An Inconvenient Companion

by Audrey Harrison

  “Thank you,” Laura responded, reaching over and hugging her friend. “I don’t care what the rules are on hugging a Lady, I will never stop, but you really are being too kind.”

  “I can’t take all the credit,” Charlotte acknowledged with a smile. “Stephen is the one making most of the suggestions, I just agree with everything!”

  “A happy marriage then.” Laura teased.

  “Oh, he doesn’t get his own way all the time,” Charlotte laughed. “He’s far too stubborn for there not to be some conflict.”

  Laura smiled at her friend. “You are a very lucky girl, and I am happy for you Charlotte. I only knew Lord Halkyn a little before he met you, but you have brought out a nicer side to him.”

  “I hope so,” Charlotte said, seriously. “I will never forget his laugh when I told him that you all said he was the kindest of the men that visited Baron Kersal’s. He was so mocking about that. The reality was that you spoke the truth, he just didn’t realise what you had all sensed.” Charlotte was perfectly at ease with the fact that Lord Halkyn had visited brothels before their marriage. Lord Halkyn doted on his wife and made it clear to all and sundry, which was even more of a surprise, as he had previously been the biggest critic of anyone who had openly shown affection for their spouse.

  *

  Laura climbed into the cart that Martha was about to drive to the cottage. “I think there mustn’t be anything left in Home Farm with the things that are packed in here.” Laura said with a shake of her head in wonder. Furniture and supplies had been bought and Lady Dunham, although many hundreds of miles away, had sent instructions about what items were to be sent to the cottage.

  “I think there will be just enough room for you and Frederica to squeeze in, once everything is in place.” Martha teased.

  “I hope so,” Laura said excitedly. “I know my removal will mean you all will be deserting me, but I am looking forward to settling in.” She had almost accepted that Alfred would be leaving in the next few days. There was a tiny part of her that hoped he would stay with her, but her sensible side knew that he would return to London and continue his employment with Bow Street.

  He would always be the love of her life, but she was pragmatic about the fact that they were not destined to be together. At least she would have Frederica, something that she would never regret, especially as every time she looked into her baby’s eyes, Alfred’s looked back at her. She would treasure her daughter and in her own way, treasure the man who had created her.

  They had not yet had an opportunity to speak about the connection between Alfred and Frederica. Laura was choosing her time carefully, but she had the feeling that Alfred would never quite believe her, if she told him again that he was Frederica’s father, which saddened her and delayed her raising the subject. At the moment, it was just a fear that Alfred would not believe her, but once the words were said, there would be no going back.

  They reached the cottage in good time and found Charles, speaking with a gardener, who was to clear the cottage garden and then the responsibility lay with Laura as to what it needed and for its general upkeep. Charles nodded his welcome, but did not stop in his task. Martha flushed a little, but put her head down and carried on with her own business. During the past few days she had not been able to look at Charles because of the shame she felt.

  Charles popped his head in the cottage doorway and looked at Laura, “Is there anything you would like assistance with before I head back to Home Farm?” He asked pleasantly, but he did not look in Martha’s direction.

  “No, thank you Charles, I think we have everything under control.” Laura responded with a smile. She was thoroughly enjoying seeing the house emerge into a home.

  “Very well, I shall see you both on your return.” Charles said with a slight bow and left the ladies.

  “He’s a nice man.” Laura said, as she continued to unpack.

  Martha did not respond. She had been blind to how nice Charles actually was and would feel like a hypocrite if she started to sing his praises now.

  The two women worked together all afternoon, until the house looked like it was ready to welcome its new occupants. Laura stood back surveying the room. The range filled one side of the wall, a dresser filling the shorter wall, now adorned with plates. The sink was situated under the window, overlooking the garden. A table filled the centre of the room, along with two comfortable chairs that were near the range, perfect for cosy evenings in front of the warmth.

  Laura closed the door and locked it, putting the key in the apron that was protecting her dress. “I think it is ready to move into. The beds are arriving tomorrow and then it just our clothes and that is everything. I’ve never owned so many things in my life.” she said, feeling content and happy.

  “It is a lovely cottage,” Martha said. “You need to bring some of the flowers from the estate to put in the garden and then it will be complete.”

  “I will.” Laura said, climbing into the cart.

  Martha took the reins and started back to the estate. The women talked about what Laura could do with the garden, as the horse made steady progress through the lanes.

  Turning from the main route, onto the outside edge of the estate, the horse was frightened and Martha struggled to keep control. When it eventually came to a reluctant stop she climbed down to soothe the animal.

  “What’s wrong with him?” Laura asked.

  “No idea, but something spooked him, he’s fine now though, aren’t you boy?” Martha said stroking the horse’s nose.

  Martha heard a sound behind her, but before she could turn, she was grabbed around the neck and pulled backwards away from the horse. She went very still as she felt something cold against her neck and had the stinging sensation of being cut.

  “Afternoon ladies.” came a distinctly London voice.

  Both women did not respond, each looking at the other in horror. “So sorry to have to interrupt your excursion, but I have unfinished business with one of you.”

  Laura slowly stepped out of the cart, knowing immediately that she had been found. “Leave her alone,” she said. “It’s me you want, not her.”

  “No!” Martha hissed at her friend. Martha had realised, like Laura, that someone or something had led him to Laura, but as long as he did not know which of them was Laura, there was a chance that she would be safe.

  “Do I now?” the man asked. “That’s very obliging of you.”

  Martha tried to twist her head a little towards him. “Spare us and you will be well rewarded by Lord Halkyn.” she said, trying to use the only thing she could think of that would save them. She prayed that someone would think of something that needed to be taken to the cottage and their paths would cross.

  “Will I?” He asked, looking interestedly at Martha. “How much?”

  “As much as it takes.” Martha said, trying to memorise every detail of his face, although it was partially covered to prevent identification. Martha knew that she had to try and recall it, if they did get out alive.

  “And as soon as I approach the house, they would have me in chains and I would be swinging quicker than you could say how much. Do you take me for a fool?” he spat, holding the knife harder against Martha’s neck.

  Martha could not swallow if she had wished, for fear that the knife would severe something vital and she would bleed to death on the roadside. “No!” she croaked, desperate to calm him down.

  “Stop!” Laura shouted out, moving closer. “Your argument is with me, let her be.”

  “Brave little thing aren’t you? No wonder you got away from me last time.” he said with an almost admiring tone.

  “Are you the man that I saw on the wharf?” Laura asked, suddenly feeling resigned.

  “I am.” came the clipped response.

  “I didn’t recognise you, you were in the shadows then.” Laura said calmly, almost as if she was having an everyday conversation with a passer-by.

  “You should have let me catch you then, it w
ould have been over and done with in a second.” the man responded, as conversationally as Laura.

  “I could not let you kill my child.” Laura said simply.

  The man moved Martha over towards Laura, Martha mouthed ‘run’ to her friend, but Laura shook her head slightly. There was no running, there was no escape. She had been foolish to think that she could escape, when in reality the networks that existed could never been overcome by a lowly woman like herself.

  She had achieved what she had set out to do, Frederica was safe and would be well cared for, she had done her duty. Yes, she wanted to live, wanted to with every fibre of her being, but she was not about to sacrifice Martha for an attempt at an escape. It was not as if she had anywhere to go to. She had no other connections than the ones who had offered support now, if they could not protect her, no one could.

  When her assailant was within a few inches, he stopped. “No one usually gets away from me, you should be proud of yourself.” he said and then acted quickly. He threw Martha to one side, unbalancing her and sending her sprawling across the ground. At the same moment, he lunged at Laura and buried the knife deep into her stomach. It was a well aimed lunge, as the knife was inserted below Laura’s stays, which could have protected her if the knife had been inserted slightly higher.

  He withdrew the knife and watched while Laura sank to her knees, all colour fading from her face. Only when she slumped to the floor did he take off at a run through the hedgerow.

  Chapter 19

  Martha crawled across to Laura’s slumped shape. She could feel the trickle of blood down her neck, but she disregarded it. “Laura?” she croaked.

  Laura was still, but Martha could see that she was still breathing. She had to get her back into the cart. She turned her body over and gasped when she saw the wound. It was on the right of Laura’s body and was oozing a lot of blood. Laura had groaned when she had been moved, so at least Martha knew she was conscious.

  Martha ran to the cart and grabbed their shawls, she folded one and placed it over the wound. She reached for Laura’s hand and placed it over the temporary bandage.

  “Laura, can you hear me? I need you to press against this, with all your might. Do you understand?”

  Laura pressed obediently, but did not respond. Martha gritted her teeth. She was determined to get Laura back to the house, where help was, but she was not sure if she was able to get her into the cart.

  “I need to move you Laura,” she said, her voice gentle. “Laura, this is going to hurt, but I need you to work with me.”

  Martha struggled with the young woman, more than once nearly sagging to the ground in defeat. All the time, she muttered words of comfort, to try and reassure Laura that they were achieving their aim.

  After what seemed like hours, Martha slumped against the end of the cart. She had managed to bundle Laura into the back and had used the empty sacks to try and cushion her. She covered her with the spare shawl and ran to the front of the cart, quickly picking up the reins and starting the journey back to the estate.

  Martha travelled as fast as she dared, all the time, shouting words of comfort or instruction over her shoulder. Very often she had to act like an angry school teacher, shouting commands, when it looked like the pressure of Laura’s hand was easing from the shawl pressing on the wound.

  The journey seemed to take an eternity, but eventually Martha turned onto the lane that led to the side of the house. She started to shout for help, while at the same time as sending reassuring comments to Laura.

  The noise that Martha made, caused staff and guests to come running to the front of the house. Lord Halkyn and Alfred were the first to react, to Martha’s words. She was shouting that Laura was injured, that she needed help. The pair ran to the back of the cart, their faces setting grimly at the scene that greeted them, and carried Laura inside.

  Charles had stood transfixed at the sight before him. Martha had a cut of six inches across her throat, from which blood was dripping down onto the front of her dress. That would have been horrifying enough for the man, standing there watching the scene, but her skirts were covered in blood as well. He felt the bile rise in his throat as the reality of Martha being injured hit him.

  “Charles! Here, now!” Lord Halkyn shouted. They were trying to carry Laura in without causing her any more pain than they had to and they needed a third a person to help.

  Lord Halkyn’s voice roused Charles and he ran across to the cart. The three men carried Laura into her bed chamber and laid her carefully in the bed. A doctor had already been sent for by Smithson, ever responsive to any situation.

  “What happened?” Lord Halkyn asked Martha.

  “The man who was following her in London, he found us.” she replied, not able to take her eyes off Laura, her skin was ghostly white.

  “Can you describe him?” Alfred asked, trying to remain focused, but deep down knowing what Laura’s injury meant.

  “He was covered,” Martha frowned trying to remember, “But when I turned my head slightly, I saw he had a scar from his ear to his chin.”

  “Are you sure?” Alfred snapped, for the first time looking away from Laura.

  “Yes, it was most peculiar, but I only saw it that once, as I said, he was covered up,” Martha responded. “Laura said she had not recognised him immediately because the last time she had seen him, he had been standing in the shadows.”

  “Damn it!” Alfred muttered to himself, but Lord Halkyn raised his eyebrows at him.

  “We shall discuss this when the Doctor arrives.” Lord Halkyn said to Alfred.

  The doctor arrived in record time and all left the room, apart from Martha and Charlotte. The gentlemen retired to the study, where Lord Halkyn poured three large brandies.

  “You recognised the attacker from the description that Miss Fairfield gave you.” Lord Halkyn said to Alfred. It was not a question, but a statement.

  “Yes.” Alfred said, drinking the brandy in one gulp.

  “Is he a well known criminal?” Lord Halkyn asked.

  “He’s a Bow Street Officer.” Alfred said quietly.

  “What?” Charles exclaimed.

  “Yes, one of the people who is meant to protect others, and instead he was apparently going around doing the killing. If he admitted he was the one Laura saw following her, he has killed at least one other and probably two other women,” Alfred said, looking into his empty glass without really seeing. “And I brought him here.”

  “How did you do that?” Charles asked, not believing Alfred’s words, he had never known such an upstanding man.

  “I wrote to my senior, Mr Frost didn’t I? Asking when I was expected to return to work. It wouldn’t be very hard for someone working on the inside to access Mr Frost’s office and access the information. No one would have suspected Corless.”

  “Corless? Do I know that name?” Lord Halkyn asked with a frown.

  “Yes,” Alfred said bitterly. “He was the one working on the outside, when I was on the inside at Baron Kersal’s. Perfect really, he will have known exactly who was who, so when the time came to get rid of them, his job would have been even easier.”

  “Do you think Kersal knew beforehand what we were doing?” Lord Halkyn asked.

  “Probably not,” Alfred admitted. “But if you remember, I was kept well out of the way when the raid took place, and Corless led it. He would have had a lot of contact with the Baron, ample time for him to be persuaded to help the criminal, apparently.”

  “What a bloody disaster.” Lord Halkyn said with a whoosh of breath.

  “That, my Lord, is the understatement of the year.” Alfred responded bitterly, before putting his head in his hands.

  When the doctor returned downstairs, Alfred went out to meet him. Lord Halkyn let him go, he had a good idea of what Alfred and Laura felt about each other and was willing for Alfred to take charge of the care needed for Laura. He came back into the library and went to the brandy decanter, poured himself a large glass and for the
second time that day, drank it in one gulp.

  Lord Halkyn and Charles looked at each other, but Lord Halkyn broke the silence. “Alfred?” He asked.

  Alfred did not turn to face them, maintaining his stance near the drinks cabinet. “There is no hope, it is just a matter of time.” he said quietly.

  “I’m sorry,” Lord Halkyn said. “You had better go to her.”

  “Yes.” Alfred agreed and left the room, leaving the two men to dwell on their own thoughts.

  The bed chamber was still when Alfred entered, he did not knock and wait to be admitted, there was no longer time for formalities. He had known what the outcome would be as soon as he had seen Laura, he had seen knife wounds before. Once in a major organ, there was very little hope and Laura’s wound was so deep and wide, it could not have missed something vital. Fool that he was, a tiny part of him had hoped, no, had prayed, that for once he would be proved wrong. That the doctor would come to him and say that in time she would recover.

  He walked over to the bed and Martha moved to let him have access, it was obvious she had been crying, Alfred did not know how he was managing not to, but he just stood still, looking down at the love of his life. Charlotte was holding one of Laura’s hands, quietly crying.

  Laura’s red hair was scattered across the pillow, as if she had just fallen backwards in laughter, but there were no smiles around her lips today. Her colouring was grey, that of death, rather than life. Her eyes normally so vibrant and expressive were closed, in pain, if the frown across her forehead was anything to go by. She still wore the dress she had been brought in with, there was hardly any indication of what colour it had been, there was so much blood and dirt intermingled in the material.

  Alfred reached down and touched Laura’s hand gently. “Now then woman, what’s all this fuss you are creating?” he said, but his voice was husky with restrained tears.

  Laura did not quite open her eyes, but they fluttered and her lips twitched. Alfred felt as if his heart was physically being ripped out, his chest hurt so much.