished with Molly one night, he'd gone to The Oak for a fortifying drink and had overheard the regulars joking amongst themselves about my recent departure to pay my respects to the lady.
He wasn't aware at that time of Molly's reputation for discretion. He knew that one careless word from her to his prospective brother-in-law could endanger his chances with Elizabeth. Besides, there was the additional gain of inheritance to consider. I had to be silenced.
And the men to do it were right there. Ash, Drummond, all the others.
For they were Norwood's men.
He'd met them and secured their services on one of his frequent trips away to see to "business." Faster and more certain than marriage, he'd made lucrative arrangements with them, finding likely places for a raid and taking a portion of the profit. They'd been in Glenbriar that night to plan the next one and he ordered them to kill me, saying that I'd found them out and would talk.
There were two problems with that, though: Ash had decided on his own to try for a ransom on the side... and I was no longer the ordinary man I appeared to be. No wonder Norwood had been so completely astonished to see me alive on the road the next night. I was supposed to be dead and drifting somewhere at the bottom of the Sound.
Also to his misfortune, Knox had been captured. He'd been closemouthed, but then I'd promised to make the man talk. Norwood's wife had to see that he did not.
"You? How were you involved with that?" I demanded. My influence upon her had lowered her guard so much that she was readily answering questions as though they were part of a normal conversation, requiring only a word or two from me to keep her going. It was just as well. The initial effort of concentration had been painless, but to sustain it for any length of time made my head ache terribly.
"I left the house carrying some of James's clothes," she said. "I changed into them, then cut across the fields to get to town, before any of you arrived."
Sweet heavens. She must have taken the idea from the play I'd given Anne to read. Certainly she she would have greater mobility and be less noticeable in men's clothing.
"What did you do?"
"Watched and waited. When I saw Knox in the room with you, I broke the window and shot him, then ran. James led them in the wrong direction, away from me. I got back, changed again, and went on to the house with no one the wiser."
"Then what?"
"That was all. The whole thing had been so much of a risk and all for nothing because you obviously didn't know anything harmful against us. I then told James to work on the girl. Marriage to her was safer and more profitable. Besides... there would be others soon enough."
Others? I didn't take her meaning right away. It was too awful to see, I suppose, and when I did, I wished that I hadn't.
Elizabeth was only to be the first in a series of marriages. Now that they'd worked out their ploy, they would eventu
ally venture forth to take full advantage of any number of other women with money. Over the years they would be able to make thousands of pounds with very little effort or expenditure of their own funds.
Of course to do so, they would have to find a way of divesting themselves of Elizabeth's company fairly soon, but in these unsettled times it would be simple enough to arrange something with Ash. They'd already made mention of it to him. It had been what Norwood and Caroline had been discussing while I'd seen to the horses. Their disagreement had been about whether to keep me there or let me leave. Caroline had wanted me well away from things. Her plans had been laid; she did not want me around to risk the least disruption of them. But to get me out, she'd have to go as well, and Norwood hadn't liked it. His dear and loving wife was the more clever of the two, after all; he'd wanted her with him, just in case anything unexpected did arise.
The idea was to make it look like another rebel incursion. Norwood would emerge to tell the sad tale of how he'd been knocked unconscious trying to defend his house, awakening after all was over to discover the body of his bride, foully murdered by the pitiless raiders in their quest for booty. How easy for him afterward to collect his inheritance from her estate and leave, playing the part of a grief-stricken widower.
I had been able to control myself up to this point. Their attacks upon others, their murder of Knox, their murders using Ash as their weapon, their attack upon me, even upon Father, none of it had been pleasant to hear, but I'd just been able to stand it.
But not this. Not hearing her coldly explaining the fine points of how they would be killing my dearly loved sister. It was impossible for me, impossible for any man with a heart to endure. Until the words were out of her mouth, I thought I'd already reached the limit of my rage. Now a raw and roaring blast of it tore through me like a wild nor'easter.
I was lost to it... and then so was Caroline.
Blind and deaf to all reason, all restraint, it clawed its way out of my brain-
And right into hers.
When I came to myself, I was on the other side of the room, face to the wall, hands covering my eyes. I was aware that something had happened, but felt as disoriented as a newly wakened sleeper. It was taking me a moment to sort dream from reality.
The dream was a fading memory of a shapeless dark thing that had bounded up from some deep place in my soul. Ugly and huge, if my anger could have taken on a such an amorphous form and size, it might have looked like that. It had been full of force and fury, erupting forth, filling the room, filling the world, overflowing it, overwhelming it. It bellowed and raved, smashed and hurled this way and that before finally driving itself into another vessel other than myself. It seemed too large for the other to hold without breaking.
And so it proved.
I became aware of the reality where it sat slumped at the table.
Caroline's eyes told me the tale of what had happened. I'd seen such eyes on Tony Warburton after Nora's temper had exceeded all control and broken free. She'd snapped his mind like a twig, and now I'd done exactly the same thing to Caroline.
She stared at nothing, shivering a little. Each time she blinked, her whole head twitched slightly. Her hands rested easily upon the table, inches from the incriminating letter.
I plucked it from her reach, folded, and tucked it away, hardly aware of the action. I also eased one hand into the pocket of her riding coat and drew out her pistol, placing it into my own coat pocket. It struck me that it would not be a good idea to leave her armed.
But it would not have mattered. She paid no mind to me. With hard certainty, I knew that she had no mind left. It was just the same as before with Nora and Warburton.
Nora had regretted her loss of control, though; I could not. I regarded Caroline with a cold satisfaction. I could not raise the least shame in me for what I'd done to her, nor was there any desire to try. If that made me wicked, then so be it; it could hardly compare with what she and her husband had planned for Elizabeth.
There was a sudden and strange peace within me, as though Caroline had somehow drained away all my doubts about myself, about what I would have to do in the very near future. For I had determined that Elizabeth would not spend one more hour in that bastard's defiling company.
I walked steadily out into the common room and was somewhat surprised to find that all was as right and normal as could be. I'd had some idea that they might have heard a row coming from our private room and be alert to trouble, but though I got some curious looks, no one said anything. All the noise had been in my head, it seemed, part of the dream... or rather, the nightmare.
Only Mr. Farr, who had witnessed my initial reaction to the letter, took it upon himself to come over and have his curiosity answered. "Are you all right, Mr. Barrett?"
Some dissembling was required, then. Very well. I knew I could manage. It did not take much to look stunned and put a small tremor into my voice. "A little brandy for Lady Caroline, if you please. I fear she has suffered some sort of a fit."
"A fit?" he questioned, even as he turned away to find the right bottle.
"One moment we were talking and the next she put her hand to her head and seemed to fall asleep. I got her to wake up, but she seems very dazed. I'd like to send one of your lads to fetch Dr. Beldon as quickly as possible."
"Certainly, sir." He came back with the brandy, full of bustling concern, which blossomed into a fearful shock once he saw the woman's blank face. He immediately sent for his wife to look after her, then dispatched two of his stablemen off to my house to get Beldon.
It went very smoothly, better than I'd hoped. I simply mirrored his feelings, then announced that I'd go to fetch her brother, Lord James. This was met with grim approval. Yes, it was far and away the best thing that could be done, by all means her closest relative should be with her during this strange illness.
He and Mrs. Farr were already speaking in hushed tones about apoplexy as I hurried out the door and jumped onto Roily's back.
No lights were showing when I arrived. Everyone had gone to bed. Theirs was a small household, just Elizabeth and James and the valet, Harridge. There was a cook, maid, and a scullery boy, all part of the same family, but they lived in their own house a quarter mile farther along. So convenient for the Norwoods, so convenient for Ash.
I dismounted and quietly walked to the front door, vanished, and slipped through the narrow space of the threshold, reappearing on the inside. I had no plan, no idea of what I was going to do, only blind faith that the right path would present itself now that I was here.
Going to the front parlor, I busied myself with the tinder box by the fireplace and soon had a number of candles burning throughout the room. I wanted a lot of light. When I was done, I went out to the staircase landing and bellowed out my sister's name. I couldn't bring myself to go up to their bedroom.
After a moment, Norwood called down. "Jonathan? My God, man! What are you doing here? Has something happened to Caroline?"
"Jonathan?" Elizabeth hesitantly called.
"Come down, please," I said, in a softer tone. I was not talking to him. For a tiny instant, I nearly fled. I was about to deliver a hideous hurt to someone I loved dearly. Perhaps I should wait, go get Father to help.
"What the devil are you about, man?" Norwood demanded, sounding highly aggrieved.
No. I crushed my doubts. Not one more hour with him.
Soon they came, Elizabeth wrapped in some sort of loose gown over her nightclothes, Norwood still dressed except for his coat and waistcoat. They hurried into the parlor and stopped, faces full of worry and curiosity and with a touch of anger at this unorthodox intrusion.
"What is it, Jonathan?" asked Elizabeth, coming over to me.
"Yes," said Norwood. "Is it the war? What's wrong?" He stopped short, staring at the pistol in my hand. It was Caroline's.
I had it pointed at the floor, but he was plainly wondering why I was in possession of it.
Elizabeth noticed as well. "What is it? W
hat's wrong? Was there trouble on the road? Is it Father? Is he ill or hurt?"
"No, nothing like that. I've learned something that you need to know."
"Learned what?"
I drew out the letter. "This arrived from Oliver. It's on the top page." A cowardly way to tell her, but if I'd tried to speak the words would have choked me on the spot.
"Really, Jonathan," said Norwood. "What is so important that you had to come by at this hour? Where's Caroline?"
Elizabeth took the letter and held it so the candlelight fell upon the damning page and read. Then she let out with a moaning gasp and sat heavily on one of the chairs. "My God..."
"Elizabeth?" Norwood was made uneasy with her failure to reply and turned back to me. "See here, Jonathan, I won't be having you barging in and just standing there without a word of explanation."
