Prayers for the Dying

by Tracy L. Ward

  “Oh my,” Aunt Louisa said. She came up alongside Lord Marshall’s chair.

  “I don’t know anything about babies or raising children…” Ainsley chuckled at the idea of him adopting a daughter. His expression sobered when he saw the terrified look on his father’s face. “You won’t be able to talk me out of it,” Ainsley said, running his hand through his hair. “I’ll purchase a place of my own if it isn’t agreeable to you, but you won’t be able to stop me.”

  Slowly, Lord Marshall formed his lips, parting them and closing them as if struggling to say something. Ainsley waited, suspecting his father wanted to end the notion. Had he been capable, Ainsley had no doubt they’d already be locked in a heated exchange, typical of their contentious relationship. For the first time, Ainsley was thankful his father was incapable of communicating. Defying him was so much easier when Ainsley couldn’t hear the disappointment in his voice.

  “S—st—st—st—” Lord Marshall gave up, balling his hand in a fist in frustration.

  Ainsley met his father’s gaze. “Stay?”

  Lord Marshall nodded in that jerky, single nod they had come to recognize.

  “You want Lucy and I to stay?”

  Aunt Louisa clapped her hands together. She grabbed hold of Ainsley and shook him a little. “Did you hear that?” she exclaimed.

  Ainsley sat stunned as his aunt jostled about in excitement. Lucy was more than happy to join the revelry as Aunt Louisa snatched her up gleefully. The seconds of joy ended quickly when Daniel entered the room. He carried the stench of wine and brandy upon his breath and clothes.

  “What’s this?” he asked, stopping at the door.

  Ainsley noticed his aunt retreat quickly, giving a forced smile in Daniel’s direction, but not looking at him squarely. “Are you dining with us again tonight?” Ainsley asked innocently.

  Daniel did not reply immediately, only shrugged as if he preferred to skirt the subject. “Why should I not? Am I not welcome in my own home?”

  The tension between brothers was palpable and Ainsley would rather have had the conversation away from their ailing father. Ainsley gestured for the hall, inviting Daniel to come join him before sliding past. Several paces from the door Ainsley turned to face him.

  “Perhaps you have not heard—”

  “Oh, I’ve heard,” Daniel said with a sneer. “Nathaniel had the wherewithal to bring the news to me.”

  Behind him, Nathaniel came up the last step and stopped with his hand on the newel post, the look on his face giving away his utter disdain.

  As if bolstered by his accomplice, Daniel took a step closer to Ainsley. “I’ve heard all the rumours about you and that servant girl, Margaret’s lady’s maid. It’s disgusting.”

  Ainsley winced at his brother’s choice of words. “You only find it disgusting because you had wanted her first.” There was no need to mince words. Daniel seemed to be spoiling for a fight and Ainsley was in no mood to step down on the matter.

  Behind Daniel, Ainsley saw Margaret at the doorframe of her room looking on.

  “Am I not permitted to look?” Daniel asked indignantly.

  “You are a married man.”

  Daniel laughed. “Since when have you been the moral compass for this family?”

  There was so much Ainsley wished to say and bit his tongue against. He could see Margaret, with her tearstained eyes and red nose, and knew she expected him to rise above Daniel’s drunkenness.

  “You need rest,” Ainsley said. He reached out a relaxed hand and clasped his brother on the upper arm. He made a point to look Daniel squarely in the eye. Daniel appeared ready to concede when Aunt Louisa came out of Lord Marshall’s room. Lucy was quiet and observant in her arms.

  “What’s this?” Daniel staggered back toward them. Apparently he hadn’t noticed the baby when he first came into the room. “The guttersnipe from Bethnal Green.”

  “Daniel.” Margaret’s voice gave a resigned sigh.

  “What? What did I say?” He rounded quickly and almost lost his balance.

  Ainsley fought back his anger at hearing Julia’s niece referred to as a guttersnipe.

  “She should be taken to the foundling home at first light.”

  Instinctively, Aunt Louisa raised a hand protectively over Lucy’s head and turned her from the scene.

  “Oh no…” A look of confusion washed over Daniel’s face as he watched Aunt Louisa carry Lucy down the hall to her room. “Have we a little pet? Another plaything for Margaret?”

  “Daniel, stop.” Margaret walked toward him but stopped suddenly when he turned to her. Ainsley tried to signal for her to go back to her room but she did not look at him.

  Turning to Ainsley, Daniel straightened his stance as best he could in his current condition. “Get rid of her.”

  “No.”

  Daniel took one step closer to Ainsley and pointed a finger at the carpet between them. “As leader of this family—”

  “You’re not the leader of this family! Father still lives.” Ainsley could not soften the clenching of his jaw, nor the rapid beating of his heart. Their patriarch was in the next room, his ability to hear just as sharp as ever, and Ainsley had no doubt he was listening as they argued. It seemed deplorable that Daniel should behave so, to treat their father as more an object and less of a man now that he was injured.

  Ainsley stepped up and placed himself in front of his brother. He lowered his voice so their father could not hear. “You will have your wealth and title soon enough, but until then you command no one in this house.”

  Years of rivalry haunted them even with their feet firmly planted in adulthood. How he wished his brother weren’t so competitive. It was this part of Daniel’s nature that pitted brother against brother. It planted a wedge between them from the very beginning and it was a rivalry Daniel seemed loathed to be rid of. Ainsley had accepted his place as second son years before, and enjoyed the freedom it afforded him. Daniel, however, never missed the opportunity to lord over his two younger siblings.

  Daniel snorted, licked his lips, and bent to Ainsley’s ear. “It still kills you that I am the eldest son.”

  Ainsley closed his eyes and pressed his lips together hard. “But you are not his son.”

  Margaret gasped and Daniel’s face hardened. Behind them Nathaniel looked confused.

  “What did you say?”

  “Mother had a lover, remember?” Ainsley continued to speak even as the confusion and fear flashed over his brother’s face. “Father agreed to marry Mother even though his true firstborn would never be heir. Your father is a surgeon…like me.”

  “Peter, that’s enough.” Margaret pulled at Ainsley’s sleeve. “He’s drunk.”

  Daniel turned to Margaret. “You knew about this?”

  “We never wanted you to know.”

  Ainsley readied himself, as did Margaret, for the storm that was sure to come. Daniel had been raised believing he was Lord Marshall’s son and heir, and adopted his role early on. He learned to mimic their father’s demeanor, voice, and stance, even his quick temper and penchant for drink.

  Daniel and Ainsley stood, eyes locked, for some time. At first, Daniel’s expression was hardened and rueful. Ainsley was sure that at any moment he would fly into a rage, smash the closest object, and deny the accusation emphatically.

  Surprisingly, he did not.

  Suddenly sober, his chest heaved, but he said nothing at first as his mind turned over what Ainsley had said. As the moments passed the muscles in his face relaxed and his gaze drifted away from Ainsley.

  “What do you want? The title? A larger portion of the trust? What?” With each question, Daniel grew impatient for an answer.

  For the first time in a long time, Ainsley felt sorry for him. Daniel’s greatest fear was losing what mattered most to him—the life he had been preparing for and felt assured of receiving. Ainsley, however, never begrudged him his inheritance because he had other desires.

  “I don’t want anything f
rom you,” Ainsley answered forcefully. “You can have all the money, the house, and your damn titles. I just want my family!” His eyes began to sting as he spoke, mourning the loss of the woman who he wanted to give him such a gift.

  Margaret began openly weeping and circled her arms around him. Ainsley wrapped one arm around her and tilted his head toward her embrace. At the same time he held out his right hand to his brother. “You are my only brother,” he said. “I wish for nothing but your blessing.”

  Daniel eyed Ainsley’s outstretched hand cautiously before taking hold of it and nodding a silent consent.

  Chapter 29

  The following day at midday, when he could cry no more, Ainsley placed a decanter of brandy in the middle of his desk and then spent the next hour sitting in his chair staring at it. It had been a long while since he sought the comfort of drink. For a time he had believed he could live a life without it. But by suppertime he was drunk and remained so for several days.

  He made sure he was sober the day of Delilah’s trial, however. Summoned as a witness, Ainsley went as Mr. Peter Marshall, son of the Earl of Montcliff, speaking on behalf of his father, who had hired the lady’s maid, and himself, who had befriended her. As he sat in the witness box, giving testimony, he kept his gaze locked on Delilah, who wept. She was sure to hang.

  Behind her in the gallery sat Mrs. Calvin and Thaddeus, both stoic and unaffected, even as the judge placed the black cloth over his wig and delivered his judgement. The terrified shrieks from Delilah were not enough to move her mother to tears.

  Simms was waiting for Ainsley outside the Old Bailey, staying clear of the mass exodus of people, who had come for the entertainment only a murder trial could provide.

  “It is done then?” Simms asked, tucking his notebook into an inside pocket.

  “Not to my liking,” Ainsley answered. He scanned the crowd that milled about and spotted Thaddeus helping his mother into the carriage at the kerb. “He should have to die in the same manner in which he killed those women.”

  “If only it were that simple,” Simms said. “An hour after you left the station a man arrived claiming he had done the entire thing himself, with Sergeant Fisher’s help. The shoeprint Margaret found matches Sergeant Fisher’s. He confessed that Thaddeus knew nothing of his little side business.”

  “But the women in the attic?”

  “I showed them all pictures. None of them recognized Thaddeus. They knew of him and there were rumours of what he was doing but none were witnesses to it. He has that entire street locked in by his charm.”

  “You mean his money.”

  Simms shrugged. “That too.”

  “And Cooper? Is he torn up about Delilah?”

  “He swears he knew nothing. Says she asked him a lot of questions about his work but he assures me he said nothing. Thaddeus may have been preparing to pay him off too.” Simms slipped his hands into his trouser pockets and looked to the skyline, where the dome of St. Paul’s peeked out over the courthouse. “Cooper’s been transferred out of the city, where I have people keeping an eye on him just to be sure. He may be back one day.”

  Ainsley nodded.

  “There’s something else, Peter.” Simms stopped short and scratched his temple with his thumbnail.

  “What is it?” He could tell there was something more, something serious the detective wished to say. Ainsley followed his gaze and saw that Thaddeus had never entered his carriage. Instead, he stood there on the pavement, watching them without any care if they saw.

  Simms squinted against the sun and turned to walk away. “Follow me.”

  They walked two blocks before turning a corner and heading down a narrow side street. Trolleys of coal, buckets of ash, and piles of misshapen iron littered the cobbles outside a large arched door. The heat of the place radiated out to the inspector and doctor as they slowed their pace. With sweat forming on his temples, Simms turned and pulled his hand from his pocket.

  Ainsley’s heart skipped at the sight of the G. & J. Deane pistol.

  “I picked this up at the warehouse,” Simms said. He held it flat in his palm and offered it to Ainsley. “Thought you’d like to have it back.”

  For a moment Ainsley just looked at it, afraid of what would happen if he held it once again. The pistol had shattered his life twice. Having it so close again quickened his heart rate and made him queasy.

  Slowly, Ainsley reached out his hand for it and then realized what Simms had intended him to do.

  With the pistol in his hands, Ainsley nodded to the workman, who tipped his cap at Simms and then stepped aside from his hot, roaring furnace. Simms stood back as Ainsley stepped forward, still staring at the weapon in his hands. The first time he had held it, the etched pictures on the side of the metal looked benign and almost whimsical, but now, in the shadowy, orange light, they looked maniacal and sinister. The steel, brass, and wood in his hand had been responsible for wounding one person and killing another. And its very existence continued to plague him.

  With a hard swallow, Ainsley tossed it into the furnace’s open gate and watched the yellow and orange flames consumed it whole.

  With that, the gun was gone.

  A few weeks later, Margaret insisted they retreat to The Briar. “Now that the improvements are finished,” she said, “a gathering of friends will be just the thing to make it a lovely home for Aunt Louisa and her boys. I don’t intend for it to be extravagant, but I’ve invited a few friends for a small dinner party.”

  Ainsley wasn’t pleased at the idea but did not fight it. His only stipulation was that Lucy must go with them as well.

  “Of course,” Margaret said with a soft smile.

  The improvements made to the Marshalls’ country home had exceeded expectations. The new roof, wallpapers, and plaster had transformed a very weary country home into its full splendor once again. The transition had done a great deal to erase the tragedies of the past and remake the Marshall’s house anew.

  At first, Ainsley hid in his room. The only obligation that succeeded in pulling him from his sorrow was Lucy, who gave him much joy and satisfaction to the daily sadness he faced.

  One week after their arrival, Margaret stopped suddenly at his door. “The dinner gong has sounded.”

  Ainsley and Lucy were sprawled out on the floor with a set of wooden blocks to entertain them.

  “You haven’t dressed,” Margaret said from the door. She glanced to the suit Cutter had freshly pressed and laid out for him. “Our friends have started arriving.”

  “I apologize, but your soiree is of no interest to me. That is a very fetching gown, however. Did you invite Blair?”

  “Oh my goodness, Peter, what a way to divert the conversation.”

  A chambermaid arrived at the door behind her. Margaret pointed her to Lucy and the maid immediately went to her and scooped her up.

  “Don’t—”

  “Lucy has to make an appearance too and she needs to get dressed.” Margaret tilted her head to the side. “Please, just come for half an hour. If you don’t like the conversation or the guests you can just leave.”

  “Goodness.” Ainsley pulled himself up from the floor.

  “Oh, just do it. I don’t want to hear another word about it.”

  As he dressed, Ainsley became suspicious of his sister’s insistence. When he spied Winifred Talbot in the foyer as he came down the stairs he suspected the entire dinner was a plot to get them reacquainted. The thought alone was enough to want to make Ainsley turn on his heels and head back upstairs. Only a month had passed since Julia’s death and his ability to function as he had before still eluded him.

  “Hello, Peter,” Winifred said as he neared the bottom of the stairs. “Margaret said you would be here.”

  “I’m not sure what Margaret told you to expect but I’m—”

  “Still in mourning? I know.” Winifred smiled at her own cleverness. “She was just a maid, though, yes?”

  It pained him to think Julia could be
seen so plainly. She was more than just a maid, at least to him. He decided to change the subject. “I’d like to apologize for my behaviour last year,” he began, keeping his voice low. “It was never my intention to hurt you.”

  Her features hardened somewhat and she looked away to show her disinterest.

  Ainsley scanned the room and saw Nathaniel step out of the library and adjust his tie. “Will you allow me to introduce you to someone?” he asked.

  Ainsley led her to Nathaniel. “Winifred Talbot, this is my cousin, Nathaniel Banks.”

  Within minutes, Ainsley was allowed to leave them to their own conversation and he started toward the dining room. Aunt Louisa was standing next to the door when he walked in.

  “Oh, there you are,” she said, placing a gloved hand on the small of his back.

  “So many people,” he said, adjusting his collar. “I’m not sure I am ready for such a gathering.”

  “Well, yes, but…there is one guest in particular who is very eager to meet you.” Aunt Louisa smiled wryly and raised her eyebrows as she gestured to one side.

  There, standing next to Margaret, dressed in an elaborate frock of silk and lace, stood a woman who looked like Julia. Ainsley closed his eyes and turned away, convinced he was only seeing things. Her ghost had yet to haunt him as he wished she would. Aunt Louisa guided him closer and he was forced to greet the spectre.

  “Allow me to introduce Miss Cassandra Dare.” Aunt Louisa and Margaret smiled expectantly, but Ainsley had resolved to simply be polite and nothing more.

  “Good evening, Mr. Marshall.”

  Ainsley’s eyes focused at the sound of her voice.

  “Miss Dare has been away from England, exploring the continent for some time before, unfortunately, her family drowned during a ferry mishap in Russia about a month ago,” Aunt Louisa explained slowly. “She will be staying with me…for the time being until her inheritance is settled.”

  The confusion was overwhelming. Everything about this woman mirrored Julia in every way, her hair, her eyes, the angle of her jaw, and yet here she was presented to him as an heiress.