A Lady's Vanishing Choices

by Woodson, Wareeze

  Royce ducked his head in a nod. “As you say, I wasn’t fit for much those first few days.” He straightened in his chair. “I’m fully in charge of all my facilities now, and I thank you for coming to me with this piece of information. I’ll ask the doctor for a full explanation. I need every bit of evidence I can collect.”

  “Doc says nobody made no inquiries about such,” Ed explained and rose to his feet. “If it helps, I’m pleased.”

  Royce stood up as well. “Most helpful. If you remember anything else, please let me know.”

  “Glad to help. I won’t be wastin’ no more of ye time then. Good day to ye.” Ed strode from the room.

  “Blast and damn,” Royce uttered with a vicious swipe at the items on his desk. Having missed the inkpot, he sent a stack of papers flying to the floor. He ignored the mess and sank back into his chair. Staring unseeingly at the wall, he cursed himself anew for not taking up the investigation at once instead of wallowing in grief and self-pity. Well, I can certainly do something about it now.

  Royce bolted out of the chair and headed down the hall again. A gentleman’s weapon—that phrase kept circling through his mind. Bethany had mentioned a gentleman’s shirt as well. Perhaps both were connected. His pulse quickened at the thought, and he walked a little faster.

  Nearly an hour later, Royce helped Bethany into his gig. Jem stood at the head of the horse. “Come along, young fellow. Lady Rivton needs someone to wait with her while I’m about my business.”

  Jem hopped on the back as Royce whipped the reins. The gig pulled out with John and Sir Blair following in the wagon necessary to transport a corpse.

  Royce shook his head at himself. Was this a wild goose chase? Bethany had withheld vital information from him before. Could she actually be a part of a crime against her will? She wasn’t a murderer. She didn’t have it in her, but someone certainly wanted her dead because she knew too much. He hoped this would settle a few questions.

  Chapter 23

  A chill of apprehension threaded through Bethany as the gig neared the location of the gravesite. Recalling the terror of that day brought a cramp to her stomach, and she clutched the side of her seat until her fingers ached. She’d hoped never to set eyes on this place again, yet here she was trying to point the way to her reoccurring nightmare.

  Royce pulled the gig to the side of the narrow path and halted. The wagon stopped behind him. John and Blair waited for Royce to climb down.

  Royce turned to Bethany. “You’re certain this is the place?”

  She gazed at the brush that covered the forest floor converging on the narrow, overgrown wagon ruts, marking the passageway southward, and nodded her head. “I’ll never forget. I halted in this very spot. Then I strolled through the woods, my thoughts on my quarrel with Aunt Gertrude.” She indicated the area straight ahead with a gesture. “The digging sound came from that direction.”

  John and Blair climbed out of the wagon and waited while Royce scrambled down. He caught her by the waist and lifted her out of the gig. “Show me.”

  Royce steadied her when she stumbled over the uneven ground. She caught his hand. Only his presence and his touch kept her calm enough to proceed with the search. Drawing a deep breath, she hoped dredging up all of these horrifying memories would be helpful. If the culprit could be brought to justice, perhaps she could stop looking over her shoulder. At least now the problem was out of her hands.

  She pushed through tangled bushes and halted. Pointing with one trembling finger, she whispered, “Over there. The mound of dirt is still visible.”

  Turning, she hurried away. “I shan’t watch. It makes me ill.”

  Breaking into the track, Bethany raced toward the vehicle where Jem waited with the horses.

  Royce strode after her. He helped her into the gig and hesitated before he asked, “Will you be all right if I leave you? I know this is curst unpleasant, but now the work begins.”

  She nodded and lowered her lashes, letting a long, low sigh escape.

  “You’re certain?” His gaze searched her features.

  “I’ll be fine,” she whispered. A feeling of revulsion pricked her stomach, and she shivered. “Try to hurry.”

  He kissed her hand and smiled at her. “I won’t be long.”

  Jem sat at her side and occasionally shifted impatiently, waiting for the return of the men. He didn’t say a word, but his sighs punctuated the silence that stretched into long minutes. Finally, he jumped down and walked towards the wagon parked behind the gig. Grateful to be relieved of his nervous bouncing leg on the floor, she leaned back against the soft squabs of the seat and tried not to think about that horrible day.

  After what seemed like ages, she straightened when Royce and John appeared through the trees with Blair in the rear. The three men carried a burden between them and gently heaved the bundle into the wagon. Royce wiped his hands and dropped something into his jacket pocket.

  The smell alone was enough to turn one’s stomach, an unpleasant business all around. Royce strolled over to the gig, and, with a blank expression, he climbed aboard. Meeting the question in Bethany’s eyes, he answered before she asked. “Yes, we did find a body exactly as you suspicioned.”

  “Coo-eee,” Jem exclaimed, his countenance lit with excitement while he climbed on the back of the gig. “You never.”

  “Afraid so, young fellow,” Royce said. He griped his pocket to be certain he’d secured the evidence.

  Jem’s eyes widened with curiosity. “Wot did ya find?”

  Bethany wrinkled her nose at him. “Is it something horrible?”

  Royce reluctantly fished the object out of his pocket. “It’s evidence. I don’t suppose it’ll hurt to show you.” He opened his palm and the ring flashed in the sunlight.

  After the first glance, Jem’s face crumpled. He jumped from the gig and cried, “Mary Rose.”

  Royce let out a strangled oath and sped after the boy. He threw an explanation over his shoulder. “His sister.”

  Devastated for Jem, Bethany shut her eyes against the world and collapsed against the squabs. There was a killer with a corpse, and he must be aware she watched while he’d buried his victim? That was the only thing that made sense of the attempts on her life. She glanced around uneasily, reassured by the presence of John and Blair in the other wagon. Nevertheless, an eerie feeling raced down her spine and raised goose bumps on her arms. She wished Royce would hurry.

  After a prolonged interval, Royce escorted Jem back to the gig. Bethany gathered her skirts and moved over to make room for the boy. Jem’s ravished face expressed her feelings exactly.

  Streaks where tears had streamed down his cheeks clearly marked his grief. The boy sniffed once while he climbed into the gig ahead of Royce and dropped into the corner. With blank eyes, he stared into the distance where no one could follow.

  When Bethany leaned into Royce’s broad shoulder, he uttered, “I’m filthy.”

  “I don’t care.”

  He smiled and draped his long arm around her to pull her close. “We shall be home in a bit. No more racketing around where you’re exposed to all sorts of danger.”

  “I’m fine,” she whispered. “I just needed you to hold me.”

  He gave her a squeeze and glanced at the boy. “If we can apprehend the killer, all this should prove worth it.”

  Royce swallowed. His heart raced and sweat dewed his palms. He must remove Bethany from this place and all the danger. Taking her to London appealed to him as never before. She would be safe there. He couldn’t bear it if anything happened to her. John and Sir Blair could remain behind and search for the traitor.

  The vehicle arrived at Breen’s cottage in the village and Royce helped an unsteady Jem alight. Royce escorted the young boy inside. It was his duty to let the widow know her daughter was dead. A
short while later, he emerged, leaving mother and son to comfort each other. He climbed back into the gig and sank beside Bethany.

  “I’m not fit, but rest against me again,” he invited. “I need to hold you too.” He pulled her against him with one arm. With the other hand, he gathered the reins and set the vehicle in motion. “We’ll talk about this when we get home. I must consider all of the ramifications before we decide on any action.”

  Following his advice, she shivered. How did one find a murderer with only a body and a ring for evidence? Overwhelmed with hopelessness, the horror of the situation grew when she considered the murdered girl and the threat that hung over her own head.

  When they arrived at the hall, she couldn’t wait to be inside and away from the corpse. She watched the wagon roll past, heading around back. Royce jumped down and helped her alight. Royce and Bethany, with John at their heels, entered the house.

  The trio strode into the drawing room where Sara waited. John leaned down and kissed her on the cheek. “Forgive me for coming to you in all my dirt. I know how anxious you have been. We did find the body.”

  Sara shuddered. “John, no.”

  “If you ladies will excuse me, I must rid myself of the evidence of this day’s work,” Royce said and strode to the door with John behind as he mouthed ‘me too.’

  Bethany sank into a chair. “What a dreadful day. I feel sick to think about that girl being murdered.”

  Sara moved over to the chair facing Bethany and speculated, “Perry’s murder and now this. There have been attempts on your life as well. Where will it all end?”

  Bethany suggested, “To make any sense of this, we must gather all the information together. A list. We need a list—everything we know about the murders.” Jumping up, she gathered a quill and a sheet of foolscap from a drawer in the escritoire. She moved a low table a little closer. “Facts only. Information we are certain is correct.”

  Before one word could be written, Royce and John returned. Royce headed to the cabinet beside the long windows and poured a small measure of brandy into a glass. “I need a drink after all of that. John, how about you?”

  “The same please.” John drew a deep breath. “What an ordeal.”

  “We must discuss the murder,” Royce said.

  “That is exactly what Sara and I were contemplating. We were on the point of making a list of all the information to hand.”

  John stared at her over the rim of his glass and cleared his throat. “A sound idea. Let’s start with the latest murder. Correction, the latest discovery.”

  John sat on the edge of his seat. “Mary Rose, Jem’s sister was stabbed several times with a swordstick, or so it seems.”

  Royce lifted his brows and injected, “Perry was murdered with a swordstick as well.”

  “A swordstick is a gentleman’s weapon. A coincidence, do you suppose?” John peered around at the others.

  “Not likely,” Royce affirmed and motioned to Bethany. “Write that down. At least we know we’re probably looking for a cut above the common criminal. No self-respecting bloke bent on robbery would dare bring suspicion down on his head with such a weapon in plain view.”

  John nodded in agreement. “True. We’ve ruled out a simple robbery by a thief, so it’s back to a gentleman. Most every gentleman we know carries a swordstick for protection. I have one myself.”

  “Where do we go from here?” Bethany questioned.

  John grimaced. “If we were in London, I’d suggest that fast set of younger sons, not in the military or with any other gainful employment. Boxing the watch is the least of their crimes for which they do get arrested. It’s a wonder any of them are ever released from the round house, when all is said.”

  His expression became more and more disgruntled as he continued, “They consider themselves above the law. I don’t know if any of them would step over the line and commit murder however. Such arrogance.”

  Royce studied him for a long moment. “That’s quite a list of complaints.”

  John raised his brows. “We did mention swordsticks. All or most of them carry one. And some of the toad-eaters that hang on their coattails are nasty customers.”

  “But these men are in London.” Bethany shrugged when she raised the objection.

  “Not all. I noticed one of their set here in the village. Not a rich man’s son, but still one of the set nonetheless, Laurent Harcourt.”

  “Laurent Harcourt,” Bethany gasped.

  “Afraid so.”

  Bethany’s voice rose. “You’re not accusing him of murder because he runs with the wrong crowd are you?”

  Royce said in a reasonable tone, “Laurent Harcourt always has his swordstick by him. It somehow goes with his smooth ways and good looks.”

  “That in and of itself doesn’t condemn Laurent. Linda loves him.” Bethany cast an annoyed glance at Royce.

  Daggers of anger flashed between the pair before Royce said, “Don’t forget you are in danger.”

  “But, I wasn’t stabbed.” Bethany lifted one hand with the palm up in objection.

  “Yet.” Royce cast a dry look in her direction from beneath narrowed lids. “Perhaps this isn’t the best of times to discuss such happenings. Let us continue this debate when we return from our bridal trip. We leave for London tomorrow.”

  “But, Royce, perhaps we shouldn’t take our trip as things stand,” Bethany commented.

  “That is exactly why we must leave tomorrow. You are in danger.”

  “Not when I’m with you,” she said. “Besides, we should search out the killer.”

  “John can handle things here. The search shall continue. Possibly be solved when we return.” He glanced at John. “Is that acceptable to you, John?”

  John nodded.

  “But, Royce—”

  “Don’t you wish to have new bride clothes?” He raised his brows and smiled. “Or visit the theater?”

  “Unfair. You know I wish it above all else.”

  “Indeed. We leave at first light.”

  She found the urge to slap the self-satisfied smirk off his face almost overwhelming, but considered the prospect of the trip so alluring she could only return his smile in agreement.

  Chapter 24

  The next day, excitement curled through Bethany. She could hardly maintain her composure at the thought of traveling all the way to London. Since her tenth year, there had been little opportunity for her to travel much beyond the estate or the village of Chadwick.

  With the morning well advanced and assisted by Royce, Bethany climbed into the carriage. She settled on the padded seat, gathering her skirts so Royce could join her. “What a beautiful, cloudless day.”

  Gazing directly at her, amusement sparked in his eyes when he agreed, “Very lovely. It’s perfect weather for traveling.”

  A soft breeze stirred the curtains at the windows and the coach pulled out. She took a deep breath as a spirit of adventure and excitement rose inside her. Even viewing sheep grazing behind the hedgerows held an unexpected thrill for her. “I’m on my way to London.”

  With one arm draped along the back of the seat, Royce cast an indulgent smile at her. He stretched his long legs across the floor and settled back. She caught the scent of his soap, his shaving lotion, wafting around her, alluring, an open invitation to move a little closer. As unobtrusively as possible, she shifted towards him.

  A low chuckled escaped him, and he pulled her against his side. “I want this trip to live up to all of your expectations. We shall be in London before nightfall. You and I together, becoming better acquainted, one of the things a bride trip is for.”

  Content and in perfect agreement, she leaned into him and gazed out at the passing countryside. She’d hardly slept last night and, being exactly where she wanted to be, s
he drifted to sleep. It seemed mere minutes when the rattle of the coach wheels over cobblestones brought her awake. “Are we in London?”

  “Indeed.” He allowed her to draw away from his shoulder.

  With total concentration at the panorama before her, she listened to the linkboys call to one another while they carried passengers to various destinations. The smells, some rank and others pleasing to the senses, drifted into the carriage along with the sounds of a vast number of people on the move.

  “Everything is so exciting,” she said gazing at the fancy shops along the way. She sighed. “I’m in London at long last.”

  “And tomorrow, we shall purchase some of your bride clothes.”

  “I can hardly wait,” she enthused and turned toward the window again. She didn’t want to miss a single thing.

  Men with long poles caught her attention as they lit the street-lanterns to chase away the encroaching darkness. Lamps began to shine from the building fronts as well. Gradually the business hustle and bustle retreated and lanterns were replaced with lamps. The carriage turned into a genteel neighborhood of homes where the houses flanked a tree-lined street and lanterns beckoned a welcome.

  The coach halted before a two-story, brick house where the coachman jumped down to open the door. Royce helped her to alight and ushered her inside the entryway. She noted the pale yellow walls serving as the backdrop for a curved table holding a vase of delicately scented roses. Candles in sconces on the wall reflected on the highly polished floors with a welcoming gleam.

  Bethany found the evidence of such efficient running of the household a trifle daunting. Despite the queasiness of her stomach, she swallowed, straightened her spine, and smiled at the assembled servants.