With a Little Bit of Blood

by D. E. Ireland

“Fiction?”

  She nodded. “I worked on it for almost a decade. Never let it out of my sight when I traveled. I was near to completing it when I lived in New York. Dwight had read parts of the manuscript. He found it too dark and thought me a fool for wasting so much time on it. Tragically, he was right. Years of work were destroyed in minutes when he tossed it into the fire.” She tried to laugh, but it came out a sob.

  Perhaps he had misjudged Annabel. Beneath her worldly, vivacious exterior lay an industrious and somewhat melancholy woman. “Why would he do such a thing?”

  “He was toying with the idea of being a theatrical producer. Said there was money in it. And fame. Both were irresistible to Dwight Pentwater. He viewed my popular novels as perfect vehicles to be adapted for the stage. And he wanted me to adapt them. I told him I was close to finishing my novel. I needed to spend the next few months doing only that.”

  “I assume he disagreed.”

  Her face grew hard. “He asked for wine. Said he hoped a glass or two might make me reconsider. After I left the room to get the bottle, he threw my manuscript into the fireplace. When I saw my pages burning, I tried to retrieve them. Dwight pulled me away before I became severely burned. But I still bear the marks.” She pushed up her sleeve, revealing white scars on the inside of her forearm. “My palm is scarred, too. So is my soul. I knew I would never be able to recreate the manuscript, you see. It was my only copy. And it was lost. Forever.”

  “I am sorry,” Higgins said with genuine regret.

  Annabel pushed her sleeve back down. “Even with my arms seared with pain, I grabbed the poker and struck him. It left a large scar on the back of his neck. That’s why he always wore his hair long.” Her eyes glittered with hatred. “I clawed him like a tiger. Bit him. Threw a lamp right at his head. He literally ran for his life, because had he remained a moment longer, I would have killed him.”

  A long silence followed. “Did you?” Higgins asked finally.

  “No. But I wish I had been the one who shot him in the forest. I would have derived enormous satisfaction from it.”

  Higgins raised an eyebrow at her. “You and he gave no indication you knew each other.”

  “Why should we? Neither of us felt the need to acknowledge each other. Or our past.”

  “Did Sir Anthony know of your relationship with Pentwater?” he asked.

  “Of course. I’m a woman of the world. Sir Anthony would not be attracted to some shy maiden with neither accomplishment nor adventure to her name.”

  “You told him about the manuscript?”

  “That was hardly a secret. I was quite vocal to my friends in New York about what Dwight had done.”

  Higgins lifted a finger for emphasis. “You realize this means Madame Evangeline could have learned about the destruction of your manuscript before she came here?”

  “Probably.” She shivered. “Although I did find her words unexpected. I never believed my past would factor into her séance. Most unnerving.”

  “I assume Sir Anthony told you how Pentwater left him to die in the jungle?”

  Annabel seemed exasperated. “He’s my husband. Why would he keep such a thing from me? Especially since he knew how much I hated the man. Indeed, our mutual antipathy towards Pentwater was one of the things that first drew us together.”

  Higgins remained silent.

  “And no, my husband did not kill Dwight either.”

  “I didn’t say anything.”

  “You don’t have to. Suspicion is written all over your face. It appears the rumors of you and the Cockney flower girl being the new Holmes and Watson are true.”

  “Those rumors should also have told you that we’ve caught several murderers.”

  “And you think to do so here?” Annabel curled her gloved hand about his uninjured arm. Higgins surprised himself by not pulling away.

  “If possible. Eliza and I believe someone deliberately shot Pentwater. And each guest here possesses a motive for doing so.”

  “Your list of suspects include my husband and me, of course,” Annabel said with an air of amusement.

  “Yes, along with Lily Marlowe and Philippe Corbet.” Higgins thought a moment. “It’s possible the count and countess have ties to Pentwater as well. That needs looking into. As does the death of Madame Evangeline.”

  Annabel looked surprised. “I thought a jealous husband was responsible for that.”

  “Perhaps not. Whoever killed Pentwater also killed Madame Evangeline. Only I am not certain about motive. Since you don’t appear to have a reason to want the spiritualist dead, you’re not on my current list of suspects.”

  She chuckled. “Thank heaven for small favors.”

  “Then again, you may be keeping something from me. No doubt you are.”

  “Oh, no doubt.” She squeezed his arm. “You do amuse me, Henry.”

  “I wish I felt amused by this situation. Instead, I fear justice will not be served.”

  “For someone so clever, you can be rather thick,” she declared. “After forty years, you should have realized there is no justice in the world.”

  Higgins didn’t agree. Justice could be served if people were determined enough to fight for it. However, seekers of justice also needed courage. After all, both he and Eliza had come close to dying for their efforts this past year.

  He only hoped their lives wouldn’t be in danger once again.

  18

  Eliza woke early on Friday morning after another uneasy night worrying about ghosts in her bedchamber. After she washed and dressed in her riding habit, she slipped downstairs. Luckily no one noticed her – not the maids hurrying to tidy rooms and open draperies, nor the footmen lugging urns of coffee to the breakfast room. Although Charlie Kenton did wink at her while he carried two racks of toast. Eliza flashed a cheery wave and headed outside.

  Last night at dinner she overheard Lily tell Freddy about her plans to ride before breakfast. He had declined; apparently he’d been thrown from his horse, but didn’t want to speak about it. All Eliza cared about was that there had not been a moment when Freddy wasn’t right beside the actress all week. This would be her best chance to catch Lily alone.

  Eliza smiled as she breathed in the familiar scent of horses and saddle soap inside the low brick stables. One groom tipped his cap to her and brought out the white hunter she usually rode. While waiting, she glanced back at the house and was elated to see Lily heading in her direction.

  By the time the actress strode into the stable, Eliza was safely atop her side saddle. Lily looked surprised to see her.

  “Happy to see you,” Eliza called out to her. “Now we can ride together.”

  Lily turned to the groom. “Please saddle the chestnut stallion.”

  “Yes, miss,” he replied, then hurried off.

  “Go on ahead,” Lily told her. “I’ll catch up.”

  “Don’t be silly. I’ll wait for you out in the paddock.”

  When Eliza walked her horse past Lily, the actress looked like she didn’t know whether to be irritated or nervous about this outcome. But Lily had recovered by the time she joined Eliza. Indeed, she wore a dazzling smile, one Eliza had seen in all her films. Lily also looked quite at ease on her mount. Although Eliza thought the woman’s deep green riding habit far less smart than her own.

  “Why don’t we follow the fox hunt route?” Eliza suggested as she made certain her left leg was hooked securely around the pommel of the saddle.

  Lily regarded her with amusement. “How are we supposed to guess where the fox will go tomorrow? Once the dogs catch his scent, that little ol’ fox will be running for his life. Probably going every which way. Impossible to predict where. And from what I’ve seen, Lord Ashmore’s property is as big as Dutchess County.” She must have seen Eliza’s puzzlement because she added, “That’s a county in New York.”

  Eliza laughed. “You’re right. I’ve never been on a fox hunt before. How about you?”

  “One of the movie producers in N
ew York owns a big spread in Virginia.” Lily gave a slight kick to her horse’s flank and steered him out of the paddock. Eliza followed.

  “Every fall for the past three years, he invites a ton of us from Vitograph to come down for the hunt. I had to learn how to ride for my first three movies, so I thought it might be fun.” She threw Eliza a mischievous smile. “And it was. Especially the jumping. Like being on the roller coaster at Coney Island.”

  “I like jumping, too.” Eliza rode alongside of Lily as they crossed the open pasture. “Horses are the most beautiful creatures. Can’t believe how lucky I am to own one. I only wish I had the time to ride everyday. Is there anyone who doesn’t love horses?”

  “Freddy. He’s been trying to get comfortable in the saddle all week, but he’s gotten worse. I swear, that boy is gonna fall off as soon as the hunt master blows the bugle. He landed right on his backside yesterday.” Lily giggled. “In a pile of manure, too.”

  “Maybe Freddy will use his fall as an excuse not to ride tomorrow.”

  She gave Eliza a smug look. “He knows I expect him to ride with me, so he will. Freddy will do anything I ask. But you must have guessed that already.”

  “Indeed,” Eliza said with clenched teeth. “It wasn’t too long ago when Freddy was willing to do anything I asked him.”

  “Men are fickle,” Lily said with a sigh. “We women are fools to ever trust them.”

  She suddenly kicked her horse’s flanks into a fast trot. Eliza easily matched her pace, then urged her horse into a canter. They raced across an open glade, letting their horses expel some energy. Lily slowed her horse when they reached the woods where the path narrowed; Eliza angled her mare into a trot beside her.

  “Do you want to talk about yesterday?” Lily asked. “You seemed pretty upset. Just let me say that I think Freddy was an ass to make you cry like that. No one blames you for these stupid deaths. But Freddy got scared and needed to take it out on someone.” She frowned. “You just happened to be there when he did. After all, he certainly wasn’t going to turn on me.”

  “Freddy is quite taken with you, isn’t he?”

  Lily looked amused again. “Most of my fans are.”

  “Is that all he is to you? A fan?”

  She thought a moment. “No, he’s more than that. I find him so much fun. Far more polite than American men. And oh, I love that English accent of his. Makes me swoon.”

  “I believe Freddy’s in love with you, or he thinks he is. Only last month he thought he was in love with me. I’m glad I never accepted his marriage proposals. Think what a unreliable husband he’d make.” Eliza threw Lily a pointed glance. “Something for you to keep in mind.”

  “He’s already proposed to me. But the last thing I want is a husband, no matter how divine his accent. After all, I’m only twenty-one, and a cinema actress, too. Why should I tie myself down right now? It’s time for adventures with all sorts of handsome and passionate young men.” Lily slowed her horse further. “Right now that includes Freddy. I hope you don’t hate me too much for that.”

  “I don’t hate you at all.” Eliza was surprised to discover that was true. Lily may not have discouraged Freddy in his attentions, but he’d doggedly went after another woman. And right in front of Eliza. “I don’t hate Freddy either. He’s been an important part of my life this past year. I feel sad.” Her voice hardened. “And angry. I won’t forgive him for how he’s behaved. Not ever.”

  Lily flashed her a look of admiration. “You shouldn’t. Men think they can treat women according to their mood. Some of them are real cads. Keep it light, I say, and don’t let them stay too long. Trust me, I won’t keep Freddy forever. Just until the fun starts to run out.”

  Although Eliza resented Freddy’s cavalier treatment, she still didn’t want to see him hurt. And Freddy was such a unsophisticated fool, he was certain to get his heart broken many times. It bothered her that Lily would be the first woman to do so.

  Having slowed the horses to a walk, they entered the woods. The autumn beauty silenced the women for a few moments. Eliza drank in the resplendent hues of the rich gold and copper of the oaks, beeches, and chestnut trees, now swaying in a refreshing breeze. Birds trilled overhead, while the scent of pine and moldering leaves along the path perfumed the air. The path soon dipped into a hollow where a small bridge crossed a stream. The horses climbed a steep rise and emerged once again into an open meadow.

  A dewy spider web stretched between a gap in the hedgerow. “Be careful you don’t ride through that spider web,” Eliza pointed at the silky strands. “It would be a pity to destroy it. Looks like a fairy spun it overnight.”

  Lily moved her horse away from the spider web. “It may look pretty,” she told Eliza, “but it’s a trap. Spun to catch its next victim.”

  “That reminds me. Are you ever going to tell Freddy that you spent the night with Pentwater just hours before he was killed?”

  She reined her horse to a stop. “What are you talking about? I did no such thing.”

  “A footman said he saw you in Pentwater’s bed. ‘Naked as a jaybird’ was how he put it. The footman is an old friend of mine, so of course he passed the story along.”

  Lily looked off in the distance with a resigned expression. “Oh, all right. I suppose it’s no use trying to deny it. I went to Dwight’s bed that night, but not because I wanted to. You have no idea the kind of man he was. Filthier than a sewer of rats. He didn’t leave me much choice.” She swore under her breath. “He never gave me much choice. Always threatening me.”

  “What could he threaten you with?” Eliza asked.

  “Exposure. Lies, half truths, anything that would make for dirty gossip, the type that papers and magazines live for.” For a second Lily looked older than her twenty-one years, like a woman weary of battling the world. “Dwight’s the reason I got into movies, you know.”

  Eliza thought back to dinner the first night here. “You said some man saw you walking in the street when you were sixteen and insisted you meet a director that he knew. Was that Pentwater?”

  Lily nodded. “I was on the way to Wilton’s. That’s the hosiery and notions shop where I worked in Brooklyn. Six dollars a week, for a fifty hour week. I hated the place. Anyway Dwight drove past in a snazzy roadster, all red and gold. It dazzled in the sunlight. When he saw me, he stopped cold, skidding the tires. Jumped right out, ran over and promised to make me an actress. Begged me to see a friend who had started to direct movies. But only if I did exactly what he wanted.” She shrugged. “I was sixteen and naive. He was more than twenty years older and rich. I never stood a chance.”

  “I see,” Eliza said softly. Being from the rough streets of the East End, she didn’t have to imagine what Dwight Pentwater might want of a pretty young girl, whether or not he had a wife and children. Growing up, she’d turned down plenty of “opportunities” from prowling men who thought a poor girl would be eager to lose her virtue for a pound note, or a pretty dress.

  “At least he made good on his promise after he got what he wanted from me,” Lily went on. “Unlike other girls he seduced. Dwight used to pass them on to his friends, then discarded the poor things, like worn out shoes. Most of those girls never got beyond walk-on parts.” A look of pride came over her face. “But I was talented. The camera liked me. I could act. I was smart.” She paused. “And tough.”

  “What did your parents think about Pentwater? Weren’t they concerned?” Even as she asked this, Eliza remembered how she’d been left to fend for herself at a tender age.

  “Dwight charmed my mother, which wasn’t hard to do. She was a looker when she was young, but not very clever. As for my dad, he was thrilled. For my first film, I earned five times what he did in a month at the factory; double that with the second and third films.” She sighed. “No, they didn’t object. Especially once I earned enough to pay all their bills.”

  “But you said he moved on to other girls. And you became a famous actress. Was he still part of your life aft
er that?”

  “He never let go, not completely. Sometimes a whole year went by and I wouldn’t see him. Then he’d show up at the studio or my apartment, arms filled with gifts and scandalous stories.” Lily’s horse danced a bit, but she quieted him with a pat. “I was Dwight’s favorite. He told me that often enough. I think he liked that I had spunk, fire. I always told him exactly what I thought of him. No other woman dared do that, especially his mouse of a wife.”

  “Maybe he was in love with you,” Eliza said.

  Lily laughed so hard, tears came to her eyes. “Love? That’s rich. Dwight never loved anything but himself. And money. He lusted after me. That was all. I was his pet, his living breathing doll. He liked to tell me what to wear, what to eat, what to say, what parties I was allowed to go to. And only if he could be there to keep an eye on me.”

  Eliza saw a shadow flit deeper into the woods, no doubt some creature frightened by their proximity. “Then you let him control you.”

  “He threatened to spread nasty rumors if I didn’t cooperate. That would have killed my career. Journalists love a good scandal, and they don’t care if anything’s true or not.” She looked disgusted. “Oh, I knew Dwight dabbled in shady business practices, but I never asked questions. The less I knew, the better.”

  “Were you shocked when you realized he was invited to the house party?”

  Lily gave her a strange look, as if deciding what to tell her. “I may as well be honest. I’m only here because Dwight told the count and countess to invite me.”

  Eliza reined her horse to a halt. “He did?”

  She smiled. “Why so surprised? You’ve been suspicious about me from the beginning. Asking me at our first breakfast why an American actress had been invited to the house party instead of a Brit. I thought for sure you’d put it together, with Dwight and me both being from the States.”

  Lily was right about that. Her presence at the house party had puzzled Eliza from the start. “Did you know he was wanted by the police?”

  “I sure did. I was in New York when the Pentland Inc. story hit the papers. Everyone who ever knew Dwight was questioned by the police, including me. I didn’t know where he’d gone to until he sent me a letter. He wrote that he was never coming back. But if he was forced to be on the run, he didn’t want to be alone. I was ordered to sail to England as soon as possible and join him at Banfield Manor. He’d wrangled an invitation for me. He also warned that if I didn’t turn up, those fake rumors and stories about me would be given to the press.”