Death by Blackmail

by Beth Byers

  “Are you asking me for my opinion?”

  She grinned at him and he chuckled. “We’re a pair of fools aren’t we? I should like to see you at the sea until your lungs feel better and well-rested. I suppose it feels quite odd to be able to assert opinions on each other.”

  “It’s possible,” Georgette told him slyly, “that we’re set in our ways.”

  He burst into laughter and then agreed. “It’s possible we are.”

  “We might make each other miserable,” she told him. “Me with my late-night writing and gallivanting at the sea. You with your…ah….do you dine at a club?”

  He grinned. “I do.”

  “Men only?”

  He nodded, lips twitching, his gaze filled with that cross between love and gentleness. “I might rather like eating at the house with you. Eunice is an excellent chef.”

  Georgette laughed and it turned into a cough. It took her a few minutes to stop coughing, and she needed to sip her water slowly, following it with one of the peppermint sweeties.

  “Maybe we should wait and go to your cottage?”

  Her lungs were hurting enough that Georgette was easily persuadable.

  Chapter 13

  Georgette Dorothy Marsh

  They left the auto outside of her cottage and went inside. Georgette sighed and then told Charles, “I need to lie down for a few minutes, I think.”

  He nodded and Georgette took another spoonful of honey and was promised to have tea brought to her. Before Eunice arrived, Georgette fell asleep with her dogs all around her. She didn’t wake until Eunice stepped into her bedroom with a knock on the door. The light had changed so dramatically that Georgette wasn’t sure what day it was or what time it was.

  She wiped her chin and then rubbed her eyes and took a deep breath. Her lungs felt better and a headache she hadn’t even noticed had faded. The lack of pain revealed the existence more than the pain itself had. She croaked when she tried to speak, and Eunice handed her the glass of water at her bedside.

  “Harriet Lawrence has arrived with Theodora Wilkes and the doctor,” Eunice told Georgette. “I sent for the doctor. They all came.”

  “What time is it?”

  “Teatime,” Eunice said as she handed Georgette an un-mussed dress and clucked to the dogs. “Charles said you’d want to speak with Harriet, so I invited them to tea.”

  Georgette nodded and changed, running a brush through her hair and then applying a little rouge on her lips and cheeks when she saw how pale she was. She wasn’t lovely, she reminded herself, but Charles didn’t seem to mind her passable looks.

  She joined the others in her parlor but the doctor took her to the dining room to listen to her lungs and examine her eyes and throat. “You sound a little better,” Dr. Wilkes told her.

  Georgette nodded. Her throat hurt more, but Eunice arrived with the bowl of honey and handed Georgette an oversized spoonful. The first spoonful had been delicious but the sight of it again made her stomach hurt. Honey seemed like a delightful treat until you were taking it by the spoonful. Then it was nauseatingly sweet.

  She returned to the parlor and found Charles sitting on one side with Harriet and Theodora sitting on the other. It was tensely quiet in the parlor. When Georgette re-entered with the doctor, she noticed the emptied bookshelves and cleared roll-stop desk.

  “Georgette—” Theodora glanced around the room. “Are you leaving Bard’s Crook?”

  “Yes,” Georgette said simply. Her gaze was fixed on Harriet Lawrence, who had lost her husband after the publication of Georgette’s first book. The two women stared at each other, and Georgette knew as they had their fraught, silent conversation, that they would never really be friends. They hadn’t been before the book had been published, and friendship had been possible after the last few weeks, but it wouldn’t survive the revelation that Georgette was Joseph Jones and Georgette leaving Bard’s Crook. “I’m sorry that your husband died because Mr. Evans read reality into my book. I never thought—”

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” Harriet said. “You aren’t Mr. Evans. We’ll leave it at that.”

  Georgette nodded and offered tea. It was accepted and Georgette awkwardly poured a cupful for everyone. She knew too well that Harriet was being blackmailed, and Georgette wanted to speak with Harriet about that, but she would never bring it up with an audience.

  The conversation was stilted given the revelations of the day. Georgette commented on the weather, Charles commented on a recent article, Harriet didn’t speak at all, while Theodora Wilkes’s gaze moved from person to person with wide concern.

  Charles rose as they finished tea and asked the doctor to join him outside. The moment he was gone Theodora hissed, “Tell her.”

  Georgette glanced between the two women. “Tell me?”

  “Harriet is being blackmailed.”

  Georgette didn’t reply with ‘I know,’ and Harriet shot her a grateful glance.

  “Can you tell me what you’re being blackmailed over?” Georgette asked as though they hadn’t discussed this before.

  Harriet shook her head and said in a hushed voice, “No one knows. My mother knew, but she has passed. Beyond her, only one person knows, and they would never, ever speak of it.”

  Georgette couldn’t accept that. Obviously the blackmailer knew. “No one else has ever known?”

  Harriet blinked and then admitted, “Well, I received a letter once from the other person who knows.” She gasped. “What if he did know? What if he figured it out? There was enough information for him to realize the facts.”

  “Him?”

  Harriet turned to her with a haunted gaze. “Bertrand.”

  Georgette ached for her. She’d suffered so much already at his hands. To learn that he knew this secret, the one Harriet had hidden for so long, would be awful. “So,” Georgette said gently, “even if you’ve never spoken of it, he might have.”

  Harriet shook her head. “He didn’t have confidants.”

  “He must have,” Georgette countered, “if you’ve never spoken of it.”

  “I haven’t.”

  “And your mother has been gone for some time now.”

  Harriet nodded.

  “Then, it must be someone that Mr. Lawrence told.”

  “But he wouldn’t have,” Harriet said. “It was something that would cause judgement to be cast on our home. He was always so fixated on his reputation. I’m sure he would have felt that my secret would affect his reputation. He’d have protected it.”

  “Maybe,” Theodora said quietly, “if he did speak of it, it was to someone who had a secret that he knew. Or someone he was completely confident in.”

  “But who?” Harriet demanded. “Why would he tell anyone something like that?”

  Georgette stared between them, an idea coming to her mind, but it wasn’t something that was fair to ask a widow.

  “You said you thought he had a lover,” Theodora said to Harriet, and Georgette kept her expression smooth to hide that she’d entertained that very thought. “You said that you thought he might be stepping out on you with someone.”

  “I don’t know who it is,” Harriet hissed. “He didn’t trust women. I still can’t imagine him telling a woman anything he wanted to keep to himself.”

  “We are gathering pieces of the picture,” Georgette said gently. “We don’t need to know who it was. Only that it could have been. If we remove all the other choices, it seems likely that Mr. Lawrence told his lover and that his lover is the blackmailer.”

  “That removes the older women from the suspect list,” Theodora said. “Bertrand Lawrence wouldn’t have dallied with anyone that he didn’t consider a conquest. He had a very high opinion of himself.”

  Georgette nodded and then asked them to help her make a list of the regular visitors to the ladies auxiliary meeting. After they had the list, they crossed off everyone who wasn’t pretty enough for Bertrand Lawrence.

  Georgette didn’t consider the list
conclusive, but she skimmed over the names time and again, her gaze fixating on Nancy Thornton, who was perhaps the biggest surprise of them all to Georgette. Was it possible that the good Mr. Thornton’s solitary respectable child wasn’t respectable at all? Could she be blackmailing her own mother?

  Georgette did not want to think so. She liked Mr. Thornton even if she suspected that he no longer cared for her after the discovery that she was Joseph Jones, and he doted on Nancy. It was possible, however, that Nancy might know something, and since Georgette knew Mrs. Thornton wouldn’t speak to her, she had to try someone else in the Thornton household.

  “I want to talk to Nancy Thornton,” Georgette said, pressing her hand against her chest where her lungs were still hurting. “I promised I wouldn’t go anywhere alone. I doubt, however, she’ll talk frankly if Charles is there. It is possible you would go with me, Harriet? Perhaps if we approach her with our own secrets, she’ll feel more comfortable.”

  The other two women glanced at each other, and then Harriet nodded. “I can’t afford to keep paying the blackmailer for much longer.”

  Georgette could understand that all too well. Georgette left Theodora and Harriet in the parlor and went into the kitchen where Eunice and Robert were crating up her things. “Are the dogs all right?”

  “They’re underfoot and delighted by young Robert here spoiling them.”

  “Marian will come for them before she goes to the seaside. I’m going to go with Harriet to talk to Nancy Thornton.”

  Eunice shot Georgette a look that demanded that she not leave the cottage, but Georgette didn’t want to leave Bard’s Crook in this state. Eunice knew Georgette’s feelings, so the two of them eyed each other.

  “It’ll only take a day or two more to have the house full ready to go,” Eunice said.

  Georgette nodded, her gaze meeting Eunice’s with love. “It’s not a race, Eunice. We don’t have to speed out of here.”

  “We both agreed that it’s dangerous to live in Bard’s Crook. By heaven, Miss Georgie, there is a blackmailer and an arsonist on the loose.”

  Georgette laughed at Eunice’s phrasing, which had her turning on Georgette.

  “I think it would better to leave and not come back,” Robert said, and then held up his hands when both women turned to him. “Not that my opinion matters.” He grinned with a charming cheer. “I’ll just stretch my legs a bit.”

  They eyed each other, and Eunice didn’t try to hide her worry. “If you must go, please take Charles, but I think you ought not go at all.”

  Georgette hesitated, but the tightness in her lungs reminded her that she wasn’t up for walking about the countryside. “Perhaps you would invite Nancy here for me?”

  Eunice paused, surprised by Georgette’s concession, and then agreed.

  “And then you’ll slow down,” Georgette told her. “I’ve already agreed that I’ll leave the moment we have a blackmailer or when it seems hopeless that we’ll find her.”

  “Fine. I’m going to stop by the pub for dinner.”

  “That’s a wonderful idea,” Georgette answered. “Then you should go to bed early after a long, hot bath with Epsom salts.”

  Georgette watched Eunice leave and then returned to the parlor. “Eunice has gone to invite Nancy for a conversation.”

  Harriet nodded and Theodora said, “She’ll never talk to you if the doctor is here.”

  Georgette’s platitudes were back to being awkward, but the hoarseness of her voice was enough to have Theodora make an excuse to leave with her husband. Georgette managed to keep a smile on her face until she’d said goodbye to Theodora and the doctor, then she returned to her parlor and put her feet up. Harriet sat awkwardly across from Georgette, but she was letting her breathing remain hoarse which kept Harriet from trying to make conversation.

  Eunice returned. “She’ll be here in the morning by 10:00 a.m.”

  Georgette wasn’t eager to prolong the time between her suspicions and a conversation with Nancy, but she did welcome the chance to rest. She offered Harriet dinner, knowing she’d refuse, and then went back to bed. Eunice brought food to her room, but Georgette turned it away and curled back up onto her side. Her lungs had made the entire day difficult.

  Georgette woke and dressed the next morning to find Eunice in the kitchen again with breakfast buns from the bakery, grapes, and eggs. Georgette ate heartily. Her lungs hurt far less and by the time her breakfast was crumbs, Marian had arrived with Joseph and Charles.

  “Have you found anything?” Georgette asked with one dog under each arm. She nuzzled them and then glanced at Charles, who was holding Bea in his arms and giving her a belly rub.

  Joseph sighed. “We’ve been through endless interviews and questions about who saw what and we’re still putting the pieces together.”

  Georgette handed Susan to Marian and then hooked their arms together. “What sea are we going to?”

  “Bath,” Marian replied. “One of Aunt Parker’s daughters lives there.”

  “Do your lungs feel better today?”

  Marian nodded and then grinned at Joseph and whispered, “The sea still sounds nice.”

  “Don’t leave Bath until I get there,” Georgette whispered back, glancing at Charles and then winking at Marian.

  “Is it official yet?” Joseph demanded. “I found a town for you to investigate that I’ve been sitting on.”

  Everyone glanced at him, and he grinned. “You’ll never believe it! I heard about it from one of the boys who went there.”

  “Were they there for a murder?”

  Joseph shook his head. “Missing person. Lady just up and left her family.”

  “Not a murder,” Marian asked seriously.

  “No, but—”

  They all waited as Joseph grinned even wider. “The fellow who went is something of the pickiest eater I’ve ever met, and he said the pub was world class.”

  Marian scowled at Joseph, and Georgette had to fight a giggle.

  “No wait,” Joseph added. “There’s a lake. Quite a nice one. And a lovely little creek wide enough to row. It’s charming and idyllic and even the tearoom and bakery are excellent.”

  “A lake does sound nice,” Georgette said, “with an excellent tearoom, I could get behind that choice.”

  “You haven’t heard the best part,” Joseph said with a grin. “It’s called Harper’s Hallow!”

  Chapter 14

  Georgette Dorothy Marsh

  “Harper’s Hallow,” Georgette whispered to Charles after Marian and Joseph left with the dogs.

  “It’s a very reasonable train ride to the office.”

  “Harper’s Hallow!” She hissed and then laughed. Her laugh turned into a cough, but it only took her a few moments to recover. She dutifully took the honey and peppermint sweetie and then asked him, “Is it a sign? And if so, is it a good sign? Or a dire warning?”

  “Perhaps a question that can only be answered by the pub.”

  “Or if we can find a house. You do, after all want: an office for you, an office for me, room for children, room for too many books and more to come, a garden for smoking pipes in. We might not be able to find those things in Harper’s Hollow.”

  “Then we’ll take it as a poor sign.” Charles lifted her hand and kissed it on the palm. He smiled widely at her. “What an adventure it’ll be.” Charles sighed and then said, “I have a contract for you.”

  “I’ll consider it. I might need to review it and make sure you’re not taking advantage of my innocence as a new author.”

  Charles snorted a laugh. “I’ve heard that you’re taking on a fellow. You’re going to need the more generous advance to take care of him in the manner to which he’s become accustomed.”

  Eunice walked in as Charles finished and said, “Both Harriet and Nancy Thornton are here.”

  “That’s my cue to re-evaluate your advance,” Charles told her. “Also, we didn’t sign the contract for the article that will be published on Sunday.”
>
  “That doesn’t mean it’s free,” Georgette told him and then grinned at Eunice. “Eunice darling, I don’t want to share my favorite tea. Bring the Earl Grey.”

  Georgette pushed up onto her toes and kissed Charles on the cheek before she winked at him and went into the parlor.

  “Hello,” Georgette said happily and then realized how inappropriate her good humor was at the moment. She cleared her throat and then said, deliberately hoarse, “Thank you for coming to talk with us, Nancy.”

  Nancy glanced between them.

  “We’re being blackmailed,” Georgette announced.

  Nancy gasped. “I’m sorry to hear that,” she finally said, her gaze wide and innocent.

  “So is Juliette Hallowton. And a young girl.”

  Nancy bit down on her bottom lip. “I’m not the blackmailer.”

  “We know,” Georgette replied, and she did trust her instinct on that fact, “but your mother won’t talk to us.”

  “What does my mother have to do with it?” Nancy demanded.

  “She’s being blackmailed,” Harriet said gently. “Like I am. I don’t understand how the blackmailer knows my secrets. And we wondered how a blackmailer might know your mother’s.”

  “How can you be sure that’s happening to my mother?”

  “We’ve had it from a very reliable source,” Georgette said. She cleared her throat when Eunice entered the room with the tea tray and then left.

  “Who else is being blackmailed?” Nancy asked. “My mother…I can only think of one thing that is worth paying blackmail over, and I can’t imagine how anyone would know.”

  “Mine too,” Harriet said. “No one could have known my secret.”

  “It was a lover,” Georgette said. “The blackmailer isn’t telepathic.”

  “How did you know my mother had a lover?” Nancy demanded. She seemed to realize what she’d just revealed because she gasped and her hands flew to her mouth. “Oh my goodness, if Father finds out, it’ll destroy him!”

  “No, not your mother, of course,” Georgette said to ease the girl, though she hadn’t missed the revelation one bit. “Mr. Lawrence’s lover.”