London Calling

by Anna Elliott

  Susanna wouldn’t let herself finish that thought. She paid the waiting cab driver, and‌—‌since at this hour of the morning she was as likely to be seen climbing in through a window as walking through the front door‌—‌mounted the front steps.

  She wondered, as she knocked on the door, exactly what excuse she was going to give for having been out at this hour. She did have her cloak, at least, to cover the bloodstains on her gown‌—‌and she supposed that there was a chance she might get away with saying that she had woken very early and decided to go out for a walk before breakfast.

  As it turned out, though, she did not need to give any explanation at all.

  Her knock at the door was answered by Polly, looking flustered and out of breath. “Oh, miss‌—‌it’s you. I thought you might be the surgeon come at last.”

  “Surgeon?” Susanna repeated. “Why? What has happened? Is someone hurt?”

  “Oh, yes, miss‌—‌it’s dreadful. Begging your pardon, miss,” Polly added quickly, stepping back into the entrance hall so that Susanna might come inside. “I didn’t mean to keep you standing on the doorstep. We’re just all at sixes and sevens here, ever since poor Major Haliday was brought in.”

  “Major Haliday?” Susanna asked sharply. “What has happened to him?”

  “Oh, miss, it’s terrible.” Polly smoothed a hand distractedly over her disheveled hair. “He were attacked in the street, on his way back here last night. Mrs. Porter‌—‌she’s the cook here‌—‌found him this morning when she went to bring in the milk. Lying on the back steps, the poor Major was, in a pool of his own blood. Looked like he had been shot.”

  Polly lowered her voice to a near whisper on the final word.

  Susanna tried to force her mind to work through the mingled fog of weariness and shocked disbelief. “Has the Major spoken? Has he been able to tell who shot him?”

  Polly shook her head. “No. He’s been unconscious ever since he were brought in, poor man. We’ve sent for the surgeon‌—‌I thought you might be him when I heard you knocking‌—‌but he’s not here yet.”

  Susanna nodded. “Then I will not keep you, Polly. I am sure you are needed elsewhere. I will just”‌—‌Polly had not even glanced at her crumpled and bloodied gown, but Susanna drew the folds of her cloak more tightly about her all the same‌—‌“I will just go upstairs and see if there is anything I can do to help.”

  The door to the Halidays’ room was partway open, and Susanna caught the murmur of voices inside‌—‌a lower one she thought was Admiral Tremain’s, and a higher one, quavery and thick with tears that must have been Helen Haliday’s.

  Susanna ducked into her own room and quickly slipped out of her stained clothes, washing her face and arms in water from the basin. All the time, she was thinking furiously. Major Haliday had been shot‌—‌but by whom? And why? Had one of the French agents‌—‌Philippe or another‌—‌discovered that the Major had been interrogated by James and made to talk? And had they tried to murder him as they had tried to murder James?

  Susanna dressed again in a pale blue muslin gown sprigged with red flowers. And when she came out of her room again, the Halidays’ door was open wider, and Miss Fanny stood in the doorway.

  “The poor, poor Major.” Her long face was quivering with agitation. “Is there anything I can do to help? I could sit with him until the surgeon arrives. I’m sure poor Mrs. Haliday—”

  From inside the room, Susanna heard Helen Haliday’s voice, sounding still thick with tears but firm. “No. I will stay with him.”

  Moving closer, Susanna could see into the room‌—‌and at the sight of the still figure on the bed, she stopped, shocked by the Major’s appearance.

  His hair was matted with blood and dirt, and his face, beneath a layer of mingled blood and grime, looked so gray and slack that Susanna would have thought him already dead had it not been for the harsh rattle of his breathing.

  Beside the bed, Mrs. Haliday sat staring at her husband. And Ruth was beside her, one arm around the younger woman’s shoulders. Ruth smiled and looked relieved at the sight of Susanna, though she had no chance to say anything.

  Miss Fanny had gone on: “Would you care for some tea, Mrs. Haliday? Though I am sure you ought not to distress yourself by being here at all—”

  “I will stay.” Helen Haliday’s face looked taut and strained, and her hands were locked so tightly together in her lap that the knuckles stood out beneath the skin.

  Ruth, beside her, said with calm practicality, “Much the best plan, my dear. If he wakes, it is your face he will want to see. I do not think you ought to wait alone, though.” She smiled up at Miss Fanny. “Thank you for your kind offer of tea. I think that would be very welcome.”

  Miss Fanny fluttered off, still murmuring distractedly under her breath. And a few moments later, the surgeon, Mr. Parker, arrived.

  Mr. Parker was a round, bald man, with a fringe of white hair and an air of brisk competence. “Now, then.” He rubbed his hands together as he entered the room. “What have we here?”

  His face turned grave as he approached the bed and examined Major Haliday, though. “Looks as though whoever shot him was aiming for the heart. Luckily, they missed. The ball when straight through the muscle of his shoulder. But the damage is bad enough. He was found outside in the street, you say? That explains all the dirt in the room?”

  “But can he live?” That was Miss Fanny, returned with two steaming cups of tea. “I am sure I never saw a man look quite so near to death before. And who can have done such a wicked thing? Almost on our own doorstep, too. Why, we might all have been murdered in our beds!”

  Helen Haliday’s face turned a shade whiter, and Ruth shot Susanna a look of appeal.

  Susanna nodded. “Come, Miss Fanny. I think we ought to leave Mr. Parker to his examination. And the servants are all so upset. I am sure they will need you to put their minds at ease.”

  Susanna was actually sure that the servants would all be silently cursing her if they knew she was turning Miss Fanny’s attention towards them. But the distraction did serve its purpose in getting Fanny out of the room and downstairs.

  Only when they were in the drawing room and had been joined by Marianne and Admiral Tremain‌—‌both looking worried and tense‌—‌did it occur to Susanna to ask, “Where is Mrs. Careme?”

  A moment’s silence greeted her question, and then the Admiral cleared his throat. “She is in her room. Couldn’t stand the sight of the blood and all the upset. She has a woman’s delicate sensibilities—”

  “And no interest whatever in lending a helping hand in a crisis,” Miss Fanny finished, her voice more than usually acidic.

  “All right, Fanny. That will do.” Admiral Tremain’s voice, too, was unusually sharp.

  After that, they waited in silence. Susanna could hear the sound of footfalls on the stairs‌—‌the servants, presumably, bringing Mr. Parker whatever it was he needed.

  The minutes dragged by, until at last Mr. Parker himself entered, his hat in one hand and his coat over one arm.

  “Well? What news?” Admiral Tremain asked.

  Mr. Parker pursed his lips. “It is too soon to say anything for certain. I have removed the pistol ball from the wound. And I took half a pint of blood from him, as well, to prevent fever. But beyond that, there is little to be done.”

  “But will he live?” Miss Fanny asked again. Her hands twisted a handkerchief nervously.

  Mr. Parker shook his head. “The most I can say is that his death is not imminent, and that I have seen men recover from worse injuries than his. But I would not wish to raise false hopes; his situation is still very grave.”

  Chapter 23

  The rest of the day dragged by. Ruth remained with Mrs. Haliday, and though Susanna looked in on them twice to offer help, there was little she could do.

  Major Haliday had been bathed, and his shoulder was now covered with a clean white bandage. But his face still had the unhealthy pallor of t
allow wax, and his breathing was shallow and labored.

  The second time Susanna came into the room was in the evening, after she had endured the seemingly endless hour of sitting with Miss Fanny, Admiral Tremain, and Marianne at the dinner table.

  As she sat down beside Ruth, murmuring an inquiry as to Major Haliday’s condition, Mrs. Haliday stirred and looked up, seeming to notice her presence and Ruth’s for the first time.

  “There is no need for you to stay here, either of you. I will be all right on my own.”

  Susanna and Ruth exchanged a glance. And then Ruth said, “My dear, if you really want to be on your own, we will leave you. But I assure you, I do not mind staying in the least.”

  Mrs. Haliday looked at her a long moment, then said, jerkily, “Thank you.” She lapsed once more into silence, looking down at her husband’s pallid face. “I do not feel at all as I should have expected,” she said at last. She seemed to speak more to herself than to Susanna or Ruth. “I have wished so often to be free of Brooke‌—‌he has humiliated me, ruined me, squandered everything I have.” Her voice wavered. “But now, seeing him like this, I find that I do not want him to die.”

  Susanna cleared her throat. “Mrs. Haliday, have you any idea of where your husband can have been last night?”

  Ruth looked up with a start‌—‌and Susanna felt a pang of conscience; said out loud, the question sounded even more tactless than it had inside her head.

  It was vital she learn the answer, though‌—‌if Helen Haliday knew it. And Mrs. Haliday, for her part, seemed neither to notice nor to care about the impertinence of the query.

  Her mouth twisted slightly. “That is what is so ironic. I did not know that he had gone out at all. I was—” Helen Haliday broke off, and her hands clenched more tightly on a fold of her dress. “I was furious with him. I overheard him in Mrs. Careme’s room‌—‌I was passing by on my way to bed, and I heard Brooke’s voice. I thought that he and she had . . . ‌had arranged an assignation between them.”

  Susanna gave an involuntary start of surprise, and Mrs. Haliday glanced at her, lips tightening. “I was disgusted‌—‌that they should meet so shamelessly, with Admiral Tremain and me actually under the same roof.” She stopped, her eyes straying once more to her husband’s tall, still form in the bed. “But if Brooke was out last night, perhaps it was not he I overheard with Mrs. Careme after all. Perhaps I was mistaken.”

  Susanna asked, “Did you overhear anything of what was said?”

  Helen Haliday had been staring at her husband’s face. She came to with a start, then shook her head. “No‌—‌at least, I do not think so.” Her brow furrowed in an effort of remembrance. “I think . . . ‌perhaps I heard the man say, But that is impossible. And Mrs. Careme laughed and said something about his underestimating someone. I thought it was Brooke and . . . ‌and that woman, discussing me. But if it was not . . .” Mrs. Haliday shrugged her shoulders. “I suppose it must have been Admiral Tremain. There are no other gentlemen in the house who would be likely to be in Mrs. Careme’s room.”

  Susanna nodded. And then she got to her feet. “I ought to go,” she said. She turned to Ruth. “Can I see that something is brought to you? Some coffee, or something to eat?”

  Ruth smiled. “If you had been here all day to witness Miss Fanny’s performance, you would not ask that. She has been at the door every half-hour asking whether she can get us anything.” Ruth made a face. “It is very good of her, I suppose. But I have fended off so many cups of tea that I have lost count.” She gestured to a tray that, Susanna now noticed, stood on a nearby table. “I finally accepted her offer of tea and some cold chicken and cakes. I think that should be all we need for the night.”

  Susanna lowered her voice. “Do you mean to sit with Mrs. Haliday all night?”

  Ruth nodded, her eyes straying to the Major’s face, and she sobered. Mrs. Haliday did not appear to be taking any notice of what they said, but she lowered her voice still further. “I do. She will need someone with her, poor thing, in case . . .” her voice trailed off.

  In case Major Haliday died, Susanna thought. She nodded and said, “Of course, Aunt Ruth. But wake me if you want to go to your own room and sleep for a while. I can take a turn sitting with Mrs. Haliday.” She thought of the appointment she had arranged with James for midnight. “I . . . ‌I do not think I shall be sleeping much in any case.”

  When Susanna had left the Halidays’ room, she turned not to her own room, but down the hall towards Mrs. Careme’s chamber. Mrs. Careme had not been at dinner; the Admiral had explained that all the worry and upset over Major Haliday had brought on a headache. But the hour was still only just before ten o’clock, and if Mrs. Careme had not yet retired to bed there was a chance Susanna might speak with her.

  Not, Susanna reflected, that she had any real idea of what she was going to say if she did manage a private interview with Mrs. Careme. I beg your pardon, but did you by any chance entertain your former lover Brooke Haliday in your bedroom last night?

  Of course, she had already entered Mrs. Careme’s room without permission and rifled through the older woman’s private things; perhaps Mrs. Careme would merely consider such an inquiry on par with Susanna’s general rudeness.

  But when Susanna came around the corner of the hallway, she saw Marianne standing at the door of Mrs. Careme’s room, one ear pressed to the panel.

  At the sound of Susanna’s footsteps, Marianne started and whirled round, her face blanching. Then her brows drew together in one of her fierce scowls. “What on earth are you doing, sneaking up on me?”

  Susanna ignored that. In her surprise, Marianne’s hand had jerked, and she had dropped something onto the carpeted floor. Susanna stooped down and retrieved a handsome diamond brooch, with one great central stone ringed by tiny seed pearls.

  “Give that back!” Marianne hissed the words under her breath with a nervous glance behind her at Mrs. Careme’s door.

  Susanna was looking from the brooch to Marianne in astonishment. “It was you? You stole Mrs. Careme’s brooch?”

  “No!” Marianne’s chin lifted defiantly. “Are you calling me a thief? I . . . ‌I merely found that brooch, in . . . ‌in . . .”

  Susanna raised her eyebrows, and the other girl’s eyes fell. “All right.” Marianne’s voice was sullen. “I did take the stupid brooch. I wanted the money. I was so unhappy, living here. And I thought if only I had a little money of my own, I might be able to get away.”

  “But where would you have gone?” Susanna asked.

  Marianne shrugged her shoulders. “I do not know‌—‌I had not thought that far ahead. Taking the brooch was just an impulse.” She looked up at Susanna, her gaze a mixture of defiance and appeal. “I was sorry I had done it almost at once. And I was going to put it back. That was what I was doing just now. I thought that if Mrs. Careme was asleep, I might be able to sneak it back into her jewel case without waking her.”

  Susanna studied Marianne’s face. “Have you heard anything more of Mr. Foster?”

  Marianne blushed, looking all at once shy rather than sulky. Though she tried to speak off-handedly. “As a matter of fact, yes. He is”‌—‌the flush on Marianne’s cheeks deepened, and she could not quite stop herself from smiling. “He is to take me driving in Hyde Park tomorrow morning.”

  Susanna smiled. “Leave the brooch with me. I will give it back to Mrs. Careme. I can tell her that I found it somewhere. Dropped behind the sofa cushions in the drawing room, maybe.”

  A wave of relief spread across Marianne’s face. “Really? Would you? That is very nice of you.” Marianne looked down at the floor and then back up again. “You have been very nice to me ever since you arrived. I am not sure why, but . . . ‌I thank you.”

  Susanna looked at her. She was only a year or two older than Marianne. And yet at the moment, thinking of James somewhere out abroad in the city‌—‌Susanna hoped against hope he was on his way here‌—‌she felt at least double Marianne’s ag
e. And for a moment slightly envious that Marianne’s worries could be cured with so little effort.

  She smiled again, though. “It is no trouble. And I hope you will enjoy yourself on your drive with Mr. Foster tomorrow.”

  #

  Susanna waited until she heard the sound of Marianne closing the door of her own bedroom behind her before she tapped lightly on Mrs. Careme’s door. A part of her was hoping that she would get no response, so that she might be spared the awkwardness of having to ask her questions. But her knock was answered at once by a sharp, “Who is there?” from within the room.

  Susanna identified herself, and after a slight pause, there came a creak and a scraping sound, as of something heavy being dragged away from the door. And then the door opened, just enough for Mrs. Careme to peer out at her.

  “What do you want?”

  Susanna blinked. At their last encounter, Mrs. Careme had been . . . ‌not precisely friendly, but at least courteous. Her manner now was abrupt, even rude. But more than that, Susanna thought there was a shadow of something almost like fear in her slanted green eyes.

  Though she supposed at least that Mrs. Careme’s abruptness spared her the necessity of polite circumlocutions. She said, with equal bluntness, “I wish to speak with you.”

  Mrs. Careme drew the folds of her ruffled silk dressing gown more tightly about her. “Well, you cannot. I have a headache. I intend to go directly to bed.”

  Susanna had been worrying over this meeting ever since Mrs. Haliday had told her story of hearing the Major in Mrs. Careme’s room. But now her trepidation was replaced by a spark of temper. There was something in the way Mrs. Careme was avoiding meeting her gaze that made her think the older woman knew very well why she was here, and was determined to be of no help to her.

  Susanna said, “Then you will find it difficult to sleep. Because I assure you I am fully capable of standing and knocking on your door all night until you consent to speak with me.”

  Mrs. Careme’s eyes narrowed with appraisal. But whatever she saw in Susanna’s face evidently convinced her that further argument was senseless. She let out her breath and opened the door wider. “Very well.” She still spoke ungraciously, but she did step back to allow Susanna to enter. “I suppose you had better come in.”