“‘Tis Crawley, now, Deirdre, or haven’t ye heard?”
“I’m aware of ye’er marriage, lass. And of ye’er son Eamon. Ye may wish to be known by the name some man has imposed on ye, like a slave bought in a market.” She kept her eyes steady on Bridget. “But not meself. Ye’er name’s ye’er name, for once and for all.”
Bridget had come to the bottom of the steps leading up to the porch. She looked up to the woman unafraid. With a slow smile, almost a sneer, she said, “Ye sound like a suffragette, Deirdre. Did ye be marchin’ for the vote back during the war?”
“Do ye want to be giving me cheek, darlin’? Do ye think that’s wise?”
Deirdre’s smile made her blood run cold. It was the same smile Devlin had when he bashed the heads of the twins. No—comparing Devlin’s expression to the one before her was like saying a puff of wind was a hurricane.
She shook her head. “No. I’m sorry, ma’am.”
Deirdre returned to normal. “Now that’s a bright lass.” She tilted her head at Bridget. “More killin’ to do?” Holding up her hand to silence Bridget’s denial while it was still in her throat, she continued, “I warned ye about breaking open circles of life, girl.”
“I need the beans, ma’am.” Her reply was a whisper.
Deirdre smiled again, and once more it blocked out the rest of the world, with only her glittering eyes above her lips. Blackness surrounded everything. Not darkness nor deep shadow; no, a pure and deep black. All that existed in Bridget’s world were Deirdre’s grinning maw and, sparkly shining eyes. “For raaaats.” The words came out in a long rasp. The smile ended and the world collapsed back to normal. Bridget staggered under the stretch and snap of all about her.
The pain shot through her head. She had endured that stabbing agony for a month after the twins’ death. Devlin had taken her by the hair and smacked her into the trunk of a tree after putting them into the rowboat. She had endured the agonizing headaches for a month; they would come from nowhere, crush her in a vise and vanish as quickly. She lurched to one of the posts of the porch to keep her balance.
The spear left her brain, and she gasped for air. Again it was gone, leaving her chilled to the bone. She looked up to Deirdre, wide-eyed.
“Been some time since you had one of those spells, darlin’? And how concerned for ye has your Colonel Crawley been when ye’ve had them?”
She shook herself like a wet dog, shaking off her fear. Leaving only the disgust for Kevin. “As you probably know, Deirdre. He’s never noticed.” She reached into the pocket of her skirt and held out a dollar bill.
When they made the exchange and she took the packet of beans, touching Deirdre’s icy hand didn’t frighten her this time.
Deirdre stepped back to the door of the house. As she was closing it, she said, “Take care, Bridey; many circles have been broken in your home.”
“Stop calling me Bridey!”
“There are other things I can call you… and I would, were I to ever see you again.” She shut the door.
When Bridget got home, she left the packet in the kitchen, behind some canisters over the sink. She’d put it in his tea in the morning. That way she’d have a good night’s sleep and energy to go through the day’s tumult. Poor man would have died of a broken heart. Pity… he had once been a light in her life.
***
She woke even earlier the next day. She needed to shave the beans into his tea and have her hands washed before he awoke. She had the teapot steeping and was waiting for him to come downstairs. She made sure all else was in order; a normal day which would be visited by yet another tragedy to the Crawley household.
What needs to be done ‘tis best done quickly. Of course.
Kevin bounced down the stairs fresh as a daisy. His hair was combed neatly, and not a spot of beard showed on his face. He was wearing a fresh uniform, his shoes gleaming with polish.
And for the first time since the twins died he kissed her good morning.
He held her by the shoulders, looking into her eyes brightly.
“Good morning, darling,” he said with a smile which was almost shy.
She stood stiffly, teapot in hand. “And good morning to you, Kevin.”
He still held her by the shoulders, but gently. “I feel as if I have come out of a dungeon, Bridey.”
“Oh?” She held the teapot between them. It was quite warm in her hands.
“Yes… it was a terrible tragedy…” He looked down at the floor for a moment, then back up to her. “We’ll never forget the girls, will we?”
She gave her head a slight shake, a lock of hair falling away.
He pushed it back into place, gently. “Ohhh Bridey,” he said softly, almost in wonder. “You still bear the scar of that day, on the crown of your head!” His finger stroked her scalp at the hairline where Devlin had left his mark.
She closed her eyes and nodded.
“Does it hurt still?” His eyes were filled with concern.
She dropped her head a bit. “Once in a while, but less often as time passes.”
He kissed the scar tenderly. “Less often as time passes. It’s been hard on ye too. You loved them so.” His voice caught. “And I’ve been but another burden for ye to shoulder.”
Her face tilted to look up at him and he kissed her. When the kiss broke, she bit her lower lip, staring into his eyes. “And now, Kevin?”
He sighed, but it was a soft one. “And now ‘tis time for the dead to bury the dead, love. The girls are with their mother in heaven, and I have a son to look after here on God’s earth.”
He gestured to take the teapot from her hands, and she backed away.
“No, Kevin, there’s a smell from it I don’t like. I was about to pour it down the sink.” She gestured to the dining room. “Bring me the good teapot, the one we use for company, from the china closet. We’ll have a fine cuppa this morning before ye go to work.”
She dumped the pot of tea down the sink and made a fresh one, using the other teapot.
The sun’s bright morning rays bathed them in the kitchen as they shared a pot of tea for the last time.
Chapter 20
Alas, Kevin was somber again at dinner. When he came home, he dandled Eamon on his lap for half an hour, the first time he had done so in months. He did talk about the goings-on at work somewhat as well. But when they sat down to supper and Eamon was abed for the night, a cloud came over his face.
She would have none of it.
“What’s the matter?” she asked. ‘If he slipped back into his ways…’
“I had a telephone call from Sergeant Hornsby of the police today.” He played with his food. “And I’ve been debating whether to inform you of it.”
A tingle of fear skittered down the back of her neck. She forced her voice to remain calm. “Why should you debate informing me? Am I in trouble? Did I shortchange a clerk at the grocer’s yesterday?” Her smile was weak as dishwater.
Still staring at his plate, he gave his head a small shake. “No, nothing of the sort.” Raising his gaze to meet hers, he said, “They have a promising lead on what happened to the girls.”
The tingle of fear became a block of ice. “Oh?”
He nodded vigorously. “Yes, and it’s a strong one. It seems that Sergeant Hornsby, on his own time, had continued to go about the shore of the lake making inquiries.”
“They did that when…when it happened?” She could barely take a breath, her body frozen to the chair.
“Yes and no. They asked at every home and business along the shore, yes, but not the people on the beaches, with any consistency. They stopped visiting the beach and questioning people there, within two weeks. They had hoped the reports in the newspapers would bring out anyone who had been on the beach and had seen something.” He sighed.
“And to no avail.”
“Until now.” He still had his knife and fork in his hand, heavy silver cutlery given as a wedding present by Melanie’s godmother. His fingers turned
white clutching them. “Sergeant Hornsby reported that he spoke to a man who had been on the lake that afternoon and saw a man in distress on a boat. This witness was out bird-watching and so had a pair of field glasses. He saw the man stand in the boat, toss his hat and coat into the water. He then stood and rocked the boat from side to side until it rolled over.”
“Oh!” She couldn’t think of anything else to say.
“The witness watched the man swim to shore, and as he did, the boat must have been in a current on the lake, because by the time the man reached the shore a mile down the beach, the boat had traveled quite far… too far for a man to swim back from.”
“What will Sergeant Hornsby do now?”
“Bridey, the man swam back to Kingston. Sergeant Hornsby is going to move heaven and earth to find him.” Bridey watched as the fork in Kevin’s hand bent in two. “The hunt is on for a man my height, with bright red hair and who walks with a limp.”
Devlin Griffin to a T. Oh God.
“Tomorrow, Sergeant Hornsby will be mobilizing a house-to-house search for this man, and putting up roadblocks.” He smiled. “We’re going to find him, Bridey! And the bastard will hang!” He looked down at his fork in wonder and quietly laid it aside.
“I’m off to bed now, darling. I’ll be up at dawn to meet with the sergeant. I’ll be bringing a company of volunteer soldiers to assist the police as they go house to house.” He gave a snort. “The men will be lined up ten deep, fighting each other to be given the opportunity to help!”
If Devlin was anywhere in the city he’d be captured immediately! Her hands trembled as she stacked the dishes. She’d have to get word to him, but how? She looked into Kevin’s eyes. “So with the help of God, this can be put behind us then,” she said. “Sleep well, Kevin; I’ll be up as soon as I have these done.”
She stood at the kitchen sink filling it with water for the dishes. Oh dear God, what was she to do? She couldn’t go down to the tavern to warn him—what if she was seen? But if he was captured, he’d spill the beans about her in a trice; she knew that because if the shoe were on the other foot, she’d do just the same.
She couldn’t even pray for his escape. As if God were to heed her prayers!
The soft knock at the back door startled her.
She felt dizzy for a moment as she dried her hands, and went to open it, knowing who was there.
Dressed all in black, with a knitted watch cap pulled down covering his hair, Devlin gave her his most winsome smile.
“Time to go, Bridget.”
She blinked at him in utter confusion. “What do you mean?”
“I have a car parked one street over. We’ll make a run for the border and put all this behind us. I have friends in New York City who will help us get a fresh start.”
She looked behind her to the steps leading up to the open kitchen door. “I’m not going anywhere!” She hissed in a whisper.
“We’re two of a kind, woman, and you know that!”
“Keep your voice down, Devlin! The colonel’s only just now headed up to bed!”
“I don’t give a fiddler’s damn about the colonel, Bridget! Get your coat and let’s make a run for it!” He looked over his shoulder onto the darkness. “If the police don’t have me identified already, they’ll know me and all my business by morning. As terrified of me as people are, I’m sure Danny Boyle from the tavern will connect the dots for them.” He gave an impish smile. “Danny remembers you going up to me room, Bridey.”
Her stomach lurched in her mouth, her supper trying to come back up. She stepped back and Devlin entered the mudroom. “They’ll be coming for you before lunchtime, you can count on that!”
Oh God! He was absolutely right.
“I’ll get the baby and we’ll be away.” Her voice was a whisper.
“No, leave the bairn with his Da. We must travel light, you fool!”
“I’ll not leave me son!”
He slapped her suddenly, a taste of how her life would be forever with him.
He grabbed her by the arms. “Listen to me! We can’t be saddled with a babe! We’re not out of the woods, and if we’re captured over the border, they’ll put the baby in an orphanage!” He calmed down and smiled at her as he patted her flaming cheek where he struck her. “We’ll go to New York first, then Chicago and then out to California.”
California. Hollywood at last. Her heart broke at the irony. She dropped her head in surrender. “I’ll get me coat.”
Devlin stepped up into the kitchen, taking off his watch cap. “I’ll pack some food to eat on the way. We’ll have to drive all night if we want—”
“What’s going on here?!” They both froze at Kevin’s shout. He stood in the doorway of the kitchen half dressed.
“Damn it!” Devlin’s teeth gritted.
“Bridey, what in the name of—” Kevin saw Devlin’s bright red hair. “You!” He stepped into the room, hands outstretched to Devlin.
Like magic, a revolver appeared in Devlin’s hand. “Uh, uh, Crawley! That’s plenty close enough!”
Kevin froze in his tracks and turned to Bridget, his mouth hanging open.
“We’ll just be on our way in a moment.” Devlin nodded to Bridget. “Find some rope so we can tie him up and be done with it.”
“There’s a hank of it just in the cellar.” Averting her eyes from her husband, Bridget scurried out of the kitchen.
“Ye killed me daughters, you animal!” Kevin’s hands were clenching and opening.
Devlin tilted his head at Kevin. “I was hired to do a job, boyo.” He smiled. “And she threw up her skirts and gave me a bonus for a job well done, I’ll tell you.”
“You liar!”
“Not this time, Crawley. A woman of dark and tasty passions is your wife. Something about a will, and you cutting her down by half to favor your girls or something.” He shrugged. “Didn’t matter to me what her reasons were. I was happy to bed her ‘tis all.”
Kevin’s eyes narrowed and looked past Devlin. “Is that true, Bridey? You plotted the death of the girls?”
Bridget blew out a rush of air at the doorway to the kitchen. “Oh Devlin, you couldn’t have kept your gob shut, could you? You’ve destroyed my life here now.”
“Don’t worry, Bridey.” Devlin kept his eyes on Kevin. He pulled something from his pocket and tossed it to Kevin. “Catch, boyo!” he said.
Kevin snagged the St. Jude medal out of the air and looked at it.
Devlin gave a chuckle. “I always keep a memento from my… err… ‘projects.’ That had been around the neck of one of the girls, you see.” When Kevin took a step toward him, he raised the gun. “No, no, boyo. Not yet.”
“Devlin!” hissed Bridey. “What are you doing?”
“Muddying the waters, my dear. I know that only one of the girls had a medal on them when they were pulled from the lake. The police believe the beast who drowned the tykes would have that medal in his possession! So we leave it here with the famous colonel, and the police will be so happy to deduce it was a case of a mad father murdering his children.” His eyes slid over to Bridey. “We’ll be home free!” Darting his gaze back to Kevin, he added, “We just won’t leave him alive, is all.”
With a sigh, she replied. “Of course. No, we can’t, I suppose. I’m sorry Kevin.” She stepped closer to Devlin. “Can you do it quietly?”
The Haunting of Crawley House (The Hauntings Of Kingston Book 1) Page 12