Her words provoked a new train of thought in Emily’s mind. “Did you set the barn on fire, too?”
“No more questions,” said Hester gently. “Time has run out.”
Her mind screamed that she should do something, anything, rather than stand there motionless. It was horror and shock that held her captive. She didn’t know that she had stopped breathing until Hester brought the pistol up with both hands, pointing the muzzle straight at her heart. Then her lungs suddenly gasped for air, filling the small space with a sound that resembled the wheeze of a rusty bellows. Senses she had not known she possessed became acute. A confusion of images, scents, and sounds bombarded her. Her mind refused to grapple with the unacceptable and she became lost in the minutiae of her surroundings.
Hester’s scent was sweet and cloying, and mingled faintly with the odor of stale perspiration. There was a small chip in the porcelain water jug on the washstand. The carpet was homemade, a kaleidoscope of colors on the freshly sanded floor. A small spider was foolishly spinning its web at the open window. If someone were to shut the window or open it wider, the web would be destroyed.
And then she stopped thinking altogether as she waited for the report of the pistol shot. She closed her eyes. “Leon, oh, Leon!” she whispered.
The gun went off, or so she thought until she opened her eyes. She wasn’t dead. She didn’t have a scratch on her. Hester had slammed the door in her face.
Her sense of relief lasted only a second or two. She had not even begun to think through all the implications of that shut door when the deafening sound of the explosion assaulted her ears and she staggered back, falling against the table.
Leon found her in that pose when he stormed into the little parlor. She raised her arm and pointed a shaking finger at the closed door.
“Hester and William,” she quavered. “She killed him, then she shot herself.”
Men were milling about, trying to get into Addison’s room. The door was locked and too sturdy to break down easily.
“Go in through the window,” Leon told Matthew. “Take someone with you. And be careful.” He put his arms around Emily. “Are you all right?”
She was far from all right, but she nodded just the same. “It was horrible,” she said, and collapsed against him.
Peter Benson’s white face swam into focus. “Sara,” he said hoarsely. “Where is Sara?”
Sara. She had forgotten all about Sara. She began to giggle, but the giggles suddenly turned into great gulping sobs. “She’s in the kitchen. She’s…”
Peter didn’t wait for her to continue. As he shouldered his way past the group of men, James Fraser made to go after him. Leon’s hand shot out, manacling James’s arm.
James’s expression was murderous. Leon weathered it and returned stare for stare. No words were spoken and men wondered what was afoot.
The door to William’s room was thrown wide and Matthew filled the doorway. “They’re both dead,” he said.
Sara spun round as Peter Benson entered the kitchen. Tears were streaming down her cheeks. If she was surprised to see her husband standing there, he would never have known it.
“The bannock is ruined,” she told him.
His eyes flitted to the griddle hanging above the live coals in the grate. “So I see,” he said, and took a cautious step forward.
“The pea soup is burned.”
“Yes, I can smell it.”
“But I didn’t know soup could burn.”
“It’s no great tragedy.”
With both hands, she scrubbed at her face. “I suppose you are going to tell me that you broke out of gaol and have made Leon your prisoner. Is that what all the commotion was about?”
“I didn’t break out of gaol. I was released. They know I am harmless.” He was creeping up on her by inches.
“Yes, well, you must know by now that Emily and I are quite safe with Leon.”
“I do know it.”
She breathed deeply. “I daresay you’ll be glad to see the back of me. We leave today for America, you know, as soon as we have breakfasted.” She sniffed. “Whenever that may be,” she added, and gave him her back.
“I won’t be glad to see the back of you.”
“It’s very kind of you to say so, but I know you must be anxious to get back to your Molly. You love her. You told me so.” She blew her nose into an embroidered handkerchief which she had found in her pocket.
He had her within arm’s reach. “If I ever said such a thing, it was a damn lie. I never loved but one woman in my life, Sara!” His voice broke. “I thought I had lost you!”
She pivoted to face him, breathing his name, and he pounced on her, bearing her back against the wall. Emotions he could not contain were ripping his control to shreds: relief that she was safe, horror at his sister’s part in all of this, the realization that life was fragile and transitory at best, a vague though fierce anger against he knew not what, and above all an unshakable determination to be master of the woman he loved. If he could not win her with kindness, he would hold her with sheer brute strength.
He kissed her until her head was swimming, and then he kissed her again. “Things are going to be different between us,” he told her. “Where I go, you go. My bed is your bed. You’ll never turn me away again.” And because this masterful role did not sit too well with him, he pulled back slightly and said in a different tone, “Sara, say something!”
She flung her arms around his neck. “Yes, Peter. I say yes.”
At dinner that evening, Peter Benson asked the principals in the matter if they would remain in their places, intimating that he had something of a very serious and particular nature he wished to discuss with them. When the others withdrew, five people sat around the table: Peter, Emily, Leon, Sara, and James. No one so much as cracked a smile. They were still overcome with the horror of the events that had occurred that very morning.
When they looked at him expectantly, Peter moved to shut the door, then he took his place at the head of the table. He held the leather-bound volume that had turned out to be Hester’s diary. His expression was very grave when he set it down in front of him.
“We have a problem,” he said, “which I am sure has occurred to us all.”
At these opening remarks, Leon eased back a little in his chair and stared intently into Peter’s face.
Peter continued. “I have searched my sister’s room from top to bottom, hoping to find…I don’t know what—a last will and testament? A letter? She left nothing.”
He paused. “The diary only goes so far. Don’t misunderstand me. Though Hester’s name is never mentioned, and others are referred to only obliquely, I am sure I could convince a court of law that it was written in my sister’s hand and refers to events with which we are only too familiar. But as I say, it goes only so far, for the simple reason, of course, that it was stolen long before Barbara Royston was murdered.”
He smiled, then, acknowledging Leon. “This leaves you in somewhat of a predicament. You have no way of proving that you are innocent of Barbara Royston’s murder.”
“But surely,” interrupted Emily, “I can prove it. Hester told me, not moments before she…she slammed the door in my face. I told you all this.”
“Possibly,” said Peter. “But have you considered the fact you would have to return with me to York?”
“That is out of the question,” said Leon at once.
“Quite. Then I have a suggestion to make.”
“I’m listening.”
Both men had locked glances and it was as if they were the only two people in the room.
Peter cleared his throat. “I intend to forge a letter in Hester’s hand completely exonerating you in the murder of Barbara Royston. Furthermore, I shall make it quite clear that you were never at any time a member of La Compagnie or involved in any plot against Sara or Emily.”
Peter’s expression was very stern, very intimidating, when his eyes roamed slowly from one person to another. Emi
ly found herself swallowing. And then he relaxed and gave that little half-smile of his, and he was the old Peter again.
“That is,” he said, “with your permission?”
“It’s a splendid idea,” interjected James, speaking for all of them.
Leon’s face and voice gave nothing away when he said, “Peter, have you considered what this will mean to you? I’m thinking of the scandal.”
“I have considered it. And Sara agrees with me.” Here he clasped his wife’s hand. The eyes she turned up to him shone with emotion and pride. “What I am going to do is against the law. I know that. But it is just. I would never be easy in my conscience if I did not try to right a great wrong that was perpetrated by a member of my family.
“I had considered simply forging the letter and passing it off as the genuine article even to all of you.”
“Why didn’t you?” asked James.
There had been a visible relaxation of tension around that small gathering from the moment it had become clear that they were all of the same mind. When James handed round glasses and a decanter of sherry, they relaxed even more.
“There are some things that are not clear to me,” said Peter. “I propose to give you a summary of what I know. This will be very informal. Please feel free to interrupt at any time. And I have questions also that I may put to you.
“In simple terms, what it amounts to is this. From the time they were children, my sister and William Addison loved each other. They had no money, or at least not enough for their purposes. They devised the scheme that William should marry a girl with a fortune. The girl they chose was Emily. Therefore, since Emily already had a husband, their first order of business must be to get rid of Leon.”
Emily nodded and flashed a look at Sara. Their eyes met and held. What they were both thinking was that William was once Sara’s suitor until Sara had proved fickle. Then William had set his sights on Emily. Another thought occurred to Emily. William’s first wife was reputed to have died in an accident. For Peter’s sake, she wasn’t even going to mention it. For her own peace of mind she didn’t even want to think of it.
“The plan was that, after a suitable interval, Emily would meet with an accident. Her fortune would thereupon pass to Addison, and he and Hester would marry.”
There was a pause, and Emily said, “Hester admitted as much, just before…she ended her life. And when I asked about Sara, she said that in the event of Sara’s death, her fortune would pass to me.”
Under his breath, James muttered, “Greedy little bastards! Thank God they got their just deserts.”
“I understand all that,” said Peter gently. “I understand also that Leon was an obstacle that had to be removed. What I don’t understand is why Hester and Addison thought for one minute that if you were free of Leon, you would accept Addison as your husband. There is no clue in Hester’s diary, not a hint to guide me, at least, not after you came with Leon to America.”
“I…” Emily shrank from the awful pit that had opened at her feet. She was remembering that she had once hoped to marry William when her marriage to Leon was annulled. And after, when that became impossible, she had blackened Leon’s character in no uncertain terms. It was no wonder that William thought he could have her once her husband was out of the picture.
The ladies had not been permitted to read Hester’s diary. Emily wondered just how much Peter knew. With his next words, she had her answer.
“I am not referring to anything that might have happened in London. That is well documented. But later, when you were here, and in New York.”
Leon’s comforting clasp on her shoulder steadied her. “It was all very innocent,” he said. “Emily has done nothing for which to reproach herself. Addison simply became obsessed with the idea that he could have her. It was all in his mind.”
“Yes,” said Peter. “That seems reasonable.”
“No!” Emily said the word before she could change her mind. This was not the time to be fainthearted. Leon must be her first consideration. It wasn’t fair that things should be made easy for her when Leon’s good name was at stake. What was she thinking? Leon’s life was at stake.
She moistened her lips and clutched at her husband’s hand, drawing strength from it. “In New York…that is…William and I kept up a correspondence, not regular, you understand. He wrote to me once…twice…and I replied.” And then she burst out, “I didn’t want to hurt his feelings, ’tis all. He was talking of coming to see me. I didn’t want that. I wrote to tell him that it was not convenient. I was letting him down lightly. What else should I say? ‘Don’t come because I don’t want you to?’”
“That’s when Hester got the idea of dosing Sara with a narcotic. Not enough to kill her, just enough to make her ill.” Peter’s smile was grim. “She knew, or she hoped, that that would bring you into William’s orbit once again. And, of course, it worked.”
“Is that what happened?” asked Emily.
“According to her diary.”
“I blame myself for not seeing it,” James cut in. “But your maid had just run off. The inference seemed so clear at the time. No one knew anything about a diary.”
After a pause, Emily went on doggedly with her story, more determined than ever to help Leon clear his name. “When I came to York, William was as ardent as ever. I tried to tell him he had no hope. He wouldn’t believe me. But…and…he kissed me…and…” She was getting into a hopeless muddle and stopped in mid-sentence.
Again Leon rescued her. “As I said, it was all very innocent. Addison was obsessed with the idea that he could have Emily. No, the question that is going through my mind, Peter, is this. Why did Hester decide to take her life?”
Peter allowed himself to be diverted. “I think that is self-evident. Hester knew that you were on your way to see the girl, Doucette’s wife. She must have known the girl had the diary. William was in no condition to go anywhere. The game was up…and…” For the first time, Peter betrayed the strain under which he was laboring. His voice cracked, and he jumped to his feet, striding to one of the long windows to stare out at the lake. There wasn’t a person in that room who did not feel his pain, and it was brought home to them that murderess or no, Hester had always been an affectionate sister.
In an attempt to give Peter a moment to come to himself, Emily said, “And on the journey from Lachine to Ste. Marie, Hester came to know that I cared nothing for William, that it was Leon I loved. So there was no point in going on with it.”
“That’s true,” added Sara, her eyes straying anxiously to her husband’s broad back. “Hester and I quarreled about it, but in the end she accepted it.”
“Accepted what?” asked Leon.
“That I love you,” said Emily.
“I have a question,” said James, doing his part to cover the awkwardness. “It has to do with Barbara Royston. I am not clear in my mind how the whole thing came about. How are we to explain it? I understand about Leon’s ruby pin. It must have been very easy for Hester to get hold of. But how could they have arranged for Barbara to be at Sir George’s ball?”
By this time, Peter had himself in hand. He returned to his place. “We shall never really know. I intend to explain it simply as an opportunity which presented itself. They saw a way of getting rid of Leon and seized it. If it had not been Mrs. Royston, it would have been someone else. Quite frankly, I think that is exactly how it happened.”
Sara put a tentative question. “Why not simply make away with Leon? William tried it once, didn’t he, that day in the park, when Leon and I were out driving?”
“He dared not be too obvious,” reasoned Leon. “At that time, we thought La Compagnie was responsible for the attack. I’m sure Addison hoped that was what we would believe. I played right into his hands, for if I had known for a fact that the society was not involved, then I might have been on to his game all the sooner.”
It was another half hour before the discussion wound down. Some questions would never be truly answ
ered, but nothing that was of major significance. The candles were lit, and they sat around talking until James Fraser indicated that he was ready for bed.
“I must start early tomorrow,” he said. “I am off to Fort William. I shall be gone long before any of you are awake.”
His words acted as a signal to the others, reminding them that on the morrow, they would all be going their separate ways.
“Then this is goodbye,” said Sara. She had walked with James to the door, a little apart from the others.
He gave her a wry grin. “I take back everything I said about your husband,” he said. “He is a very fine man. There are not many like him.”
“There are a few,” said Sara. Her eyes were moist. “And I would have to say that you are one of them, James Fraser.”
She watched him until he had taken the turn in the stairs, then she turned back into the room. Peter and Leon were deep in conversation. Emily had a woebegone look on her face which she made a determined effort to banish when Sara approached her.
“You were always too softhearted,” chided Sara, and held out her arms.
They hugged as they had not done since they were children.
“You have given me a memory I shall take with me to my grave,” said Sara, setting Emily away from her.
“Oh?” Emily was thinking of their efforts in the kitchen and smiled.
“My elder sister,” said Sara, “with a parasol in her dainty little hand, using it like a claymore to fend off a score of ferocious voyageurs whom she thought were out to harm her baby sister.”
“You weren’t supposed to look back!”
“I’m glad I did. That picture jogged my memory. When we were children, we were very close. I was always first with you, wasn’t I, Emily? I just didn’t know it till now.”
“We were orphans. Who else should come first with me but my own sister?” Fighting to stave off tears, Emily got out, “What happens now? Have you persuaded Peter to resign his commission and go with you to England?”
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