Beatrice never imagined two people more fitted to be together. Apart from her own parents, of course. Marigold was a bit capricious yet lovely, and he was kind and patient. They complemented one another perfectly.
Marigold smiled hearing her say that. "Thank you, my friend," she said with wet eyes, hugging her again.
"I think we will be happy as well. But you have to promise me you will visit us all the time," she added sternly.
And Beatrice nodded. "Of course," she promised without a thought.
"Oh Beatrice, once you wed as well, we will have so much fun together."
"I don't even have a suitor yet," Beatrice rebelled without actual heat in her words.
"You will," Marigold was adamant. Releasing her, she looked her in the eyes. The smile still decorated her beautiful, youthful face. "I can just picture it. Going to parties, raising our children together..."
And Beatrice wanted to agree with her friend, yet something was holding her back.
Checking the time, Beatrice discovered she would be terribly late if she didn't say goodbye to Marigold and depart at once.
After expressing her joy once again and offering congratulations on her future engagement, Beatrice added some goodbyes and dashed toward the waiting carriage, courtesy of the Thompson family.
One carriage ride later, she was rushing up the stairs to enter the lavish building, which was very unladylike of her. Every once in a while, she had to stop and greet a person she encountered, usually a friend of the family or distant acquaintance, which was unfortunate at a time like this.
Mother is going to kill me, Beatrice fretted. Checking the time again, she was very pleased to see that she was actually coming just in time for the second act. Maybe her imminent demise would be postponed.
Her father and mother always sat in the same place, at the east part of the balconies, so Beatrice navigated toward it without losing her stride. She was starting to get a bit flushed, so she took a few deep breaths, making sure she still looked proper before facing her parents.
Suddenly, two loud bangs reverberated through the theater, followed by various screams. Beatrice's already racing heart started to pound even wilder.
What was that? Part of the play? No, it couldn't be, she banished that thought immediately.
The uproar of people emerged from all of parts, running through the doors of the theater hall in a panic. Complete chaos ensued.
She couldn't hear what some were saying because all the people were speaking, shouting even at the same time, but the scene in front of her was enough to fill her with dread.
Something bad had happened, she was sure of that.
As if possessed, she started running again. And not in the direction other people were running. They were trying to get away. Beatrice, on the other hand, ran deeper inside, trying to find her parents.
She was out of breath and frightened while coming to the upper level of the building. The crème de la crème of the high society ran like scared mice from these parts as well.
"Mom! Dad!" Beatrice called out to them. Where are they? She panicked. Did she miss them coming here? She didn't think so.
Her mind raced as she headed for their section. Out of nowhere, she felt a hand on her upper arm, preventing her from moving forward. She turned, only to see an old gentleman staring back at her. "Don't go there!" he warned, his eyes wild with fear. "He might still be here!"
"Who?" Beatrice asked, matching his levels of anxiety.
"The killer."
The killer? Does that mean someone is dead? Beatrice didn't even want to think about something that horrible! She needed to find her parents and get away from this place with the rest of the audience. But for that to happen she had to act, not chit-chat.
Beatrice broke the contact, and not so gently. "I have to find my parents," she replied, mostly to her own benefit.
"Come with me," he ignored her words, yet she took a step away from him.
"No," she snapped.
The gentleman frowned as if she suddenly spoke in a foreign tongue. Then, he swept his arms toward the entrance. "Suit yourself," he spat back before scurrying away.
But Beatrice didn't hold that against him, people acted differently while under pressure. Forgetting about that encounter almost instantly, Beatrice continued with her search.
"Mom! Dad!" She tried again. "Where are you?"
People were still screaming around her, yet she ignored all that chaos as she finally reached the family lodge.
She couldn't explain why she hesitated in front of it. "Mom? Dad?" She said more softly this time.
Oh, get hold of yourself, Beatrice, this is not the time to be fainthearted. Taking a deep breath, she grabbed the rich velvety red curtain and pulled it away.
Entering, relief washed over her, seeing her parents still at their seats.
That confused her a little at the same time. "Mom, Dad, what on earth are you still doing here," she said in one breath, running the short distance to face them. "We need to go. Some..." but all future words died on her lips.
What she saw petrified her. Yet, the state didn't last. "No!" Beatrice started screaming from the top of her lungs. And couldn't stop. This can't be happening. This is not real. It can't be.
Yet she couldn't deny reality. Because in front of her, in the seats, still dressed as she saw them last a mere hour ago, in their best attire, were her parents. But they were not moving, their eyes wide open, and grimacing as if experiencing utter pain, as red blood dripped from their bodies on the carpet below, staining it all around them.
They were dead. The shots she heard that caused everyone to leave in fright had ended their lives. "No," she screamed again, coming to her father. "Daddy! Daddy, please wake up." She pleaded, shaking him vigorously. "Daddy, please," Beatrice was hysterical and all her efforts were in vain.
With vision that was starting to blur from tears she wasn't even aware she was shedding, she went to her mother next. Her beautiful, graceful mother looked so unnatural sprawled across her seat. She would never allow herself such poor posture.
Beatrice fell to the floor next to her feet, her once impeccable dress she chose with such care that same evening getting stained with her mother's blood. "Mom, look at me! Please be all right!" her voice cracked, kissing her mother's hand that was already starting to get cold. Beatrice couldn't bear this, she wanted to follow them even in death.
"We have to go, Miss." Elaine appeared seemingly out of nowhere, pulling Beatrice up onto her feet quite effortlessly as if she weighed nothing. She didn't feel light. Her heart was full of stones, pressing her, making it difficult to breathe.
"What are you doing here?" Beatrice asked in all seriousness as if that was of the utmost importance at the moment.
"I came to bring you your evening shawl, thinking it would be too cold on the way back," she explained in a rush. "Come on, we have to leave this place immediately," Elaine insisted.
"No," Beatrice rebelled. She didn't want to leave. She didn't want to leave them, not here, not like this— all alone and so publicly, on display.
She continued to struggle until Elaine clearly lost her patience with her and stopped to face her. "Stop it," she snapped. "Whoever killed your parents might still be here."
That piece of information actually worked. She hasn't considered that. Beatrice stilled. Not that she cared, she wanted to die as well. She couldn't bear the thought of a world without her parents, a world where she was all alone.
As if Elaine could guess her train of thought, eyes narrowing, she continued speaking. "They raised you better than to be a sniveling brat and a coward."
Beatrice wouldn't lie, Elaine's words stung a lot. More to the point she jerked slightly as if the old governess actually slapped her, but the words also had the desired effect. They filled her with defiance. She wasn't just going to sit around, cry, and wait for her turn to die.
"Let's go," Beatrice commanded this time.
They started running away,
together. Beatrice didn't allow herself one last look toward her parents because she knew that would break her all over again. Besides, that was not the image she wanted to remember them by. Even though she was quite certain it would still haunt her in her nightmares.
Rushing down the stairs, she had to concentrate on each step so she wouldn't break her foot. Those delicate shoes she insisted on wearing were certainly not designed for such affairs. But alas, one learns while one breathes.
They encountered patrolmen in the great hall, and they were quite surprised to see them here. "What on earth are you still doing here," one of them said gruffly.
"My parents were murdered," Beatrice said in return, completely ignoring his previous statement. By the look he gave her, he wasn't that surprised to hear that news. He was there to investigate a murder, after all.
"We will take care of everything, Miss, just follow my man to safety." He nodded to one particular gentleman. And with that, the group of men rushed deeper into the building to hunt for the monster that ruined her life with two devastating blows.
The next couple days passed in a haze to Beatrice. The funeral was worthy of her parents’ stature.
Personally, Beatrice never cared for such things, yet they certainly deserved a proper farewell, so she made sure everything was just the way they would want it to be.
Of course, Elaine never left her side. And Beatrice was truly grateful. She couldn't even fathom what she would do without her governess as well.
Elaine was the force that pushed her forward. In the following days, many people came and went, dear friends, business associates of her father, long lost cousins to express their condolences.
All that felt very tiring to Beatrice, but on the other hand, she was humbled and touched so many people loved her parents enough to come grieve with her.
The saddest, most infuriating thing was the fact that the assassin was not caught at the scene. The few witnesses reported that everything happened too fast for anyone to actually see who killed them.
On the other hand, since they lived in a place where people adored gossip, all kinds of rumors started, filthy lies, circulated through all classes of people. All people, of all ages, speculated about the potential motives for this heinous crime. And Beatrice was among those people, since she as well wanted to know the truth. It was eating at her, not knowing the reason why.
She barely slept or ate, her mind never stopping to rest, tormenting her with images of her dear parents murdered, and with questions she would probably never get the answers to. Beatrice turned the whole house upside down in search for clues but ended up with nothing. Benjamin and Sarah Foster were two loving people who never harmed a soul in their lives. So, all of this made no sense to her.
There has to be something I'm not seeing!
"You need to rest, my dear," Elaine urged, and by the look on her face, this wasn't the first time she tried to speak with her. But Beatrice was so lost inside her mind that she didn't notice.
She was sitting in her father's chair surrounded by all kinds of letters, correspondences, contracts that told her nothing. She had wrapped herself tightly in one of his coats that still smelled like him, while wearing a pair of her mother's favorite gloves, holding the bottle of her favorite perfume.
"I miss them so much, Elaine," Beatrice said, her voice breaking, bursting into tears. "I can't bear it."
"You must. That is the only right thing to do," Elaine countered, reaching for her and Beatrice went willingly.
"You are all that is left of them. Remember what your father used to say - You must live, and live well. So do, for their sake." Her strong R's soothed her, as much as her actual words.
"I will, I promise," Beatrice replied, her voice strong as ever.
Beatrice understood she was simply a young woman, unequipped and alone, yet she would do everything in her power to discover who did this to her family and make them pay, with God as her witness.
"Let's go to bed," she told her governess.
Sometime later, in the middle of the night, a loud crash echoed through the quiet house. And the two women were the only ones there since Beatrice sent everyone away for a period of mourning. The noise was followed by a curse, and a nasty one at that. It was a man's voice.
They both jumped out of bed, alarmed. "Did someone just break in? Is it a thief?" Her heart was racing so fast she could actually feel it inside her throat, and her palms were clammy as she clutched to Elaine.
"Girlie, where are you?" A man's voice called out, filling her with dread. Beatrice barely stopped herself from screaming.
"Worse," Elaine replied, her eyes grave. "I think this man came to finish the job, Miss."
"Finish the job?" Beatrice forced herself to ask even though she didn't necessarily want to hear the answer to that question.
Elaine nodded. "Kill you as well."
Chapter Three
No! That can't be! Beatrice's mind rebelled against the idea.
God couldn't be that cruel as to bestow such fate unto her. To be hunted like some animal mere days after losing her parents. This is not happening. This is but a nightmare. Come on Beatrice, it's time to wake up. Unfortunately for her, she didn't.
"Miss Beatrice, we need to hide, right now," Elaine stopped her from spiraling any further.
Hide? "Hide?" She stammered back. But where? She was certain he could find her anywhere.
"I will find you, girlie." The ominous words broke the silence as if she needed additional motivation to act. Not.
And then he laughed. It was apparent he was searching the entire house for her. Luckily, he started from the ground level. And he wasn't quiet about his whereabouts either, unafraid of discovery. It was as if he wanted her to know where he was.
Usually, he would find her down there, in the library, or as of late in her father's study. But tonight, Elaine made sure she slept in her bed. Maybe she did have a guardian angel, after all, missing certain death twice now. Thinking about a killer coming for her filled her with dread, but she banished that thought immediately. She needed to stay strong, not fall apart.
Not wanting to fully test that theory about having a heavenly being at her disposal, she stood up and Elaine followed suit. While making the first step, her nightgown got in her way, and Beatrice stumbled. And the noise she made sounded even greater in the silence.
She wanted to curse as the assassin did before for being that stupid and reckless, betraying her exact location. She pulled the hemline upward with a larger force that was necessary, making sure she could walk more freely.
On tiptoes, they came to stand by the door that led to the hallway, and listened, barely breathing. They could still hear him, making all kinds of noises downstairs. Is he breaking things? She wanted to weep, realizing he was destroying all her mother's prized possessions.
"We certainly can't go this way," Elaine voiced what was on Beatrice's mind as well. Beatrice nodded, pointing they should go in a different direction.
Opening a different set of doors, they entered her receiving room. It was complete darkness in there but both women knew the layout by heart, and they didn't create additional noise going through it.
Now what? Beatrice wondered, feeling an additional layer to her already substantial panic.
There were two ways out of the receiving room; the door they just came from and the door that led to the hallway. And they couldn't go that way because they would most certainly be seen.
We are trapped!
No! Calm down. The other part of her rebelled. Beatrice let go of all her fears, and the realization was so sudden as it was apparent. Are we really?
There was a third option. The balcony! She cheered inside her head. Beatrice rushed to the glass doors and opened them wide. The night air was chilly and her nightgown rather flimsy, but she didn't care. This was their escape.
"I am coming up, girlie, I know you're there!" The voice reminded them they didn't have much time.
"We need to leave this
house right now," she murmured mostly to herself, fully stepping outside.
She started looking about for any kind of ledge or crevices in the house they could use to climb down. The vine! Yes! But the problem was there was a gap between it and the balcony.
Once, when she was a young girl, she watched her cousin Tommy climb down from that very balcony. He hopped over the iron banister with little effort since it was taller than she at the time, then jumped to the vine like some wild child raised in the Amazon jungles before slowly descending.
Beatrice was completely fascinated by that whole affair and patiently waited for him to join her before claiming her turn. Unfortunately, her mother discovered their little mischief before she could even start the climb up. She was punished as if she had done the deed herself alongside Tommy, but that was of no importance at the moment.
Remembering what happened that day filled her with confidence she could actually do this. "We have to climb down this way." She pointed to the side of the house where the vine grew. Looking down, she wasn't that thrilled to discover how the earth, quite suddenly, looked very far away. But she wasn't about to dwell on that fact.
A part of her… Oh, this is utter lunacy! Correction, every part of her thought about her imminent death. Either by the killer or by the fall. Yet, if she had to choose, she would prefer the fall because that would mean she actually tried to do something other than just play the damsel in distress like everyone expected her to act.
Your father never expected you to behave in such a way. That is why he left you all of the inheritance, she reminded herself although it was quite inappropriate to have such thoughts at the moment.
Returning to the here and now, Beatrice said, "Look, Elaine, you have to go over the banister like such, and stand on this small ledge," she gesticulated while speaking in a rush. It was fortunate the moon was up in the sky, illuminating the whole scene just enough for them to see. "And then you have to grab hold of the vine and use it to climb down." It wasn't the best of plans, but it was the only one they had.
Finding the Broken Cowboy Page 2
