“The ladies of my acquaintance were generally more experienced than I in human biology as you call it. Their enthusiasm never waned. But you asked about husbands. I cannot speak from experience, only from what I’ve heard. Marital sex loses its fascination for husbands in due course. Adultery inevitably follows.”
“You paint a rather grim picture of the institution. Is that why you remained a bachelor?”
“No.” He bent over the fire to rekindle it. “There was another reason.”
Laura’s eyes narrowed as she contemplated the man. He was definitely in possession of a secret but she was stymied as to what it could be. He’d already confessed to being Victoria’s hired assassin. Surely, it could not be worse than that.
Laura retrieved her nightdress from the floor and slipped it on. The white cotton garment had been found at the back of a wardrobe. A housemaid’s cast-off by the look of it. It was out of fashion, and plain, though the needlework was impressive. Not what she’d expect a paramour of Tanner Caine’s to wear to bed. She tied the satin ribbons tightly.
“Do you have many lovers?” She bit down on her lip, furious with herself for asking and for waiting in jealous agony for the answer.
“I don’t talk about my personal life, Laura. Not to anyone. Do not question me again.”
“Well, we must talk about something. I am in a great deal of trouble. How much time do you think we have before Queen Victoria sends a new man?”
“A day—maybe less. She will have learned by now that I married you to get you out of Gateshead. Since there followed no message from me, Her Majesty will assume the worst. Patience is not one of her virtues; she will take action. Her new man has probably already left London and is heading our way.”
Laura jumped out of bed. “You needn’t sound so coolly sanguine about my fate! If there is no objection, I should like to get dressed. It will be daylight in a couple of hours; I can get to the main road on foot before the sun is up if I leave now.”
“Laura,” he said with difficulty. “Do you trust me?”
She knew what he was going to say. For only the second time since their meeting, Laura Mayhew could hear Tanner Caine’s thoughts. The breath left her body. Laura sank to the floor at his feet. “You think you have no choice but to carry out your orders, but you are wrong.”
He knelt down beside her. “That is not what I asked. I asked if you trust me.”
Laura raised her eyes to his in confusion. She saw in Caine’s hard beauty, a man who would do anything to be free of the shadow that had trapped him and hidden him from the world.
“Yes, Tanner ... I trust you.”
“Good. Because to make our escape I am going to have to kill you.”
§
SCANLON FOUGHT the brambles, cursing his luck and Queen Victoria for not informing him that Hawthorne Hall was protected by a monstrous briar patch. He had left his horse at the path where it split, opting to take the shorter route on foot, thinking he would approach the manor before Caine was awake. Scanlon would assess the situation and then decide his next move.
It was a brilliant plan until he got caught in the razor sharp brambles. His riding breeches fared the worst as the barbs tore at the fabric. However, his topcoat offered protection and at last Scanlon worked free of the hellish prison. Bleeding and sore, he crossed the wet grass in the predawn light.
The house was perfectly still, not a sign of life. He would not expect anyone to be up and about at this hour. He crept around the building, peering in each of the lower windows. There was a fire lit in the kitchen but no sign of the master of Hawthorne.
Someone was coming. Abruptly, Scanlon ducked down and then carefully rose up to peek inside. Caine had entered the kitchen with a rolled up carpet slung over his shoulder. It looked too heavy to be only a rug.
Scanlon’s pulse raced. A shock of pale golden red hair tumbled out when Caine dropped his bundle on the table. Scanlon could make out the features of a girl’s face as her body slid forward.
Laura Mayhew. Tanner Caine’s new bride. Jesus! He did not earn the nickname of Bluebeard for nothing.
The choice of a fine carpet to conceal the body over a sack or a trunk was a sad waste. Caine was either going to bury her or throw her off a cliff or toss her in the river. There were many ways to dispose of a body, but why did he kill Laura Mayhew in the first place? Queen Victoria said the girl had gone missing from Gateshead Asylum. Scanlon assumed Her Majesty wanted the girl found. Caine had either made a tactical error or he’d been set up to commit murder.
Scanlon wasn’t much for gossip but he’d heard stories of Laura Mayhew’s breakdown and her wild tale of an illegitimate Royal baby. And now she was dead thanks to Queen Victoria’s private henchman. Scanlon had to proceed with caution here. He did not want to step on any toes but the mission was beginning to make sense. Queen Victoria’s reasons for seeking the girl had been shrouded in mystery to the point that Scanlon wasn’t even briefed on what to expect. He was beginning to understand why.
His only task was to find out where Laura Mayhew was and report back. And clearly, Laura Mayhew was dead. The thing was confirmed before his very eyes when Caine opened the carpet and the bloodied nightdress was revealed. A rip in the garment and a huge stain of bright red blood circling the girl’s heart indicated where Caine had driven the knife. The brute even carried the bloodied weapon to the basin to wash it and wiped his hands on a towel.
Caine’s clothes were covered in her blood, it had soaked the carpet and there were spatters on his face. Scanlon shivered. Caine was a cold devil to pull this off—marrying the girl, bringing her to Hawthorne Hall as his new bride, giving her a wedding night to cherish, and then just as she is beginning to fall in love with him—
He stabs her through the heart.
Cold devil.
Scanlon did not know if Her Majesty would welcome this news but he would make his report regardless. It could mean the noose for Mr. Caine.
§
TANNER KISSED her gently on the mouth and her eyes fluttered open. “You may live now. No one will trouble to pursue a dead girl.”
Laura smiled into his eyes. “You are clever. I could not have conceived such an ingenious solution to the problem.”
“You are good at thinking of ways to get into trouble. It falls to me to think of ways to get you out.” He moved to the window and cautiously peered out. “He’s going. It looks like he’s taking the main path back to his horse. That way is longer but Scanlon has probably had enough of the briars.”
Tanner returned to her side to help her out of the carpet and down from the table.
“Do you know him?” she asked.
“He works for the Queen on occasion. He will report back that you are dead. Your parents will grieve but the danger to you is over. You can assume a new identity, free to marry and begin a new life. Your death has made me a widower so I cannot petition for a divorce, but I promise you’ll never see me again.”
Laura clutched his hand, suddenly filled with cold dread. Not a vision, but an overpowering sense of a harrowing event in Tanner Caine’s future.
“You cannot leave me!” she cried out without thinking. “They think you have killed me. You will be charged with murder if you are caught—something terrible is going to happen if we are separated. I feel it. I am the daughter of a lord and Princess Louise’s lady-in-waiting. It will be politically impossible for Victoria to look the other way after she receives Scanlon’s report.”
Tanner grimaced. “I was aware from the beginning the difficulty this job presented. The Queen herself informed me I would not be protected. I’ve been backed into tighter corners than this one. I’ll find a way out.”
“I’m going to London,” she said decisively. “I’m going to find Henry. Then I shall present myself to Queen Victoria and explain that you refused to kill an innocent woman. She will be forced pardon you.”
“Don’t be stupid. You’ll be recognized instantly and I will be unable to help you.�
�
“She can’t do anything to me. Not now. Not after it is put about that I am dead.”
“Her Majesty will not have to do anything. You will be crossing the street and a team of horses pulling a milk wagon will suddenly race out of control and trample you beneath their hooves. Or you will be walking through Covent Garden and feel the sharp prick of a blade in your side. Your purse will be stolen to cover up the real reason for your murder. A nasty business is thieving. That is your fate, Laura Mayhew, if you continue to pursue this mad path!”
“Then so be it,” she cried out. “Do you think I am afraid of what might happen? I will not be terrorized out of doing as my conscience dictates. You said you would find a way out of your tight corner—well, I shall find a way out of mine. I am not without friends.”
“Your body will wind up on a dissection table in the morgue where all unclaimed bodies go. You will not be identified. Your killer will not be brought to justice. Then one day, I’ll hear of a girl matching your description who was found dead in the street or floating in the Thames and all of this will have been for nothing! Even this bit of good I’ve done with my life will be taken from me. I’ll not last long on this earth after you leave it, Laura.”
He gave her a hard stare, one of his bottomless unreadable looks that Laura could not penetrate. A weak hope blossomed in her chest. “I am at a loss to understand your meaning,” she said softly. “You must tell me what you are feeling.”
“One day perhaps. I am too tired to discuss it now.” Tanner rubbed his hands over his face with a groan. “I will help you, Laura, if only to prove to you, once and for all, that there is no child. Henry does not exist. He is a product of your romantic imagination. The Queen is not a monster. She would not order the death of an innocent child and I’ll prove it to you, if only to keep you alive.”
He lifted a pair of shears and came toward her. “We shall have to cut your hair.”
Laura’s hands flew to her head. “It has been cut once already!”
“It needs to be cut even more if you are to pass as a boy.” He blithely snipped off a handful. “You shall be my gunner’s assistant.”
Laura shrieked. “Why must I pass as a boy? I could be your sister or your maiden aunt.”
“My landlady knows I do not have a family. I have rooms in Baker Street. You will stay with me. Mrs. Sharpton will not allow it if you are a female. It is only hair. It will grow back. Would you rather lose your life?”
Tanner chopped her hair back to inches of her scalp. It stood up at all angles. Laura examined her reflection in the cracked mirror over the washstand with a mixture of horror and true grief. First it was her gift of second sight, then her virginity, and now her lovely hair. One by one, Tanner Caine was robbing her of her assets.
“I don’t know anything about firearms,” she muttered rebelliously. “I shall make a poor gunner’s boy.”
“I’ll teach you. The skill may be come in handy one day.”
Tanner disappeared into the pump room to fill the pitcher with water and returned with a bundle of clothes.
“Here. These belong to the former stable boy. They’ll do. And here is water to wash away the pig’s blood. We’ll take the briar path to avoid running into Scanlon. There is a way to navigate through the brambles, much like your hedge maze at Gateshead. We should make London ahead of him. I have a carriage and horses stabled in the village. I’ll arrange for a boy to attend to the horses at Hawthorne and then we shall be on our way.”
She stood before him in the loose peasant garb of a stable boy with her shorn hair. Tanner frowned when he looked at her and rubbed his chin.
“You are scrawny enough to pass, but still far too pretty. There is some ash in the metal bucket beside the hearth. Rub that into your face and hands.”
Laura thought of Henry as she smudged her face and neck with the fine grey powder. She hoped this would prove to be a grand adventure that she could tell him about years from now. She wasn’t frightened of being caught or captured, or even of the dreadful fate that Tanner had outlined for her. But leaving the safety of Hawthorne Hall dressed as a boy troubled her. Laura tried to divine the reason why and realized it came down to Tanner Caine.
Not able to read his thoughts and robbed of her physical beauty to charm him, Laura had no idea how she was going to manage his mercurial temperament. She was not as fearless as she was before she met him. A feeling was growing within her that to be parted from Tanner would be unendurable. When he was with her, when he held her, she sensed that he felt the same. But her intuition had failed her so profoundly with him—how could she trust herself?
In London, dressed as a boy, she would utterly dependent on a man who harboured a very dark secret. A secret so dark and immense Laura was convinced it was the shadow Tanner Caine was hiding in.
Chapter Five
QUEEN VICTORIA read Scanlon’s report while the man was still in the room. She planned to challenge his account if she saw any reference to the Royal Family. The speed with which he had returned to London had given her a case of the nerves. But when she arrived at the section detailing the amount of blood on Tanner Caine’s clothing, she understood the man’s haste.
“What do you make of this, sir? It is too fantastical to be believed! From your account, Mr. Caine sounds like a butcher. You say he stabbed the girl in the heart?”
“I do, Madam, and I regret to say it would not be the first time a young lady died in the company of Tanner Caine. If I recollect the story, he has had a series of love interests that ended when the girl died under mysterious circumstances. This has earned him the nickname of Bluebeard. Caine has never been formally accused of any crime. Either the man has supremely bad luck with the women who fall in love with him, or he is up to no good.”
“This is the first I have heard this story,” Victoria said carefully. “Mr. Caine has made it a policy not to discuss his past and I have respected his wishes. What possible reason would the man have for disposing of his lovers? Was he married to any of them and stood to inherit a fortune?”
“There was no fortune and he never married. Likely, that is why charges were never brought. They could not make a case. His motive for doing away with the young ladies is unknown. In my opinion, after what I witnessed at Hawthorne, Caine is a homicidal maniac. I daresay he has bodies buried in all over the place. Were you aware the entry to his estate is guarded by a fearsome briar hedge? I was fair ripped to shreds,” the man grieved peevishly.
“It is a fascinating fiction, Mr. Scanlon. I daresay you could sell it to the Penny Dreadful, but gossip and hearsay are not in my line. If there is any truth to this story, I charge you to discover it and return to me a written report that is thorough and factual. Who were the young ladies? What are their families? How were they involved with Mr. Caine before they met their demise? You see, Mr. Scanlon, mere rumour will not do. Get me the facts.”
“Yes, Madam. As to Miss Mayhew, is there anything more you require of me?
Victoria eyed Scanlon severely. “For the sake of her parents, you will not mention this report to anyone. I shall break the terrible news to Sir Horatio Mayhew myself. I shall have to fabricate an accidental death. It was on my watch that Miss Mayhew fell into Caine’s hands. I cannot forgive myself. Discretion is absolutely vital. Do I have your word, sir?”
“Majesty, respectfully, you need not ask. I am a professional. I know my business.”
“As Tanner Caine said before he was tempted to cold-blooded murder. If your investigation reveals a predisposition in Caine for slaughtering innocent women, I shall bring the man to justice. Until we are in possession of the facts, this account had best remain between us.”
It was late afternoon. Victoria was shaken by the report and longing for tea when Prince Leopold entered the room with his usual quiet diffidence. She signalled to Scanlon and the man’s mouth snapped shut. Victoria dismissed him with a curt nod and turned a sunny smile on her youngest.
“Hello darling. What are
you doing here? You know this is Mother’s private quarters.”
Leopold nodded gravely. “It is and I am aware. I have come on pressing business. Stirling always said when a man wanted something done, he must go to his sovereign where ever she may be, and plead his case. You are always in this room. So I have come to you.”
Victoria smothered a smile at her youngest child coming before her in such great estate. She could almost forgive him for mentioning Stirling’s name. Leopold did not know the pain his tutor had caused. “So, Mohammed has come to the mountain, has he? It sounds serious. Please, won’t you give me a kiss first?”
Leopold kissed his mother on both cheeks and then stood at attention, his eyes fixed on the wall. “I should like permission to visit Laura Mayhew in Gateshead Asylum for the Insane. I have some questions to put to her regarding my sister and Lieutenant Walter Stirling.”
“Out of the question.”
“Mother, you force me into revealing a secret that I swore I never would. Louise was in love with Walter Stirling and she bore him a son. Laura Mayhew was there the night my nephew was born. I want to speak to her about it.”
Prince Leopold waited for her reaction. Her son’s eyes were smudged with bluish mauve. Haemophilia polluted his veins, a constant threat. Victoria knew he concealed bruises from her. Leopold had been sheltered all of his young life and with reason. What mother would wait for the slightest mishap that could cause her child to bleed to death? Her physicians had told her Leopold’s life would not be long. She had pain enough to face with this child; must their remaining time together be fraught with tension?
“Mr. Stirling betrayed my trust in him,” she said, not trying to conceal her displeasure. “He was rightly relieved of his duties. I know he was a favourite of yours, Leo, but we must bear up. This has been a trying time. I fail to see how Miss Mayhew can help.”
Mark of Caine Trilogy: Book Two: Whispers in the Shadows (Victorian Villains) Page 4
