The Sanctuary (A Spencer Novel)

by Sandra Lea Rice

  Anthony gained his feet. “My carriage is over there and Mrs. Dobbins is still at Inniswood.” Before James could move or voice a protest, Anthony signaled for his driver and slid his arms beneath Clairece. Her face contorted in pain.

  “Farris?” Anthony raised his brows in question.

  The physician stood. “We have no choice but to move her.”

  “I’m sorry if this hurts you, darling,” Anthony whispered. “Stay with me, Clairece. Everything will be all right.”

  It has to be.

  Behind closed doors at Innesbrook, James faced Anthony and shouted, “What the hell is going on? First the park and now this. And . . . what’s between you and Clairece? Don’t try to tell me there’s nothing.”

  “I won’t.” Anthony crossed to the tantalus to pour each of them a brandy.

  “How well do you know her, Tony?”

  Anthony understood what James asked. “Quite well.”

  “Dammit,” James stormed. “I trusted you to take care of her.”

  James’ remonstration felt like a gut-punch. “Give me time to work this out with her.”

  “Phillip said there was something between the two of you but I wouldn’t listen.” James regarded Anthony angrily. “I saw your face and heard your voice out on the street which is the only reason I don’t thrash you senseless.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “What are your intentions, Tony?”

  Anthony handed James a tumbler and gulped his own. “Clairece cannot move past the need to avenge Roger’s death to listen to what I have to say.”

  James’ voice dropped to a menacing growl. “But you can bed her?”

  Anthony ignored the challenge. “You were right in your assumption she came to avenge Roger, but I also believe she was lured into coming.”

  Paling, James dropped into a chair. “Whatever for?”

  “To kill her.”

  “Why, for God’s sake?”

  “I don’t know, but this is what we have so far.” Anthony explained the messages left in the Evening News and Post and the one Clairece had placed in the beginning. “The day she arrived, she found a copy of the paper on her doorstep with my name scribbled on it. She attended my—” he stopped and looked away.

  “Finish the sentence. Attended what?” James probed, his eyes narrowing.

  “My masquerade ball.”

  James gaped. “Clairece is your mysterious woman?”

  At Anthony’s silence, James swore.

  “For what it’s worth, I didn’t know who she was or I would never have—”

  James held up a staying finger. “I understand.”

  At a perfunctory knock, the door opened to admit Benjamin Farris. The doctor signaled for James to remain seated before casting a meaningful glance at the glass in Anthony’s hand. “She’s still alive, which is a wonder.” Without waiting to be asked, Farris settled into another chair.

  Anthony swallowed against the fear building in his chest and poured Farris a finger of brandy.

  Farris took a hefty swallow. “She sustained some broken ribs and a severe bump to the head. There’s significant bruising around her midsection and down one side. Her body is covered with cuts and abrasions and she has one badly sprained ankle. But, unless there’s something I cannot see, she should recover.”

  “Should?” Anthony sputtered and leaned heavily against his desk.

  “I have no way to determine if one of the ribs punctured a lung, or if the impact itself will result in internal hemorrhaging.”

  “How do we identify a problem?” Anthony could barely form words against the fear clogging his throat.

  “A fever, vomiting of blood, anything unusual. If she doesn’t come around soon, notify me. A head injury can be tricky in itself.” Farris sipped his drink. “Mrs. Dobbins will know what to watch for.”

  “Thanks for coming so quickly,” James said, still visibly shaken.

  Farris nodded. “I was walking back to the office and saw the carriage pick up speed. If Harding hadn’t shouted at Mrs. Griffin, she would have taken the hit straight on and been crushed beneath the coach wheels. As it was, she stopped in time to take a glancing blow but nothing worse.” Farris eyed Anthony somberly. “So, might I assume this was not an accident either?”

  “It was not.” Anthony sighed. “And whoever is responsible for this, and the attempt in Hyde Park, will undoubtedly try again.”

  Farris’ brows rose. “Why?”

  Anthony pondered the wisdom of disclosure, then made a decision to confide in the man. “The assaults are most likely connected to an incident in New York, but I don’t have all the facts yet.”

  “And Scotland Yard?” Farris finished his drink and pushed up from the chair.

  Anthony straightened. “Stallings is aware of the situation. I planned on speaking to him again this afternoon before . . .” He couldn’t finish.

  “I’ll leave it up to you. However, when Mrs. Griffin is well enough, I would advise a change of scenery.” Farris set his glass on the edge of the desk. “She’s a strong woman, but her body can only withstand so much.”

  “My butler will see you out. And Farris, thank you.” Anthony offered in fervent thanks.

  The doctor huffed out a chuckle. “Thank me after you get my statement of account.” He nodded at James and exited the room behind Hodges.

  James had remained silent through most of the exchange. Anthony knew he was furious as well as worried. He had every right to feel both.

  “This might be a good time to send word to your family. Earlier today, Clairece indicated her source wouldn’t know if she was male or female but clearly they do. She was asked to meet at the library to receive information. If I were to guess, I’d say her source is behind the attempts on her life.”

  James rose from the chair. “I want to see Clairece, Tony. Alone.”

  Anthony took a seat behind his desk to wait. Within minutes, James reappeared.

  “She’s still unconscious. Send for me as soon as she wakes.” Without another word, James strode from the room.

  For the second time that day, Anthony prayed, but this time he prayed when this was finished he and James still remained friends.

  Chapter 14

  One day slid into the next and Clairece did not wake. While Doctor Farris and James came and went, Anthony stayed determinately by her side.

  “She should have regained consciousness by now,” Farris said, lowering the stethoscope.

  “What else can I do?” Anthony scraped a hand over the stubble on his cheek.

  “Keep talking to her. Read to her, it doesn’t matter what. Use your voice to draw her back.” Farris’ gaze skimmed over him. “How long has it been since you last slept—as in a bed?”

  “I’m all right.”

  “You won’t be if you don’t let someone else help,” Farris returned gruffly.

  “Anything else?”

  “Pray.” Farris left the room.

  During the next two days, Anthony left Clairece’s side only to bathe and change clothes. At such times, Mrs. Dobbins sat with her, rattling on about inane things. He took his meals by Clairece’s bed and dozed in the chair with one hand resting on hers.

  Well into the fourth night, Anthony finished reading the daily newssheets and reached for a book on her nightstand. Pride and Prejudice. He sighed, settled back, and flipped open the cover. A pressed flower fell from between the pages. He caught the deep-red blossom in his palm.

  “You kept it.” He glanced at Clairece, then placed the memento back inside the cover and closed the book.

  The once blazing fire had turned to embers and the room felt chill. Anthony stood and stretched, trying to ease his cramped muscles. He skirted a sleeping Caesar and moved to the hearth to add wood to the cind
ers.

  At a moan from the bed, he wheeled around and raced to Clairece’s side.

  “Sweetheart, open your eyes. Come on, love.” Her lids rose slowly and she blinked. “There’s my girl.” He smiled and perched on the edge of the mattress.

  Clairece frowned. “What happened?” she croaked.

  Anthony reached for her hand. “You were struck by a carriage outside the library.”

  She closed her eyes. “I remember now.”

  “Where do you hurt?”

  “Everywhere.” She winced as she tried to sit up.

  He leaned in to support her back while he fluffed the pillows behind her.

  “How bad is it?” she asked, touching the bandaging on her head.

  “There’s a cut on your forehead.” Her eyes widened in alarm. “It did not require stitches,” he hurried to add. “You have a few broken ribs, other cuts and scrapes, and a lesion on your thigh which did require a few stitches.” Anthony kissed her fingers. “I am so sorry, sweetheart, more than I can possibly say.”

  “You’re doing everything you can, Anthony. Without you, I would be dead.”

  “I suspect the person sending the notes is responsible for this. I also think he lured you to England for the express purpose of killing you. He knew exactly who you were, and obviously believes you know something which could implicate him in the theft of the collar and your late husband’s murder.”

  “But what? I’ve told you everything I can remember.”

  Anthony patted her hand. “We’ll work this out.”

  Her eyes began to droop. He settled in the chair and continued his vigil. He would send for Dr. Farris and James in the morning.

  Aware of a presence in her room, Clairece opened her eyes and glanced toward the door. James leaned against the frame, waiting. She signaled him to come forward. “How are you, Ree? Is there anything at all I can do?”

  She patted the edge of the mattress. “We haven’t had our chance to talk, have we? I can remember a time they couldn’t shut us up.” Aware her speech slurred, she noticed James glance at the remnants of a dark liquid in a glass on the nightstand. “They insist upon giving me that nasty stuff.”

  He settled on the edge of the bed as requested, and took her unbandaged hand in his.

  “I cannot believe this is happening, Ree.”

  She squeezed his fingers. “Anthony believes I’m a threat to someone. I’ve always been a nuisance, though, haven’t I?” She blinked owlishly to clear her vision.

  “Just . . . lively. Tell me about Tony.”

  “Don’t be angry with him, James. None of this is his fault.”

  “Tony is a man. If not his fault, whose?”

  “Mine. I brought Anthony into this. Seven years ago I made a mistake and paid dearly for it. I’m still paying for it.”

  Clairece recounted the incident and told of the man who’d betrayed her.

  She met his sad gaze. “Afterward, I learned I was with child. I was seventeen, James, and all my girlish dreams vanished with one foolish act. I had a child to consider. Roger offered to care for me and claim the babe as his own. He explained it would be a white marriage—a marriage in name only, before I accepted.”

  “Did the conditions change?”

  “No. He’d been hurt in the war and it was not possible.”

  James squeezed her hand and swallowed. “Had I known, I would have married you.”

  “You had your whole life ahead of you. All those plans for your future were within your reach. I would not be the one to stop you from achieving them.”

  “We weren’t just cousins, we were best friends.”

  “We are first cousins, and though not illegal in America, a marriage between us would have been looked upon with disfavor, or worse. Besides, the love we share is not what should exist between a husband and wife.” She reached out and touched his cheek. “You deserved more. I loved you far too much to see you give up everything for me and I knew you would offer.”

  “Was Roger good to you?”

  “Yes. Although he became overprotective, he gave me what was within his power to give, all but what I came to understand I needed most.”

  James’ brow raised in question.

  “I wanted the kind of love I saw between my parents, and between Uncle Adrian and Aunt Angeline.” She closed her eyes for a moment. “Roger was honest about his expectations. I was the one who wasn’t. I pretended to be happy, but I could see in his eyes he knew otherwise.

  “After we married, I lost the babe. I hadn’t loved the father but I grew to love my baby . . . and suddenly it was gone.”

  James’ eyes closed for a moment. “I am so sorry.”

  “As a way to help me forget, both Roger and my father taught me to recognize a true antiquity from a fake. I buried myself in the diversion and the more I learned the more they taught me. And then we made the trip to New York.” She stared out the window, blinking rapidly. “Finding Roger’s killer is the last thing I can do for him. You know the rest.”

  “Not all of it. Tell me about Tony,” James persisted.

  Clairece sighed. “You may not want to hear this.”

  James patted her hand. “You can tell me anything.”

  She nodded in acceptance. “My sources gave me Anthony’s name as someone who might have the relic. On New Year’s Eve, I went to his home and snuck into his library. I’d been told he kept at least part of his collection in that room. I expected him to be with his guests.”

  “But he was there,” James concluded. “Alone.”

  She nodded. “He told me to leave, but I didn’t.” She twisted the sheet in her fingers. “I cannot begin to explain what seeing Anthony—just being in the same room with him—was like.”

  Clairece smoothed the sheet over her waist. “The mask I wore gave me the anonymity to do something incomprehensible, something I would never do otherwise. With Anthony, I felt desire. Not the weak sort of fluttery thing young girls describe in poems, and not the infatuation I now realize was all I’d felt for Carlen. Anthony makes me feel alive, something I haven’t felt in a long time.”

  James’ expression changed subtly as he focused on Clairece. There was something in his countenance Clairece had not previously noticed. Something troubling. Soon, she would ask him what had happened to him during the years they’d been separated.

  “I want you to return to Ashley House with me.”

  “Please, James, don’t ask it of me.”

  “I don’t want you hurt again, Ree. Although Tony is my best friend, I don’t believe him capable of fidelity and a lasting relationship.”

  Clairece slowly shook her head. “Anthony would never intentionally hurt me.”

  “Not intentionally, no, but—”

  “What more can I ask? There are no guarantees in life, dear cousin.” She squeezed his hand. “For as long as it lasts, let me have this.”

  “Do you realize what you’re asking of me?”

  “Yes. Although this goes against your protective instincts, do it for me,” Clairece pleaded.

  James rose and leaned forward to kiss her cheek. “I’m here should you need me. Get some rest and I’ll see you later.”

  Chapter 15

  Anthony stepped into the hall as James strode past. “James, I—”

  James held up a hand and continued down the stairs. “Not now, Tony. For God’s sake, not now.”

  Anthony glanced toward Clairece’s door. If James was this unsettled, how must she feel? He gave a cursory knock and walked in.

  Clairece turned her head toward him. “James is so upset.”

  “I know, love. He just needs time.” Anthony moved to the side of the bed and sat. “I want to take you to my estate in Somerset. You’ll be safer there. If y
ou wish, I’ll ask James and Phillip to accompany us.”

  “But if we leave, how will we discover who’s behind this?” A tear trickled down her cheek.

  Anthony wiped the crystal drop away with the pad of his thumb. “The most important thing is to keep you safe. We’re not doing a good job of protecting you here. Whoever this is will undoubtedly follow.” He tucked the quilt around her. “Try and rest. I’m going to The Post to see what I can find and on to the Yard.” He moved to the window and pulled the heavy draperies closed, sending the room into semi-darkness.

  The connecting door eased open and Caesar trotted in. His soulful regard slid from Anthony to Clairece. With a graceful bound, the dog settled beside Clairece.

  “Caesar, you don’t belong there.” Anthony reached for the reclining canine.

  Clairece laid her hand on the dog’s head. “Please let him stay. I would like his company while you’re gone.”

  “Are you frightened?” At her slight nod, he leaned closer. “Don’t be. Footmen are posted at each door and at the top of the stairs. A few are set to patrol outside. Now close your eyes. I’ll be back before long.”

  Jeremy Stallings glanced up from his work. “Harding, I’ve been expecting you.” He motioned Anthony to a chair. As Chief Inspector with the CID, Stallings occupied one of the only private offices in the official building located on the Embankment. Although little more than a large closet, the space served its purpose.

  Anthony settled in the ladder-back chair and crossed an ankle over his knee. “Why is that?”

  “I heard a lady friend of yours, Mrs. Griffin, I assume, has been involved in yet another incident which could be considered an attempt on her life.” Stallings picked up a metal coffee pot and poured some dark liquid into a mug. “If things were this grave, why wait to come and talk to me?” He handed the cup to Anthony.