Christmas Spirit
Page 13
The cuts on his arm and shoulder burned. He removed his coat and shirt. The fabric stuck to his skin and reopened the deep gash on his shoulder when he pulled it off. Remembering Nancy’s remarks, he poured wine over the wounds. They flamed anew, burning and running with blood and wine. He swore and jerked the bottle away before taking a long swallow.
The pain couldn’t get any worse, so he took a deep breath and stitched the slash on the back of his left wrist. He couldn’t reach the cuts on his shoulder and upper arm, but the mirror revealed they weren’t too deep. He wrapped them with a long length of clean linen and called it done.
Wounds bandaged, he redressed himself, anxious to finish with matters at Folkestone Manor.
Chapter Nineteen
Eve strained to hear every whisper, every moan in the drafty house. The wind had picked up, promising another storm.
Where was he? What was happening?
Why didn’t someone let her know?
“Sarah, go downstairs. See if anyone has seen Mr. Danby.”
“I’m sorry, Miss, but Mr. Danby said I should stay here. I dare not leave you alone.” Needle flashing in the candlelight, Sarah kept her eyes on her work as she mended the hem of the dress Eve had torn in her terrified flight from the ghost.
“Oh, don’t be obstinate. What if he’s hurt? Lying somewhere…. Oh, I don’t know, but I’ll go mad if you just sit there, sewing as if nothing is wrong.”
The maid had the audacity to giggle. “But Miss, nothing is wrong. Leastways, nothing we know of.”
“You don’t know that.”
“No.” She shook her head. “And neither do you.”
“Please, please just go and find Mr. Danby.”
“Begging your pardon, Miss. Not to disobey your orders, but I dare not.”
“If you don’t, I shall see you’re turned out—without references!”
“Oh, Miss.” Sarah smiled and shook her head. “It’s nigh on Christmas. You’d never do such an un-Christian thing. I know you too well for that.”
“How d-dare you!” Frustration gripped Eve so fiercely she could barely speak.
“You’re tired, and I daresay in pain. Get some rest. Things shall look ever so much brighter in the morning.”
“We may not live ‘til morning!”
Sarah laughed and shook her head, bowing over her work.
A sharp rap at the door startled both the women. Even Sarah gasped, pricking her finger on her needle. She thrust her finger into her mouth and stared at Eve.
“W-who is there?” Eve gripped the bedclothes to her chest.
“It’s Mr. Danby. May I come in?”
“Yes, yes, of course! Thank goodness.” She dropped the covers and smoothed them over her lap. When he opened the door, she pinched some color into her cheeks and hurriedly rearranged her shawl over her shoulders. “I was so worried, what happened?”
A half-smile flitted across his mouth. He looked tired and drawn despite the cheerful light from the candles and fireplace. “It seems you’re something of a heroine, Miss Tomlin.”
“A heroine? Simply because I broke my limb?” Despite her cynical reply, his words warmed her more than all the laudanum in the world.
“No. But you may very well have saved a man’s life.” Before he could elaborate, he turned to glance at the door.
“What is it?” she asked.
Her mother walked into the room, followed closely by Lord Wolverton. Lady Weston glanced from Eve to Mr. Danby. Her brows rose as she gave Eve an even longer look. “It’s rather late, isn’t it, Mr. Danby?”
“Well, my son has just come to say goodnight, I’m sure, as we all have.” Lord Wolverton excused them, toasting the ladies with a glass of wine before draining it. “’Tis almost Christmas morning! So in the spirit of the season, best wishes for health and happiness to our fair company!”
“And glad tidings,” Mr. Danby added.
“What of the noises I heard? In the secret passage?” Eve asked, impatient with the interruption. For once, she wished her mother and Lord Wolverton would find someplace private where they could amuse themselves and leave her and Giles in peace.
“Ah, yes. John. The noises you heard were the footman struggling with the man responsible for these atrocities. Mr. Piggott,” Giles said.
“Mr. Piggott?” Eve asked. “Who is Mr. Piggott?”
“A shopkeeper. In Folkestone. You meet him—he was here today with the other men attending the inquest.”
“Why should a shopkeeper murder Mr. Lane?” Lord Wolverton frowned in puzzlement. “An unpaid bill hardly seems a decent motive. Why if this becomes commonplace, we’ll all be murdered!”
Mr. Danby grimaced and shook his head. “Smuggling. Of course, Mr. Piggott will have to be questioned to confirm this, but I found a room full of goods I’m sure were smuggled. And there was a passage leading, if I’m not mistaken, to the sea. It appears Piggott used the hidden passages to carry the goods out of the manor.”
“Surely the ghost—” Eve broke off, remembering the shadowy figure gliding through the black-and-white forest. Had that been Mr. Piggott, too? Or a specter, warning them away?
“There was no spirit,” Mr. Danby said gently. “Remember the small piece of silk? He wore grey silk to scare anyone who saw him. Over the years, he encouraged everyone to believe the manor was haunted. It kept the curious away, and he knew if he were seen, the sheer terror of his appearance would prevent anyone from following.”
“And John? You said I saved him? How could I possibly have done that? I’ve been trapped here, unable to move for hours.” Her fingers picked at the frayed edge of the worn blanket.
“The noises you heard were his moans. He must have stumbled upon the passageway and met Piggott. Piggott attacked him to prevent him from raising an alarm. If you hadn’t sent me to uncover the source of the noise, John might have died. He owes you his life.”
“So he’s alive? And unharmed?”
He shook his head. “He was injured. Nancy is doing her best, but his condition is grave.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be. Your actions gave him a chance. It’s up to him, now.” He smiled at her as he walked to the bed. His gaze intensified and something deep within her tightened in response. Then he slipped a hand into his pocket and pulled out a tattered sprig of greenery.
“What’s that?” she asked, clutching the blanket, not daring to believe what her eyes told her. Don’t be a goose. Don’t read too much into his actions.
He bent closer, holding it above her head. “Don’t you recognize it?”
“It looks like… mistletoe.” Her gaze drifted beyond his shoulder to her mother and Lord Wolverton. They smiled at her. Her face flamed.
Giles Danby bent. His lips pressed against hers with such infinite tenderness that she almost grabbed his lapel to draw him closer before he straightened. Then he bent again and whispered, “Do you know what this signifies?”
“No….” She could barely breathe. Of course she knew!
“It’s a promise. A promise I intend to keep.”
When he stepped away, an exhilarating combination of happiness and embarrassment surged through her, pounding like the tide.
How could he have done such a thing in front of their parents?
It meant…did he realize what he’d done? He’d publically declared himself.
She caught his gaze and flushed, a smile widening her mouth. “The storm is deepening; I’m afraid you’ll have to put up with us for a few more days, Mr. Danby.”
“Oh, I expect to be obliged to put up with you much longer than a few days, Miss Tomlin.”
“That’s a relief,” her mother said. “Since my daughter has been so foolish as to break a limb and upset all our plans. I don’t suppose we’ll ever get to Hythe, now.” She caught Eve’s gaze. Her eyes twinkled. “Thank goodness.”
“Mother!”
“Well, we’re all quite glad Miss Tomlin did,” Lord Wolverton replied hastil
y.
“What a relief to know my broken limb has brought you joy,” Eve said in dry tones.
“Not joy, but perhaps luck, painful though it must be,” Mr. Danby said. “It was particularly fortunate for John. If you hadn’t been here in this room to hear the attack, he would certainly have perished. And his absence would have convinced the coroner of his guilt.” He smiled at her, his eyes once more darkening in a way that made her intensely aware of him. “I’m lucky, as well, for it prevents you from leaving, whatever the weather brings.”
“Then I beg you to hold the Christmas spirit within your heart and remember that I’m at your mercy, Mr. Danby,” Eve said. Everything was happening so quickly she didn’t know what to think. She could only feel gloriously happy.
“As I am at yours, Lord Wolverton,” her mother said, fluttering her long lashes at the man at her side.
Both gentlemen nodded. Then they proceeded to take the grossest advantage of the situation by stealing kisses under the battered sprigs of mistletoe mysteriously sprouting from their pockets.
It looked like it was going to be a very merry Christmas, after all.
THE END
About the Author
Amy Corwin is a charter member of the Romance Writers of America and recently joined Mystery Writers of America. She writes historical and cozy mysteries with a touch of romance, as well as paranormal romances. To be truthful, most of her books include a bit of murder and mayhem since she discovered that killing off at least one character is a highly effective way to make the remaining ones toe the plot line.
Join her and discover that every good mystery has a touch of romance.
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Website: http://www.amycorwin.com
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Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Second Sons Mysteries Boxed Set
COPYRIGHT © 2015 by Amy G. Padgett
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Contact information: contact@amycorwin.com
Cover Art by Amy G. Padgett
Publisher: Fireside Mysteries
Publishing History
First Edition, 2015