Realm 05 - A Touch of Mercy

by Regina Jeffers

  Swenton shrugged his agreement. “Perhaps we will catch the pair before they can concoct an alibi.”

  Aidan led the way to the main corridor. Mr. Payne had returned to his post. “Payne, do you know the whereabouts of Mr. Poley and Mrs. Babcock?” Aidan knew it would be uncharacteristic of his valet and his housekeeper to keep company with the others on the staff.

  “No, Sir. May I be of assistance instead?”

  Hill asked, “Did not Mr. Poley and Mrs. Babcock join the others at church?”

  “No, Sir. I have seen neither this morning.”

  Aidan motioned Hill and Swenton to a nearby drawing room. “This situation makes little sense,” he said as he closed the door behind them. He recognized they were headed for unchartered waters. “Neither Poley’s or Mrs. Babcock’s rooms appear as if the pair does not intend to return to his or her position. What does all this mean?”

  “Evidently, we have identified the two who admitted Jamot to your house,” Swenton reasoned.

  “But why?” Aidan ran his fingers through his hair. “And to where could they have escaped?”

  Hill ventured, “I have my suspicions.”

  Swenton asked curiously, “Which are?”

  “When I asked Miss Nelson the contents of the note the lady left me, she disclosed a secret, which she said I may share at my discretion. I think it is time,” he said cautiously.

  “Then spill it,” Swenton encouraged.

  Hill’s eyebrow shot up in concern. “Is this your wish, as well, my Lord? If what I suspect is true, your life will change forever, and not all changes will be welcomed. There will be no turning back once we set this plan in motion.”

  Aidan swallowed hard. Did he wish things to change? Could he not carve out a bit of happiness without turning the world onto its nose? A knowing look from Swenton said the baron expressed his sympathy. “Tell me,” he said, his voice barely audible.

  Hill nodded less than enthusiastically. “While you were in Manchester, Miss Nelson discovered an opening in the vicinity of where you went into the water after your last encounter with Lady Susan’s ghost.”

  “What type of opening?” Swenton asked.

  Again, Hill eyed Aidan curiously, and Aidan shifted his weight uncomfortably. Was he supposed to hold prior knowledge of this ‘opening’? His mind scrambled for an explanation. “It is a tunnel in the rolling hills separating your property from that of Jonathan Rhodes. Before I returned to the house this morning, I examined the area to verify what Miss Nelson reported. The lady spoke the truth.”

  Aidan’s lips thinned into a tight line. “How do we know Miss Nelson was not aware of the tunnel long before that particular day?”

  Hill glared at Aidan, and Aidan felt as if he had been called before the headmaster at school. He prayed his friends would not recognize his vulnerability. “Do not be such an arse.” Hill rarely spoke disrespectfully to Aidan, meaning he had riled the man with his assumption. “The woman has acted unselfishly in all matters concerning your well being, and if you cannot see her goodness on your own, we should cease our maneuverings now and simply let things be.”

  Swenton reminded them both. “We have taken the first step, Hill. Finish your tale.”

  His expression reflecting an unwavering determination, the intensity in Hill’s stare remained, but he grudgingly said, “Miss Nelson worried whether news of the tunnel would bring you grief if your mind had purposely blocked out its existence.” Aidan said nothing, but he wondered if his memory had buried another unpleasant recollection. “The lady entered the tunnel with the intention of exploring its length, but instead she met a dark-skinned man.”

  Aidan’s fear rose quickly. “Jamot? Did he harm her?”

  Hill shook his head in denial. “I asked. Miss Nelson claimed Jamot released her when I called out her name.”

  “Why did Miss Nelson not speak to me of her encounter?” Aidan asked, his face set in taut lines. The idea of Jamot accosting Miss Nelson bothered him more than Aidan cared to admit.

  “I imagine the Baloch recognized the lady, and Miss Nelson likely feared her brother would discover her whereabouts. She confided the truth in the only means, which seemed reasonable to a woman hiding her identity. We must recall Miss Nelson placed herself in danger to bring you knowledge of the supposed hauntings. When you observe it for yourself, you will recognize how easy it would be for your ghost to disclose her presence in the cave’s opening. Your ghost was as real as you assumed.”

  Aidan looked away in hopes of hiding his anxiety. What were Miss Nelson’s connections to this mystery? “We should see where the tunnel leads,” Aidan said cautiously.

  His decision had set Hill in motion. “I will secure several lanterns and the horses. You, Gentlemen, should bring the weapons.” With that, he was gone.

  Aidan braced his weight by catching the back of a chair. “What have I done?” he murmured.

  Swenton rested a hand on Aidan’s shoulder. “You, my Friend, have chosen to reclaim your life, and I, for one, think it more than time. Wherever this adventure takes you, you are not alone in the madness. Hill and I are here, and I suspect Miss Nelson’s heart is in your grasp.”

  Aidan said what he thought never to speak. “The lady chose to spend the night with me before she departed.” His voice rose with desperation, and he swallowed hard to push the madness away. “If Miss Nelson meant to leave me, why seek me out? Did the woman mean to drive me insane with questions?”

  “I know little of the female mind, but a feminine confidant once explained that women do not reason as do we. They exist purely on emotions. If Miss Nelson chose you, it was because the lady meant to have one night with the man she loves before escaping whatever demons chase her.”

  Aidan could not comprehend what Swenton purported. Everything about the woman said he should walk away from her, but Aidan was afraid he might never forget Mercy Nelson. He did not want to return to the man who barricaded the lonely pain within. With a deep sigh of resignation, he said, “Let us finish this.”

  Twenty minutes later, they gathered outside the opening. Aidan permitted Lucifer and Swenton to lead the way. An unexplained panic sat heavy in his chest, and he could barely see two steps before him. The baron had commented on how well the waterfall disguised the area, but Aidan had the sudden feeling he should have remembered the cave’s presence.

  It was a tight squeeze for Hill as he moved from the small opening into the larger, but he was through in seconds, and Swenton followed. When it was Aidan’s turn, he hesitated. In his mind the walls were moving. Compressing the space to one too thin for a child, let alone a man.

  “Come,” Swenton hissed. He stared through the opening at Aidan.

  Aidan made himself swallow. It was all a trick of his mind. He knew the reality, but it did not stop his heart from racing. He nodded curtly and stepped between the sandstone walls. There were worse ways to die, he reasoned. Being crushed by the earth would be relatively fast. He doddered and came close to tripping over his own feet.

  The hills, which ran through his land, were part of a line of Bronze Age earthworks and had been quarried and mined for copper since the late seventeenth century. Surprisingly, an extensive area of lowland heath marked the summit of one of the southerly hills. In other places along the line, sandstone had been extracted for building, and sand used as a scouring agent.

  When Aidan cleared the space, he expelled the breath he did not realize he held. Was it the walls or the fatalistic grimness pushing against his chest? Looking about the area to earn his bearings, he said, “What is next?”

  Hill lifted his lantern higher. “We should follow the passage. See where it takes us.”

  “It must have an outlet,” Swenton insisted. “There is no way Jamot would allow himself to be trapped in a cavern without an escape.”

  Hill nodded his agreement. “Stay close, and keep the lanterns high where we might see what lies ahead. I would not put it past the Baloch to include a few traps for unsuspecting
souls.”

  They were moving along a gentle slope. At first, Aidan stumbled behind his friends, but with each step his resolve hardened. He would see this chaos to its conclusion. So, despite the drumming of his heart in his ears, Aidan permitted his Realm training to take control of his reactions. He searched the dark, narrow passages for clues.

  They moved slowly through the channel. It was much longer than Aidan had anticipated. He assumed it was a side shaft of a former copper mine. Water trickled through cracks in the wall, and it was cold, but Aidan had experienced worse conditions in service to his country. At least, wailing half-dead soldiers did not surround him. Or did they?

  Hill stopped suddenly, and he and Swenton nearly bumped against Hill’s backside. “What was that sound?” Aidan whispered anxiously.

  They clustered together and shuttered their lights. They listened carefully: An odd whine could be heard somewhere in the distance. “Could be a trapped animal,” Swenton ventured in hushed tones.

  “No animal I know makes a sobbing sound,” Hill reasoned. “It is a person.”

  “And he is in difficulty.” Aidan darted around Swenton.

  His friend caught Aidan’s arm to impede his progress. “Easy, Hero,” Swenton cautioned. “It could be a trap.”

  Aidan shook off the baron’s hand. He let out a short, sarcastic laugh. “Yes, someone set up a trap hoping we would stumble upon it. Be reasonable.”

  Hill stepped around him. “I will lead.”

  Aidan scowled, “I do not care who leads.”

  Swenton chuckled, “That would be an anomaly.”

  “Someone lead,” he growled through gritted teeth. Another soft wail drifted their way.

  Hill opened his lamp to light the passage. He moved speedily, but carefully, through the darkness. The sobs grew louder, and their pace quickened.

  Turning a corner, again Hill came up short. Aidan and Swenton framed Lucifer’s shoulders. Before them, Mr. Poley crouched on the slate and sandstone floor. In his arms, he rocked Mrs. Babcock’s body.

  Aidan darted around Hill to kneel beside Mr. Poley. “What happened?” he asked in concern.

  “She is dead,” Poley said on a catch. “What will I do without her?”

  Aidan strained to check for a pulse on his housekeeper’s neck. Finding none, he motioned Hill and Swenton close. “Poley, you must tell me what has occurred.”

  His valet looked wildly about him. “I told Beatrice…we should attend services, but…she insisted…we should call on Sophia instead.”

  “Why would you call upon Mrs. Rhodes?” Aidan encouraged.

  Confusion crossed the valet’s countenance. “Beatrice thought it time.”

  “Time for what?” Swenton prodded softly from beside the man while Hill eased the housekeeper’s body from the valet’s grasp.

  Poley’s chin dropped heavily onto his chest. “To speak to Jonathan regarding…regarding Sophia’s behavior.” Aidan wondered on the obvious familiarity of his servants with Susan’s parents. He could not imagine the possibility. Suddenly, he experienced the sickening dread that his household staff had assisted in his father’s maneuverings.

  Swenton must have noticed Aidan’s dismay for the baron asked, “Mrs. Rhodes’s behavior? Perhaps you should start at the beginning. Did you speak to Mr. Rhodes when you called upon the manor?”

  Poley did not look up. Instead, the valet studied his empty hands. Sorrow deepened the lines of the man’s face. The valet attempted to keep his composure. From his eye’s corner, Aidan noted how Hill reverently wrapped Mrs. Babcock’s body in the lady’s cloak. “Beatrice has grown exceedingly concerned. We called upon our sister’s husband.”

  Aidan attempted to stifle the word, but even he could hear the incredulity in his voice. “Sister!” His heart lurched hard within his chest.

  Poley’s shoulders slumped in defeat, but he continued his story. It was as if the man wished to free his conscience. “Sophia. The youngest of the Poleys. Since our childhood, Beatrice has been the matriarch of the family.” The valet paused awkwardly. “Beatrice made the marriage between Rhodes and our Sophia. She arranged for our sister to have the respectability Beatrice could not. Merlin Babcock was a drunkard and a womanizer. We counted ourselves fortunate the day he passed out on the wharf and fell to his death into the icy waters of the Irish Sea. Afterwards, Beatrice moved us all to Cheshire. I began my time at Lexington Arms and eventually became the late viscount’s manservant.”

  Swenton redirected the questioning. Pressing for information, he asked, “What happened this morning?”

  Poley raised his chin to gaze upon the baron. Aidan was certain the valet saw no one else. “Beatrice called upon Jonathan. She thought our sister’s husband had permitted Sophia to fall deeper into despair and had given Sophia too much laudanum and other questionable medications, which Jonathan swears is the only means to control Sophia’s fits of delusion.”

  Aidan suggested, “Sophia searches for Susan in my house?” He felt a sense of urgency.

  Poley looked to Aidan as if seeing him for the first time. “My sister’s grief is great,” he said simply.

  Swenton proposed, “Your conversation with Mr. Rhodes did not go well?”

  “Jonathan appeared at a lost for words, but we were encouraged,” Poley returned his gaze to Swenton, “when Sophia joined us for breakfast.” The man dabbed at his eyes. “Although a bit frail, Sophia appeared in good spirits. Beatrice and I returned to Lexington Arms with hopes of having our sister in our loving arms again. Yet, by the time we reached this point, Beatrice was doubled over in pain. Our Bea has had trouble with her heart for the past few years, but this was more than heart trembles.”

  Swenton asked, “Then you think Mrs. Babcock’s heart gave way?”

  Poley’s shoulders stiffened. “No, Sir. I believe someone poisoned Bea, and that someone was Sophia.”

  Chapter 20

  Aidan thought for a moment he had misheard his valet, but a quick glance to Swenton and Hill said his friends were as astounded as he. He softly assured Mr. Poley he would see to Mrs. Babcock’s body before he motioned the others to the side. They huddled close in the shadows to speak in hushed tones. Meanwhile, Poley peeled away the wrapped cloak to hold his elder sister’s hand.

  “How should we proceed?” he asked.

  Swenton followed Aidan’s bewildered gaze. “Obviously, we know where this tunnel ends. It appears, we should seek out the magistrate; we should not act without the law.” It was a Realm policy not to respond to a crisis on a personal basis, but somehow this felt different. “Mr. Poley did not actually admit Mrs. Rhodes is your ghost, but he has revealed several incriminating facts. We should move him and the housekeeper’s body to Lexington Arms and await the magistrate.”

  “I suppose I owe the pair that much,” Aidan admitted. A hint of insecurity darkened his expression.

  Swenton continued, “We should determine if Poley knows the whereabouts of Miss Nelson’s letters, as well as what makes your valet believe Mrs. Rhodes has murdered her sister, and why he and the housekeeper have kept their own counsel for so long.”

  Aidan added, “I want to know if Jonathan Rhodes has housed the unknown lord, as well as Jamot in his home.”

  The baron frowned. “Is it possible Susan’s father has his hands in the opium ring?” Again, Fate had turned Aidan’s world upside down.

  “Poley spoke of the opiate-derived medications Rhodes provides his wife, but such pain encumbrances are common in many households,” Aidan whispered. The possibility of the connection between Susan’s father and their investigation rocked Aidan’s composure. “Although I despise disturbing the happiness of the engagement party, we should send word to Pennington and Sir Carter.” Aidan watched Hill’s countenance harden into a grim line with each new suggestion. “Is there something you wish to share? You appear quite grave.”

  Hill hesitated, and that particular fact worried Aidan. His friend rarely withheld his opinion. “Grave is an ironic word c
hoice for I hold information, which will further complicate your life, and it is straight from the grave. I suffer, my Lord. I am torn between doing what is correct and what will protect you. What I have to share goes beyond Mrs. Babcock’s and Mr. Poley’s secrets, but it will explain much of what has occurred. The servants’ secrets are also Lexington Arms’ secrets.”

  Aidan asked cautiously, “How can that be so? I know you well, Hill. You would never purposely place me in danger.” He looked to Swenton for support.

  Hill protested, “I never claimed you in danger, but you will suffer, nonetheless.”

  The baron insisted, “If these secrets will free Lexford to claim his life, you must tell him, Hill. A friend would do nothing less.”

  Lucifer’s eyes searched Aidan’s countenance for a command, and he wanted desperately to crawl back into bed and to start this day over, but with a deep steadying breath, Aidan said, “Tell me.”

  Hill sighed heavily before nodding his agreement. “Mrs. Babcock was more than Lexington Arms’ housekeeper. She was the late viscount’s long time mistress.”

  Aidan hissed, “That is impossible. My mother would never tolerate…”

  Hill’s words overrode Aidan’s objection. “Lady Cassandra wrote of her humiliation at the previous viscount’s hands.”

  “When? When did my mother write of this degradation?” Aidan demanded.

  Hill leaned forward to assure privacy. “Lady Cassandra’s diary was hidden in a false drawer in her escritoire. It was found with the renovations of the viscountess’s suite. I have hidden the book in my quarters.”

  Aidan swayed in place. “You have read my mother’s words?” he said through trembling lips. Aidan could not read his friend’s expression in the interior’s dimness, but he recognized the familiarity of trust in Hill’s tone.

  His friend said sadly, “Aye, Sir.” Hill touched Aidan’s shoulder in a comforting gesture, but Aidan knew no peace. “There is one thing more you must know. When I said earlier you were born to be Viscount Lexford, I spoke the truth. Andrew was Beatrice Babcock’s son. He was never meant for the viscountship.”