by A. W. Exley
In the background of his mind he replayed his interview with Lady Lyons, like leaving a phonograph recording to run. He would pin the Rookery slaughter on Lyons, he just needed the evidence. He only needed a single witness to place him in the pub with the knife in his hand. Just one person who would come forward and say they saw him plunge the blade into the heart of his opponent.
He reached out and picked up a tiny brown envelope from his in tray. “That’s new.” The front bore the scrawl of Doc. The item you asked about.
Ripping open the glue on the flap, he tipped the packet into his palm. A silver signet ring fell out, worn from decades of use. Last seen on Claudette’s hand that clutched the railing in her house. He twisted it between his thumb and finger. He knew the rough pattern, a family crest. Why would a country midwife have a ring bearing a noble crest? A man’s signet ring at that.
The outline nagged at him, familiar yet not. A ring showing wear from years of handling and a secret that bound three individuals. Was the secret tied to the ring―a secret as old as the piece of jewellery?
Thoughts ricocheted in his head and a part of him knew the ring was the key.
He had only to turn the lock and the truth would tumble out.
Early summer, 1818
at languid bumblebees lumbered from flower to flower. Their droning filled the air alongside bird song and the distant tinkle of the fountain. Nan and Isabella escaped the summer heat by sitting in the shade of the orchard, overlooked by the ancient silver beech. The spreading limbs provided a green canopy to shade mother and child from the harsh sunlight.
Nan spread a woollen blanket under a tree and sat her daughter in the middle. Dimpled arms and legs stuck out from the fine lawn dress. Bright yellow ducks waddled across the front in a line of embroidery that mimicked the toddler’s walk. The garment was a gift from one of the villagers. Nan failed at needlecraft but the loyal women delighted in adding personal touches to the clothing for their beloved lord’s daughter.
She watched Bella move with purpose toward a nearby fruit tree. She bypassed the late bloomers, awash with pink blossoms, and headed for the low hanging baubles of an early-fruiting apple tree. Pudgy fingers dug into the bark as she hauled herself up. Dark ringlets shook with exertion as she peered upward, her eyes locked onto her target.
As a baby she rarely cried, her solemn eyes always open, watching those around her. She only fussed if she was trapped in the nursery, but settled once surrounded by the bustle of daily life. The chubby toddler changed day by day and would soon celebrate her second birthday. The world fascinated little Bella and she longed to explore and dart after whatever caught her fancy. Each day her footsteps grew steadier and already she started to run. Running to her father.
The past two years tested them all. It took three months for Nan to fully recover from the difficult labour. Long weeks where Nessy cared for her and Gideon fussed over his new pride and joy. Then one day, Nessy slipped and told her there would be no more children.
An ache stabbed deep in her womb as she remembered not the gentle words that spilled from Nessy, but the underlying meaning that cut through her. Empty. Barren. Gideon would never tell his son of his exploits during the war. The estate with no heir except some distant second cousin they had never met. When Gideon no longer walked this earth, his women would be on the street. The spectre preyed on her mind, though he said it made no difference to him. That he would provide for his family, including Nessy, no matter what.
History repeated itself. Nan’s father passed his meagre estate to her cousin just a few weeks after her debut. Two months before she turned eighteen, her father informed her he was dying and his time on earth ran short. She plotted to find a match in one night to secure her future and succeeded beyond her dreams in Gideon. Her research told her the retired captain was a man of intelligence and purpose, but she never expected to fall in love with him during the course of one dance.
Then she lost that security by failing her one job as a noble broodmare, she delivered a girl. A much loved child who put the sparkle in her father’s eye, but a girl nonetheless and unable to inherit the estate.
Nan smiled as she watched Bella. Frustrated grunts came from the child’s small frame when she couldn’t reach what she wanted. Today, she targeted the apples on the low hanging branch. Her entire attention was focused on reaching the deep red fruit and solving the problem of the baubles hanging higher than her hand could grasp.
“You’re in a hurry to grow up, little one. You’ll be hiding up in the old beech soon enough.” She cast a glance at the ancient tree, Gideon said he used to sit up amongst the branches and read as a boy. No doubt Bella would soon be clambering up its gnarled limbs with a book tucked under her arm.
Nessy appeared through the trees, a smile dominated her face. One hand held up her skirts as she raced through the long grass. “Nan, Nan.”
Bella turned her head at the approaching woman. “Nesssy!” she replied, her young tongue inserting one too many s’s into her name. Then she returned to the task at hand and swiped her arm at the closest fruit.
Nessy picked the apple and held it out for the child. The coo turned into excited chatter as she took the offering in both chubby hands. She plonked herself down on her bottom and gnawed at the sweet flesh.
Nessy sat on the grass next to her friend. “I have a message from Bill. He has asked me to go away with him.” She clutched a scrap of paper to her breast, a faraway look on her face.
Nan caught her breath and stopped her instinct from blurting out the words of denial on her lips. “Go away with him? Surely you won’t leave us for too long? Is it for a holiday?” She made light of the proposal.
A frown ruined Nessy’s happy demeanour, the edges of her smile turned downward. “He wants me with him for more than a week or two. We need more than stolen moments; he asks that I be by his side, always.” Fingers curled around the message and crumpled the words.
“But he cannot offer you what you really want, dear heart. You two cannot be together permanently. For some time his family has insisted he marry, it is why he set aside Dorothea.” Cold dread settled in Nan’s stomach. She never thought the May to December relationship with the much older man would go this far. Nessy had needed a distraction and gentle Bill proved a steadying influence in the wayward creature’s life. She would be shattered when her beau was forced to forge an alliance arranged by his relatives.
Bill often came to the estate to talk business and politics with Gideon and his gaze always settled on Nessy whenever she entered a room. In 1811, he set aside his mistress of twenty years and mother of ten children to make a noble match. Indeed he pursued many heiresses but had yet to succeed it reaching the altar with one. Nan thought the affair a way to bring two free hearts together for a short time. She watched the romance warm over winter and then bloom in spring. Now summer saw the heat intensify, with no signs the infatuation would fade.
“We love each other; his family cannot keep us apart.” Nessy held the letter like a shield, to ward off the intentions of others.
Nan gave a heavy sigh. “We should never have introduced you two. I thought it would be a harmless flirtation; he is so much older than you.” How to deflect her friend from her course without tearing her heart apart? The previous year Princess Charlotte died in childbirth and now the royal dukes raced to breed boys and secure the future of the line. “Would you not like an affair with a strapping young man? Have you seen Elijah, the new gardener? There’s a man who knows how to trim a hedge.”
“How can you think to throw another man at me when I love Bill?” She shoved the note into her apron pocket. The frown hardened on her face. “His age worries me as much as Gideon only having one arm concerns you.”
Nan let the retort fly overhead and disappear amongst the clouds. Her friend meant no harm by her words. “I meant you have your whole life in front of you. Bill has never married in his fifty years, why do you think he will do so now?”
“Per
haps he has never found the right woman until now. We love each other and I have given myself to him completely!” Her eyes brightened with unshed tears. “Why can you not see we are meant to be together?”
Nobles rarely had the opportunity to love where their hearts would go. That she and Gideon loved so deeply was unusual amongst their set. “He belongs to his family, ultimately they will decide his course no matter how much he loves you.”
Nessy tore up handfuls of grass and tossed them aside. “Am I to have nothing of my own? Am I to spend my life sitting at your feet like a dog, waiting for the tossed scraps?”
Nan reached out for Nessy, to lay a hand on her arm. “You are part of our lives, you know that. You are my soul sister, what is mine is yours. We have never treated you as anything other than a full member of this family.”
“Bill wants me with him, to be his as he is mine.” Nessy rose and fisted her hands deep in her skirts. “You’re just jealous!” Her tone rose higher and higher just as the colour rose up her face.
A fist clenched around Nan’s chest. How to stop her friend before she made a decision she would regret? The bright sun lit Nessy from behind, turning her blonde hair into a glowing angel. She looked like a divine figure crying for justice.
Nan stood, unable to stare into the sun or argue from her position on the ground. “No. I’m not jealous. Surely you must see this is doomed? There is no future for you down this path. You must either decline his offer or mayhap go for only a week or two. Make it clear to him this is a summer affair.”
Tears streamed down her friend’s face. “I love Bill and he loves me, we will be together forever. I am not your servant. You cannot dictate my actions. I will not stay here so you can lord your position over me.”
Nan’s heart broke for her friend. “Do not do this, Nessy, please,” she whispered. “I have your best interests at heart.” She reached out a hand but Nessy stepped backward, beyond her grasp.
“You’re jealous. My lover has two arms to hold me and I have a fertile field for his seed.” She threw her barb, then turned and ran from the orchard.
Nan bit back her own tears, one hand dropped to her stomach. She did not mean it, she reassured herself, no matter how much the insult sliced through her. Behind her, Bella began crying, a high reedy keen. The apple forgotten and dropped to the ground as the child sensed the distress between her two favourite people. Nan scooped her daughter into her arms and rocked her back and forth. “I’m so sorry, poppet. We cannot stop Nessy now. What will be, will be.”
London, Wednesday 5th February, 1862
rick donned tweed with a complimentary burnt orange waistcoat matched with a brown bowler. He called it his workingman’s outfit. Cara called him high maintenance and wondered what sort of creature she unleashed by encouraging him to use her modiste. His confidence grew in leaps and bounds and he attracted admirers wherever they went despite winter’s best efforts to keep everyone inside. His reputation grew and young bucks braved the snow and cold to stop him in the street and ask his opinion on fabrics and styles. He dispensed advice to the fashionably challenged and Cara suspected she would soon be shadowing him and keeping his fans at bay.
With the dapper bodyguard at her side, Cara climbed into the carriage. The mechanical horses pulled her to Belgravia while the cold outside tried to sink into her bones. She pulled the fur-edged throw over her knees and watched condensation form on the window. The felted shoes on the mechanical horses were replaced with spiked snow ones for pushing their way through the streets. They either pulled the carriage over snow or, where it melted due to high traffic, muddy sludge.
When they reached their destination she gave a sigh, pushed aside the blanket and then stepped out into the frigid temperature. Looking up, she spied another pigeon that had given up on life in a weed-ridden box. The birds above the windows became skeletal eyebrows for the decaying house.
Brick held the door open and she crossed the threshold. The atmosphere in the dark entranceway was no warmer than outside. She hoped Helene was warm wherever she hid today. She made a mental note to talk to Jackson about heating the creaking structure, so they could at least free Helene from the stifling heat of her bedroom and allow her to roam the house in comfort.
Muffled scraping sounds came from under the stairs. Cara brushed aside the tails of her coat and crouched on the balls of her feet. Some creature had gnawed a large jagged hole in the timber. The broken newel post had moved from where she dropped it on a previous visit, the large acorn piece of wood dragged closer to the hole. It lay covered in marks and scratches like a well-loved chew toy.
“Minnow?” she called into the darkened cave, silently hoping it was the little dog. Otherwise it was an enormous rat. I hate rats. Please don’t be a rat.
A small yip answered her.
“Come on boy. What have you got?” Knowing the dog’s primary food motivation she dipped a hand into her pocket and pulled out the strip of jerky. A trick learned from watching Jackson, who always kept treats about his person for the pug, despite his pretence that he was a stranger in the decrepit house. Cara knew he acted as Helene’s canary, keeping her up to date on all the gossip.
She held the piece of dried meat at the entrance to the lair and waved it back and forth, all the while whispering to the dog and promising to remove whatever he was wearing today. Or perhaps Brick could offer the pug fashion advice? A wee waistcoat and cravat would suit him far better than any evening dress.
Sharp nails rapped on the floor boards and the black nose in the squished up face appeared followed by the stout body. Today, somehow, Minnow had managed to escape Helene’s bedroom without his usual formal attire or taffeta dress. The dog held something clenched in his jaws.
“I’ll do you a trade.” Cara held a hand under the animal’s head. “Drop whatever that is and you can have the dried beef.”
Minnow cocked his head to the side as though considering the proposition. With a cough, he dropped the slobbered object into her outstretched palm and took the treat. The curly tail wagged back and forth and he retreated to his hole like a dragon returning to his lair with a piece of gold.
She peered at the pink glob from one eye, the other screwed up. Her gut knew what lay in her hand, she just didn’t want to recognise it or think too hard about what she held.
“Where will we find Helene today?” She listened to the old house, waiting for a creak or indication of a direction to follow. A bang came from along the hall.
Leaving Brick to impersonate a Grecian statue in a corner, she followed the noise. Light glinted on one of the metal prongs attached to the object she carried as she passed by a candle in a wall sconce. She shouldered the library door open, still holding Minnow’s chew toy at arm’s length.
“I found it,” she called to Helene as she stepped into the welcoming oasis, the breath of fresh air amidst the foetid stench emanating from the rest of the house. It didn’t matter how tight the madness held the countess, she still cared for her books. Helene lavished care and affection on her thousands of children, all tightly stacked in neat rows.
Helene gave a squeal and leapt up from her seat by the fire. She rushed to Cara and brushed her fingers over the extended palm.
Cara dropped her lashes, not wanting to see the open wound in her friend’s face. A sigh pulled free from her lungs as the other woman turned, muttering and cooing over the artificial nose. She extracted a handkerchief from within the folds of her skirt and wiped Minnow drool from the hard surface. A click came as she realigned the metal clips with the short prongs embedded in the bone of her face.
Turning back, she almost appeared normal, apart from the teeth marks in one side of the nose. And you had to ignore the wild, haunted look in her eyes that constantly drifted off to follow spectres her mind conjured.
“It’s good to see you up and about, Helene.” Concern for the woman’s deteriorating health niggled at her, with only the elderly butler in residence to call for help if needed. Her mind skippe
d the veil of sanity more frequently and Cara often found herself coaxing the other woman back. How long before her mind chose to stay on the other side? She would not let the doctors throw her friend in Bedlam, wrapped in a strait-jacket and left to dash her head against a brick wall. Perhaps the time had come to talk to Nate about the available options to care for Helene when her mind finally slid away from them.
“I sleep now. Thank you for silencing Henry.” She patted Cara’s arm. “Screaming in the night tears my soul apart, but silence helps it mend.”
A lump formed in Cara’s throat. Her own nightmares were greatly reduced with Nate to soothe her screaming. Only rarely did the monsters sneak up on her now, they were too afraid to battle the villainous viscount for control of her slumbering mind. She was glad to give Helene a similar sense of peace.
“I need to talk to you about a book.” She took Helene’s hands and guided her back to the fireside.
“Books, books, so much knowledge and power contained in words.” The milky film descended over her eyes as her mind chased shadows conjured by the disease eating her brain.
“It’s about Suetonius’ Secrets. Do you remember? You gave it to me for my birthday.” Cara kept her voice low and gentle.
Some days, talking to Helene was like working with a skittish horse and sudden movement or a harsh tone might spook her and send her running. Like a wraith, she haunted the house, wandering the dark halls with her torn clothing tangling around her legs. Too many times Cara visited but could not find any trace of her friend. She suspected the old building contained hidden bolt holes. Either that, or more than Helene’s mind could slip the veil to the other side; could she journey there herself?
The phantom wisp brought her focus back to Cara. “Suetonius. Naughty man, he kept so many secrets to himself and wrote about so few.” She raised a finger to her lips as though she held back a secret about the long dead Roman.