“I’m sorry, Abbey. Really I am. You are a beautiful girl, but not so beautiful that I will let you take what’s mine.” He came towards her.
“I won’t,” Abbey stammered, continuing to back away from him. She suddenly found herself backed up against the railing around the perimeter of the roof. She stole a quick glance at the ground, so far below, and her heart almost stopped. “Don’t do anything foolish, Heath. I’m begging you.”
When Heath kept coming, Abbey opened her mouth to scream. All that came out was a strangled sound before he lunged at her, his eyes wide and wild. Abbey instinctively dropped to the floor and wrapped her arms around his legs, holding on for dear life. Heath tried to drag her back to her feet, with the intent of pushing her over the side, but she clung to his legs with all her might, screaming for him to stop. He then tried to prize her arms free, bruising her and almost breaking her fingers. Abbey screamed as loudly as she could in pain and terror.
“It didn’t have to come to this,” Heath shouted as he roughly tried to disentangle her from his legs.
“Mr. Mason!” Winston called from the doorway. “What are you doing?” He’d heard Abbey’s screams from the bottom of the stairs and had come running to see what was the matter.
Heath’s head snapped around, but rather than appearing shamed, he looked agitated.
Abbey saw the butler at the door. “Help me, Winston,” she called. She let go of Heath’s legs and tried to scramble to her feet. In that instant, Heath grabbed her and tried to lift her over the side of the railing. As they struggled violently, Winston hurried towards them as quickly as his arthritic legs would carry him. Abbey clung to Heath and the top of the railing, terrified that she might be living her final moments. Winston grabbed Heath’s arm and tried to pull him back.
Heath let go of Abbey for a split second and pushed the old butler away with such force that he was thrown backwards and lost his balance. Winston fell hard, his head hitting the floor. Stunned, he groaned and didn’t get up. Heath turned to Abbey once again, but her attention was still with the butler. She was shocked by what Heath had done and wondered if he had killed the elderly servant.
“Stop, Heath,” she yelled frantically when he took hold of her arms. “Stop this madness.”
“Nothing will stand in my way,” Heath hissed as he tried to lift her again. Abbey struggled frantically and continued to scream. He was pressed up against her, and she was leaned back, over the edge, when she heard a crumbling sound as the weathered concrete balustrade began to give way. Abbey imagined them falling together to their deaths.
“Heath, the railing,” she cried hysterically, pushing against his chest. “Stop!”
Heath didn’t seem to hear her. He tried harder to get her over the edge, pushing all his weight against the railing. Abbey heard another crack, and then felt the railing begin to break apart behind her.
In the next instant, they were teetering over the side of the building, as the balustrade began to wobble. Instinctively, Heath let go of Abbey to try and save himself. With one arm he pushed her to the side, but then lost his footing and fell against the balustrade directly in front of him. There was a loud crack and that section tumbled towards the ground. Heath couldn’t stop his forward momentum, and time seemed to slow as he wavered for a moment before falling over the side of the roof. Abbey had been pushed against another section of the balustrade that had started to break away, leaving her hanging precariously over the side of the building. She was sure her fate was to follow Heath as it crumbled and began to fall. She opened her mouth to scream—and was suddenly dragged backwards onto the roof.
Jack had barely made it to Abbey in time. He’d reached the roof just as the railing had begun to break, and had run as fast as he could to the far side, where Abbey and Heath were struggling and about to fall. Knowing he might not quite get to Abbey in time, he had gone into a dive, sliding the last few yards. He had grabbed one of Abbey’s legs by the ankle and had grabbed a handful of her dress, just as she was about to follow Heath to his inevitable death.
Jack scrambled to his knees and pulled Abbey back, drawing her into the safety of his arms.
“I’ve got you,” he whispered, holding her tightly. “You’re safe, Abbey.”
Jack was breathing hard as she sobbed uncontrollably. He’d run all the way from the main gate, which had been locked when he got there. As he had come up the road to the house, he had heard Abbey’s screams and looked up at the roof of the Hall. There he saw Heath and Abbey struggling, and he had panicked. He couldn’t get in the front door, so he’d gone around to the back and found an open door. He’d had to shake the frightened maid Louise until she had finally told him how to get to the roof.
Winston groaned and sat up, holding his bleeding head. He looked at the gaping hole where a section of railing was missing, and his heart skipped a beat. “Where’s Mr. Mason?” he asked Jack with wide eyes.
When Jack didn’t immediately answer him, he knew what had happened. It was a miracle that Abbey hadn’t fallen, too.
Abbey was holding Jack tightly and shaking, but suddenly she cried out in pain and clutched her abdomen.
“What’s wrong, Abbey?” Jack asked anxiously.
“The baby,” she groaned in agony.
“Baby!” Jack whispered. So, Clementine had been telling the truth.
Winston got to his feet. “I’ll send Mr. Holbrook to fetch a doctor immediately,” he said.
***
Three hours later, Abbey had been examined by the young doctor from Burra in one of the sixteen bedrooms on the first floor of Martindale Hall.
“Did you know you were with child?” he asked Abbey.
“Yes,” she said in a small voice. “I found out yesterday morning.”
“I’m sorry, but it’s gone,” he said sympathetically. Mrs. Hendy had thought it important to keep the bloody bed-sheet to show him. He’d also examined Abbey’s many cuts and bruises.
Abbey had suspected as much, but she still felt deep sadness and a sense of emptiness.
“I’m very sorry, Miss Scottsdale,” Dr. Philip Boxborough said. “But it’s not surprising after all you’ve been through.” He’d examined Heath’s body at the front of the house and had briefly been told what happened. “You must stay in bed and rest for a few days,” he added. “Promise me you will.”
“Yes, Doctor,” Abbey said sadly.
The doctor thought Abbey appeared to be coping remarkably well, considering what she’d been through. He was certain, however, that the events of the evening would catch up with her soon. “Send for me if you begin to feel unwell in the next few days,” he said. “I’ll come immediately.”
Abbey nodded.
There was a knock on the door. It was Mrs. Hendy and the maid, Louise, with a tray for Abbey. The doctor had told the housekeeper to bring tea.
Dr. Boxborough walked out into the corridor where Jack was waiting anxiously, while Mrs. Hendy and Louise went into Abbey’s room. Winston had told the women what had happened, even explaining how Abbey had been drugged and raped by Ebenezer Mason. Both women regretted how they’d treated her. In the last two hours, they had done what they could to make her comfortable. She’d had a soothing bath, and they’d given her a nightgown to wear. Abbey was grateful, as their empathy and support were just what she needed.
“How is Abbey?” Jack asked the doctor.
“I’m afraid she lost the baby,” Phillip Boxborough said. He assumed Jack was the father. “I’m very sorry.”
“How is she taking it?” Jack asked, concerned for Abbey’s mental state.
“She’s doing quite well, but I’m worried she could fall into a depressed state as she processes this evening’s events. You can expect anything, I’m afraid, but send for me if you need to.”
“I’m sorry you had to come all the way from Burra,” Jack said to the young doctor.
“It seems Dr. Ashbourne is not well, and no one could find his replacement.”
“That would be Dr. Vernon Mead. I’m currently looking after his practice in Burra,” Philip said gravely.
“Oh,” Jack said, curiously. He thought it was an odd arrangement, but didn’t say so.
“I was asked by Dr. Mead to take over while he replaced Dr. Ashbourne,” Philip explained.
“Dr. Mead must have been on a house call when Alfie Holbrook, the carriage driver, went looking for him.”
“No, I’m afraid he was not,” Philip said, looking slightly uncomfortable.
“Then where was he?” Jack asked. He didn’t know the young doctor at all, but he could still tell he was withholding vital information.
“This may come as another shock, but” he lowered his voice. “Dr. Mead is dead, Mr. Hawker.”
Jack gasped. “Dead?!”
“Yes,” Philip Boxborough glanced into the room where Abbey lay resting. The housekeeper had given her a hot cup of tea, and Louise had brought her the softest pillows she could find.
The doctor moved away from the doorway. “He committed suicide yesterday evening,” he said softly.
Jack was shocked. “Suicide!”
“Yes, apparently he left a note blaming himself for the late Mr. Mason’s death and claimed he couldn’t live with it.”
“How could he be responsible for Ebenezer Mason’s death?” Jack asked. He didn’t understand. “I thought Mason died of a heart condition.”
“He’d been giving Ebenezer Mason a potion for a problem, and he believed that treatment led to his death. He had the note delivered to a Mr. Martin, the family solicitor, just before he took his life. I was contacted about some medicinal supplies he’d mentioned in the note.” The doctor consulted his pocket-watch. It was after midnight. “No doubt Mr. Martin is planning to call here in the morning in hopes of speaking to young Mr. Mason. I will stop by his home when I leave here and inform him of Mr. Mason’s death.”
“What will you put on the death certificate, Doctor?” Jack asked.
Philip thought about it for a moment. “I believe ‘accidental death by misadventure’ would be appropriate under the circumstances.”
When the maid and housekeeper came out of Abbey’s room, Jack went in, instructed by Mrs. Hendy not to stay too long, as Abbey needed to sleep.
“I just wanted to see how you are before you go to sleep, Abbey,” he said tenderly. He thought she’d had enough sorrow, so he didn’t intend to tell her about Dr. Mead.
“I’d like to sleep, but I don’t think I can,” she said. “My mind is in turmoil.”
“You’ve had a terrible night,” Jack said, knowing that was an understatement.
“I wouldn’t be here if not for you, Jack,” Abbey said. She was eternally grateful that he’d come looking for her.
“It’s a miracle I got to you in time,” he replied. “When I ran up the road and heard you screaming on the roof, I thought I’d be too late.” His heart had nearly stopped when he saw Heath trying to push her over the railing. He’d shouted up, but hadn’t been heard above Abbey’s screams.
Abbey thought about the innocent baby she’d lost, and a wave of sorrow settled upon her like a black rain cloud. She had only known of its existence for such a short time, but she still felt such a deep sense of overwhelming sadness. “I’ve lost the baby,” she whispered. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that I was expecting, but I was too ashamed.” She turned her head towards the window, struggling to hold back tears.
“It wasn’t your fault. You were wronged, Abbey,” Jack said, gently placing his warm hand over hers, which felt cold to touch. “I wish you’d had enough faith in me to know that I would have stood by you. I know Mother would have done all she could to help you, too.”
Abbey didn’t really believe Jack. She thought that he only pitied her now in the moment and that was why he was claiming that he would have been supportive. Feeling suddenly very weary, she closed her eyes.
***
Jack stayed by Abbey’s side for most of the night while she slept. In the early hours of the morning, just as dawn was creeping over the landscape with the promise of a scorching hot day, he went downstairs to get a cup of tea. He was surprised to find Winston in the kitchen, alone, with a bandage around his head. It was obvious that the butler hadn’t been to bed. He was still wearing the same clothes, spattered with his blood.
Winston must have been in his seventies. Jack knew he wouldn’t handle such trauma well. “You should have gone to bed, Winston,” he said, sitting down at the kitchen table with him.
“I waited up for the undertaker, sir. He and his assistant came about an hour ago.”
“Oh, I didn’t think they’d come until later this morning.” Jack and the young doctor had laid Heath’s body out in the front sitting room, while Alfie had gone to Clare to fetch Sergeant Brown and notify the undertaker to come and take the body.
“Mr. Holbrook asked them to come straightaway, sir. I thought it best for the sake of Miss Scottsdale. It wouldn’t have been nice for her to have Mr. Mason in the house for very long after what he had tried to do.”
“That was very thoughtful of you, Winston. What of Sergeant Brown? Has he been?”
“Not yet, sir. He’s coming later this morning.”
“Are you all right, Winston?” Jack thought he looked terrible.
“I have an enormous headache, Mr. Hawker.” He had a lump the size of an egg on the back of his head.
“Did the doctor look at you while he was here?”
“I declined an invitation to be examined, sir. How is Miss Scottsdale?”
Jack wondered if the bottle of rum on the table was contributing to the butler’s headache. “She’s sleeping, which is the best thing for her right now,” Jack said.
“Indeed, sir,” Winston said quietly.
“I still can’t believe that Heath tried to kill her,” Jack said. This thought had been running through his head all night, torturing him. He hadn’t even given any thought to Clementine or his brother Tom, stuck at the dance in Manoora, waiting for him.
Jack had suspected that Heath might have inherited some of his father’s less than honourable traits, but he’d never imagined him as a murderer. A thought suddenly occurred to him. “You don’t think that I pushed Heath over the side of the roof, do you, Winston?” As Winston had been dazed, Jack wondered if perhaps he hadn’t witnessed Heath falling to his death.
“No, sir,” Winston said without hesitation. “I’m sure you wouldn’t do that.” He suddenly looked very troubled.
Jack wondered if he were telling the truth, or whether it hadn’t occurred to Winston that Jack might have pushed Heath.
“I’ve always suspected that the young Mr. Mason had been up on the roof with the old master’s second wife when she fell to her death,” Winston said thoughtfully. He’d never uttered this suspicion to a soul, not even the housekeeper, but he suddenly felt the need to tell someone.
Jack listened, sensing that the butler needed to unburden himself.
“Meredith Barton was a very strong-willed young lady. She was not the sort of woman who let things overwhelm her, and there was certainly no reason for her to jump to her death.”
“Ebenezer Mason can’t have been an easy man to live with,” Jack commented. He could well imagine him mentally torturing his young wife, and he didn’t doubt that he could have been physically abusive, as well.
“He wasn’t, but she knew how to manipulate him, and, believe it or not, the master was good to her.” He didn’t know how long that would have lasted, thoughperhaps until after she had given him children. “She had a way of getting what she wanted, and she enjoyed living the high life. After witnessing what I did on the roof last night, I now have to wonder if young Mr. Mason didn’t push Miss Barton from the roof. I’d never have bel
ieved him capable if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes.”
The butler looked pained for even thinking such a thing. He didn’t have a disloyal bone in his body, but he’d been disillusioned by serving two men who had quite obviously not deserved such devotion. “Young Mr. Mason and Miss Barton had a terrible row only a short while before her death. The master wasn’t home at the time, and they were in the drawing-room with the door closed. They were arguing over the master’s money. From what I overheard, Miss Barton had the last word, telling Mr. Mason about the will. He was understandably livid. Then she went up to the roof. She often spent periods of time up there, admiring the view. Mr. Mason claimed he went up there after she supposedly jumped, to apologise for their disagreement, but none of the household staff saw him anywhere in the house in the minutes before her death.”
“Perhaps you should tell the police this when they arrive, Winston,” Jack suggested, adding a splash of rum to his own tea.
“What for? Mr. Mason’s gone now, so he can’t be charged with her murder.”
“No, but it must be hard for Miss Barton’s family to believe she took her own life,” Jack said.
Winston hadn’t thought about that. “Perhaps you are right, Mr. Hawker,” he agreed.
***
It was light outside when there was a knock on the front door. Winston went to the door to admit Edward Martin.
The solicitor looked surprised to see Winston’s head bandaged and his clothes spattered with blood. Dr. Boxborough had told him that Heath had fallen from the roof to his death, but not many of the details.
“Come through to the drawing-room, sir,” Winston said. “Would you like tea?”
“Yes, thank you, Winston.” By now Mrs. Hendy had appeared in the kitchen, and she said she’d make the tea while Winston spoke to Edward Martin. Jack joined them in the drawing-room.
Jack knew of Edward, and the two men shook hands. Jack explained what he was doing at Martindale, and he and Winston gave an account of what had happened to Heath and Abbey.
Edward was utterly shocked. He could never have foreseen such a tragedy. “Is Miss Scottsdale still here?” he asked.
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