Prayers for the Dying

by Tracy L. Ward

  “Aren’t you going to say hello, Peter?” Margaret asked.

  Ainsley stammered. “Forgive me,” he said. “What did you say your name was?”

  “Cassandra Dare,” she said, trying hard to hide her smile.

  Ainsley took his sister’s hand with a noticeable tremble. “Margaret, a word with you in the library, please?”

  “Perhaps I should come as well,” Aunt Louisa offered.

  “Miss Dare, would you care to join us in another few minutes?” Ainsley said evenly. “We cannot all leave at the same time and arouse suspicion.”

  “An excellent notion, Peter,” Aunt Louisa said. “You two head on over. Miss Dare and I will join you shortly.”

  Ainsley pulled at his sister’s arm tightly.

  “You are hurting me,” she whispered as they made their way back through the maze of people crowded into their dining hall.

  “You deserve a little pain after what you have all put me through,” Ainsley hissed.

  Ainsley closed the library door immediately after entering it and then ran both of his hands through his hair in exasperation. “How could you not tell me?” he demanded.

  “You have no idea how many times I wanted to,” Margaret begged. “Forgive me, please. It was Simms’s idea and I thought it was best.”

  “Simms?”

  The library door opened a crack. Margaret and Ainsley ducked behind it so none of the party guests in the hall would see them.

  “The Iliad? Perhaps you’d be interested in borrowing our copy.” Aunt Louisa showed Julia in and closed the door. She smiled broadly and balled her hands into excited fists. “We did it. Everyone thinks she’s the Dare heiress.”

  Ainsley turned from them and took a few steps. “Are you both out of your minds? Do you have any idea what you three have put me through?” When he turned back to them his eyes were glazed over and his cheeks were red. “I stood at your grave weeping. I’ve spent hours writing love letters saying all the things I wished I said while you lived. I started…I started drinking again.”

  “Oh, I know,” Margaret said. “It killed me to see you in such a state, but we couldn’t, we just couldn’t. You have to believe us.”

  Julia stepped forward, licking her lips. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “When I woke in the hospital it had all been decided. I had no choice.”

  “You had already confronted Thaddeus and told them she was dead,” Margaret explained. “That’s what Simms had hoped you’d do.”

  Ainsley closed his eyes, as his mind returned to that day. “That’s why he never stopped me. He and those constables let me go right in there.”

  Margaret nodded. “Yes. It had to be believable. They’d know if you were lying. We had to convince them Julia was dead so they would stop coming after her.”

  Julia pulled at Ainsley’s hand, cupping it in both of hers. “I wept as well, thinking of the anguish all of this was causing you.”

  Ainsley placed a hand on the side of her face and rubbed her cheek with his thumb.

  “Simms knew Thaddeus would never stand trial and we needed to protect Julia,” Margaret explained.

  “It’s been a month,” Ainsley said, closing his eyes. “An entire month.”

  “Simms found out Thaddeus was watching us,” Margaret said. “We couldn’t tell you too soon because then he’d know.”

  “But, who is Cassandra Dare?”

  “I am,” Julia teased.

  “Simms fixed everything—”

  “Cassandra Dare passed away nearly three weeks ago, while travelling with her family,” Aunt Louisa interjected.

  “Everyone died,” Margaret said, “and the Dares never spent that much time in one place, so no one will know that our Cassandra isn’t the real Cassandra.”

  “Anyone who wants to look deeper will still find her birth and christening records here in England,” Aunt Louisa added.

  “But Miss Dare must have been buried somewhere.” Ainsley was trying hard to keep up as his aunt and sister laid out the details.

  “They requested to be buried in India. Don’t you see, Peter, it’s perfect. A second chance at a happily ever after.” Aunt Louisa looked as if she were going to break out in tears as she came toward them to pull Julia into a tight hug.

  Ainsley rubbed the back of his neck. “This is going to take some getting used to.”

  “Oh, stuff and nonsense, you’ve been pretending to be two people for years now. You can lie some more to save this lovely woman’s life.” Aunt Louisa slapped his chest playfully with the back of her hand. “Come now, Margaret, let us leave these two lovebirds. If we don’t allow them some time to get to know one another, how are we ever going to explain their sudden infatuation?” Aunt Louisa winked as she reached for the door. She and Margaret left under a cloud of excitement.

  For a second Ainsley couldn’t bring himself to look at Julia, afraid he’d wake up and find it was all a dream.

  “Are you mad at me?” she asked.

  “Mad at you?” Ainsley exhaled. “No, I’m not mad.” He closed his eyes against the tears. “Happy beyond measure.” He looked her over, tracing the outline of her face. “I never want to let you out of my sight again.”

  “That will be difficult,” Julia said with a chuckle.

  “Come here.” He placed his hand at the back of her neck, weaving a finger or two into the curls of her hair, and pulled her toward him. The kiss they shared was soft and slow, every effort was made to savour the sensation of it. Julia’s eyelashes tickled the crest of his cheeks, forcing him to smile, but did not pull them apart. He realized then that each embrace prior had been taken for granted and the only way to rectify his arrogance was to make a personal vow to relish each moment with slow, deliberate passion.

  Everyone thought it best if Cassandra remain unseen for a prescribed period of time. Gossip began to spread regarding Miss Dare’s return to London, and much speculation arose from it. Careful appearances would be planned at a later date, Aunt Louisa decided, in which Ainsley would be able to publically display his interest in the fetching heiress.

  Great care must be taken for the following months, Simms cautioned. He warned that Thaddeus would be keeping an eye on them for some time, and that Ainsley should never let his guard down.

  Simms’s warnings came to the forefront of Ainsley’s mind one night in October when he, Margaret, and Aunt Louisa were leaving the theatre. A feeling of unease overtook him all at once, sending stomach bile up into his throat and causing his heart to race.

  “Do you think it may be Lucy?” Margaret asked, as he rushed them out of the theatre.

  “I’m not sure,” Ainsley answered honestly. The panic he felt, dry and gnawing, couldn’t be traced to a specific event or thought. While they rode home he knew something waited for them there. He thought of Thaddeus and tried in vain to push down the fear that threatened to envelop him.

  By the time the carriage pulled up in front of the house, Ainsley was jumping out of his skin. He was the first to step out onto the pavement. The street was dark. The gas lamps above shed little to no light and the cold kept biting at him as he stood beside the carriage steps.

  A shadow moved beside the front steps of the house. Slowly, it morphed into the silhouette of a man, broad and tall. Ainsley could not see his face for the dark.

  “Do not take another step,” Ainsley commanded. Behind him, he heard Aunt Louisa gasp as the shadow grew larger. Margaret clutched at his arm, more to pull Ainsley back than seek protection.

  “Who are you and what is your business here?” Ainsley feared it was Thaddeus, or one of his men, come to exact their own form of street justice. He tried to shield Margaret and Aunt Louisa. Running for the front door was out of the question. There simply wasn’t enough room between them and the shadow.

  Behind them the horse team stomped impatiently at the kerb, releasing a heavy, nasal whinny. Ainsley could hear the reins, clasps, and buckles clinking amongst the leather of the halters and bridle. He was
n’t sure where Jacob stood, but the loyal servant hadn’t abandoned them. Ignoring Ainsley’s command to stay, the shadow moved closer.

  “Peter?” Aunt Louisa called but remained close to the carriage.

  “Announce yourself!” Ainsley said. This was the first time Ainsley wished he still had that G. & J. Deane pistol.

  Ainsley watched as the form stopped a few paces from them. There was something familiar in its stance, something Ainsley had not noticed until then.

  “Have you no patience,” the stranger asked, “for an old friend?” The figure pulled at his hat and allowed the lamppost to bathe him in soft light.

  “Jonas?”

  Margaret pulled back on Ainsley but he ignored her.

  A rush of relief gave way to joy as he took in the sight of his friend and medical school colleague. With arms open wide for an overdue embrace, Ainsley went to him but stopped suddenly at the sight of something black, no crimson, glistening over Jonas’s white shirt.

  “What’s happened here?” Ainsley asked, afraid to commit to the embrace.

  Weary and pained, Jonas looked to Ainsley, his eyes pleading. “You have to help me, friend,” he said. “Something terrible has happened.”

  “What? What is it? What do you need me to do?”

  Ainsley would have done anything for the man, his friend. Jonas stood still for many moments. His face twisted into a painful grimace. His eyes became unfocused. His shoulders slouched.

  “Come inside,” Ainsley pleaded. “I can help you.”

  Margaret came alongside Ainsley, pulling her shawl tighter over her shoulders. “What is he saying, Peter?”

  Ainsley shook his head, wondering how Margaret had not heard Jonas’s plea for help. “He’s saying he needs help,” Ainsley said. “But he won’t come inside.” He turned back to Jonas. “I don’t understand.”

  Something wasn’t right. This didn’t seem like Jonas at all.

  At the sound of Ainsley’s voice, Jonas turned and started down the pavement, carrying his hat at his side.

  “Jonas, wait!”

  “What’s happening?” Margaret asked, frightened. She clutched Ainsley’s sleeve tighter, preventing him from running ahead.

  “He’s leaving. Don’t you see?” Ainsley finally looked to Margaret and saw the fear embedded in her eyes. “It’s Jonas. He’s right there.”

  “We…” she swallowed hard, “we don’t see anything.”

  When Ainsley turned back, his friend was gone, swallowed by the black night of London.

  About Tracy L. Ward

  A former journalist and graduate from Humber College's School for Writers, Tracy L. Ward has been hard at work developing her favourite protagonist, Peter Ainsley, and chronicling his adventures as a morgue surgeon in Victorian England. She is currently working on the sixth book in the Marshall House Mystery series set for release in 2017. To find out more about Tracy’s books follow her on www.facebook.com/TracyWard.Author or visit her website at www.gothicmysterywriter.blogspot.com