Death by Blackmail

by Beth Byers

  She heard the clamoring of her sweet dogs and opened the door to her cottage.

  “Thought you must be back the way the ladies were clamoring,” Eunice said, wiping her hands off on her apron. “Quiet you!” she ordered the dogs.

  Georgette leaned down and happily pressed her face against the sweet faces she would never say goodbye to.

  “Tea?” Eunice asked.

  Georgette glanced up at her and nodded.

  Eunice’s gaze narrowed. “What’s wrong with you?”

  “I…”

  “Blackmail!” Marian hissed before Georgette could find the word. “Blackmail and betrayals!”

  Eunice’s gaze darted between Georgette and Marian and then she sighed. “Someone found out?”

  “Yes.” Georgette stood and tried for a smile. “I’ve got some new tea here to try.”

  Eunice took in Georgette’s pale face, stricken eyes, and the way her gaze was landing randomly about her home and said, “Tea’s the thing, though you do have too much of it these days. Time to cut back, I think.”

  Georgette frowned lightly, knowing it was true. They’d have to save every spare penny to afford to move, and it was time to sit down and write the new book that was lingering about her head. She had thought to leave the Harper’s Bend stories with The Secrets of Harper’s Bend, but not if she was going to have to buy a new cottage rather sooner than later.

  “I suppose it’s good then that I’ve been buying too much. We have a stock pile.”

  Marian placed a hand on Georgette’s arm, but all Georgette could do was try for a smile.

  “I made cake,” Eunice said flatly. It was the same tone that would have sent the child version of Georgette running. “It’s still warm and would be excellent with some of that odd tea you like with the cocoa in it.”

  Georgette nodded and smiled again. “We were leaving anyway,” she said aloud, more to herself than to the others. “I suppose I wasn’t quite ready to say goodbye, but it was coming, I think.”

  “You aren’t going to pay the blackmail?” Marian asked delicately. “Maybe just for some time to make changes? To find the right place?”

  Georgette shook her head. She deserved far more than losing her hard-earned money to some cruel being who thought that she should be ashamed. Perhaps Georgette did feel some guilt for the terrible occurrences that had happened after her book had been published, but she was not the one who lifted the cricket bat or poisoned the chocolates, and she would not pretend she was. Nor would she pay for it as though she had been. She had written a relatively simple book that had transitioned to murder because of the jealousies, insecurities, and hatreds of others.

  Georgette joined Marian in her parlor, and they were quiet for too long before Georgette said, “It’s just a little alarming to move. As much as I feel suffocated here, Bard’s Crook is the only home I’ve ever known.”

  “Of course it is,” Marian agreed. “I have enjoyed it here so much. Even the ridiculous people such as Miss Hallowton this evening. Can you imagine what it would be like if she were to discover you are Joseph Jones?”

  Georgette knew all too well that Marian’s betrothed, Detective Joseph Aaron, had pressed Marian to stay in Bard’s Crook. Georgette had seen the whispered conversations, the glances towards Georgette, towards Charles, and then further furious whispering. It didn’t take a genius to recognize the signs of two people conspiring. Georgette had decided then to simply be grateful that her friend wasn’t leaving quite yet.

  Georgette glanced up as Eunice joined them in the parlor, sitting on the edge of one of the chairs. She sat quietly, and Georgette lifted her brows. Eunice wasn’t one to sit and linger in the parlor especially when it was so near time to retiring for the evening.

  “I have been working on a list of towns and villages that might work. I should think we’ll want a little distance from Bard’s Crook.”

  “While still being close to London,” Marian inserted smoothly. “That way,” she lied, “we can see each other easily.”

  Georgette’s morose mood faded with Marian’s barefaced lie. “You are still match-making.”

  “That,” Marian paused and then grinned, “is true. What is also true—”

  Eunice sniffed and then growled. “Quit playing games. Out with it, girl.”

  “They are hoping—”

  Georgette cleared her throat and then asked, “They?”

  “Joseph and Charles. Charles mostly.”

  “Charles is hoping what?”

  “That you’ll agree to marry him and then find a place for them both to buy houses for families.”

  “They’re imagining families?” Georgette heard the squeak in her voice and would have winced at all it revealed, but she’d have been honest with Marian if pressed.

  “I believe that Charles told Joseph he had a list of things for you to find for both the house and the village. They’re both very concerned with the pub.”

  Eunice choked back a laugh. “Have you heard the contents of this list?”

  “No,” Georgette said, holding up a hand. “No. I don’t want to hear it.”

  Eunice rose and left without a word while Marian dramatically clamped her mouth shut. Georgette sipped her tea, trying for a calm expression but her mind was reeling. It was one thing to think you might care for someone, but to be imagining out their future? To be honest with herself, Georgette hadn’t allowed her mind to travel to such exotic locations. The idea that Charles had—what did that mean? Did he really love her? Could he truly be right about his feelings?

  Georgette’s mind seemed to be tripping over itself and she wasn’t sure how to process the feelings she was experiencing. “I’ve nearly finished my edits on The Secrets of Harper’s Bend.”

  “So we’re changing the subject?” Marian asked. “If we must, we must. I am looking forward to the release of your new book especially as you won’t let me read Secrets again.”

  Georgette ignored her and rose to pace the house. If she started packing immediately, would it be too much? Eunice had started in the attics the moment they’d discussed leaving Bard’s Crook and even now a few weeks later Eunice was barely half-way finished there. What about the rest of the cottage? Could Georgette leave it to Eunice while she wrote?

  With the pressure of moving combined with the need of further advances to support the move, Georgette wasn’t sure what to do. She wondered, for a moment, what Jane Eyre or Charlotte Lucas or Elizabeth Bennett would do.

  With a laugh, Georgette shook her head. It was certainly an option to base her life choices off of characters in books. Jane Eyre would probably flee. Charlotte Lucas would have already said yes to Charles’s proposal. And Elizabeth Bennett would lift her chin and go about her life. Georgette, however, was dealing with a real life, not some pre-scripted arrangement of events to pour out a tale.

  She sighed and crossed to her desk, pulling out a sheet of paper and a fountain pen.

  -purge the cottage

  -pack

  -finish new books

  -sell the cottage

  -find a new village

  -find a new cottage in the new village

  Georgette stared at the list and then laughed to herself. “At least Eunice has narrowed down the whole of England to some villages she’s researched. That will help.”

  Marian rose and joined Georgette, leaning down to give her a hug. “It’s going to be all right.”

  Georgette nodded, accepting the hug. “Is Joseph really intending to buy a cottage?”

  “Eventually, yes.”

  “What’s the wait?”

  “You,” Marian said simply. “Charles hasn’t given up hope and they know we love each other. They both are intending to purchase a home. Why not purchase in the same village? Charles won’t choose without you. If you turn him down, Georgie, he won’t be buying a cottage at all. Joseph thinks Charles will simply smoke more tobacco and drink more port and avoid women in general.”

  Georgette sighed, bitin
g down on her lip. Her mind skittered away from the idea of being married, of love, of being wanted more than anything else.

  “I may just clean out my cottage and move into a place that is temporary. Are you going back to London? I imagine that Joseph wants you closer.”

  Marian shook her head at Georgette. “I know I’m younger than you, and I know you see me as a little sister, but I think you should really consider Charles.”

  “I—”

  “Joseph told me that the moment he met you, he was sure that Charles would fall in love with you. Joseph said, in fact, that your mind would sweep Charles off his feet.”

  Georgette turned and stared at Marian, whose expression was earnest.

  “I know I should keep out of it, but I thought you should know that. Charles really did think on what he wanted before he came here the last time. He came back for you, certain you were it for him. That he loves you, and only you.” Marian’s eyes welled with tears. “I’ve heard your jokes about being the extra woman, but you aren’t, Georgette.”

  Georgette blinked rapidly and sniffled, trying for a smile, but she felt as though Marian were stripping away all of her hard earned protections.

  “You aren’t extra, you aren’t unloved, and you aren’t unwanted. I can see why Bard’s Crook has made you feel that way, but you aren’t. You just aren’t.”

  Chapter 3

  Georgette Dorothy Marsh

  The meeting of the ladies auxiliary was held weekly at the grange building. There was a stage, room for dancing, larger meeting rooms and a smaller meeting room. Someone usually provided tea and there were often biscuits though not always. The day had dawned wet and stormy but had shifted to bright and sunny, giving an overall humid effect that had one both hot and cold within the same quarter hour.

  Georgette dressed accordingly in a lightweight dress and a cardigan. She carried an umbrella and left her dogs behind to their vocal dissent. She had cared very little about the designs of the ladies club. It had taken all of three meetings after her mother died to realize that she would never have a voice in the group and that the purpose was to provide a place for the ladies of the village to be important.

  Often, she had told herself, they did good work. They raised money for new books for the children’s school and looked after the especially needy. They made sure the church had flowers on Sunday mornings and helped at the funerals of the villagers. And, those who ruled it, ruled it with an iron fist.

  Previously, she had come to their meetings, participated in their work, put a vague smile on her face, and allowed them to use her as a near servant doing the work that no one else wanted to do. She hadn’t, however, come to a ladies auxiliary meeting since writing her first book.

  One person had checked in on her after she stopped appearing, and Mrs. Thornton had done so only to corner Georgette on a walk to tell her that reliable subordinates were necessary for the good work they did. Georgette had smiled in response, made an excuse, and continued to use her time to do her work rather than to scurry about doing others’.

  She took in a deep breath and knocked on Mrs. Parker’s door. At least, Georgette told herself, she didn’t have to go to the ladies meeting alone. Marian lived with her great-aunt, Mrs. Parker. Marian had come for a visit just after Georgette had written her first book and somehow, Marian had seen Georgette for who she was in a village full of people who didn’t seem to notice Georgette at all. Marian’s stay had extended to a long-term visit, and there was a part of Georgette who knew that Marian stayed because she was there, but there was a part of her that also wondered why Marian didn’t flee Bard’s Crook when London was a nearby choice. Georgette didn’t believe her proclamations about being smothered by her parents, but Marian stayed all the same, with frequent trips to London to comfort her parents about her continued survival.

  Georgette smiled at Mrs. Parker who glanced her over and then said, “You look nice, Georgette. Marian has been a good influence on you. It wasn’t so long ago that you could have exchanged your dresses for burlap sacks and no one would have noticed.”

  “Marian does have good taste and has enjoyed making me her doll,” Georgette admitted, ignoring the insult woven into the compliment.

  “She’s running late, gazing at herself in the mirror—the vain thing. Wait for her, will you? I promised Mrs. Thornton I’d meet her to speak privately.”

  Georgette nodded with a smile and stepped back as Mrs. Parker pushed onward. She had little doubt that Marian had stayed behind on purpose just to have a few minutes of unobserved conversation. Little did Marian know her aunt wanted the same thing.

  A moment later, Marian’s head peeked around the door and she grinned at Georgette. “Is she gone?”

  Georgette nodded and then lifted a brow.

  “Yes, yes,” Marian said to Georgette’s silent commentary. “I know it was wicked of me to delay on purpose. It’s not like we can speak about that letter with her present. Not until you decide what you’re going to do.”

  “I’m not going to pay the money.”

  Marian frowned as she suggested, “Maybe you should. Just for time. You don’t want to be rushed finding a new home.”

  “No,” Georgette said, shaking her head. “No. That implies that what I’ve done is wrong, and I suppose an argument could be made for that, but I don’t think I should have to lose what I’ve earned.”

  “I don’t think you should have to pay,” Marian assured her. “I just don’t want to watch them snub you.”

  Georgette’s laugh was low and surprisingly full of humor. “They already do, my love.”

  The walk to the hall was quiet with each of them lost in their own thoughts. The hall had been painted through the ingenuity of the ladies auxiliary. It rose white and lovely amid the other buildings on the pretty little street with the green hills in the background. The blue skies and white clouds were enough to make it seem as though they’d stepped into some fairyland version of England.

  Georgette walked up the steps, nodding at two little girls sitting side-by-side in their pretty frocks, and then greeted the boy at the door by name. All of the children called hellos to Georgette specifically, excited when they saw her.

  “The children like you,” Marian told Georgette.

  “They care less about position and looks.” Georgette’s gaze fixed on Harriet Lawrence, Virginia Baker, and Theodora Wilkes walking up the lane towards the meeting hall. While Mrs. Thornton certainly ruled the ladies auxiliary with an iron fist, the approaching trio held their own positions of power.

  Virginia Baker was lovely and well-mannered when she wanted to be. Her eyes were bright with wit and her turn of phrase was powerful in getting what she wanted. She’d been left a widow, but she was young yet and determined to marry another wealthy man. Somehow, despite being a widow who was not particularly well-off, Virginia maintained a beautiful wardrobe. Georgette suspected that the woman had a rather alarming amount of debt.

  Theodora Wilkes, on the other hand, was lovely, married, and with her doctor husband, doing quite well despite the economic downturn. Her two boys were bright-eyed fiends, and she was adored by all of the gentlemen in her house.

  Harriet was the one who gave Georgette pause. Georgette’s first book had illustrated the cruel way Harriet’s husband had treated her. It had, in fact, led to the death of Harriet’s husband. Georgette had told herself since then that Harriet seemed happier, and had remarked on the lighter step, the brighter gaze, the readier laughter, but Georgette knew that there had been a time when Harriet had loved her husband. Would she blame Georgette for the loss? If Harriet did blame Georgette, it was to be expected.

  Harriet’s condemnation would, in fact, haunt Georgette thoroughly in mind and heart throughout her life. She already felt guilt over the man’s death even if she hadn’t picked up the cricket bat and murdered him. To have his wife blame her as well? It would burden Georgette’s soul.

  “Why are we here?” Marian whispered at Georgette’s shoulder
.

  “To talk to Harriet,” Georgette replied. “And the others who are being blackmailed. To see if we can discover who has been affected so far.”

  “Why?” Marian hissed. “Surely no one knows who the blackmailer is.”

  “Perhaps not,” Georgette agreed, “but we’ve all had clues.”

  “Unless I am the blackmailer,” Marian told Georgette, “no one else could possibly know your secret.”

  Georgette linked her arm with Marian. “You’ve got a detective on your hook, dear one,” she whispered. “What need have you for my paltry sums?”

  “Ten pounds isn’t so paltry,” Marian hissed back.

  Georgette smiled even as she agreed while the trio approached. Virginia’s nasty glance was enough for Georgette to allow her face to fade into its usual blankness. Georgette nodded vaguely towards them and called a, “Good morning” before stepping into the hall and making herself a cup of tea. She approached the table with an alert gaze, eyes darting about the gathered ladies.

  If the blackmailer was approaching Georgette, Harriet might also be experiencing the same harassment. What about Mrs. Yardley? Was she safe now since her secrets had come to light with the most recent murder? Or were there other secrets? Who else could be affected?

  Mrs. Thornton was hissing something to Mrs. Parker in the corner, but given Mrs. Thornton’s nature, it could be a commentary on anything. Mrs. Annie Hill was leaning in to whisper something to Charlotte Cline, but they were good friends. Was it a revelation that they were being blackmailed as well or just a story about one of their children?

  Jennifer Enoch, who was barely nineteen years old, was sitting alone, arms crossed, gaze fixed furiously on her mother, who had probably dragged the girl to the meeting. Was she upset because some secret of hers had been discovered or was she upset because there was no one else so near her age except for Marian?

  The vicar’s wife was arranging the tea station. One of the retired school teachers was helping, and the two women were speaking low. There was a general rumble of conversing through the room that mingled with the sound of the caretaker hammering in the hall, and the sound of a few children playing nearby.