Questions for a Highlander

by Angeline Fortin

  “Francis!” Eve cried out. “Watch out for the gun!”

  Movement from the doorway caught her eye and she spotted Thompson inside the door aiming a small pistol toward the men grappling and turning, waiting for an opening to take a shot. James and Jack, however, merely stood by, waiting and watching the brawl.

  “What are you doing?” Eve screamed at them. “Help him!”

  “What for?” James asked shrugging casually.

  “He’s just a little fellow, Evie,” Jack agreed. “Let Francis have his fun. I daresay he’s been itching for this moment.”

  “Oh for heaven’s sake!” Eve cried as the crunch of flesh and bone drew her attention back to the struggle. The pair were throwing punches that landed with a series of grotesque crunching noises, turning her stomach. Blood was flowing from Shaftesbury’s nose and mouth while a lesser blood flow trickled from Francis’ brow from Shaftesbury’s single blow with the pistol.

  Instead of looking concerned, Francis actually smiled as if he were enjoying himself. He drew back a fist and landed a series of solid blows against Shaftesbury’s stomach. William doubled over with a grunt but came up with the gun once more, catching Francis under the chin. With an enraged roar, Francis grabbed his opponent by the shirtfront and hurled him against the wall. William slumped sideways, finally losing his grip on the pistol as it skittered across the floor. He was curled in pain and breathing heavily.

  “Come on, you bastard,” Glenrothes taunted. “Get up and fight!”

  Shaftesbury groaned dramatically and straightened a bit revealing, his other revolver as he pulled it from his waistband and pointed it at Francis’ chest. “Back away,” William gasped, holding his cracked ribs tightly as he staggered to his feet. He kept Francis between him and Thompson, who was still aiming his own weapon from the door, denying the detective a clean shot.

  Fear ripped through Eve as her husband held her lover at gunpoint, a cold sweat breaking out over her entire body. He would shoot Francis, she knew, without hesitation or remorse, as soon as he was sure he could get away. It wouldn’t be a shot to injure but to kill and Shaftesbury was an excellent shot. They all stood motionless waiting. Eve felt her chest clench in dread and fear. Someone needed to do something!

  But when James and Jack moved to step forward, William retrieved his other pistol from the floor and pointed it at the pair. “Back I say.”

  “You have no options, Shaftesbury,” Thompson called from the door. “Set the lady and Glenrothes free and it will go better for you.”

  “No!” The villain shook his head. “I need her with me, so just back off and we’ll be gone.”

  “I’m not going to let you take her,” Glenrothes told him, wiping blood from his chin.

  “She’s my wife, not yours,” was the irrational reply.

  Francis watched Eve from the corner of his eye as she picked up a vase from the table and rolled it between her hands consideringly. What was she up to? “She’s going to marry me, you know,” he said with a deliberately cocky draw,l keeping Ashley-Cooper’s attention on him. “Then she’ll be mine.”

  “No!” William shook his head. “That’s impossible! She might have whored herself with you but she is my wife!”

  “Then that makes you a cuckold!” Francis goaded, tormenting Shaftesbury to cock the gun, ready to charge once more.

  “William,” Eve’s shaking voice rang through the room, bringing all eyes to her as she held the costly porcelain aloft by its brim. “Put down the guns or I swear I will drop it.”

  Sweat beaded her husband’s brow as the pistol in his right hand swung toward her and back to Glenrothes. “Put it down, Evelyn!”

  “Put the guns down first,” she challenged, holding the pottery higher in her unsteady hand.

  “No!” he spat out, leveling the gun at her again, and back to the earl indecisively once more as he took a step in her direction. “Put it down!”

  Eve swung her arm back and launched the vase into the air as William fired both pistols with a wild cry. Francis lunged toward him once more, and more shots rang around the room when both Shaftesbury and now Thompson fired again.

  Shaftesbury dropped the weapons and flung himself to his knees under the vase, wrapping his arms around it even as it shattered in his arms. His arms closed over the pieces as they fell and around his stomach, covering the pool of red spreading across his midriff. He gaped down at the wound as he reached for the pieces. “No!” he moaned.

  Eve dazedly jerked her head around to find detective Thompson holstering his smoking pistol and moving forward as Francis limped and faltered, falling to his knee. “Francis!” she cried, racing to his side. “Francis! Are you all right? Were you shot? Are you bleeding?”

  “The Earl of Glenrothes does not get shot.”

  “Apparently you don’t duck either.”

  “Bastard,” he gasped, “he shot me in the calf! Thank God you threw that when you did or it might have been worse! He was to the point of firing.”

  “Of course he was, with you taunting him!” she scolded as she pulled up his trouser leg to examine the wound. “Here. Let me see it.” She raised his pant leg and examined the wound. “Through and through, I think, but we will need to get it cleaned out as soon as possible.” Eve flipped up her skirt and tore a ruffle from her petticoat to bind the wound.

  “Have a lot of experience with gunshots, do you?” he teased through gritted teeth and hissed as she tied the makeshift bandage around his leg with a tug.

  “Oh, don’t be an infant,” she returned, as she patted the knot and met his eyes.

  He was surprised to find them glassy with unshed tears, when she had seemed so collected and calm. He reached out and caressed her bruised cheek with his thumb. “Are you all right? What did he do to you?”

  “Oh, he just slapped me a couple times,” she shrugged, dabbing at her eyes. “Most of this happened when I jumped out of the carriage.”

  “You jumped out of a carriage?” His brow shot up in surprise when she nodded. “Was it moving?”

  “Oh!” she punched him lightly in the arm.

  Francis caught her hand and raised it to his lips, feeling it tremble as he did so. What a brave lass he had! “I am so proud of you, my love. And that is only for what I know so far. I want to hear every detail when we get home.”

  “And I want to hear how you came to be here with Detective Thompson,” she scolded. “I thought you were under arrest.”

  “Well, you see…”

  “Lord Glenrothes?” Thompson interrupted as Jack and James crowded around Shaftesbury’s still form. “I’ll need you to come back to the station…”

  Eve bristled at the thought of Francis returning to jail. After all that had just happened! Surely the detective could see that Glenrothes was not the villain here! “Mr. Thompson, I feel you should know that Lord Glenrothes has been too much of a gentleman to provide an alibi for his ex-wife’s murder.”

  “Eden, you don’t need to do this,” Francis began, but she waved him off briskly.

  “Hush, yes I do.” She turned to the detective, laying a pleading hand on his arm even as he shook his head in denial. “The night that Vanessa MacKintosh was murdered, Lord Glenrothes was with me… in my rooms all night, so you see he could not have done this horrible thing.”

  Francis groaned as Mr. Thompson flushed a rosy red. “Lady Shaftesbury,” he stammered. “I was only going to request that Glenrothes and indeed yourself come to the station to make your statements on this matter. I, uh,” he tugged at his collar. “I had already determined Glenrothes was not at fault without your, uh, assurance otherwise.”

  Now it was Eve’s turn to blush and turn away. “You had? Then I needn’t have…? Oh!” she moaned in embarrassment.

  “Please, my lady, be assured that you have my utmost discretion regarding your admission,” he rushed to guarantee her.

  “You know it wasn’t Lord Glenrothes then?” Eve couldn’t resist clarifying.

  “Ay
e, m’lady,” he pledged to her. “Thanks to Glenrothes and what I have witnessed here, I believe we now have enough evidence to prove that he was not the murderer, though your husband did an excellent job of framing him.”

  “Indeed he did.”

  “Perhaps I will call on you tomorrow instead to get your complete statement, if that is acceptable?”

  “Of course.” She nodded, regaining her calm, social mask and offering her hand. “Thank you so much for your assistance, Mr. Thompson.”

  “Not at all, my lady.” He shook her hand and regarded Glenrothes. “Do you, uh, need medical assistance, my lord?”

  “I have been well nursed enough to see my way home and my own surgeon, Thompson, but my thanks.” He offered the official his hand and shook it heartily before requesting assistance in gaining his footing. Eve wrapped an arm around his waist to help him as he limped to face Shaftesbury who was being tended to by the other two detectives.

  “Is he dead?” Francis asked the question Eve had been afraid to voice.

  “No,” Thompson shook his head. “It is a stomach wound though. If he does recover, it will be a painful trial. And even if he gets through it, he will face the hangman’s noose quickly enough for the murder of Lady Glenrothes.”

  Francis stared down into Eve’s bright green eyes and touched his forehead to hers. “Shall we go, my love?”

  “Yes,” she nodded emphatically. “I want to see Laurie and make sure he’s all right.”

  Jack and James left Shaftesbury as other officers came in to assist Thompson. Offering their assistance to the limping earl, James asked his brother, “You all right there, old man?”

  “No thanks to you two!” Eve snorted pointing a finger at both of them. “How could you just stand there and do nothing?”

  “Wasn’t much to do but watch the fight. Francis had that under control. Enjoyed it no doubt. Can’t understand how the chap held on to that gun though,” Jack said defensively, raising his hands to ward her off. “By the time he needed aid, we were dodging bullets of our own!”

  Eve merely humphed and they turned to go, Francis’ steps awkward even with the men’s assistance. He limped forward and frowned when a piece of pottery cracked under his boot. With a frown, he bent and picked up the shard and held it up to the light. “My God! I can’t believe you threw this. Do you have any idea what this is?”

  “Yes, I have a very good idea what it is,” Eve raised an amused brow.

  “Good God, Eden, what were you thinking? This was worth a fortune!”

  “So are you,” she pecked his cheek playfully. “And I’ll buy you another if you like.”

  Chapter 48

  Love is born with the pleasure of looking at another,

  it is fed with the necessity of seeing each other,

  it is concluded with the impossibility of separation.

  - Jose Marti y Perez

  “You hit him over the head with a Ming vase?” Jack repeated, astounded. “A 14th century Ming vase? Bloody hell, that one little piece of pottery might have saved my entire estate.”

  “Leave it to Jack to think of himself,” Abby teased, hugging her brother’s arm. “Oh, Eve, I’m so glad everything turned out all right!”

  Eve sat curled against Francis in the corner of the settee later that evening after changing her torn clothing and having her scrapes and bruises tended to. Laurie was tucked against her other side in her snug embrace. His joy when she had returned made her heart sing and she was glad to keep him by her side, though he should have been sent back to the nursery an hour ago. Eve could not bear to give him up either. She stroked the blond curls on his head absently while everyone talked over the events of the day.

  After the two boys had found Richard and Jack, they had attempted to track the carriage but had split up when they reached the government district and had come upon Francis and the detective. Richard had gone on with the footmen and another detective, canvassing the stagecoach and railroad depots, hoping to find them there should they have already vacated the boardinghouse. Indeed they had been crucial in capturing the valet, Wilkes, when he had purchased tickets in Shaftesbury’s name.

  As Hobbes brought n champagne for them all to celebrate, Glenrothes told his audience of his conviction that the truth would hold sway with the honorable detective Thompson. Something he had been sure of when he had gone with him that morning. He had given Thompson what they knew of Shaftesbury and Vanessa, knowing the man would see the logic in his argument. His arrest had never occurred, in fact he had spent most of the early afternoon taking a casual luncheon with the man and discussing the case while Thompson’s detectives had searched for Shaftesbury.

  “You knew that he would listen to such an outlandish tale and believe you, rather than simply toss you in the clink?” Moira asked in amazement.

  “You took a great chance,” Abby agreed with her friend.

  “A calculated risk,” Francis shrugged in the face of their amazement.

  “I wish you might have seen fit to share that with us. You might have spared us some sorrow,” Jack grouched irritably, and the others nodded in agreement.

  Eve, in turn, related her tale of trying to get out of the carriage, of how she provoked Shaftesbury so that she might fall against the door and roll into the street, laughing now at how she pushed herself to run after hurting her hip in the fall. When she told them of the chase down the street, Jack jested that he might have liked to see her running with her skirts held above her knees, only to earn a glare from Francis. But all were aghast as she told them of being captured at gunpoint and the fight that had ensued in the boardinghouse, ending with the vase and Thompson’s well-placed shot.

  A doctor had been brought in to clean and stitch Francis wound. While infection was always a risk, he was expected to make a complete recovery, though walking would be painful for some time. Shaw as well was expected to survive his gunshot. But Shaftesbury had died during the surgery performed on him to remove the bullet lodged in his lower torso. The doctor said that even if he had made it through the surgery, the bullet going through the vase as it did had propelled hundreds of shards of the pottery into the wound with it, damaging internal organs almost as much as the bullet itself. Had he made it through the surgery, he would have eventually faced a slow, painful demise.

  Eve supposed she should feel some sense of loss, but she had already done her period of mourning and had no intention of doing it again. Instead all she felt was relief that it was all done and over with. Life was now hers to begin again on her own terms.

  And that life surrounded her in this moment. Her son and the man she would marry. Her future was looking brighter than she could ever remember. She was ready to move on. “I’m just glad it is all over and we can move forward.”

  “My lady?” Hobbes intoned from the hallway. “There is a gentleman of a religious persuasion at the door. He says he has an appointment with Lord Glenrothes.”

  “A gentleman of a religious persuasion?” she echoed. “What is that all about?”

  “If it would please you,” Francis murmured in her ear, pulling a piece of paper from his breast pocket while the others looked on with mischievous smiles. “In the spirit of moving on, I obtained a special license last week before all this came to light. I thought perhaps you might do me the honor of becoming my wife this evening?”

  Eve gaped at him for a moment in surprise. “Just in the spirit of moving on?”

  He brushed his lips against her temple. “Perhaps in the spirit of moving on with our lives together? I cannot wait to make you my wife, to have the right to take you in my arms at any time. To show you my love openly, every day, for the rest of our lives. I don’t want to be forced to deny my feelings ever again. I love you, paradise.”

  “I love you as well.”

  “Then will you marry me? Right now?” he asked once more. “If you prefer to wait for a large wedding, I will understand.”

  “No.”

  “No, you won’t mar
ry me now or no, you don’t want a big ceremony?”

  “No, Francis, I don’t want to wait and yes, I will marry you now.” Luckily enough after bathing, Eve had decided it was time to officially put off her mourning wear and had instead donned a new dinner gown she had recently ordered. It was light peach silk overlaid with chiffon, covered along the edges with a wide border of flora and fauna cut-outs in a variety of blues, greens, lavender and a darker peach color that covered the short train and framed the center panel of Point d’Angleterre lace. The bodice had a profusion of ruched silk and flowers that cut a dramatic V from the edges of her shoulders to the waist, where it nipped in tightly. More lace and chiffon filled that V, although the neckline was cut very low. She was glad she had worn it this night, for the fresh spring colors were a perfect match to the occasion. This would be her wedding gown!

  She laughed inwardly, thinking how pleased her mother would be that she’d managed to land another earl, the very earl who might have been hers years before if Fate had only dealt them a better hand! She would have to write her parents and Kitty in the morning and let them know the good news. That she was a bride once again and madly in love!

  Eve grinned brightly and Francis returned it with the same charming smile pulling up the corner of his lips that had captured her heart so many years ago. She turned to face the room of friends old and new, each wearing a smile on their face. Well, all except one, who was looking a bit green in the gills. “You all knew about this?”

  “It was all MacKintosh’s idea. Been working on it all afternoon while you were being pampered,” Jack Merrill rolled his eyes. “He’s so disgustingly happy about it that it is making me fairly nauseous.”