W-E-W-A-N-T-T-H-E-G-O-S-S-I-P-S-T-O-S-T-O-P-W-O-R-K-I-N-G-T-H-E-T-R-U-T-H-W-I-L-L-C-O-M-E-O-U-T-T-H-E-D-E-A-T-H-S-M-U-S-T-S-T-O-P.
At the final letter the glass stopped. Madame Humphries sucked in a huge gulp of air and jerked upright. Her head tipped back and she stared blankly at the ceiling again. Harriett waited for her to speak in her theatrical tone but was slightly perturbed when the clairvoyant remained perfectly still and silent.
“What did it say?” Tuppence whispered. All evidence of her previous reluctance had vanished with the speed, and length, of the latest message.
“I can’t read it all in the darkness,” Babette replied as she squinted down at the paper in her hand. She tipped the paper toward the light and read the message aloud.
“Good God,” Mr Bentwhistle muttered.
“Who –”
“Oh, Jesus,” Mark snapped when a large furry bundle suddenly landed in his lap. Red hot shards of pain immediately lanced his thighs and he pushed himself roughly away from the table in a desperate attempt to get away from the pain. Epithets hovered on his lips and, despite his best efforts blasphemy got the better of him.
He glanced down to see the round, feral eyes glaring hatefully up at him. A loud hiss broke the silence and was accompanied with a yowl of protest when Harriett grabbed the furry beast and tried to yank it off Mark’s legs. The resultant pain exploded ever higher as the spiteful claws dug in.
“Will someone get this God damned beast off me,” he snarled. Desperate fingers plucked at the paws that seemed to come from nowhere, over and over, until sweat began to bead his brow.
“Mark Bosville, using the Lord’s name in vain is a sacrilege. You should be ashamed,” Miss Smethwick snapped and wagged her finger across the table at him.
Mark gritted his teach against the pain in his knees and watched Harriett tug the rotund stomach of the growling fur ball and hold it firmly against her chest. Mr Bentwhistle lunged forward and pulled the back legs away which left Mark free to stagger backward, blessedly relieved to be free.
“Muffin, you naughty boy, what do you think you are doing?” Beatrice crooned as she pushed her way around the table and relieved Harriett of her precious pet. She blithely ignored the yowls and growls that came from the feline predator and left Mark to brush the blood stains off his trousers as she scurried out of the room.
“I don’t know about you lot, but I certainly need a drink,” Alan Bentwhistle growled with a fervency that matched his determined strides toward the brandy decanter.
“Are you alright?” Harriett felt her cheeks blush when she realised that she was staring down at his trousers.
“Good, Lord, that thing has drawn blood,” Henrietta gasped in a voice that was somewhere between mirth and horror.
“It’s not funny, mother, that damned thing is dangerous,” Mark grumbled. He shot Miss Smethwick a filthy glare when she chided him for his epithet. Her objections were the last thing he was interested in.
“Did it scratch you?” He demanded and lifted Harriett’s hands so that he could study them more closely. He cursed at the large red welts on the back of her smooth skin, and turned to glare at Beatrice when she re-entered the room minus her precious Muffin.
“Do you have a cloth and some water? There are wounds here,” he demanded.
“I am sorry. I don’t know what came over him. Muffin is usually such a docile little thing,” Beatrice replied apologetically before she returned to the kitchen.
Mark snorted and glared balefully at the empty doorway. His thighs stung like the very devil himself had been gnawing on them.
Several long moments later, everyone finally settled into the circle of chairs in the parlour. As happened in Harriett’s house, the table had been pushed against the far wall to allow everyone to be able to sit a little more comfortably, although the room was still crowded.
“I really don’t think that we should continue with the Psychic Circle tonight,” Babette announced. “I would just like to take a moment if I may to congratulate the happy couple.” She gave Harriett a mock stare. “Although, it would have been nice to have been forewarned before the meeting.” She still couldn’t quite make out if Mark’s announcement was true, or some sort of strange scheme, but she sincerely hoped that the interest in the man’s eyes was an honest emotion and he had every intention of doing right by her niece.
“Did you not know?” Miss Smethwick gasped as she gave Mark and Harriett a stern glare. “What do you have to hide?”
“Nothing,” Mark snapped. He gave her his most official ‘don’t question me’ face and accompanied it with a dark frown. “It has been something we have kept to ourselves until the time was right. Given the ridiculous warnings given to Harriett, I think everyone should know of her association to me. There may be people idiotic enough to threaten my future wife, but should they actually be so bold as to do something, they will find themselves facing a very determined constabulary full of police officers.”
“Oh my, it’s like joining a family of constables,” Tuppence gasped. While she was very glad for her friend, given the look on Harriett’s face when Mark had told them, the announcement had been just as much as a shock to her as it had been to everyone else. Her friend’s reaction was enough to make Tuppence study her friend a little more closely, and a tendril of suspicion snuck up her spine. Was this some sort of ruse because of the threat? At that moment Mark glanced across at his future bride. The intimate look of adoration clearly written on his handsome face immediately allayed her doubts. She hadn’t even known that Harriett had been courting Mark Bosville, or had any acquaintance with him prior to the night of Minerva’s death. Clearly, she hadn’t spent as much time with her friend as she ought to have done, and immediately made a mental note to correct that at the earliest opportunity.
“Why don’t we all have a drink to celebrate? I made some cakes this afternoon,” Beatrice suggested as she returned to the room with water, cloth and a tray of cakes.
Harriett’s stomach rumbled at the large plate of freshly baked buns Beatrice placed on the small table in the centre of the room. She watched Madame Humphries and Miss Hepplethwaite help themselves to several of the cakes and caught sight of their carpet bag which lay open on the floor. She nudged mark and nodded in the direction of what was clearly a fake hand made out of a sock and a glove. Mark studied the contents of the carpet bag and wished that he could get just a couple of minutes alone with it.
Harriett leaned toward Mark and in a voice that was barely a whisper said, “Now why do you suppose they have a false arm in there?”
Mark looked ruefully at her. “Because they are a couple of fraudsters that we need to keep an eye on.”
“I would like to raise a toast to Mark and Harriett,” Beatrice cried and smiled supremely at everyone.
Harriett smiled and accepted the congratulations, and just hoped that Mark knew what he was doing.
“To the happy couple,” Mr Bentwhistle added and lifted his glass toward them before he took a large gulp of his brandy. Mark studied each person in the room and tried to watch as many reactions as possible as they drank their celebratory toast. Luckily, nobody clutched their throat and, half an hour later, began to gather themselves in preparation to leave.
“I think that I will say goodnight now,” Babette sighed as she glanced at the clock. “Charles will still be at the pub so I may just go and have a chat with the ladies before I go home. Harriett, if you are ready?”
“I will walk Harriett home, if that’s alright with you?” Mark suggested. He glanced hesitantly at his mother and mentally cursed his luck. This was the first opportunity he had to spend some time alone with Harriett in order to really get to know her, but his mother would need to be escorted home, so had to accompany them to Harriett’s house.
“Would you mind if I tagged along?” Henrietta asked Babette.
“Of course not. You are more than welcome,” Babette enthused. “We can discuss details about the nuptials.”
/> Harriett groaned.
“It will be nice to get to know you, seeing as we are all going to be one big happy family.” Henrietta’s enthusiasm was plain to see and Mark fought the urge to roll his eyes. He sent a silent prayer of thanks heavenward for his mother’s ebullience. On this occasion, he had no cause to object to her determination to get involved in the wedding arrangements, especially if it helped him secure Harriett as his wife once the investigation was over.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Beatrice’s small cottage was a tiny chocolate box house about half a mile away from Harriett’s home on Daventry Street. The evening was crisp and cool, but perfectly still and quiet. There wasn’t even a breeze to ruffle the leaves in the trees. The silence of the night was punctuated only by the occasional hoot of an owl somewhere off in the distance.
Further down the lane, Harriett spied the backs of Babette and Henrietta, who had their heads close together as they chattered away.
“I think that they are up to something,” Harriett mused. She glanced behind her with a frown and studied Beatrice’s door. Nobody else came out of the house. Was something wrong?
“My mother is an inveterate matchmaker. Don’t mind her, she doesn’t mean any harm.”
So many questions tumbled through Harriett that she didn’t know where to start. Strangely, as they wandered along the empty street she didn’t feel the slightest bit uncomfortable or on edge. It felt almost surreal to be walk arm in arm with Mark, who was so tall and solid beside her. She felt eminently safe and protected. It was a feeling that she had never had before and, although a small part of her warned her not to get used to it, she didn’t want the moment to end. Men like Mark didn’t come along very often and, inevitably, when they did they usually belonged to someone else. The mystery woman appeared in her mind’s eye again, and she sternly reminded herself that this was nothing more than Mark’s way of protecting her. She couldn’t and shouldn’t read too much into it.
“How are you feeling after this evening?” Mark kept his voice low in deference to the stillness of the night around them. It added to the rather intimate ambiance of their walk.
“I am fine, thank you. I am not as deeply affected as last time. It doesn’t seem to be anything other than very amateurish dramatics and a lot of silly nonsense now. I don’t know why we bother with it.”
“Because we don’t know if any of those present are responsible for what has happened so far. Until we do, we need to continue with the séances. You saw what happened with Miss Hepplethwaite early on. We may have a better chance of convicting them if we can catch them red handed. We know that someone at that circle is either a thief, a fraud or a murderer. We can only hope that the same person is all three. It would save me a lot of work, I can tell you.”
“How do you go about unravelling all of this?” Harriett asked.
“Slowly, Harriett, very slowly,” Mark sighed. He drew Harriett to a stop at the corner of the street and watched the door to the pub close behind Henrietta. Even from several yards away they could hear the ribald laughter and music from within the busy establishment before the doors rendered silence the successor once more. Mark glanced down at Harriett and briefly contemplated offering her a drink, but then decided against it. He really wanted these few precious moments with her. Her smaller frame against his stature made him feel particularly bold and protective.
The sudden rumble of carriage wheels broke the silence. Mark peered through the gloom toward the empty stretch of country lane that led out of the village. Harriett’s house was straight ahead, down Daventry Street. The pub lay to the left and the road that ran to Great Tipton lay to the right. Unfortunately, Tipton Hollow, being a country village, had very little in the way of street lights. The two gas lamps the village did have did very little to permeate the gloom. Although it heightened the intimacy of the evening, it did little to help them find their way home safely.
Harriett had spent most of the last several moments bolstering her courage, and opened her mouth to mention to Mark that she thought she had seen him in the tea shop the other day, when a sudden burst of activity to their right drew their attention. Even though she couldn’t see very much, the impression she got of the carriage was that its age was in stark contrast to the very large, very black horse that pulled it. Jet black from head to hoof, the whites of its eyes seemed to glow in the darkness as it bore down on them with the determination of an avenging angel.
A scream lodged in Harriett’s throat and she suddenly found herself hauled backwards. She clawed at Mark’s strong arms as he wrapped them tightly around her and hauled her bodily off her feet. He staggered backward and swung her around out of the way of the carriage as it mounted the path and ran over the spot where they had been standing.
“Are you alright?” Mark demanded. He released his hold, grabbed her shoulders and turned her around when she immediately didn’t answer him. “God, Harriett,” he muttered and hauled her bodily into his arms.
She couldn’t absorb what had just happened. Her gaze remained locked on the small square patch of ground where they had stood only moments earlier. She had been inches away from certain death.
“Why?” Harriett whispered. Her thoughts immediately turned to the very real warning that had been given at the table earlier.
“I don’t know, darling. But I can promise you that I am going to find out.” Despite the fact that they were in full view of anyone who might be looking out of their window, Mark continued to hold her. He kissed the top of her head as he stared down the road after the carriage. Although it had disappeared into the mist, the rumble of the wheels on the cobbles, accompanied by the rapid clip clop of the horse’s hooves, would remain with him for some time. Was the mysterious coachman the murderer?
“I need to go back to Beatrice’s house and see who has left. Will you come with me Harriett?” He tenderly placed one hand on her cheek and tipped her head up until her horrified gaze met his. The temptation to kiss her was so strong that his head began to lower. It was the fear that lingered in her eyes that stopped him. He would be the worst kind of eel to take advantage of her now, so instead he placed a tender kiss on her cheek and slowly eased released his hold on her.
Harriett nodded jerkily and fought the urge to protest as he removed the warmth of his embrace. She didn’t know if her legs would hold her up let alone manage to walk several hundred yards to Beatrice’s house, but she was propelled into motion by the firm arm he locked around her back. She was glad for his strength and didn’t attempt to hide the fact that she was blatantly leaning against him while they walked.
“Why are we going back?” She gasped and stared up at his chiselled face. It was so hard, so blank, that she wondered if the carriage had caught his foot or something. “Are you alright? Did it catch you?” Her eyes widened in alarm as her frantic gaze flew over him. “Do you think that this is connected to the threat that was issued at the séance?”
Mark smiled reassuringly despite the severity of what had just happened. He was thrilled that she was so worried about him. “I am fine, just worried about you, that’s all. Right now, we need to see who is still at Beatrice’s house because we can rule them out of being in the carriage.” Fear pulled at him and he couldn’t resist the urge to assure himself that she was really alright. He placed one blunt fingertip beneath her chin and tipped her face up to his. He was relieved to see nothing other than curiosity in her steady gaze and placed a lingering kiss on her startled lips. “Now can’t we?”
“We?” Harriett gulped. She quite liked the association but wasn’t sure what to make of it. She daren’t read more into his comment other than he wanted her to accompany him to Beatrice’s house, which she was going to do anyway. Right now, she would be happy to follow him anywhere he went. Her mind was strangely fogged from the briefest brush of his kiss. She barely had time to draw breath before she was once again propelled forward by the long arm he swept around her waist as he steered her toward Beatrice’s house.
“Are you sure you are alright?” Mark whispered as he encased Harriett’s cold fingers in his large warm palm. He gave them a gentle squeeze of reassurance and issued Beatrice his most winning smile when she opened the door. He grinned cheekily when she looked slightly taken back at his forthrightness but she stood back to let them in anyway.
Harriett didn’t have time to say anything before she was dragged into Harriett’s hallway. “I think I may have left my gloves here. Harriett’s fingers are cold and, well, I just thought that seeing as we are out and about, we could pop back to see if they were here. I can’t remember leaving the house with them this evening, to be honest with you.”
Mark glanced curiously around the front parlour as they entered and nodded to Mr Bentwhistle, Miss Haversham, Tuppence, Constance and Eloisa.
That rules them out then, Mark sighed, pleased for Harriett that none of her friends appeared to be involved. He glanced down at Harriett, and was aware that several of those present had noticed the fact that he was still held Harriett’s hand.
“I haven’t seen them, Mark,” Beatrice replied with a frown. “What do they look like?”
“Oh, it doesn’t matter. I can’t remember leaving the house with them. They are a buff pair of leather gloves; nothing special. If you do find them, please give them to Harriett if you would and I will pick them up from her sometime.”
“Would you care for a drink with us?” Tuppence offered as she held her sherry glass aloft. From the rosy look of her cheeks, she had imbibed more than her fair share of the dark liquid. Mark instinctively took a breath to refuse but then glanced at Harriett doubtfully. She looked as pale as a sheet but shook her head nevertheless.
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