The Winter Rose

by Jennifer Donnelly

  Bloody hell, Joe thought.

  Seamie continued by apologizing for not contacting them sooner, but a rhinofficeros had knocked a telegraph pole down a few miles outside Nairobi and it had taken a week to fix it. He hoped that they had not yet heard any news out of Nairobi. Joe then learned all about the climb to the top of Mawenzi, the accident, the cross-country trek, and the operation.

  "Blimey," he said. "That poor lass. It's a miracle she's alive."

  "We have to go to the Aldens," Fiona said. "Seamie wants us to. He wants us to tell them what's happened to Willa."

  "We can do that, Fee. We'll do it this evening. Willa will make it. Seamie's all right. There's no reason to be so upset."

  Fiona wiped her eyes on her sleeve. "Keep reading," she said.

  Joe did. And saw why she was crying. Sid Malone had been found working on a coffee plantation in British East Africa, Seamie explained, and had been arrested by Freddie Lytton. The governor had planned to send him back to London to answer charges for the murder of Gemma Dean.

  "It's all right, Fee," Joe said, putting the telegram down. "It's going to be all right."

  "All right? How can you say that, Joe? It's far from all right. Freddie Lytton is behind this. Lytton! He wanted to hang my brother years ago. He would've too, if Seamie hadn't got him out of London."

  "What does the rest say?" Joe asked. He'd read only to the bottom of the first page.

  "I don't know," Fiona said, still distraught. "The telegram arrived only a few minutes before you did. I hadn't read past the part about Charlie's arrest."

  Joe kept reading.

  "Bloody hell!" he whispered.

  "What?" Fiona said nervously.

  "It appears that Freddie Lytton won't be hanging anyone."

  "Why not?"

  "Because he's dead. He was mauled to death by wild animals."

  "Oh, my God, Joe. Oh, the poor man. What about his wife? India... is she all right? They have a child. Please don't tell me anything happened to her."

  "Blimey!"

  "What, Joe?"

  "Lytton tried to kill them."

  "Who?"

  "His wife and daughter."

  "You must be joking."

  "Sid stopped him. He saved India Lytton and the girl."

  "But how? He's in jail."

  "No, he isn't. He broke out. He saved them and then he disappeared. He's a fugitive. According to Seamie, no one has any idea where he's heading."

  Fiona pressed her hands to her cheeks.

  "Seamie says he's fine and he's coming back to London. Along with India and Charlotte Lytton. On the next ship that leaves Mombasa."

  "I can't believe this, Joe," Fiona said, lowering her hands. "We have to do something. We have to find him. We have to help him. He's all alone."

  Seamie concluded his telegram by saying there was more to the story-- including a coffee planter, a music box, and some diamonds--and he'd fill them in when he saw them in person.

  Some diamonds, Joe thought. Gemma Dean's diamonds? He'd wager the answer was yes. For the first time in many weeks, hope flickered inside him.

  If his instincts were right, and they usually were, India Lytton had somehow found Gemma Dean's diamonds, and the discovery had almost cost her her life. And Sid Malone had somehow learned that Charlotte Lytton was his daughter. Joe didn't know how, but he'd find out. As soon as Seamie came home.

  Fiona was still talking, still frantic to find Sid. Joe leaned forward in his wheelchair and took his wife's hands in his.

  "Fiona, I've something to tell you," he said.

  "What is it?"

  "Several weeks ago, before any of this happened, I started working to try to get the Dean case reopened."

  Fiona looked at him, a puzzled expression on her face. "You did?" she said. "Why didn't you tell me before now?"

  "I didn't want to say anything until I knew I really had something. I didn't want to get your hopes up for nothing. I've been working on it for weeks. I've discovered that there was an eyewitness to Gemma Dean's murder. Frankie Betts."

  "You went to see Betts?" Fiona said. "My God, Joe."

  "I had a feeling he knew something. I was right. He's given a statement saying he was there when Gemma Dean was murdered. He's sworn that your brother didn't do it."

  "Who did?"

  "Freddie Lytton."

  Fiona gasped.

  "Fee, there's more to it than you know. More to it than maybe even I know from the sound of this telegram."

  "Tell me, Joe."

  "I can't, luv. At least, not yet."

  She pulled away from him, wounded. "Why?" she asked.

  "Fiona, six years ago I asked you not to search for Sid. Not to get involved with him. Not to bring him into our lives. Remember?"

  Fiona nodded. She couldn't look at him now and he knew why. She felt that her search for Sid had resulted in the shooting that had paralyzed him.

  "Look at me, Fee," he said, tilting her chin up.

  She did and he saw the pain in her eyes. So much pain. For him. For her brother. For everything that had happened to two men whom she loved so dearly.

  "I'm asking you again, Fee. I'm asking you not to get involved. Just for now. Wait for me, Fee. And trust me."

  "But Joe..."

  "Just for now. Give me a bit of time. That's all I'm asking. A few weeks at most to put this right. I will put it right. I promise you that. But you have to trust me. Do you, Fee? Do you trust me?"

  He knew that there was no reason for her to trust him. Not on this. He'd always made his views on Sid Malone perfectly clear. He wanted nothing to do with him. And he didn't want her to have anything to do with him either. Once those views had nearly cost him his marriage. Nearly cost him his life. He knew what he was asking of her. He was asking her to do the impossible. To not try to help the brother she loved. To let him do it instead. He squeezed her hands again. "Fee, you've got to give me an answer. Do you trust me?"

  She looked at him, and he saw the answer in her eyes before she spoke it.

  "Of course I do, Joe," she said. "With all my heart."

  Chapter 132

  Nearly five weeks after Seamie's telegram arrived at 94 Grosvenor Square, Seamie himself arrived.

  Fiona and Joe were sitting in the conservatory of their home, on a bright Sunday morning in June, when he did. Fiona had her feet tucked up under her and a pot of tea on a table beside her. She knew she should be doing something productive--reading sales reports, reviewing advertisements, going through applications to her charitable fund--but she couldn't manage anything more demanding than the morning papers. She was still feeling tired. She had given birth to their fourth child--a girl--two weeks ago. She and Joe had named her Rose, after Joe's mother.

  Rose was a lovely baby, healthy and strong, and both Fiona and Joe were deliriously happy about the newest addition to their family. The birth and subsequent recovery had taken all Fiona's energies, and had taken her mind off the recent events in Africa. But now, a fortnight after Rose's birth, with the papers in front of her, and their continued reports on the gruesome death of Freddie Lytton, they were fresh in her mind again.

  Horrifying details about Lytton's death--and his life--had come to light. Fiona had learned not only that he'd probably killed Gemma Dean, but that he was implicated in the deaths of other people, too--a young groom named Hugh Mullins. And his wife's cousin, Aloysius Selwyn Jones. And it was his wife who had implicated him.

  India Lytton had found evidence of his wrongdoing in the form of jewelry hidden inside a music box, the papers said. She had tried to bring the jewelry to the Nairobi police, but had been found out by her husband before she could. He'd abducted her and their daughter, and had tried to kill them.

  They would have died in a game pit had it not been for Sid Malone. Malone, a London gang leader once accused of murdering Miss Dean, had faked his own death in London and escaped to Africa, where he'd found work on a coffee plantation. While visiting Kenya Province, Lytton had r
ecognized him and had him arrested. But Malone had escaped from the Nairobi jail, pursued the Lyttons--for what reason, no one seemed to know--and saved the lives of Mrs. Lytton and her daughter. After he'd brought them to safety, he'd vanished.

  There were so many unanswered questions. No one knew why Freddie Lytton might have killed Gemma Dean. No one knew why Sid Malone had saved Mrs. Lytton. And no answers were likely to be forthcoming to the reading public either, as Mrs. Lytton had rebuffed all reporters, and Malone's former employer, Mrs. Margaret Carr, had actually shot at them from the porch of her bungalow. It was a mystery, much of it, and would remain so.

  But Fiona didn't like mysteries. She wanted answers. To many things. But most of all she wanted to know where her brother was. If he was in trouble. If he needed her help. And if he was ever coming home to them.

  Fiona suspected that Joe knew some of the answers. But for some reason he wouldn't, or couldn't, tell her. Not yet. She wanted to talk to him about it. To pepper him with questions. But she didn't. He had asked her to trust him. And she'd told him that she would. Now she had to be patient. It was the hardest thing for her--patience. It was nearly impossible. She knew how to think, to do, to fight. She didn't know how to sit still and wait.

  As she was pouring herself another cup of tea, and asking Joe if he wanted one, the doorbell rang. They both heard it echoing through the house.

  "Who can that be? On a Sunday?" Fiona asked.

  Joe looked toward the doorway, a tense, expectant look on his face.

  "I think I know," he said quietly. "I think we're about to have some company."

  "Yes, I gathered as much, Joe. Did you know people were coming? Why didn't you tell me? Here I am in a raggedy old tea gown," she said, getting to her feet.

  "You look fine, luv. As beautiful as ever. Sit down, will you?"

  "Sit down? But I need to change."

  "Sit, Fee. You should sit."

  She did, but unwillingly. "Could you at least tell me who it is?" she said, wondering at Joe's odd behavior.

  "Seamie."

  "Seamie! He's back? That's wonderful! But he's not company, luv, he's family."

  "He has some company with him, I think. I hope."

  "Joe, you're behaving very oddly. Will you please tell me what's going on?"

  "Remember Seamie's telegram?"

  "Yes, I do. I've been thinking of little else for the past few weeks. Though I know I'm not supposed to."

  "After we received it, I sent Seamie a telegram of my own. I asked him to come directly home after his ship docked. And to bring the Lyttons with him."

  "The Lyttons?" Fiona said, puzzled. "Why? Surely India Lytton has better things to do after a long sea voyage than visit people she barely knows."

  "I can't tell you that. She has to."

  "It's something to do with Charlie, isn't it?"

  "Yes."

  Fiona's blood froze. "Joe, what is it?"

  "Fiona, I asked you to trust me. Now trust me."

  The visitors were ushered in. Fiona hugged her brother tightly and made much of him. Katie and Charlie ran in from the garden, where they'd been playing, squealing with delight at the sight of their uncle, bombarding him with questions about Africa and what he'd brought them.

  Fiona shushed them, and then greeted a tiredlooking India Lytton and her daughter.

  "It's a pleasure to see you again, Lady India," she said. "And to meet your daughter. I only wish the circumstances were different."

  "You're very kind to have us, Mrs. Bristow," India said.

  Fiona could hear the strain in the woman's voice, see the deep fatigue in her face. Charlotte, a beautiful little girl, quiet and shy, looked tired, too. Why on earth are they here? she wondered.

  Katie and Charlie were so interested in the new child in their midst that they stopped badgering their uncle for gifts and asked Charlotte if she'd like to play with them in the garden.

  "We're playing pirates," Katie said. "Want to be our prisoner?"

  Charlotte's eyes widened. Fiona winced. Only a few weeks ago she had been a prisoner. For real. In a game pit. Why, oh why, couldn't her children play something sensible and normal--like house?

  "Oh, don't worry," Katie said. "We won't make you walk the plank or anything. We just need someone to ransom for a chest of gold doubloons."

  Charlotte thought about this. She nodded.

  "Good!" Katie said. "Come on, Charlotte, this way!" She grabbed Charlotte's hand and pulled her after her as she raced out of the conservatory into the garden. Charlie followed them.

  "I'm sorry," Fiona said. "It was an unfortunate choice of words."

  "Please don't worry about it," India Lytton said. "It's just what she needs now. Other children. Games. A bit of fun."

  India watched her daughter through the conservatory windows. A smile came to her weary face as Charlotte ran and shouted with her new friends. Fiona couldn't imagine what the two of them had been through.

  "It's such a beautiful day," she said. "Let's all go into the garden. Get a bit of air."

  Anna, the nurse, was already out there. She was sitting on a blanket in the shade of a lilac tree, holding baby Rose. Little Peter was sitting next to her, playing with toy soldiers. India immediately went over to admire the new baby. She asked Fiona how her labor had gone, nodding as Fiona told her the details, then she gave Rose her finger and smiled approvingly at the baby's strong grip.

  "Will you go back to medicine, Lady India?" Fiona asked, watching her.

  "I don't know, Mrs. Bristow."

  "It's Fiona, please."

  India smiled. "Fiona, then," she said. "And you must call me India. I miss medicine terribly. But I haven't been able to think that far ahead.

  There was the inquest in Nairobi, you see. So many questions from the police there. And the reporters. There were swarms of them. They never left us alone."

  "I'm sorry. It must have been so awful for you."

  "There's more ahead of me, I'm afraid. My parents are dead, but I have to see my sister. She's been terribly worried. And there is Freddie's family. I've brought his remains home. They'll be interred at Longmarsh. And then there are questions to be answered here. From the police, from lawyers. There's Freddie's will to deal with. And estate agents, too. I want to sell our Berkeley Square house and everything in it. And an estate in Wales, too. I don't even know where to begin."

  "I'll send my solicitor over to you tomorrow. And my estate agent. They're both wonderful. They'll help you," Fiona said. She liked India Lytton tremendously. She had liked her the first time she met her, years ago at a Labour rally, and she would have done anything to help her.

  "Thank you very much, Fiona. I do appreciate it. I'm afraid it's all become rather too much..." Her voice trailed off.

  "I understand. Sit down, won't you? You must be so weary after your journey. Come and have a cup of good strong tea."

  Fiona seated her guests around a white cast-iron table shaded by lilac trees. Linen and plates were soon brought, followed by a fresh pot of tea and a pitcher of lemon squash. Sandwiches appeared next, along with a heaping bowl of red strawberries, currant scones, cream and jam, and then cakes.

  The children were called to the table when the food was brought, so the adults kept the conversation light. Fiona, Joe, India, and Seamie talked mainly about their voyage home, what they'd seen en route, and the weather. When Katie, Charlie, and Charlotte had eaten a few sandwiches and a cake or two, they asked if they might be excused, eager to get back to their game.

  Fiona looked at them as they fiew off and smiled. "They get on so well together," she said. "They've only just met, but it looks as though they've known one another forever." She wondered, as she said these words, exactly when the conversation would turn more serious. Seamie had much to tell them, she was certain. And Joe had undoubtedly brought India Lytton here for a reason. She wondered how long she would have to wait to find out what that reason was.

  Not long at all, as it turned out, for
as soon as the children were out of earshot India turned to her.

  "Fiona..." she said.

  "Yes?"

  "I need to tell you something. It may come as a bit of a shock to you. I'm sorry for that, but you should know that Charlotte is your niece."

  Fiona stared at her, not comprehending. "How can that be?" she finally asked.

  "She is Sid's daughter. His and mine. Sid and I were lovers years ago. We had hoped to be together, but things didn't exactly work out as we'd planned."