Dead Silent

by Tracy L. Ward

  All eyes in the theatre quickly turned to her, a soft but audible gasp escaping some of the women.

  Margaret felt her cheeks go crimson at the sudden attention but she did not relent. She leaned into Lady Brant, her anger fuelled by her own embarrassment.

  “He killed my mother.”

  She spoke quietly but not quietly enough and the people in the immediate vicinity heard. Lady Brant reached for Margaret's hand, as if to pull her back to her senses, but Margaret ruefully pulled herself away. A murmur started as Margaret climbed the stairs that would take her from the room and she heard the whispers of the gossips starting. “What did she say? Did she say the doctor killed her mother?”

  By the time Margaret reached the door her face was flush with tears. Unable to head for the street, she turned, opening a door to the hospital and charging down the hall without a care to where she went. Eventually she found a dark stairwell, secluded and safe from the noxious smells and sounds of the hospital itself. There on a step she cried, hiding her face with her hands and deeply regretting not listening to her instincts by remaining home that night.

  After a while Margaret heard someone open the door from which she had entered and she looked up to see Jonas walking towards her. He had cleaned up, trading his soiled smock for his regular tailored suit. In fact it was the most impressive suit she had ever seen him in, it appeared as if his new position at the hospital suited him rather well.

  “I do believe you upstaged me, Lady Margaret,” he said as he approached her, a teasing smile on his lips.

  Margaret stood wiping the remnants of her earlier tears and tried, unsuccessfully, to resume the dignified heiress she was supposed to be. “I—”

  He did not let her finish, instead he used his thumb to brush the peak of her cheekbone allowing his hand to rest on the side of her face as he looked at her. “You are a force to be reckoned with, Miss Margaret.”

  Margaret laughed. She shouldn't have been surprised. He was not like the gentlemen she knew who would have denied ever associating with her had she behaved like that in their presence. As a woman of society she was expected to look beautiful, act elegantly and remain quiet. Perhaps it was her mother's influence but she had always had trouble with such things. Jonas, however, hardly noticed her many breeches of proper conduct, in fact she greatly suspected he liked her all the more for them.

  He smiled and it did not take long for her to see their earlier spat was history. He had never stopped caring for her like she had feared. She moved to lean in to him, hoping he'd kiss her and then resolved to kiss him if he didn't, but she stopped short when Lady Brant walked through the door.

  Her face was stern and unforgiving. “Dr. Lehmann is this hospital's most celebrated surgeon.”

  “He's also married,” Jonas offered.

  Margaret started at the words. It had never occurred to her that two marriages had been destroyed by her mother's impropriety, but now with the facts so clear she wondered how she had not thought of it sooner. Close at her side, Jonas' hand found hers behind the deep ruffles of her skirt. Fingers locked, his thumb rubbed the back of her hand, a gesture that sent both shivers and thrills through the core of her.

  Lady Brant clenched her jaw even tighter and, as if deciding Jonas was not to be acknowledged, she looked to Margaret. “I'm surprised he was able to keep himself composed. After your little outburst his face went as red as a beet.”

  “I'm surprised he dared to show his face,” Margaret said, anger interlaced with her words.

  Lady Brant laughed and crossed her arms over her bodice. “Margaret, stop this. Dr. Lehmann is an amazing man and you are acting like a spoiled child.”

  Margaret shook her head. “How can you defend him? For all we know he killed her.”

  Lady Brant's tone softened and she walked towards Margaret. “Margaret dear, please, end this nonsense.” Lady Brant reached her hand toward Margaret but she dodged her touch. “Margaret!”

  Jonas moved to step in front of Margaret, a protective gesture that was not lost on her as she reached up a hand to hold him back. “I saw him in the parlour at The Briar with my mother,” Margaret said sternly and deliberately. She desperately wanted Jonas' hand again but dared not reach for it. “He was her lover and judging by his behaviour I suspect he knows where she was when she disappeared and has the most reasons to want her dead.”

  The threesome became quiet and the air around them grew thick with a haze of suspicion and doubt. Margaret could not fathom any reason for her mother's dearest friend to wish to deny the possibility her lover was involved.

  Margaret's throat seized, growing dry as each second passed. Her eyes became locked on Lady Brant as she contemplated if she were somehow involved. The possibility that Lady Brant was the murderer seemed unlikely, but what else could explain her defence of such a man? There was something sinister in her demeanor, something unfamiliar and suspect. In truth, Margaret liked Dr. Lehmann as the culprit more than she liked to think her father had something to do with it. If the latter were true Margaret believed she would never recover.

  A loud sigh of resignation from Lady Brant pulled Margaret from her dark thoughts. “Very well,” she said. “I think this warrants a family meeting. Dr. Davies here will fetch your brother and we will all meet at my house. Is that agreeable to you, Margaret?”

  After a moment of thought, Margaret relented and gave a slight nod.

  “Let's get to it then.” Lady Brant laughed heartily, and began to guide Margaret through the doors to the front of the hospital. “Really, Margaret, you have become such a disagreeable child.”

  Chapter 24

  Ye merry souls, farewell.

  Ainsley smiled as Jonas walked the perimeter of Lady Brant's parlour taking in the artfully displayed anatomy as if he were a kid in a candy store. Ainsley himself had seen her collection many times and though she often had new pieces that he could appreciate, it was clear that Jonas had never seen such a display.

  “Lady Brant, I think you may have an eager apprentice,” Ainsley said, nodding to Jonas who was surveying a square glass box with a dissected foetus inside.

  Lady Brant's face lit up at the idea. “Truly?” She looked to Jonas with a sudden admiration. “It's not as difficult as it seems,” she said, hopefully. “All you need is some resin, wax and a few other ingredients but the steady hand is hardest to come by. Have you a steady hand or are you one of those quick, slash and dash type surgeons?”

  Jonas looked up and glanced to Margaret as if concerned the topic of discussion would alarm her.

  She sat daintily in one of Lady Brant's chairs, her elbow propped up on the arm, her hand held to her face as she looked out the window. It was clear her thoughts were not in the room.

  “He's one of the best,” Ainsley offered, with a benevolent smile, trying to lighten the dark mood that Margaret's demeanor cast in the room.

  Jonas shrugged dismissively.

  “I do believe your sister finds us irritating,” Lady Brant said, slipping into the chair opposite Margaret, her close movement forcing Margaret to break from her deep train of thoughts. “She made quite a spectacle of herself at the operating theatre this evening,” Lady Brant said with a sigh.

  Ainsley smiled. He wondered if Lady Brant expected him to chide his sister or, in the very least, side with her disapproval. He did neither, and decided it was best not to feed in to Lady Brant's overreaction.

  “Lady Brant, we are not strangers to spectacles,” he said, winking at Margaret. “After all, you remember what my mother was like.”

  “Yes, and that's precisely why I am warning you against it. We are trying to repair a great deal of damage.” Lady Brant sat so close to edge of her seat Ainsley wondered why she did not fall off completely.

  “We?” Ainsley asked with a raised eyebrow.

  “Yes, me, you, all of us. With your mother gone—”

  “She no longer has a say,” Margaret said raising her gaze from the floor. She spoke as if it were an
epiphany, a realization that she had slightly more control over her life than before. Margaret turned to Lady Brant. “And you never did.” She may have been in deep mourning but Ainsley saw Margaret's strength swell in those simple words and he could not help but be pleased by it.

  Lady Brant sat with her shoulders straight, her gaze shifting from Margaret to Ainsley and back again. She opened her mouth to speak but closed it again, having changed her mind.

  “Now, Jonas fetched me here, tell me why,” Ainsley demanded.

  “Dr. Lehmann,” Jonas breathed.

  “What about him?”

  “It's him,” Margaret said.

  Ainsley nodded, though he did it absentmindedly. Dr. Lehmann was his highest superior, the one who had ultimately recommended him for hire.

  “Peter, a week ago you were begging me to remember!”

  “I know! I wanted to track her down and make sure she was safe. I had no idea it would be Dr. Lehmann, of all people!” He raked his hands through his hair and turned from the gathering. His heart rate quickened and he suppressed a frustrated growl.

  “I do not see how it matters now,” Lady Brant interjected. “It’s all water under the bridge.What’s done is done.”

  Ainsley rounded on Lady Brant with a slow deliberate step. “You knew,” he said quietly.

  She avoided his gaze, pressing her lips together as she scanned the room. When her eyes came to Jonas she spoke. “Perhaps you should leave us now.”

  Jonas appeared more than willing to oblige and took a step toward the door but Margaret stood. “No, Jonas is thoroughly trustworthy,” she said in protest.

  “Margaret, it will be all right,” Jonas answered.

  “There is no need for you to leave.” Margaret stepped toward him, “only that Lady Brant is worried for our family's reputation, which by all accounts has suffered enough scandal there is no need to be so secretive.”

  When Jonas and Margaret looked to Ainsley for reassurance he shrugged, caring not if his friend left or stayed and knowing if Jonas stayed he'd not tittle-tattle to the papers the next day.

  After a drawn out sigh, Lady Brant relented. “She begged me never to tell you,” Lady Brant said raising her eyes to meet Ainsley's. “How was I supposed to know any of this would happen? Your mother was miserable in that marriage. I warned her not to marry him. I told her she would never find peace. It was Dr. Lehmann she loved.”

  Ainsley laughed bitterly. “She was married to a miserable man with three grown children. She sought solace in something new, something foreign.”

  Lady Brant shook her head gently. “No, Peter. He and your mother had plans to marry long before you and your siblings were even born. Lord Ainsley, your grandfather, refused to give his blessing to such a match, even after Charlotte became with child.”

  “What do you mean?” Margaret asked in a far off voice. Her gaze was vacant, lost in thought before she turned to Ainsley suddenly. “We have another sibling?”

  Ainsley turned from them and walked toward the farthest end of the room, running a hand over his face and trying unsuccessfully to control his breathing.

  “She must have put it up for adoption or... worse,” he heard Margaret say from behind him. She must have been looking at him but he dared not turn around. “There are ways right, Peter, ways to prevent a pregnancy from developing?”

  Ainsley turned, crossing his arms over his chest. “I don't think that is what Lady Brant means,” he said.

  “What else could it be? There's only the three of us... oh dear god,” her voice suddenly grew quiet. “Daniel.”

  Ainsley watched as Margaret closed her eyes momentarily, flexing her hands at her side. “It can not be true.”

  “We must never tell him,” Lady Brant said.

  “But Father knows,” Margaret said looking to Lady Brant. “Doesn't he?”

  “He knew,” Lady Brant conceded. “He also knew it would be his only way to marry the woman he loved who didn't love him back. Lord Ainsley, your grandfather, approved the match and they married within a fortnight hoping her pregnancy would appear legitimate. Your father agreed to keep it a secret and she agreed to never see Dr. Lehmann again.”

  Everything changed with those sentences. Suddenly Ainsley's hatred for his father, though very real, seemed unjust. He wasn't sure if he felt ashamed of himself or angry that such scandal had been plaguing their family since before Ainsley was even born. Lady Charlotte Marshall had never fit into society because society never forgave her and eventually she must have given up trying. Her marriage was not happy because she had never wanted to be with him. And Daniel remained as a daily reminder to the life that could have been.

  “She broke her promise,” Ainsley said at last.

  Lady Brant nodded, her gaze avoiding his. “Yes, her fidelity lasted until a few years ago. I believe the demands of society became too much for her and she needed an escape. Your family's estate in Tunbridge Wells proved most useful in that regard.”

  The pieces of the puzzle fit so snugly it nearly gave Ainsley the chills.

  Chapter 25

  The old earth

  Had a birth,

  As all men know,

  Long ago.

  The bell at Daniel's house, nearer completion, sounded strong and commanding like Daniel himself. Ainsley had never imagined himself to be in a position of knowledge such as that which Lady Brant had told them the night before. Standing on his brother's doorstep with sweaty palms and rapid heartbeat, Ainsley wished he had never been told. Their relationship had been so easy, so concrete, this new revelation threatened to change it all.

  Some things could never really change of course. Daniel had been his older brother all of his life. Often a sobering presence, Daniel demanded attention as soon as he entered a room. His departure from the Briar to live in London with their father while he attended school allowed the country estate to come back to life. The family and staff did not fear Daniel, not the way Lord Marshall made them fearful. It was only because Daniel was less forgiving of both himself and others. Any transgression was to be treated seriously and any deviation from the norm was intolerable.

  These characteristics that Daniel possessed had released Ainsley from any guilt. He could study medicine, travel extensively and only converse with their father when absolutely necessary with the knowledge that his brother was required to be the responsible one. Being the second son, Ainsley felt no guilt for not following his father's wishes, or heeding his father's cautions. All these years Ainsley cared nothing for his father's pride knowing his father had an eldest son in whom to take solace. It had never occurred to the young doctor that he was his father's real legacy. Lord Marshall's blood coursed through his veins and not those of his brother.

  The door opened after a long wait and Ainsley forced a benevolent smile when he saw Evelyn's maid, Esmie, open the door.

  “I see Lord Marshall has not acquired a proper butler or footman,” he said in jest. The maid shook her head. “His lordship is away this evening,” she answered without hesitation, paying no attention to his attempts at informality.

  “Did he give an indication where he would be? Lord Marshall's family home perhaps.”

  Again she shook her head. “He did not say, sir, only the Lady and I are within.”

  “I see,” Ainsley answered. Before he turned away he thought of the task Simms had charged him with and realized it was serendipitous that his brother was not home. “May I speak with Miss Evelyn then?” he asked before Esmie could close the imposing wooden door.

  Protocol required that she allow him admittance but he could tell she was not often trusted with such duties. She hesitated.

  “She is to be my sister-in-law,” Ainsley said with a smile. “I assure you there is no need to fear.”

  Briefly looking to the street behind him, the maid pulled the door to open wider revealing a strikingly dark foyer and closed it as soon as there was clearance. As he walked in Ainsley saw each room that exited the foyer was d
ark as well. The maid disappeared, walking the flight of stairs to alert her mistress of his presence, and Ainsley was left there to wait in the near dark.

  He wondered how long it would be before the house would be ready and the pair could be settled and, of course, married. That is to say if Evelyn still wished to marry his brother after she found out Lady Charlotte Marshall's death was not an accident and that Daniel was one of Ainsley's suspects.

  Within a few moments, the maid returned. “Her ladyship is on the second floor.”

  Ainsley nodded and followed the maid as she led him up the stairs. They walked an equally dark corridor and approached a dim room to their left. The maid entered first and Ainsley slipped in behind her.

  The room looked to be her bedroom, a large ornate poster bed dominating the relatively small space compared to his own room. Without a mattress the ropes could be seen already strung and tightened, a tower of quilts and sheets lay freshly laundered and folded on a chair beside it. There was an abundance of wood crates strewn about, some empty but most unopened and yet Evelyn already had her mantel and furnishings cluttered with vases, peacock feathers, paintings and portraits.

  “Lord Marshall, how nice for you to stop by,” Evelyn answered graciously. “I am afraid your brother is not home.”

  “Yes, your lady here has so informed me.”

  “How do you and Margaret fare?” she asked. “Daniel is greatly pained by Lady Marshall's passing.”

  “Is he?” Ainsley asked, not intending it to sound so indignant.

  Evelyn gave a slight chuckle. “I have made an observation.”

  Ainsley raised an eyebrow.

  Evelyn turned to her maid. “I'd like a tea, Esmie”

  “My lady?”

  “Thank you,” Evelyn said solidly. With the maid gone, Evelyn spoke. “It has become clear that you bear some ill feelings towards your brother. I saw as much during the funeral.”