The Sign of Death

by Callie Hutton

  “No. Of course not. Why don’t you remove your shoes and lie down for a while? I can get you a lavender cloth for your head.”

  Lady Wethington bent to remove her shoes while Amy rang for a maid and asked to have a cool cloth sprinkled with lavender for William’s mother.

  Once she was free of her shoes, Lady Wethington shifted so that she was lying on the sofa. Amy placed a pillow under her head, and the woman closed her eyes and was silent for a few minutes. The young maid returned with the cloth and handed it to Amy, who placed it on Lady Wethington’s forehead.

  The woman sighed. “You are such a lovely young lady. And so very good with my son.” She wiped her nose on her soggy handkerchief. “He needs a wife.” She opened her eyes and looked pointedly at Amy. “Soon. I am not getting any younger, and I need grandchildren. Grandchildren who live near enough for me to actually hold them and spoil them.”

  Amy didn’t think this was the best time to travel in that direction, so she diverted the conversation. “You are quite young, my lady. I am sure you have many, many years ahead of you to enjoy grandchildren.”

  She was silent for a few minutes, and Amy thought she had fallen asleep. Then she wailed, “Why?” for the seventy-first time.

  The front door opened, and Amy let out a huge sigh of relief when she heard William’s voice. She prayed it was all a mistake and he had been released for good.

  “How is she?” he asked as he walked over to where Amy sat with his mother.

  “I am not well, son. This horrid business has upset me profoundly.” She took the cloth off her head and sat up. “Please tell me it was a misunderstanding and life can return to normal.”

  William sat in the chair across from the sofa, his legs spread, his forearms resting on his thighs. “I’m sorry, Mother, but it is not all over.”

  When she began to wail, he continued, “However, Mr. Nelson-Graves appeared on my behalf in front of the magistrate today, and I was released on bond.”

  “My lady, now that you know his lordship is home safe and sound, can I persuade you to retire to your bedchamber for a lie-down? I think it will do you well.” Amy looked down at the distraught woman, feeling sympathy for her. It must be a horrible thing to have your child charged with murder.

  “I think you are right. Will you accompany me upstairs, Amy?”

  “Of course.” As she took Lady Wethington’s arm and they proceeded up the stairs, William made a beeline for the brandy bottle sitting on the sideboard.

  * * *

  William and Amy settled into his carriage, and after a tap on the ceiling, the vehicle moved forward.

  They were on their way to the book club meeting. This was the first time he and Amy had been together since he’d been arrested the day before. Once his mother had retired to her room, William had given Amy a brief overview of what happened at the police station. They had decided to take the rest of the day apart so they could calm themselves and ponder what their next steps should be.

  As much as he had the strong desire to hide away in his library and consider the chaos his life had become, he felt it was better to carry on with his normal routine until it could all be resolved.

  “I am concerned about Persephone,” Amy said before the carriage had gone more than a few feet.

  Ah, the ghastly dog. “Why is that?”

  “She is still extremely clingy. Would you believe I had to fool her into believing I was going to the water closet so I could sneak out of the house today?”

  William shook his head. “That, my dear, is ridiculous.”

  “Maybe so, but I am concerned.” She grasped the strap hanging by her head when the vehicle hit a hole in the road. “They need to fix these streets.”

  “Agreed.”

  She adjusted her hat, which had slid backward when they hit the gap. “Have you had any ideas?”

  There was certainly no reason to pretend he didn’t know what she was talking about. “Yes. Right now we have Miss Gertrude and Mrs. Burrows who were being blackmailed and Mrs. Whitney whom Harding was cheating. All women. That is a bit disconcerting. I also find it near impossible to imagine any of them killing two people.”

  “Why do you dismiss them because they are women?” Amy asked, her brows raised.

  “I’m not sure, but I just can’t see a woman killing two people.”

  She grinned. “It’s happened before.”

  Remembering the case last year, he grinned back. “Ah, but it wasn’t two deaths attributed to her, only one.”

  He gathered his thoughts for a minute. “Montrose claimed he was out of town, but I want to check that. He certainly seemed agitated enough with Harding to have done him harm. Patrick was quite sick when the murder took place, and Lemmon seemed more interested in having his solicitor straighten out his finances than in doing anything to Harding.” William leaned his head back and took in a deep breath. “I’m scared, Amy.”

  She reached across and took his hand. “I know.”

  He opened his eyes and looked at her. “If we can’t come up with the true killer, I might spend the rest of my life in prison, or worse yet, swinging from a rope.”

  “Stop!” She squeezed his hand. “We will find the murderer. We will.”

  Mr. Colbert hurried up to them as William and Amy entered the room at the back of the bookstore for the meeting. “How is your mother? I heard she had taken ill.”

  William frowned. “Where did you hear that?”

  “We are supposed to attend the theater tomorrow, if you recall, and I received a missive from her today that she was not feeling up to joining me.”

  “I am sorry, Mr. Colbert. I know Amy and I were to attend also, but I’m afraid we will be unable to join you as well.”

  Colbert waved them off as if he and Amy were of no importance if his mother couldn’t go.

  “How ill is she?” Colbert looked concerned.

  Mr. Colbert was certainly someone he could trust, but he preferred to keep the bulk of the story to himself. “I had a bit of a legal issue which has caused Lady Wethington undue stress.”

  “Legal issue? You do know I am a solicitor. Can I help you in any way?”

  It depends. Do you know who killed the two people that I am being accused of murdering?

  “No, I have my solicitor working on it. I’m sure my mother will be up and about in a few days.”

  “May I call on her?”

  As much as William did not care for Mr. Colbert pursuing his mother, perhaps a visit from him would cheer her up. “Yes. You may call on her. Send a missive around so she will be prepared for your visit.”

  “Thank you.” The glow on the man’s face surprised him. Could it be the man really cared for his mother and didn’t have nefarious intentions? Life was so topsy-turvy lately that anything was possible.

  Not feeling particularly social, he directed Amy to one of the small settees. “Where has Eloise been? I haven’t seen her in a while,” William said.

  “She’s off visiting her cousin in London. She does that twice a year.”

  “Does he ever visit her here?”

  “Occasionally, but they find more things to do in London.”

  The other members slowly drifted in. Miss Sterling and Miss Penelope walked in together, chatting, with Miss Sterling waving her hands around.

  Amy stood and wandered over to the two women. William followed her.

  “Where is Miss Gertrude tonight?” Amy asked, when there was a break in the women’s conversation.

  “My sister was not feeling well.” Miss Penelope offered a slight smile.

  “That is too bad. Have her scratches healed?”

  “Scratches?”

  “Yes, when I visited with you about a week and a half ago, she had scratches on her face. Remember?”

  “Oh, yes,” Miss Penelope said. “Those are all cleared up. She is merely suffering from a megrim tonight.”

  William and Amy glanced at each other as Mr. Colbert called the meeting to order.
<
br />   Perhaps Miss Gertrude had a megrim after shooting Mrs. Johnson?

  CHAPTER 26

  Amy stared at the letter in her hand, vacillating between anger and worry. She was being threatened by her publisher. Either she must sign the enclosed document, agreeing to appear at the Atkinson & Tucker book fair in three weeks, or she would be the defendant in a lawsuit for breach of contract.

  She folded the letter and laid it next to her place at the breakfast table. Whatever was she going to do? On the one hand, Papa was adamant that she refuse to appear as E.D. Burton, yet on the other, her publisher was waving lawsuit papers at her.

  “Good morning, daughter.” Papa walked into the room. “Why so glum?”

  She unfolded the letter and handed it to him. He skimmed the contents and handed it back to her. “I have spoken to my solicitor, and he is prepared to take the matter into hand. We can contact Mr. Nelson-Graves if it goes far enough that we require a barrister.”

  “Papa, I don’t want a lawsuit.” She placed her hands in her lap and straightened her shoulders. “I think I should go to the book fair as E. D. Burton. It is time I received recognition for my work.”

  Instead of the explosion she was prepared for, Papa merely shook his head. “It would ruin you, young lady. No gentleman would want to marry a woman so notorious.” He shook out his napkin, laid it on his lap, and began to place items from the platters in the center of the table on his plate.

  “Papa, we’ve been over this. I do not want to marry.”

  “Is that right?” He stopped loading his plate and stared at her. “It appears to me, miss, that your young man is heading in that direction and plans to take you with him.”

  Amy felt the heat start in her middle and climb to her face. “Even if that were so,” she hurried to add, “which I don’t acknowledge as true, William is very forward thinking. He doesn’t see any reason for me to be hiding my name.”

  “I don’t believe that’s true.”

  “He said so right here in this house.”

  Papa pointed his fork at her. “He said that because he didn’t want to find himself on the other side of the front door. Mark my words, when you two marry, he will take an entirely different stance.”

  “Who is getting married?” Aunt Margaret asked as she entered the breakfast room. “You, Franklin?” The mirth in her eyes brought a smile to Amy’s face.

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Margaret,” Papa huffed. “I am far too old and set in my ways to consider marrying.”

  “Ah, talk of marriage again.” Michael joined them, taking the seat next to Aunt Margaret and across from Amy. “Is a wedding finally planned for my sister?”

  “There is to be no wedding!” Amy snapped. Three pairs of eyes swung in her direction—Michael’s teasing, Aunt Margaret’s sympathetic, and Papa’s determined.

  Here she was, trying to convince Papa that she deserved the accolades for her books, and he, as usual, was turning it into another attempt to marry her off.

  “If you recall, Papa, you tried last year to push me to the altar, and that didn’t exactly work out well, did it?”

  “I agreed at the time that St. Vincent was not the best candidate for your husband. I acknowledged my mistake.”

  “Cheers, Father. I never thought to hear you say you made a mistake.” Michael held up his coffee cup. Papa growled in his direction.

  “However, Amy, there is nothing wrong with Lord Wethington,” Michael said. “He is a fine, upstanding man with a good head on his shoulders.”

  And accused of two murders.

  Since Aunt Margaret was around the house much more than her papa and brother, she was up-to-date on the happenings with Harding’s—and now Mrs. Johnson’s—murder. Amy had told her about the latest murder victim the night before when she returned from the book club meeting.

  Papa, on the other hand didn’t need to know what was going on, since he’d warned her last year to stay out of the investigation into St. Vincent’s death, which of course, hadn’t deterred her in the slightest. No need to have him glowering at her again.

  “Franklin, leave her alone. If anything develops between Amy and Lord Wethington, that is up to them. They don’t need you pushing at them.” Aunt Margaret never held back her opinion from Papa.

  Since nothing had been settled regarding the threat of a lawsuit from Amy’s publisher, she finished her breakfast and retired to her bedchamber to once again tackle the ledger.

  Today she was determined to do the best she could to get the name that had been muddied.

  Two hours later, she sat back and stared at the name on her pad. It was not quite a guess, since she had been able to decipher some of the letters, and by playing with them, she had come up with one name she recognized.

  Mr. George Davidson.

  She did not know Mr. Davidson’s first name, and there were probably numerous Davidsons in Bath, but her heart pumped a bit harder when she looked at the results of her attempts to use the code on the letters she had been able to make out.

  Then she chastised herself, because she had never particularly liked Mr. Davidson, so it was possible she was filling in letters just to make them fit his name. He was very condescending to women and managed to suck the life out of any event.

  Despite her misgivings, she had to get this information to William. If it was Mr. Davidson, they had to turn their investigation in his direction.

  She quickly pulled a piece of paper from her drawer and wrote a note to William.

  * * *

  William sat with his arms crossed over his chest, playing chaperone to his mother and Mr. Colbert. It was ludicrous, given the situation, but he wanted to make sure Mr. Colbert made no untoward suggestions to his mother.

  William hoped the man would leave soon, because he had just received a note from Amy telling him she had made an interesting discovery that she did not want to send by way of the missive. She asked for him to call as soon as possible.

  William pulled out his timepiece. “My goodness. Look at the time.” He shook his head, placed the watch back in his vest pocket, and looked directly at Colbert.

  They had already drunk two pots of tea and eaten a tray of sandwiches and sweets, and now William was about to ask the man if he would like to have a bedchamber readied for him. With a lock on the outside.

  Mother, on the other hand, seemed to be enjoying herself. She and Colbert laughed and laughed, sharing stories of their youth and the challenges of raising children.

  In fact, William had not seen such a glow on Mother’s face since she’d taken up residence in his home. Why it bothered him that she was enjoying the company of a man was confusing.

  The devil take it, if he ever married and had daughters, he would most likely be a tyrant when it came to their beaux.

  Married.

  That word had been popping up a great deal lately and had turned from being a disturbing idea to a quite pleasant one. He imagined him and Amy married and in his home in Bath, or even at his estate in Suffolk County. Even, perhaps, with a child or two.

  That vision was quickly replaced with a picture of him swinging from the end of a rope and Amy crying at his feet. He shook his head. He needed to keep a positive attitude. It was time to visit with Amy and see what she had come up with.

  Luckily, just then Colbert stood. “I believe I will be on my way.” He bent over Mother’s hand and kissed the air above it. William rolled his eyes.

  “I will walk you out, Colbert. I have an appointment myself.”

  “Your mother is a most charming woman, Wethington,” Colbert said as they made their way down the front steps.

  William merely nodded.

  Colbert put his hand on William’s arm to stop him. “I want you to know I have no improper designs on your mother. It is important for me to tell you that, because if anything more develops between us, I don’t want you loading your pistol.”

  “Thank you for that, Colbert. I understand my mother is an adult and has been a wife and mo
ther. But on the other hand, she is under my protection, and I will not tolerate any sort of shenanigans where she is concerned.”

  Colbert gave him a slight bow. “I admire you for that, Wethington. Have a good day.” He turned on his heel and, whistling slightly, continued down the pavement.

  William decided to ride his horse to Amy’s house instead of taking the carriage. If they needed privacy, perhaps they could go for a walk.

  When he arrived, Stevens opened the door and waved him in. “I will notify Lady Amy that you have come, my lord. You may wait in the drawing room.”

  William thanked him and made his way up to the drawing room; he’d been here so many times that he knew his way around quite well. He wandered the room, too restless to sit.

  He thought about the summons he’d received from Nelson-Graves earlier in the day, asking him to visit the next morning to go over some paperwork. The barrister had also mentioned the appointment book that William had yet to locate.

  Hopefully Nelson-Graves had received William’s business file that the police had been holding. He had requested copies of the documents contained in the file. Since copying papers was a time-consuming and arduous job, William had his doubts that everything in the file would be copied. He assumed Nelson-Graves could subpoena the file, but that thought scared him even more, because such things usually happened in preparation for a trial.

  William firmly hoped to have the entire mess straightened out before it went that far.

  “Good afternoon, William. How are you today?” Amy entered the room, looking quite pleased with herself.

  He grinned, always happy in her presence. “I am as well as can be expected, given the state of my life recently. You, on the other hand, look like the cat who stole the cream.”

  “Yes. Well, I have something here that might be of interest to you.” She waved a paper at him and then moved to the settee and settled there, waving him over. “Do you want tea?”

  “No. I just flooded my body with tea while I watched over my mother and Colbert.”

  “How did that go?”

  William shifted and rested his foot on his bent knee. “He really is a nice man. I know I’m just being overprotective because—well, because she is my mother, and I am overprotective.”