Beatrice

by King, Rebecca

  “I am not going to the station,” Caroline declared flatly. “I have done nothing wrong.”

  “You are waving a gun at a woman,” Ben snorted.

  “She accosted me on the driveway at gunpoint,” Maud piped up from the safety of the sitting room.

  “Shut up, you stupid woman. I didn’t accost you. We were heading in the same direction, that’s all.”

  “Oh, and you just happened to be pointing a gun at the same level as my ribs along the way, did you?” Maud snapped defiantly, but made no attempt to leave the sanctuary of the sitting room.

  “You have nearly run Beatrice over twice in the lane on Sunday, and attempted to run Ben’s carriage off the road twice today. You have had a busy week Caroline. I am going to arrest you for attempted murder because, as far as I see it, you could not fail to notice that someone was using the road on foot when you almost ran her down the other Sunday. You could not have failed to spot Beatrice and Ben on horseback about ten minutes later outside here either. Even if your eyesight is that poor, your reckless carriage driving today has resulted in extensive damage to Farmer Denton’s hedge and field. You can hardly argue that it wasn’t you given that we still have your horse and carriage stuck on Denton’s property.”

  “I sold them,” Caroline countered with an arrogant toss of her head.

  “You did not. They are yours, Caroline. You see, I live in Tipton Hollow too. I know that your neighbour, Mrs Underwick, and you are extremely close. She liked your aunt and considered herself to be one of her best friends. It stands to reason that she took you under her wing as soon as she realised who you are, and extended the same hand of friendship toward you as she did your aunt. But you couldn’t take that, could you Caroline? You couldn’t take that hand of friendship because you are not your aunt. You had to use it to try to get at Beatrice, and pour spite into the old woman’s ears. I have heard your attempts to poison Mrs Underwick against Beatrice with my own ears, in Harriett’s tea shop and several other places around the village.”

  Ben sighed and shook his head. “So have I,” he added quietly.

  He briefly recounted his altercation with Mrs Underwick in the churchyard but, for Beatrice’s sake, didn’t recount all of the sordid snippets of snide gossip. However, his dour look warned Mark that he had heard enough to support Mark’s belief that the women had been working to sully Beatrice’s name.

  “I wondered what grievance Mrs Underwick could have against Beatrice,” Ben growled. “I am sure that if you ask Mrs Underwick a few pertinent questions, she will oblige and inform you that she heard some awful things from Miss Smethwick here. I have no doubt that Miss Smethwick has been feeding the woman all sorts of stories about her experiences with the new Circle.”

  “I think you are right, Ben. I need to get Mrs Underwick down to the station to find out what poison has been fabricated.” He turned to Caroline. “Denegration of a person is illegal, Miss Smethwick.”

  “Why, Caroline?” Beatrice demanded as she stepped out of the sitting room. In spite of the dangers, she couldn’t continue to cower and hide. She wanted answers. “What have I ever done to you?”

  She gasped when Caroline turned a look of such vile hatred upon her that she physically recoiled, and all of her bravado suddenly vanished. She had never, in all of her life, experienced such raw contempt before, and was as confused as she was hurt by it.

  “I hate you, you sanctimonious witch,” Caroline snarled. Her lip actually curled as she spoke, and her eye spat shards of molten fire at the woman she had made her enemy.

  “I thought we were friends. You came to the Circle, and sat with us night after night while we made things. You have eaten in our houses, drank our wines, laughed and joked with us as you worked on your projects with us. We have been friends to you, yet you have done this against me. Why?”

  The more Beatrice spoke, the more her shock and horror wore off and was replaced with fury. She was so cross that she physically trembled with the need to strike out and she had to clench her fists against the urge to stalk up to the woman, yank open the door and physically throw her out of the house.

  “You had to have it all, didn’t you?” Caroline snapped. Her narrowed gaze slid insultingly over Beatrice, from the top of her head, to the tips of her toes.

  “All of what?” Beatrice demanded.

  “You had to have it all. All of the friends; all of your uncle’s house and money; all of the man I wanted.” Caroline turned her contemptuous gaze toward Ben. Something in her face changed and, for one brief moment, she looked sad, lonely and confused. Unfortunately, those hidden emotions were swiftly replaced with arrogant hatred that made Beatrice shiver.

  “She is a whore,” Caroline snarled as her eyes met Ben’s. “She pretends to be so pious, so perfect in every way. She has the house. She has money. She has friends. She has you. She has everything. She doesn’t even have to do anything around this bloody house because she has that old bat to do everything for her.”

  “Excuse me, I am not an old bat,” Maud retorted crisply from her position still inside the sitting room.

  “Maud!” Beatrice snapped and shook her head at the housekeeper’s loud huff.

  “Jealousy is no reason to kill someone,” Ben replied quietly.

  “She sits in church each Sunday, batting her eyelashes at you; pretending to be innocent. We all see it. The whole congregation in church see everything. You, Ben, sitting there, staring at her as though she was Sunday roast; it’s disgusting. I don’t know how you can have the audacity to sit in such a religious shrine as a church without getting struck by lightning while you behave as you do.”

  “Since when have you been God?” Beatrice snapped. “Who are you to pass judgement on anyone? Who are you to put any kind of inference on anything Ben or I do?”

  “Oh, so it is Ben, now is it?” Caroline retorted snidely. “Not Mr Addison, like the rest of us.” She snorted and raked Beatrice with another scornful look. “You, a single woman living all alone, is sufficiently familiar with the village’s only eligible man that you call him by his first name.”

  “That’s because we are engaged,” Ben lied carefully. “We began courting ages ago, but have kept it quiet because her uncle was poorly. When he passed away, we decided to postpone announcing the wedding out of respect, but have been engaged for a while.”

  “Hurrah!” Maud piped up.

  In spite of the dangerous situation, Beatrice had to smile at the housekeeper’s sentiment.

  “It’s a lie,” Caroline cried. Her horrified gaze flew from Ben, to Beatrice, then back to Ben. “You are marrying her?”

  Ben nodded and frowned, but couldn’t see why his declaration would affect Caroline so badly. Was she jealous of him and Beatrice’s relationship? He shied away from the thought that she was attracted to him, and stared a little nonplussed at her for a moment.

  She stared at the floor as though trying to decide what to do in light of this new turn of events. It gave Ben the opportunity to share a look with Mark, who nodded to the space on the opposite side of Caroline. Ben pushed Beatrice toward the sitting room door before he began to sidle toward the bottom of the stairs.

  Sensing something was about to happen, Beatrice did as she was told and began to back-step toward the sitting room. Unfortunately, her movement snapped Caroline out of her thoughts, and she pierced Beatrice with a baleful stare that was nothing short of evil. Her distraction gave Mark and Ben the opportunity to both lunge at her.

  Caroline immediately began to swear and struggle. Her strength was surprising and, for a moment, Ben could fully appreciate just how she managed to handle the huge horse and carriage by herself. However, in spite of the madness that seemed to add to her strength, she was still no match for the considerably larger and much stronger men, who overpowered her within minutes.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Caroline cursed and swore fluidly while she was restrained, and had irons placed securely around her wrists. Both men were breathi
ng heavily by the time they hauled her to her feet. However, before Mark could march her out of the house, Ben stopped him.

  “One thing I want to know is; why? What is this all about, Miss Smethwick?”

  His eyes met and held Caroline Smethwick’s for several long moments. What he saw in the depths of her dark gaze unnerved him, and he began to wonder if she was insane. It was then that he began to realise just how lucky he and Beatrice were to survive.

  “Why her?” Caroline whispered tearfully. “Why her? Everyone sees you every Sunday in church. You stare across the aisle at her as though she is the only woman there. It’s a scandal the way that she struts around the village, pretending to be friends with everyone. She is no better than the rest of us.”

  “Beatrice is just someone who is going about her life, that’s all, Miss Smethwick,” Ben assured her somewhat officiously. “In the grand scheme of things, it is not really down to you to judge somebody and decide whether or not they should live or die.”

  “She has to go, before she drags you into her world of moral decline.”

  “Caroline Smethwick, I am placing you under arrest for the attempted murder of Miss Beatrice Northolt, and reckless driving with intent to cause physical injury, if not death,” Mark intoned sternly.

  Ben glanced at him. “Do you want me to get the carriage ready and take you to Great Tipton?”

  Mark shook his head. He had recently invested in his own carriage now that he had Harriett to consider, and it was waiting nearby, ready for such an eventuality. He just needed somebody to accompany him to Great Tipton, just in case Caroline Smethwick did something stupid, like decide to run. It would have been incredibly helpful if Ben could go with him to deliver her to the station, however he didn’t want Beatrice to be left alone right now.

  “Beatrice? What time is it?” Mark called.

  Beatrice tentatively stepped into the hallway, and watched Mark render the gun safe and tuck it carefully into his pocket. “They should be here within the hour,” she replied quietly.

  Mark nodded and turned to Ben. “We will wait until the ladies from the Circle get here. Then, if Isaac isn’t back, I need you to come with me to deliver Miss Smethwick to the station, Ben. We can then escort the ladies from the Circle home safely when they are done. That way, Beatrice and Maud don’t need to be left alone.”

  “That’s fine with me,” Ben sighed with relief. He turned his attention back to Miss Smethwick. Although he didn’t want to involve himself in Mark’s investigation, he had to know some very important facts before Miss Smethwick was taken away.

  “Why Beatrice? I mean, other women in the Circle are just as kind, just as generous, just as wealthy, yet you haven’t been anywhere near them. Why pick on Beatrice in particular?”

  Caroline glared defiantly at him. Strangely, there was no sign of her earlier madness when she spoke.

  “I came to visit my aunt in Tipton Hollow months ago, and fully expected to find her in fine fettle, if still her usual crabby self. What I found instead, was someone who was a mere shadow of her former self. My aunt was suddenly someone who was teetering on the brink of financial devastation having been fleeced repeatedly by those awful women the Psychic Circle had brought into the village. Rather than offer my aunt the help she needed and deserved, all of the Psychic Circle left her to struggle alone. Not one of them stepped in to help her, and merely abandoned her to be fleeced mercilessly while they enjoyed their quaint little ‘evenings’ together, mocking things they didn’t understand. So, I decided to pretend to be my aunt and find out as much information about them as I could. I had heard gossip that Beatrice was close to my aunt, but you wouldn’t know it from the way my aunt positively hated her toward the end of her life. While she was in the institution, my aunt kept rambling on and on about Beatrice not coming to call, but did Beatrice care? No, she left her to rot,” Caroline spat. “When the Psychic Circle ended, all the women could be concerned about was their stupid weekly meetings so they could continue to trade their sordid gossip. They claim to work to help people but, if they are as charitable as they claim to be, why didn’t any of them extend that hand of charity toward my aunt; one of the villagers? They are not benevolent at all. They are a selfish and greedy group of women, with Beatrice Northolt leading them all from one set of problems, to another.”

  Beatrice, having heard Caroline’s rambling explanation from the sitting room, stepped forward. “The reason we didn’t help your aunt was because she never discussed the problems she was having with anyone. We called on her, of course we did, but she was always stand-offish and rather parsimonious. She never actively engaged in idle chat with anyone unless she wanted to, and could be rude toward the people she didn’t want to speak to. She could have raised issue with the clairvoyants pestering her at any point, with any of us, and we would have helped her in any way we could, but she didn’t.”

  “You invited those psychics into this village!” Caroline suddenly screeched. “She wouldn’t have been targeted at all if it wasn’t for you and your stupid friends. My aunt wouldn’t have suffered, and I wouldn’t have had to waste the last year of my life in this desolate little backwater, living in a horrible old grovel like that cottage. You -” she pointed one long finger at Beatrice, “- you didn’t even bother to check on who you were talking to across the table. It was me, you see. Me! There were no ghosts there. You were so engrossed in your stupid clairvoyants that you didn’t even notice me pushing the glass. It was a relief when the damned farce came to an end. But you couldn’t leave it at that, could you? Oh no, not Beatrice. Your friends were barely cold in their graves before you were moaning on about how much you missed getting together with your friends. You set up the so-called ‘Circle’, to make things for people who need them, but you still make them pay for a ticket. You get their hopes up and then rig the results to make sure that the people who ‘win’ are the people who need the items the most. Why all the subterfuge? Why all the dishonesty, if you have nothing to hide? If you are so benevolent, why are you making the poorest people pay you for your ‘charity’?”

  Raw fury rang clearly in Caroline’s voice, which trembled beneath the weight of emotion she couldn’t contain. Beatrice knew that she wouldn’t be able to reason with her. Caroline was not interested in knowing that the poorest people were also the proudest. She had no interest in the numerous people who had thanked the Circle for their endeavours. She had no interest in knowing that her aunt had a reputation for being just as strange as Caroline apparently was.

  Beatrice had to wonder if madness ran in the family, and shuddered to think that she had shared her evenings with the woman, in the dark, at the psychic circles.

  “I think that you have a lot to learn about people who are struggling, Miss Smethwick,” Beatrice replied proudly. “I pray that when you do, you understand just how wrong you are.” She didn’t bother to give the woman any more of her time, and disappeared into the sitting room without a backward look.

  Mark shared a look with Ben.

  “Killing someone by attempting to run them over is a little extreme though, isn’t it Miss Smethwick? Do you not think that just having a word with her would have been sufficient?” Mark asked. He studied the intense hatred on Caroline’s face and was suddenly glad that she was in irons.

  “I hate her. She has to pay for her selfish neglect. She keeps interfering in people’s lives, and doesn’t bother to stop and see how much damage she is doing.”

  Ben frowned and shook his head. The mad rambling was starting to get more and more obscure, and he knew without a doubt that Caroline Smethwick was going to claim madness rather than face trial and proper sentencing for her crimes.

  “It won’t work, Caroline,” Mark growled warningly. “We both know that you are not mad at all. You are just very calculating. Unfortunately for you, you have a penchant for trying to run people over, because you tried with my own dear Harriett only last year. It seems to be your weapon of choice: reckless driving. However, I
am afraid that your carriage driving days are now over. What you have done constitutes attempted murder and I, for one, will endeavour to make sure that you will not be able to claim madness to escape the time in prison you deserve.” He yanked on the irons and dragged her into the front parlour where he roughly pushed her into a chair.

  He didn’t want to manhandle any woman roughly, but was so annoyed to think that this woman had been sitting amongst innocent members of the community; people who had only tried to make friends with her; while all the time she had been plotting to bring about the downfall of one of them. Her target could just as easily have been Harriett again.

  “Sit there and stay quiet.”

  At that moment he could hear the chatter of the ladies on the doorstep, and watched Ben move to the front door to let them in. He quietly nudged the door closed and blocked Caroline’s view of the new arrivals while he waited for Ben to escort them into the sitting room.

  Beatrice sat with Maud and waited for the ladies to join them, and stood to greet Hetty, Harriett, Tuppence, Eloisa, Constance, Mrs Dalrymple, and Babette, with a watery smile and a hug.

  “What’s wrong?” whispered Harriett cautiously. She knew that Mark had been called to an incident in the village somewhere and, if the look on Beatrice’s face was anything to go by, she had something to do with it.

  “Come and sit down,” Beatrice motioned the ladies to take a seat and watched Maud hurry off to the kitchen to put a pot of water on to boil. While she had gone, Beatrice quietly explained what had happened, and where Caroline was now.

  “You know, I always thought there was something strange about her. She was always very watchful and asked the most peculiar questions about people. I wonder if madness runs in the family,” Hetty whispered.

  “I don’t think so,” Harriett replied with a frown. “She tried to do the same to me if you remember, and has seemed perfectly compos mentis since then.”

  “How many ruthless killers are there in this village?” Constance gasped in horror.