by Micki Miller
He leaned back then, thumbing away her tears. “I’m going to see my solicitor now. We’ll have you released into my custody by the end of the day.”
“You can do that?”
“I can and I will.”
“But they think I murdered Ashton.”
“As soon as I secure your freedom, I’ll hire every thief-taker in town and I will find the real killer.” The meaning in his eyes flared fierce enough to see even in the dim light of the cell. “I promise you, Rose.”
He wrapped her in his arms again, tight enough to squeeze the air from her lungs. She relished the consolation, while at the same time, resisting the draw.
“Before I leave, I’ll reaffirm my threat to the guards, and double the garnish to make sure you’ll be left alone until I return with the proper papers to gain your release. Don’t be afraid, love. This will be over soon.”
Chapter 15
Rose let her fingers skim across the top of the steamy, lavender scented bathwater before sinking down in the tub until her chin dipped into the water.
Humidity filled the bathing chamber, hanging a warm, soothing mist in the air. Three branches of candles set about the room provided ample light. The chamber’s high window would allow the morning sun to brighten the room. Rose looked forward to it.
When she first emerged from the prison, the sudden light blinded her after the days and nights she’d spent in such bleak darkness. And it had already been close to dusk. She vowed to never again take daylight for granted.
When they’d pulled up at Burke’s home, Rose didn’t hide her surprise. She’d assumed he would take her back to the house she’d shared with Ashton and Lewis. Lewis was most certainly back in his townhouse, as spending time in the Sennett home now would raise all manner of gossip. But Burke told her he was concerned for her safety, and he could better protect her as his guest. He made no mention of the gossip this arrangement could stir.
Cora had laid a clean night rail across the chair in the corner of the bathing chamber. Burke ordered her maid to burn the gown she’d worn during her stay at Newgate. Rose was glad for it. She never wanted to see that retched gown again. No matter how many washings it took, she was convinced the stench would remain. Besides, it would always be the dress she wore the day Ashton was murdered.
Her lady’s maid, as well as several trunks filled with her belongings arrived just moments after she and Burke entered his home. The next thirty minutes were a flurry of activity. Most of which Rose only heard through the door as Cora was as anxious to get her bathed as she was to wash away the filth and the foul reek of the prison.
Through the door connecting the bathing chamber to the generous room where she would sleep came the sounds of drawers and cupboard doors opening and closing as Cora put away her things. After her maid helped her wash her hair, Rose requested some time alone to soak in the hot water. And to think.
Burke had installed her into a suite of rooms consisting of a spacious sleeping quarters, and her own private bathing chamber. The broad spaces, the soft peach and blue colors, all gave an even grander presentation after her days locked in that horrid cell.
She could be in that cell again. No matter Burke’s promise, in the eyes of the law, as well as Society, she was the most likely culprit. If the real killer escaped the avenues of Burke’s perusals, all eyes would again be on her.
“My lady?” Cora said from the doorway.
Rose shifted her head toward her maid. Cora had begun fretting over her the moment she’d seen her in the foyer. Burke and Cora worked with what seemed every servant in the house to arrange for her care and comfort, and then Rose was sinking into the most welcome bath she’d ever taken.
“His lordship has had a meal sent up for you,” Cora said. “I’ll keep everything covered until you’re ready, which should be soon. My, that water must be going tepid by now.”
Cora bustled over to the tub, the ruffles of her mobcap bobbing, and dipped in a finger. “Oh, yes. You must get out now before you catch a chill.”
The maid bid her to stand and Rose stepped into the plush towel Cora held out for her. Once properly dressed in her soft night rail and wrapper, Cora had her sit in the chair while she brushed out her hair. The women then walked into the bedchamber, well-lit with candles. A moment later, Rose was laughing.
Silver domes buried the table before the roaring hearth. Two more covered plates sat upon another small table. In the mix, Rose also spotted a cloth-covered breadbasket, a teapot, and a decanter of wine.
Cora chuckled. “I guess Lord Darington wanted to make sure you didn’t go to bed hungry.”
“The entire household could be sated on this feast.”
Rose took great pleasure filling her empty stomach with sliced mushrooms and roasted apples, plump strawberries and blueberry tarts. A crock held a stew of potatoes, onions, and kidney beans. The bread was warm and the fruit jam was sweet. After subsisting on meager portions of gruel these past few days, she savored every last bite of the succulent meal.
While she ate, Cora took her time turning down the bed and fluffing the pillows. She bustled over to the table to pour more tea for Rose and to spoon more stew onto her plate.
“I tried to come and see you,” Cora said, a quaver in her voice. She returned the small ladle to the crock and stepped back, wringing her hands as she surveyed the table.
Rose set down her second tart and gaped at her maid. “You did? You went to the prison?”
“The keeper wouldn’t let me in unless I paid three pounds. I would have paid it if I had it,” Cora said, raising her gaze to Rose’s. “I surely would.”
The last of Cora’s words hitched on emotion and her eyes filled. Rose popped from her chair and wrapped her arms around her maid.
“I’ve been so worried about you,” Cora said.
“Oh, Cora,” Rose said, hugging her back, fighting her own tears. After a minute or so, she stepped away. “I’m much better now, at least for the time being. But if we don’t find who murdered my husband, I’ll be right back where I was.”
Cora shook her head, sending the ruffles of her mobcap into a swish. She tugged a cloth from her pocket and dabbed at her eyes. “That won’t happen. The earl’s hired all kinds of men to find the real killer.”
“Already? He must have been working every minute since he came to see me.”
“Sit,” Cora said, ushering Rose back to her chair. “You’ve lost weight these past days. Eat some more, now.”
Rose smiled at the kindness and wiped her own eyes with a white, linen napkin. Cora stood only a couple of feet away, arms folded in front of her, and gave a sharp nod to the plate.
Rose smiled again and spread a heaping spoonful of blueberry preserves over a thick slice of bread. She was already full, but this evening she would gorge herself on the bounty. For whether or not this freedom would last, regardless of Burke’s efforts, she did not know.
“Cora, has the earl really hired so many men?”
“Oh, yes. He’s been taking meetings since you came up here. Why, I’ve never seen so many men in such a—”
A brief knock interrupted their conversation. Cora opened the door. There was a short, mumbled conversation before her maid turned back into the room and spoke.
“It’s Lord Darington, my lady. He’d like to speak with you.”
“Do let him in.” Rose stood and cinched the tie of her wrapper. “You may go now. And Cora…Thank you.”
Cora hesitated at leaving. After a moment, she said, “I’ll come back and check on you later.” And then she did as her mistress bid.
Burke stepped into the room, handsome in his fawn-colored breeches, shining black boots, and russet shirt. The smile he gave her bore a fair amount of caution. Then his eyes shifted toward the table, and he frowned.
“You haven’t eaten much. I’m in the process of hiring a new cook, as my last one had to take a permanent leave. The one I have now is temporary. I’ve not yet tried much of his fare. If none of th
is is to your liking, I’ll have him prepare something else right away. All you need do is tell me what you want.”
“All of it is to my liking. You sent up enough food for a dozen people.” Patting her stomach, she said, “I ate enough for three.”
They shared a smile, but Rose’s faded soon and she let her gaze rest upon the colorful, Persian carpet. Holding his face in her view could be a dangerous thing, because she feared at any moment his anger and accusation would return. He believed her now. But what if his money and efforts do not produce the real killer? Would he believe her guilty again? Would his rage increase tenfold for what he would perceive as a further deception?
His voice dragged her from her mind’s dark wanderings.
“Rose, can you tell me how someone might have gotten the pistol from your bag?”
“That question has run through my mind a thousand times,” she told him. “I just don’t know. It’s not as if I leave my reticule lying about town. When I’m not holding it, the bag sits in my private chambers.”
“You left it in the carriage that night at the foundling home.”
“I didn’t carry it in to play with the children. But Horace was with the carriage the whole time.”
“Asleep on the bench.”
“If my pistol was stolen in that neighborhood, it would have been sold, or used in a robbery, not carted all the way across town, used to kill Ashton, and then left to implicate me.”
With a nod of his head, Burke said, “Yes, you’re right. That scenario is a far stretch. What about your maid?”
“Cora?” Rose could still feel her maid’s strong arms around her when she’d entered the house, and then again just moments ago. She sprung to the woman’s defense. “Cora is a dear woman, and ever-loyal to me. She knew how happy I was with my life. She’d have no reason whatsoever to hurt any of the three of us.”
Burke paced a moment, hands clasped behind his back. He stopped, pivoted toward her, and said, “Let’s look at this from another angle, then. Who hated Ashton enough to want him dead?”
“No one,” she answered without hesitation. “Ashton was a sweet man. He never caused harm to anyone, not in business, and not in his personal life.”
Burke nodded. Ashton Sennett never struck him as the devious type. He was charitable, and considerate. His work for the foundling home was proof enough of his nature. Even his outlandish request had been for the happiness of another.
“Rose,” Burke started, but paused a moment before continuing. “When Lewis was shot, I asked you if you knew anyone who might do such a thing.” He hesitated before finishing. “You looked guilty.”
After releasing a heavy breath, she said, “I felt guilty.”
“Why?”
She tugged on the cloth belt and brushed her hands down her wrapper. “Because I thought of my sister.”
“You think she could have shot Lewis, killed Ashton? Why would she do such a thing? I need to know the truth.”
“Eddy is an angry, bitter woman. Her life has not turned out as she had wished. Years of overindulgence in spirits have worsened her outlook. When you asked if I knew anyone who might have wanted to harm any of the three of us, for a moment, I thought perhaps jealousy and alcohol had driven my sister to delinquency.”
Rose rubbed her hands up and down her crossed arms before finishing. “I was ashamed at having thought such a thing.”
“You don’t believe it now?”
“No. Eddy has turned cold. Disdainful of me, even, but I don’t believe my sister would go so far as to commit murder.”
“What of her husband?”
“Piers?”
“He attacked you, did he not?”
“Yes. Piers is a miscreant with a severe deficiency in morals, but I can’t see him risking his life for a vengeance that would gain him naught.”
“Still, I plan to speak with the two of them myself.”
“When you do, Burke, please be kind to my sister. Even though she’s been…harsh with me, I do still love her.”
“I will. But Rose, if she is guilty of these crimes…”
“I know. I’m sure it wasn’t her, though. That’s why I felt guilty when I thought of her.”
Burke nodded, but curved his glance away as soon as he did. He was not so sure of Edwina’s innocence. Doubt shaded his eyes, and perhaps his opinion. Or, maybe, an unearned trust shaded hers. Could her sister have done such a horrible thing? Please don’t let it be Eddy.
Wanting to change the subject, Rose said, “Cora told me Ashton’s funeral is tomorrow. I want to go.”
“Not a good idea,” Burke said with a shake of his head. “People still believe you murdered him. You’d be exposing yourself to all manner of insult.”
“He was my husband, and my friend, my dearest friend. If it hadn’t been for Ashton, I don’t know what would have happened to me. I have to go to his funeral.”
Burke sighed, and gave a pause before conceding. “We’ll attend the burial.”
Chapter 16
Rain patted atop the black umbrella Burke held over both their heads. Not a hard rain, but steady, and chilled. It rolled off and dropped into the cool, white mist floating about their feet, the fog lingering like ghosts crawled from the surrounding graves. Today Rose was glad for the fog and the rain. It made their discretion feel less contrived.
She and Burke stood away from the crowd. At Burke’s insistence, they’d arrived a bit late so the other mourners would have their backs to them. Their dark clothing was lost in the copse of leafy, black poplars. Rose kept silent, holding a fistful of lilacs in her ebony gloved hands. Burke kept an arm around her shoulders, giving her much-needed comfort.
As the preacher said his final words, Burke bent to her ear. “The service is almost over. We should go now.”
“I want to leave these flowers on his casket,” she answered in the same low voice. “Ashton adored lilacs. He had them planted all around the house. Couldn’t we remain until they’ve gone? They’ll all go left toward the road when they leave and I doubt anyone will notice us back here.”
“We can come back later, cover his grave in a pile of lilacs, if you wish. We should leave, Rose.”
She almost argued with him, but he was right. People still believed her a murderer. The last thing she wanted to do was cause a scene at Ashton’s funeral. She could only imagine what they were all saying now that she was out of prison, and had taken up residency in Burke’s home. It was fortunate she had no covetous hopes of Society ever welcoming her back into the fold.
Rose nodded, clutched the delicate flowers against her chest and the two of them stepped out of the trees to walk away from the closing service.
“There she is! I knew she’d come looking for sympathy. As if she deserved it! Utterly shameless, she is.”
Though she had not seen her sister in the gathering, Rose recognized Eddy’s voice. Almost as one, the black-clothed mourners rotated until they all saw her, a storm within the drizzle, ready to bear down on her. Their sorrow hardened in an instant by a condemning belief already taken root. On some faces, like her dear, sweet Lewis, outright hatred stabbed fresh wounds into her already fractured heart.
Edwina stepped from the crowd, out from the protection of the umbrella held by Piers. Raindrops spattered her face, but she appeared unaware, or unconcerned. A twisted smirk emerged through her wrath.
“You’ve got quite the cheek, haven’t you?” Edwina sneered in a voice loud enough to carry over the tapping of raindrops.
Her speech was clear and sober. Her eyes blazed, not with anger, but with power. The preacher had stopped speaking. Nobody so much as whispered. The mourners were all listening to her sister’s every word, believing what she said because now she was the good girl.
“Eddy, please don’t do this,” Rose begged. “Not here, not now.”
Ignoring her desperate plea, Edwina altered her expression to one of anguish before wheeling around to face the crowd. “Spoiled she was, her whole life. A
nd it was never enough. Nothing was ever enough, not what our parents gave her, not what we gave her. She only wanted more, more, more. She nearly killed my husband during one of her violent tantrums, left the poor man bleeding on the floor.”
A unified gasp arose from the crowd, followed by a wave of murmurs. The flow of it swelled. Soon, though, everyone quieted again. They were waiting to see what was said next.
Ashton had paid Piers and Edwina a small fortune to secure a promise they would never speak to anyone of that night, the night Piers tried to rape her and she’d struck him in the head with her amber pig. Rose supposed since Ashton was no longer here to hold them to the bargain, Eddy believed there was no more bargain to keep. And her sister and brother-in-law could tell the story of what happened that horrible night any way they pleased.
Rose didn’t bother with a defense. No one would believe her, and whatever she said would be twisted to suit.
“Her husband not even in his grave and she’s taken up residence in the home of another man!” Eddy finished with a dramatic flourish.
Another gasp. The gossips were going to crucify her.
“That’s enough!” Burke said, loud. Not a shout, but a booming statement which demanded attention. Quiet fell again as every stunned face, including Rose’s, turned to Burke.
“Lady Sennett is a guest in my home, invited to stay with me and my Aunt Eloise, as they are old friends. My aunt was quite concerned for Lady Sennett after she was wrongly accused. If not for the weather, she would be here at this service today. The dampness does not agree with my aunt, so I insisted she remain at home.”
With his false explanation, Burke elevated the status of her residence from something below a mistress, to an attended guest. He also managed to speak her innocence, pouring doubt onto what Eddy had planted. What Burke had told them would go a long way in saving her name. Tongues would still wag after this scene in the cemetery. However, tomorrow would hold discussions, rather than a mass persecution.
