Dead Silent

by Tracy L. Ward

Ainsley could not help but laugh. The suggestion was an amusing one.

  “Peter is a happy bachelor,” Margaret teased, “Perpetually wooing women, never asking more than a few stolen kisses. Isn't that right, Peter?” She looked at him with a mischievous grin.

  “I am nothing of the sort,” Ainsley answered, knowing full well neither woman believed him.

  “I have a feeling about you Peter,” Evelyn said as Julia raised her arm out to the side so she could better measure the sleeve. “You will find your match, and she will be just as taken with you as you are with her.”

  “Or she will run the other way in fear for her reputation,” Margaret muttered.

  Ainsley laughed.

  “How does it look Julia?” Margaret asked when the maid took a step back to look over the newly pinned and reformed dress.

  “All it needs is a little updating and a shorter hem,” she answered quietly, keeping her eyes on the skirt.

  “Julia, you are a dear,” Evelyn said, beaming from her perch. “Margaret, are you sure it's no trouble?”

  “You misunderstand my motives,” Margaret replied, holding the sewing box open so Julia could place her extra pins and the measuring tape inside. The box was little more than a hat box upholstered with some leftover dress fabric and trim. “My life is dreadfully dull and it keeps my mind off things.” Margaret let out a deep sigh and looked to Ainsley.

  “I'll leave you then,” Ainsley said, knowing they would need to help Evelyn undress. “It looks beautiful,” he said to Evelyn before he turned.

  “Peter?” Margaret moved towards the door, closer to Peter and separating herself from Evelyn and Julia.

  Ainsley turned at the sound of Margaret's voice. “Yes?”

  “What did you want to tell me?” she asked, her voice low.

  Ainsley looked over to the beaming bride and realized he could not ruin that moment, especially since he could not verify his suspicions just then. He jerked his head behind him and bid Margaret to follow him into the hall.

  “What is it?” she asked in a hushed tone.

  “I am in no mood for a wedding,” Ainsley muttered.

  “Nor am I but Father has reassured me it is to be a tame affair.”

  Ainsley chuckled slightly. “When has anyone in this family been accused of being tame?”

  Margaret smiled but it soon faded. “What did you find out, Peter?” she asked. She swallowed nervously, looking frightened and unprepared for what he might have to say.

  “Clara was not Evelyn's cousin.” Ainsley answered, his expression plain and his gaze definitive. “They were lovers.”

  Margaret's breath stopped for a moment and her eyes dropped.

  “You know what that means don't you?” Ainsley asked bending at the knees to look at her face.

  “Of course I know what that means!” Margaret answered harshly, but quietly. “Women talk the same as men.”

  “They are hurriedly planning this wedding in the hopes that we won't find out about Evelyn and Clara,” Ainsley said. “I'm convinced they loved each other even after Evelyn became a Weatherall. I believe that is why Clara was killed. Margaret, I can not look the other way. A woman was murdered because of some misguided desperation to marry into our family.”

  “You believe her family would go to such lengths? To murder a young woman?”

  “Others have killed for less.”

  Margaret nodded.

  On the carriage ride home Ainsley had decided he could not look the other way. As children they spent years pretending their Mother's behaviour held no consequences. It had been easier to ignore the problem than face it and deal with any repercussions. He carried a great deal of guilt with him for that, believing he could have saved her if he hadn't been so damned forgiving.

  “If they knew Mother, they needn't have worried,” Margaret said, partly in jest. “The three of us would be lucky to find matches at all.”

  Ainsley knew her well enough to smile. It saddened him to think they may never see a time when their lives would not be marred by scandal.

  “Do you think she could have done it?” Margaret asked. Her voice had risen and she looked over her shoulder to her bedroom door to check that they were still alone.

  Ainsley nodded. “I suppose anything is possible.”

  A creak in the floorboards behind them caused Ainsley to start. Turning his attention to the door Ainsley saw Evelyn, still wearing his mother's wedding dress, standing in the threshold. Her expression was hardened and she glared at them both.

  “You think I could do such a thing?” she asked, her eyes not moving from the ice cold stare she gave them.

  Looking over her shoulder, Margaret inched closer to Ainsley and then stopped, as if suddenly feeling guilty for believing Evelyn capable of such a crime. “Evelyn—” Margaret took a step forward, reaching out a hand but Evelyn gathered her skirt and made for the stairwell.

  “Wait!” Ainsley called but Evelyn did not stop.

  Julia appeared at the door, sewing box in hand just as Ainsley tore down the hall to pursue Evelyn down the stairs. Her face flushed, Evelyn looked over her shoulder as she tried to get away.

  “Don't you come near me!” she yelled as she reached the foyer floor. “I warn you not to lay a hand on me.” She turned to face him as he approached her, her hands outstretched.

  “It's time for the truth,” he said loudly, realizing the commotion would soon attract the others in the house. He knew he only had a short window of time before her father and brother would appear to protect her.

  The tears began slipping down her face. “What truth do you want? You want to know if Clara and I were lovers? If I killed her to hide our secret?”

  Margaret's footfalls could be heard behind them. She moved slowly down the stairs and stopped a few steps from the foyer. Lingering there, she leaned on the railing. “Peter, tread carefully,” she said by way of warning.

  It was the last thing Ainsley wished to do. He had been treading so carefully since returning to London it made him ill to think of all the precious time that was lost. For his brother's sake he had been protective of Evelyn instead of asking pointed questions. He wanted to believe Evelyn had nothing to do with Clara's death but the evidence was clear and he could no longer deny her involvement.

  “Were you lovers?” he asked.

  A distant door could be heard opening and a determined stampede of boots was approaching them from the hall. Lord Weatherall, Lord Marshall, Will and Daniel spilled into the foyer.

  “What is happening here?” Lord Marshall asked brusquely.

  Evelyn turned to her father, her tear stained face causing his features to harden all the more. “What have you done to my daughter?”

  “I was simply asking her some questions,” Ainsley answered with a forced nonchalance.

  “This is not about that woman again, is it?” Daniel asked walking across the room to confront his brother. Jaw tight, Ainsley did not look at him and in turn refused to answer. Casually, he slipped a hand into his pocket and looked to Margaret.

  “Are both my siblings conspiring against this marriage?” Daniel asked, his voice reverberating in the hollowness of the foyer.

  “You are not married yet,” Ainsley pointed out.

  Daniel grabbed Ainsley by his jacket lapels and pushed him back against the wall. Grabbing his brother's wrists, Ainsley tried to push back but the momentum was already in his brother's favour. A loud crack rang out when his back collided with the wall.

  “Your bitterness will not ruin me,” Daniel shouted, his nose inches from Ainsley's face. “Do you hear me brother!” He pulled Ainsley back from the wall slightly and then pushed him into it again. “Hold your tongue forevermore on this subject or I will see to it you don't receive a penny of the Marshall fortune.”

  “I could say the same to you!”

  Ainsley snapped his head forward, hitting his brother squarely in the temple. Daniel let go of his grip on Ainsley and doubled back in pain, raising his han
d to his wounded head. Stepping away from the wall Ainsley raised his fists, ready to fight should Daniel attack him again.

  “Peter.” Margaret came down a few steps.

  When Ainsley looked to her, Daniel threw a punch sending him back into the wall.

  Ainsley’s fists connected with Daniel twice more before they were forced apart by Billis and Lord Marshall. Out of breath and in pain, Ainsley watched as his brother checked his nose for blood.

  “I care nothing for your marriage!” Ainsley yelled at him, “I care that a woman was murdered by someone in that family. And as it stands now Evelyn is the most likely suspect.”

  “How can you say that?” Evelyn asked looking aghast.

  “This is outrageous!” Lord Weatherall boomed. He turned to Lord Marshall. “Your son has some cheek to be making such declarations.”

  “I would never hurt Clara!” Evelyn yelled against the murmur of the room.

  “You wouldn't be the first person to murder their lover!” Ainsley answered.

  Daniel's fist met Ainsley's jaw again and he was thrown back into the stairs. His brother would have hit him again had Margaret not placed herself between them.

  Ainsley knew his words held spiteful venom but he did not care. He wondered if he would have been better off letting Det. Simms arrest and interrogate her, rather than confronting her in this way. Despite these second thoughts he pressed on and held some hope that his family could avoid controversy in the newsprint the next day.

  “How dare you!” Lord Weatherall bellowed. Will stepped forward as if to challenge Ainsley but Lord Weatherall pushed him back and took his place. “Watch your step young man! You do not want me as an enemy! I have a mind to challenge you here and now!”

  “Enough!” Lord Marshall called. His fingers gripped his cigar loosely. “Peter would never say such things unless he believed them true.”

  Meeting his father's stern gaze Ainsley touched the side of his mouth and saw blood on his finger as he pulled it away. He glared at Daniel and straightened his coat onto his shoulders. “I met a woman today, Clara's friend.”

  “Who is this friend?” Lord Weatherall sneered.

  Lord Marshall quieted him with a pointed finger. “And?” his father asked.

  “She said that Clara and Evelyn thought fondly of each other. Evelyn was Clara's favourite. She alluded to an intimate relationship between them but when Lord Weatherall married Evelyn's mother, Clara was thrown aside. She was forbidden to visit the family most likely because of the potential scandal. You cast her aside, Lord Weatherall, from the only type of family she had. I have reason to believe Clara was murdered because of Evelyn's desire to marry my brother.”

  A hush fell over the room, each person digesting the plot Ainsley had laid out.

  Evelyn looked to Daniel, her eyes wide and her lower lip trembling. She began to shake her head but Daniel just turned from her, rubbing his face with one hand the other placed squarely on his hip. Ainsley watched as she closed her eyes, rejected in front of all of them. When Evelyn turned to him he saw the raw pain his words had caused.

  “She was a special friend to me,” she stammered. “I... I hadn't realized... I mean, I didn't know she felt more. After my parents married, Father refused to let me see her.” Evelyn looked to Lord Weatherall. “Perhaps he saw what I didn't see.” She began to pat the folds of the wedding dress she wore, smoothing out the layers around her hips, perhaps using the texture of the lace pattern to calm her shaking hands. “It was true when I told you I hadn't seen her in years. I was forbidden to, and even though I thought of her often. It was the announcement in the paper, you see, of our engagement that made her come to see me, but Father would not let Mother or I see her.”

  “So you went to her?” Ainsley offered.

  Evelyn nodded thoughtfully. “Yes. I shouldn't have gone. I had no idea what that area of London was like or that anyone would notice me. I imagine that makes me rather naive. She needed money and I...” she looked to her father and then back to Ainsley. “I gave her some.”

  “And the mirror?” Margaret asked.

  “I had given it to her many Christmases ago, before Father forbid Mother and I to speak to her. I bought two, one for myself as well, as a link, you understand. When I went to see her it was sitting on a table and I was surprised she still had it after all these years. I imagined she had pawned it or something. Given her circumstances.” Evelyn swallowed hard and her gaze was locked on the floor. “She asked if it was true, if I was truly getting married. I was so stupid. I laughed and talked of dinnerware designs and crystal goblets. I told her about the beautiful house Daniel had commissioned and then, she smashed it.”

  She glanced around the room. Daniel had turned to her slightly, as if interested, but kept his gaze trained to the side. Will shook his hands at his side, looking to his father as if at odds with what to do. Lord Weatherall appeared pained and contemplative, seemingly heretofore unaware that his step-daughter had disobeyed him.

  “I had never seen her behave so,” Evelyn continued, “I was frightened... I left.”

  “Truly?” Ainsley asked.

  “Yes. When I found out she had died I blamed myself for leaving her there in that horrible place.”

  “Did anyone know you were going to visit her?” Ainsley asked.

  Suddenly there was a metallic click and Ainsley looked over to see Will, his prized duelling pistol now pulled from beneath his coat and held in an outstretched arm.

  “That is enough questions,” he said. Stepping out from his father's shadows, he held Ainsley in his sight line, one eye closed. “My sister will not be slandered by the likes of that woman or you.”

  Ainsley thought to turn, to protect Margaret if no one else, but he was too late.

  With a bang and a burst of smoke, the gun went off.

  “Peter!”

  Chapter 29

  For even and morn

  Ye will never see

  Thro’ eternity.

  The room became hazy with black powder smoke and muffled, almost distant sounds of a woman's screams. Ainsley looked down to his chest and saw nothing. A misfire? His body shook as he tried to make out the chaos that unfolded.

  “Peter!”

  Through the cloud he saw Evelyn on the ground, her cream coloured dress stained red.

  “Oh my god! Evelyn!” Daniel called out.

  Ainsley knelt at Evelyn's side, the red stain, at first the size of his fist, expanding rapidly as blood seeped into the satin that made up her garment. Ainsley pressed his hand flat on to her wound in an attempt to stop the bleeding but he could feel it rushing through his tight fingers.

  Evelyn moaned, her lips trying to form words as she grabbed Ainsley's arm. Her eyes were wide, as if she knew something was wrong.

  “Daniel,” she moaned.

  “We have to take her to the hospital,” Lord Weatherall said frantically from behind Ainsley.

  “There's no time,” Ainsley answered. “She'll bleed out before we get the carriage hitched.” He looked at her wound, easing up his hands and replaced it quickly to stifle the bleeding. He looked up to Will, but he was gone.

  “Do something!” his brother growled at him with barred teeth.

  Ainsley shook his head. There was not enough time. He could not be quick enough. His slow hands would torture her before he could be of any help. Dr. Lehmann had said it himself, he was a great scientist but a horrible surgeon.

  “Peter, save her!” Daniel yelled again grabbing Ainsley's lapel as he had done earlier and forcing his brother to look at him. “Damn it, Peter, you will save the woman I love or—”

  Ainsley nodded. “Yes,” he said, “I'll do my best. Margaret press here, hard.”

  She placed her hands where her brother indicated.

  Ainsley rolled Evelyn on to her side to get a look at her back. The bullet had not gone through. “Help me get her into the dining room,” he said, positioning his hands beneath her. He directed them to the dining room. Ma
rgaret rushed ahead to pull off the tablecloth and pull the chairs back. Laying her on the table Ainsley used his hand to compress the wound.

  “Father, my bag.”

  Lord Marshall nodded and disappeared.

  “Margaret, get me the sewing kit. Light! I need light!”

  Julia and Violetta scrambled into the room pulling oil lamps from all corners of the house and laid them around Evelyn on the table.

  “Save her, Peter,” Daniel whispered, as he leaned into the table from the opposite side.

  Ainsley began to doubt he could. The blood had covered his hands entirely and he was losing his grip. He could not leave her to die, but trying to get her to the hospital was similar to a death sentence, he'd have to get the bullet out and stitch her up.

  Lord Marshall returned with his bag which he placed at Ainsley's side, and a few moments later Margaret rushed in with the sewing box.

  He had never thought he would have to perform surgery under such conditions. The hospitals had anesthetics, a team of assistants and the surgeons all had one thing he didn't have. Speed.

  Margaret opened the doctor's bag and looked to Ainsley. “What do you need?”

  “Tweezers, scalpel...” Forcing out a deep breath Ainsley rubbed some sweat from his brow with his bloody hands.

  You're a good surgeon, Peter, but you are far too slow.

  Doctor Lehmann's words resounded in Ainsley's mind as he looked over Evelyn, wondering how best to stop the bleeding. He was too slow, far too slow for the task in front of him. Even if he were able to fish out the bullet and stop the bleeding, she would die of shock, or worse linger for days and succumb to infection.

  “Father, take them out,” he commanded. He did not look up or indicate whom he meant by 'them' but Lord Marshall knew and escorted Lord Weatherall and Daniel out the door.

  “What's he going to do to her?” Lord Weatherall asked in near desperation.

  “Everything is going to be fine,” Lord Marshall answered as he ushered him out. “My son is a brilliant surgeon.”

  With the door closed, Ainsley set to work. Margaret and Julia had laid out all his tools, even some he had not requested and arranged them on the tea cart and wheeled it over beside him.