The Hummingbird Dagger

by Cindy Anstey

  EVEN THOSE OF his family who were used to Walter’s melodrama and twisted humor found this in bad taste. Caroline knew Walter had seen that Beth was conscious. She was about to scold the foolish boy soundly when James stilled her. It was a simple shake of his head, almost imperceptible, but Caroline understood the motion and immediately after, understood the reason. She had never been so proud of Walter, nor appreciated his quick intelligence so much, until that moment.

  “Beth come back to us,” Walter continued, his gaze still skyward.

  Not wanting Walter to overdo it and thus ruin his good intentions, Caroline called him over.

  James whispered to Beth to close her eyes and relax. Enlisting Walter’s help, the brothers carried her to the cart. Dr. Brant held a cloth to her bodice that draped down to her leg, where he applied pressure to the real injury.

  Caroline swept what remained of the jostled vegetables to the ground to make way for Beth and James. Bodicia and Tetley reached over to nibble a carrot as she tied their reins to the back of the cart. She would have to compensate poor Mr. Haines, who had not only lost his groceries but was undoubtedly mystified by the cart’s disappearance. He had left it by the kitchen door and was likely unaware that Caroline had taken it in the interest of speed.

  Dr. Brant climbed up onto the seat beside Caroline, facing away from the horses, as if watching over his patient. Caroline took control of the ambling pony.

  The returning pace of the cart was in complete contrast to the one that had left the manor. James sent the men ahead in preparation, and had already lost sight of them before reentering the woods.

  * * *

  BETH’S LIMP FORM was carried, bloodied and dirty, through the kitchen door of Hardwick Manor, much as she had been the day of her accident. However, on this occasion James carried Beth directly to her room in the family wing—without any help.

  Mrs. Fogel clucked and fussed, and anxiously shooed everyone back to work before rushing into Beth’s room.

  Caroline closed the door behind the ashen-faced housekeeper. “I am sorry that we frightened you, Mrs. Fogel. Beth will be fine.”

  The housekeeper glanced at the bed. Beth grimaced as she shifted but then smiled, albeit weakly.

  “We are just being careful. Trying to hide Beth’s true condition.” Caroline lightly touched Mrs. Fogel’s hand. “A musket ball grazed her leg.”

  Mrs. Fogel blinked. “Not an accident?” Her voice squeaked.

  “No, I’m afraid not. Attempted murder, Mrs. Fogel. The fewer persons who know she was not mortally wounded, the safer she will be. We shall simply say that Beth is very ill and leave it at that. You might have to be inventive, Mrs. Fogel.”

  “Fabricate? Lie?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  The housekeeper nodded, smoothed her apron and straightened her skirts. “That should not be a problem, Miss Caroline. Excuse me while I fetch some cloth and fresh water.”

  Caroline ordered her brothers to the far side of the room while Dr. Brant made Beth comfortable on the pillows. Together, they pulled up the counterpane. Caroline held it up to afford the patient some privacy as the physician uncovered her right thigh. Mrs. Fogel came and went with the required water and bandages, and Dr. Brant methodically set to work.

  When he had removed the matted fibers and cleaned the wound, Caroline saw relief in his eyes.

  “It is long but not deep,” Dr. Brant announced.

  Caroline smiled up at James and watched some of the tension drain from his face.

  “That was quick thinking on your part, Walter.” James slapped Walter on the back in that manly sign of approval. “Should keep the rats from our door for some days.”

  Caroline glanced at them from the bedside, nearly laughing at Walter’s expression. He looked flabbergasted. “Are you well, Walter?” she asked, though she was fairly certain she knew the cause of his surprise. He was staring at James as if he were confused by his brother’s compliment and undisguised pride.

  Oblivious, James knocked Walter shoulder to shoulder. “Yes, indeed,” he said. “Well done.”

  Walter stammered his thanks and then blinked, puffed up his chest, and grinned. “Of course.”

  The doctor’s procedure complete, Caroline lowered the counterpane, allowing James to return to Beth’s side.

  * * *

  “WHAT ON EARTH were you doing? How could you possibly believe that using yourself as bait was a sensible thing to do?” James asked, trying very hard to keep his tone even—trying to hide his frustration and concern. “Foolishness beyond measure.”

  “Perhaps not a brilliant plan,” Beth agreed. “But I thought my recapture was their intent … Apparently I was wrong.”

  “But they didn’t want to recapture you. They wanted to kill you.”

  “Exactly.”

  The room was silent except for the swishing of water as Dr. Brant wrung his cloth out in the bowl. Beth was tired; her wound throbbed and all her muscles ached. But more than anything else she was disappointed—gravely, gravely disappointed. It had all been for nothing. She still did not know who she was or why someone was menacing her.

  James tightened his grip on her hand and leaned closer. “If you had waited, I could have told you of their deadly intents.”

  Dr. Brant’s hand stopped moving and Walter slowly turned to look at his brother.

  “Why?” “What have you learned?” they both asked, one question on top of the other.

  James straightened but he did not drop Beth’s hand. “Daisy’s death was not an accident.”

  Beth closed her eyes. No. Oh no. She swallowed against the ache in her throat; her eyes swam, awash in unshed tears.

  “Nothing suggests Daisy’s death is tied to Beth’s villains, but…” James left the sentence hanging as if he did not want to complete the thought. “When I looked around just after Beth’s accident, I found a small bundle of cut rope in the water where the carriage had been mired. I thought it insignificant,” he said. “I didn’t, at the time, understand the marks and bruises around Beth’s wrists.”

  Dr. Brant studied the floor for a moment, and then nodded. “That would explain why she was the only person injured. She was tied up, and as a captive, Beth would not have been able to hold on to anything, or brace herself as the carriage went over the embankment.”

  Walter sat with a thump on the window ledge.

  “But until today,” Beth said, “there was no intent to murder. I would have been an easy target on Mill Road, but the villains tried to grab us, not kill us. And Mr. Paterson meant to run off with me. If they could murder Daisy, why then did they hesitate with me?”

  “You must know something,” Walter said. “And they must have suspected that you had shared confidences with Daisy as well as a room.”

  The raw ache continued to eat at Beth. The thought of causing Daisy’s death was devastating. She took a deep breath to steady her emotions. “But I have no memories to share.”

  “Perhaps that’s what changed,” James said with a pensive nod. “Until Mr. Paterson’s visit, the villains believed your new name was meant to be a deception.”

  “James, if that is true, then Beth is in greater danger now.” Walter’s voice began to rise. “My little game, our little game, only delays. They still know where she is.”

  Caroline nodded. “We have to get her away from here and the sooner the better.”

  “They are definitely wily, I must say.” Brant shook his head as he, again, related his discovery about the decided lack of Patersons in Pencombe.

  “They might not be watching tonight,” James said. “They would not expect us to regroup so quickly, especially as Beth has been mortally wounded.” He glanced at Walter and nodded.

  “True,” Caroline agreed. “They will think the job done. Even if the shooter didn’t stay to see Beth placed in the cart, wagging tongues will spread the word of her injury.”

  James straightened, his figure rigid. “Tonight might be the best opportunity we ha
ve to get away cleanly.” He squeezed Beth’s hand but addressed his friend. “Can she travel?”

  Dr. Brant hesitated. “It would be better if she didn’t, but all things considered—if she was to keep her leg horizontal—”

  “Good,” James interrupted. “We’ll head to London tonight.”

  * * *

  “JAMES, how on earth can we possibly be ready in time?” Caroline stared at her brother with something akin to panic.

  “Pack as much as you can.” James strode toward the door. “I’ll arrange the carriage with Paul. The household is expecting my departure and we will have Mrs. Fogel hide the family’s as long as possible.”

  “I am not going,” said a voice by the window.

  James stopped and turned with the doorknob still in his hand.

  “I have decided to stay here,” Walter rephrased his rebellion.

  James shook his head; he did not have time for this. “Why?”

  “The carriage only seats four on a long journey, and, if Beth is to be accommodated properly, it seats three. More important, I can keep the pretext up longer.” He glanced at Brant. “The doctor and I can discuss Beth’s continuing battle with anyone willing to listen. I’ll race through the lanes, as if all were routine, and Dr. Brant can visit daily. It will appear normal.”

  “But you cannot take the women to Berkeley Square,” Brant added. “It is the first place they will look after they realize that Beth is gone. Then all this subterfuge will be for nothing.”

  James frowned at his friend. “Beth could simply remain indoors at Berkley Square. A hotel is as bad, if not worse.”

  “What about Aunt Ophelia?” Caroline asked, referring to their father’s sister. “She would be pleased to have us.”

  “Yes, but her place is only a stone’s throw away from the Ellerby townhouse.”

  “You could go to my place in London.”

  Caroline turned back to Brant with a smile. “I am sure your parents would be overjoyed at the arrival of their son’s guests without their son. Thank you for the offer but no—”

  “No, not the Brant residence, my own … on Harley Street.”

  “Your own? I did not know you had a London residence, Dr. Brant.” Caroline’s eyes widened.

  “When my great uncle, Warren Newby, passed away last fall, his estate was divided in such a way as to provide me with a small London home and an allowance to keep it. My association is not well known and it is not on the usual beaten path. It, in fact, is in Marylebone, not Mayfair.” Dr. Brant turned to face James. “It would be even more of a hideaway, if you were to reside as usual at Berkeley Square and avoid Harley Street.”

  “Really?” Beth sat up. “Would Lord Ellerby need to do that?”

  Caroline pursed her lips and then nodded. “James must visit Lord Levry and Lord Wolcher while in London,” she answered. “He would be recognized and followed, we would be found again.”

  Beth lay back against the pillows and huffed a sigh, a forlorn expression on her face.

  “Secrecy is your best protection,” James said quietly from the door.

  * * *

  THERE WAS LITTLE time and few hands, but somehow the work was completed before the hour of their secret departure. As the dust settled, James swore a few more persons to secrecy, but they were chosen with forethought.

  Caroline, having decided that her lady’s maid was to accompany them, enlisted Meighan to help pack the ladies’ belongings as well as her own. Sam and Ned carried down the trunks and bandboxes with more stealth then they had hitherto shown. And Paul had the carriage quietly ready and waiting only a few hours into the new day.

  All was in their favor, as the sky was deeply overcast. There were no shadows from the moon, no glimmer of a star, just pitch-black silence that the lightly treading feet barely disturbed.

  James carried Beth, swathed in a black cloak, into the carriage before the others, and consequently, could place a gentle but quick kiss upon her brow unnoticed. He stepped back out to assist Caroline and Meighan up the step. They took their place across from Beth. Meighan reached across to settle Beth’s skirts as James closed the door.

  Tetley seemed unaware of the unusual hour and snorted in pent-up anticipation. James settled him with a pat and placed his feet in the stirrups. Ned climbed up beside Sam on the driver’s box and the procession was underway.

  * * *

  BETH WOULD HAVE preferred James’ company in the carriage, if for no other reason than she felt him vulnerable atop the large black horse. But as the wheels continued to roll and the distance between the gates of Hardwick Manor and its master lengthened without incident, her fears began to subside.

  The rock and the rhythm of the carriage lulled Beth into a state of relaxation and reflection. It was hard to believe that a day could hold so many changes. A day that had dawned in fear and circled through relief, nervousness, boredom, pain, enlightenment, and then—unfortunately—returned to fear.

  At times, life was too complex to fathom. But what remained clearest in Beth’s mind was the change in her relationship with James. While there had been no time to speak privately, there was almost no need. James had confirmed through his actions—sometimes a simple connection of their eyes—that his attachment to her had grown. Where they went from here, Beth was not sure. But the prospect was exhilarating.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Change of Scenery

  Caroline lounged, with all appearances of calm, in the drawing room of No. 26 Harley Street, Cavendish Square in London. Leaning back against the arm of the settee, her mauve day dress gathered and tightened as she twisted herself into place.

  From her position by the window, Caroline could see the bustling carriages and the busy street below. At this hour of the morning, traffic was at its peak. There were callers, tradesmen peddling their wares, and sauntering walkers out for a breath of air. Hidden behind the draperies, Caroline could watch three sides of the square, observing without being observed.

  The square’s park offered the only respite to the continuous activity and noise of the city dwellers. Its greenery and weaving paths served to remind the populace of the existence of life outside barriers of stone and glass. Partially obscured by sprawling euonymus and spiked barberries sat a bench facing Wigmore Street.

  A toddler and woman in service occupied the seat, but as Caroline watched, a young man dressed in the plain muted style of a laborer joined the pair. His movements were not furtive, but relaxed and unremarkable. Only his slightly turned position gave hint to any interest of the goings on at No. 26.

  Caroline was grateful for his vigilance.

  It was as if Ned felt personally responsible for letting Paterson slip by him and the fiasco on the cliff road, and he meant to restore the family’s faith in his abilities. While James had asked him to guard the women, he had not specified how. Ned had taken it upon himself to monitor the residence from without.

  In the past three days, Ned had watched and waited from many different positions on the street and in the park. He had gone wandering through the mews behind the large Georgian terraces, looking for any sign of something irregular. He had reported that nothing seemed out of place.

  They had succeeded in fleeing Welford Mills undetected.

  The first few hours after crossing through the gates of Hardwick had been harrowing. Poor brave Beth had been stoic. She had implied that compared to her fears and concerns, the jarring motion of the carriage was almost welcome. She had done her best to dismiss the throbbing of her leg but Caroline knew better.

  Caroline’s other worry had, of course, been her brother. James had placed himself off to the side of the road, studying the countryside and occasionally stopping to listen for any signs of pursuit. They had been gone three interminable hours before he had ridden forward to inform the women that all was quiet.

  As a new day dawned, it became evident that—at least temporarily—their greatest foe was to be boredom. Stopping periodically for a quick meal, and the
n long enough at an inn to rest their stiff muscles and collect a few hours of sleep, they reached the outskirts of London just after the sun had gone down on the second day.

  At Harley Street, Caroline and Beth had waited for James to acquaint the housekeeper with the situation. He carried the requisite note from Dr. Brant. Once accepted, James had briskly picked Beth up in his arms and whisked her up the stairs to the drawing room.

  Caroline had entered the townhouse tired and travel weary. She plodded through the expansive main hall and climbed the elegant staircase, joining Beth in the drawing room. James made quick work directing the unloading of the coach, and as soon as a room was prepared, carried Beth to her chamber. Their good-byes were brief and Beth’s dismay left Caroline certain that her friend had hoped James would linger.

  But it was not to be. James had a purpose and resolve. Now that he had admitted the folly of remaining close, Caroline knew he would be steadfast to their decision. He and Sam were soon on their way to Berkeley Square.

  * * *

  FOR THE NEXT five days, the reclusive young ladies saw none but the Brant staff. At first Beth remained in bed, the wound greatly irritated by their journey to London. Caroline had feared the necessity of calling a surgeon, but Beth’s strong constitution had pulled her through. She was, in fact, tucked comfortably on a twin settee across from Caroline, lost in the last pages of a novel.

  “Excuse me, Miss Ellerby.” Meighan stood just inside the door and bobbed her curtsy.

  Caroline dragged her gaze away from the crowds outside and into the calm room behind her.

  “I’ve made the list you requested.” The maid crossed the floor, placing the paper in Caroline’s waiting hand. “I believe it’s complete now.”

  Caroline nodded her appreciation as the maid retreated. When she looked up from the list, Beth’s interest had shifted to the paper in Caroline’s hand.

  “Our hurried packing has left us in want of a few items,” Caroline explained.