As Death Draws Near

by Anna Lee Huber

  I frowned, not pleased with this new piece of information in the least. That they’d used an innocent young woman’s affection for her fiancé to further their own agenda, and gotten her killed in the process.

  “I take it you knew nothing about your father’s troubles.”

  “If I had, I would have told her not to give in to their threats. To let my father take responsibility for his own mistakes.”

  There was a wealth of history behind those words. History I did not have the time or the inclination to delve into. Not when there were more pressing concerns.

  I leaned forward to capture his gaze. “Why didn’t you come to us with this information sooner? Why did you make us search you out?”

  His eyes widened. “You were sent by Wellington, so I assumed you already knew why she was at the abbey, as well as my father’s troubles.”

  He was right. It was a reasonable assumption to make. If only it had been true. How much time would that have saved us?

  “As for my visit to her, I knew it had nothing to do with her death. I certainly didn’t kill her. So I didn’t think you needed to know.”

  “What about your father? He certainly had ample reason to harm her. You’ve admitted yourself how angry he was, and how much he hates Catholics.”

  His shoulders drooped. “Yes, but he was with me the evening she was murdered. He couldn’t have done it. I checked. It was my first suspicion, so I asked Chief Constable Corcoran, to be certain it could not have happened earlier.”

  I stared at him, feeling our best suspect slipping through my fingertips. “That doesn’t mean he didn’t hire someone else to do it.”

  His eyes were troubled, letting me know this was something he’d already considered. How far had matters deteriorated for this young man to suspect his father of such a heinous act?

  “I know my father is not the best of men, but I don’t think he’s capable of such a cold-blooded thing. Perhaps if he’d confronted her and lost control of his temper. But to plan it, premeditate it.” He shook his head. “I . . . I don’t think so.”

  The fact that he sounded as if he was trying to convince himself as much as me did nothing to reassure me.

  Despite his son’s obvious grief over the death of Miss Lennox, the question remained. How deep was Mr. LaTouche’s hatred? And how far would he have gone to avenge the wrong he believed she had done to him and his son?

  • • •

  Whether Anderley heard anything of what was said inside the drawing room or he could simply read the strain on my face, I didn’t know, but his touch was kinder than before as he hoisted me up onto my saddle. Or maybe he’d merely had time to plot his revenge.

  I eyed him distrustfully as he helped position my foot in the stirrup. “If you put a burr under this horse’s saddle, so help me . . .” I began.

  He glanced up in surprise, and I realized I’d jumped to the wrong conclusion.

  Pressing my lips together, I studied him as the horse danced sideways, sensing my agitation. “I know it was you who stuck the burr under Marsdale’s collar. However, as humorous as I found that bit of maneuvering, should you ever try such a thing with me, you will have a very long time to regret it.”

  Anderley stared up at me, a small smile curling the corners of his mouth as he gave a swift nod.

  “Saddle up,” I ordered, rolling my eyes at his impudence.

  The road to the Priory was no more than a mile, so we should have been able to make it back before Gage returned from Dublin. However, I had not counted on the trio of mounted men standing in our path. They were dressed in the dark green uniform of the constabulary, but I did not recognize any of their faces. They might have been from Rathfarnham or the village to the south of here, but they were plainly intent on something.

  My fine riding habit and servant escort marked me as a woman of quality, so I did not expect trouble from them; however, their presence made me nervous nonetheless. They tipped their hats to me as we approached the crossroads where they stood, but they made no effort to move their steeds to allow us to pass.

  “Good day,” I said, drawing my mare to a stop. “May we assist you in some way?” I decided a breezy attitude might be best, and was rewarded when the middle rider’s eyes relaxed from their narrowed suspicion.

  “Not in particular, ma’am.” His eyes swept side to side at Bree and Anderley. “Simply searchin’ for those who might cause trouble.”

  “I see. Well, I wish you good luck in your task.” I urged my horse forward, giving the man no choice but to move aside or deliberately confront me. For a moment, I thought he might actually attempt the latter, but was relieved when he reluctantly guided his horse to the side and nodded to his cohorts to do the same.

  “Take care. There be blackguards about,” he called after us.

  I nodded. “We shall.”

  Anderley stayed close to my flank as we continued north, and I did not object. The constables should have made me feel safer, but instead they only made me uneasy. I was careful to keep my horse’s pace steady, still feeling their eyes on our backs, until we rounded a bend in the road and passed out of their view.

  “You can fall back a pace,” I told Anderley then, exhaling a tight breath at the sight of the stone entrance pillars to the Priory in the distance.

  When he didn’t listen, I turned to follow his gaze, now seeing the same thing he did. The lone rider mounted on his steed at the head of the lane, watching us. My heart leapt in recognition, even from this distance. But, of course, I thought I would know him anywhere. After all, he was my husband.

  I needn’t have looked at his face to discover he was displeased. It was stamped in the rigid line of his body. When we drew close enough to see his scowl, it merely proved it.

  “Have you just now returned from Dublin?” I asked, keeping my voice light.

  “Yes.”

  And with such rotten timing.

  He didn’t speak again as he rode two strides ahead of me up the drive, though I was certain he had more than a few choice words to share with me. I was itching to tell him what I had learned while he was away, but I refused to speak to his horse’s backside, even if I thought it might have eased some of the tension.

  In the carriage yard he leapt down with far more spryness than a man who had spent several hours in the saddle should have been allowed, and rounded my horse to lift me down. I gasped in surprise at his swift movements, but did not think of arguing, even when he pulled my arm through his and guided me into the house and up the stairs. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, a recalled reaction from confrontations with my first husband, but I ignored them, trying to steady the accelerated beating of my heart.

  He closed the door to our bedchamber with a sharp click before rounding on me. “Where were you?”

  “Just now?” I replied calmly, playing for time as I crossed toward my dressing table, removing my riding gloves.

  “You know when, Kiera.”

  “We were paying a visit to Colin LaTouche. I discovered . . .”

  “After I explicitly told you not to go anywhere but the abbey.”

  “I hadn’t planned to go anywhere else, but something I uncovered today made a trip to Eden Park necessary.”

  “So necessary that you couldn’t wait an hour or two longer for me to return?”

  I flushed under the scrutiny of his snapping eyes. “I had no way of knowing when you would return. You told me yourself you might not be back until nightfall.” I slapped my gloves down on the table. “And Colin LaTouche said he was leaving for his Grand Tour within the week.”

  “He’s not leaving until Tuesday.”

  I stiffened. “Well, I didn’t know that. How did you?”

  “He told me,” he practically sneered.

  “Not while I was present.”

  “No. But you could have asked
me.”

  “No, I couldn’t. Because you weren’t here.” I removed the hat pins from my hair and dropped them onto the table beside the gloves with a very unsatisfying ping. At least the hat made a louder thump when it joined them.

  Gage’s hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. “You should have listened to me regardless. I doubt anything you learned could have been so important that you had to disregard my wishes for your safety.”

  “I didn’t disregard them. Anderley and Bree were with me, and Anderley and I were both armed. Besides, nothing happened.”

  “But something could have. And I might have been miles away in Dublin.”

  I could hear the worry behind his anger, see the concern in the crinkles at the corners of his eyes, but that didn’t mean I was going to relent. “What do you want me to say? I made a reasoned decision to take the risk based on the information available to me. I won’t be wrapped in cotton, Sebastian. I won’t be cossetted. You knew this when you married me.”

  His hands lifted to clasp my elbows firmly. “I did. But you also promised to listen to me when I made a reasonable request.”

  “And I did listen to you. My visit to Eden Park wasn’t some lark.”

  His jaw clenched, telling me he was not going to agree with me. “What was so important that you felt you needed to disobey me and go there? What did you uncover?”

  I lifted my chin, staring into his eyes defiantly. “That Colin LaTouche was engaged to marry Miss Lennox.” As he still gripped my arms, I felt his body jolt in surprise, and I nodded once in satisfaction. “She broke it off just before she entered the convent.”

  “How strange of Mr. LaTouche to neglect to tell us that.”

  “That’s precisely what I thought.” Then I proceeded to tell him everything I’d learned from Miss Cahill and Colin, not bothering to hide the frustration I still felt at not having any clear evidence to prove who killed Miss Lennox and Mother Fidelis. “Do you think Mr. LaTouche could have hired someone to kill both women?”

  “It’s possible,” he replied, now perched on the edge of the bed. “But nearly impossible to confirm unless the man he hired confesses. At this point, I don’t see that happening, as we don’t even have an inkling who this mystery man is.” His voice was sharp with irritation, and I stiffened, feeling as if he’d just dismissed my idea as being stupid.

  “Well, I don’t know what else to think,” I countered, my words growing more and more strident. “Mother Mary Paul has an alibi. The Ribbonmen have no motive. Blaming Marsdale seems ridiculous, as we’ve absolutely no proof he was even here at the time of Miss Lennox’s murder. The same goes for Mother Mary Fidelis’s family. So who does that leave us with? The Orangemen and the LaTouches. But the LaTouches will vouch for each other.”

  Gage reached out a hand to rub my arm. “What of Mr. Scully? What did he have to say?”

  I pressed a hand to my brow. “Anderley says he was far too heavily dosed with laudanum to speak, let alone make any sense.”

  He nodded as if he’d expected as much.

  “What of you? Were you able to see Lord Anglesey?”

  “I was.” He sighed. “Little good it did us.” He turned toward me as I lifted the train of my charcoal gray riding habit to perch on the bed next to him. “He knew nothing of Miss Lennox’s activities, and was quite cross not to have been informed.”

  “I imagine so.” It seemed we weren’t the only ones who’d been left in the dark. Which seemed to confirm this task they’d assigned Miss Lennox had not been officially sanctioned by the government. It was merely Wellington’s and his cronies’ effort to prevent their embarrassment should the rebellion the Catholic Relief Act was passed to prevent become a reality.

  “As for the Orange Parade tomorrow, he claims his resources are already stretched thin across the country. He said Rathfarnham will have to rely on its constabulary. That’s what it was established for.”

  “Is Chief Constable Corcoran prepared?”

  Deep grooves appeared in his brow. “He claims so. Took great offense at my suggesting otherwise.”

  “But you don’t feel as confident as he does?”

  “No. Not after yesterday.”

  I studied his handsome face. There were lines of worry now etched there that had not been present a week and a half before, and his shoulders seemed weighted down with a great burden. I leaned forward to wrap my arms around his torso, resting my head against his chest. His arms reflexively lifted to hold me back, as if he’d been doing so his entire life.

  “What do you plan to do?” I asked, knowing he’d already contemplated this. Gage was incapable of doing nothing if there was even the smallest thing to be done.

  “Much as I’d rather stay away, I don’t think we can. We need to be there to try to keep the spectators calm, or help those who are injured, or simply be witnesses to whatever occurs. The government might actually listen to people like us.”

  I nodded against his shoulder, somewhat surprised he wasn’t trying to keep me from attending.

  Then he leaned back, forcing me to look up to meet his eyes. “But you must promise this time that you will listen to me while we’re there. No questions, no hesitations. I need to know that I can keep you and Bree safe, and I can’t do that if I think you won’t listen.”

  I lifted my head to reply, but his words forestalled me.

  “I mean it, Kiera. Should it be worse than the cattle fair . . .” His voice stopped as he clamped down on whatever troubling thought had sprung to his mind. “Well, let’s just hope it’s not.”

  “I promise,” I replied, not hesitating this time. I knew he wasn’t trying to be overbearing. He merely wished to protect me the only way he thought he could.

  “I’ll want you to stand near the corner with the constabulary barracks and the Anglican Church. The Orangemen are less likely to cause trouble there, but if they do, there will be some sort of sanctuary for you to flee to.”

  “Why are you letting me attend?” I couldn’t resist asking, even if it meant making him reconsider his decision.

  “Because the parade leads through all of Rathfarnham. Because I’m not sure I could get to you here or at the abbey if I needed to, and trouble has a remarkable way of finding you.” His scowl turned black. “Because I don’t trust that you would stay put. Something would impel you to leave.”

  I flushed with indignation. It was true. Trouble did seem to find me no matter the precautions taken to prevent it. Twice my life had been endangered by it. But I resented his implication that I couldn’t stay put. The only times I’d ever disobeyed his wishes to stay safe had been for very good reasons. I wasn’t some flighty hoyden, running about willy-nilly. I’d even saved his life once.

  “That’s unfair, Gage,” I bit out.

  “Is it?” he challenged.

  I stood, and crossed toward the cord to summon Bree. I refused to listen to any more of this. But before I could pull it, he caught me from behind, twirling me to face him.

  His voice was tense as he pressed his forehead to mine. “We’re never going to resolve this, are we? My wanting to keep you safe. Your insisting you can decide when it’s reasonable to ignore me.”

  “I suppose not,” I said more softly. “Not unless you stop trying to protect me so much. But . . .” I frowned. “I suppose I wouldn’t like that either. Because it would mean you cared less.”

  He gave a low laugh. “Well, I don’t ever see that happening.”

  I pressed closer, absorbing the warmth of his arms before tentatively pointing out, “You know, before we married, you promised you would let me make these sensible decisions.”

  “Yes, well, what may sound rational and considered when making such a promise isn’t so easy to accept when you’re facing the very real prospect of your wife being harmed.” He turned his head, speaking into my hair. “I rather like going to sleep
with you beside me and waking to find you still there. I should hate for anything to change that.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  The night was too quiet. Or at least, that’s what I’d decided to blame for my sleeplessness rather than the worry spiraling through me, the facts of our inquiry tumbling about inside my head, the residual tension from my and Gage’s earlier quarrel knotting my muscles. In the past, when I was feeling restless in the middle of the night, I would sit and sketch or work on one of the puzzles my brother-in-law had made for me. I’d not had much difficulty sleeping since our marriage, so I’d not packed any puzzles to bring with me, and just then I didn’t feel like sketching. Instead, I lay staring at the ceiling, counting the divets in the plaster until I couldn’t lie still any longer and got up to pace the room.

  My husband slept on, heedless of my stirrings, and I moved toward the window to stare out at the cloud-shrouded moon. All was silent; all was still. That is, until the moment the moon peeked out from its pall to illuminate the girl at the edge of the carriage yard.

  She stood in much the same place as she had before, half in shadow so that I could not see her face. Though what I could see of her looked older than that of the figure of a twelve-year-old girl. In any case, I didn’t believe it was the ghost of Gertrude, or of anyone else for that matter. Her actions were too deliberate, too purposeful.

  I slowly backed to the side, standing very still, and was rewarded when the clouds swept their filmy gauze back across the moon and she moved. I watched as she dashed across the carriage yard toward the side garden gate. Dropping the curtains, I whirled around to wake Gage, finding him already risen up on his elbow.

  “Kiera?” he asked blearily. “What is it?”

  “That girl I saw before. She just dashed across the carriage yard toward the garden.”

  I didn’t have to say another word; Gage was already up out of the bedclothes and pulling on his trousers. He thrust his feet into a pair of shoes and grabbed a white shirt, yanking it over his head as he opened the bedchamber door. “Ring for Anderley.”