Dead Silent

by Tracy L. Ward

  “Help me with her stays,” Ainsley said.

  Together they made quick work to remove all layers of clothing, leaving her in her under shift which had become so soaked with blood it shone crimson. Ainsley rolled up the sticky fabric and looked at the wound. It was a small hole at the side of her stomach, just above her pelvic bone. It had been shot in at an angle and Ainsley desperately hoped it had missed her vital organs.

  “Hold her down,” he commanded.

  “You think she will be going anywhere?” Margaret asked, hesitantly.

  “Hold her down!” His tone must have been determined enough because Margaret and Julia did as he bid without further question.

  Scalpel in hand, he made an incision along the entry point, ignoring the tight squirming coming from the patient. It would have hurt worse than the sudden impact of the bullet and her muffled cries drove him to work faster. With the slim forceps, he dug into her flesh and searched for the bullet.

  “She's passed out,” Julia said.

  Ainsley glanced to her face.

  “Make sure she keeps breathing. Let me know if she stops.”

  Margaret nodded, and leaned in closer to Evelyn's face. She held her hand to the side of her throat to locate her pulse. “She's weakening.”

  Ainsely hurried. He had found the bullet but for some reason could not get the tweezers around it. He moved the tool around and finally he felt the tool become rigid. Slowly he pulled the bullet from her body. The bleeding had slowed but that was scarcely a comforting thought.

  “Thread me a needle.”

  Margaret nodded and went to the sewing box.

  “Hurry!”

  With trembling fingers Margaret handed Ainsley the threaded needle. With his fingers, he searched around her wound, seeking any organs or arteries that the bullet may have hit. “It's too dark!”

  Julia carefully lowered a lamp toward the wound.

  With the needle and thread, he began to stitch Evelyn up. Had he been in the morgue he would have been careful and far more precise but with Evelyn he did not have the time. Within minutes he had operated, found the bullet, and pieced her back together.

  Finally he turned from the scene and retreated to a table of spirits left from dinner.

  “Peter,” Margaret began, disparaging of her brother's need for drink.

  Ainsley glared at her as he walked back to Evelyn with the bottle and poured it gingerly on her wound. “We need bandages. We need to keep the wound clean.”

  Margaret nodded and grabbed the tablecloth and began tearing it into strips. She helped him wrap many pieces around Evelyn's midsection, securing the last one with a firm knot.

  “What do we do now?” Julia asked.

  “We wait.”

  Chapter 30

  All things were born.

  A ripped piece of bloodied tablecloth in his hands, Ainsley finally opened the dining room door. Everyone, Lord Weatherall, Daniel and Lord Marshall all looked up expectantly. Ainsley nodded somberly. “She will need to rest,” he said. “We won't know until morning. And we need to move her to a proper bed.” Ainsley looked past the three men gathered in front of him. “Where's Billis?” he asked, knowing they'd need his strength.

  Lord Marshall spoke up, “He took after Will when he ran off.”

  Ainsley was not sure how much time had passed. It felt like only a matter of seconds since the chaos ensued but in other respects it felt like an entire lifetime.

  Lord Marshall stepped into the dining hall, as did Daniel, and together they transported Evelyn, wrapped in a blanket, upstairs to one of the guest rooms. While checking her pulse, Ainsley received a pat on the back, a gesture of reassurance from his father as he walked by.

  “You did well,” Ainsley heard him say from behind him, though Ainsley could not bring himself to look.

  Hearing his father's footfalls down the hall Ainsley closed his eyes and bowed his head. He had always wanted his father to see what he could do, what his years of schooling had taught him but he had believed he'd never be given the chance. Despite this secret wish, he had never imagined that he would be charged with saving the life of a member of the family.

  “How is she doing?” Margaret asked peering in from the hallway.

  Ainsley finally stood, brushing a tear from the crest of his cheek. “Her pulse is still weak,” he answered quietly. “We will have to watch for fever.”

  Margaret came in and stood on the opposite side of the bed. “Everyone is calling you a hero.”

  Ainsley shook his head. “I'm not a good surgeon, Margaret,” he protested. “I take too long. If she gets an infection—”

  “It will be God's will,” she answered.

  A slight chuckle left his lips. “Dr. Lehmann could have saved her, without question. Or Jonas, or any number of other surgeons. There is a reason they sent me to the morgue. I can't harm anyone who's already dead.”

  “Peter—” Margaret tried to call after him but Ainsley was already out the door.

  In the foyer, Ainsley saw Billis had returned, a vice-like grip on Will's upper arm. Lord Weatherall greeted Ainsley as he descended, a broad smile on the old man's face. “Bravo, young man,” he said in a boisterous tone. He grabbed Ainsley's hand and shook it exuberantly.

  Lord Marshall stood to the side, one hand shoved in his pocket, a crystal glass of brandy in the other. Ainsley could taste the liquid on his tongue and salivated for one of his own.

  “I imagine having a surgeon in the family has some benefits, eh then?”

  Ainsley eyed Lord Weatherall, daring the man to say what he was anticipating.

  Lord Weatherall gestured to Will. “See what your man did to my boy?” he asked. Lord Weatherall gripped Will's chin and used it to turn his son's head back and forth.

  Ainsley saw the beginnings of a bruised eye and a smear of blood at the corner of a fattening lip.

  “There was a scuffle, sir,” Billis said. The butler turned his head slightly revealing a deep gouge on his cheek. “Cameron is prepared to summon the Inspectors sir,” he said gesturing to the footman beside him, “but Lord Weatherall believes there is no need.”

  Lord Weatherall smiled, somewhat nervously, “We all know my son has a hot temper, but punishing him for that—”

  “I have seen men hang for lesser crimes,” Ainsley answered coolly. “Your son is guilty of the murder of one life and an attempt on another. He'd better pray that Evelyn survives or that charge will be upgraded.” Ainsley looked from Lord Weatherall to Will, his eyes narrow with disgust. “Forgive me if I misunderstand you, Lord Weatherall, but are you asking me to overlook your son's crimes?”

  Evelyn's step-father began to shake his head profusely, “Of course not. I only ask that we consider the scandal. We wouldn't want Daniel and Evelyn to begin their new life with such a dark cloud—”

  “As far as I am concerned there is no dark cloud for Evelyn and Daniel,” Ainsley answered forcefully. “But there is one for you. What kind of man raises a murderer?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “I would tread very carefully, Lord Weatherall, because you are starting to look like an accessory.”

  Ainsley looked to the footman and cocked his head towards the door. “Go and be quick,” he said.

  “Wait just a minute—” Lord Weatherall tried to step forward to stop the boy but Ainsley placed a hand on his chest. Cameron ran past opening the door and disappearing into the cold December night.

  “Lord Weatherall, let's not create a scene,” Ainsley said.

  By the time Inspectors Simms and Wright arrived, Ainsley had treated the gouge to Billis' cheek, using some antiseptic and a salve from his medical bag. Each witness had been separated from the rest to relay to the detectives what had happened. Ainsley could not count on Lord Weatherall to give a truthful account but it mattered not. By the time Simms and Wright questioned Ainsley they had already placed Will in handcuffs.

  “You are quite the man for attracting trouble, Lord Marshall,
” Wright said as Ainsley entered his father's study where they were conducting their interviews.

  “Perhaps,” Ainsley answered.

  “And your sister, she is quiet the seamstress,” Simms interjected.

  Ainsley looked to the Inspector puzzled.

  “Your father tells us you fished the bullet out and she stitched the wound,” Simms continued.

  Ainsley had thought his secret was out the minute he took charge and tried to save Evelyn's life. It had never occurred to him to continue his charade, and now his father had devised a way to save face and keep his secret.

  “Is that true?” Simms asked.

  Ainsley smiled. “Yes, that's right,” he answered.

  “How did you know to take the bullet out?” Wright asked.

  “I must have read it in a book, an account of the Crimean, I believe. I can't quite recall.”

  “And the weapon, a G & J Deane pistol, know where it might be?” Wright asked, looking over his notes.

  “Our butler said there was no trace of it by the time he caught up with Will,” Ainsley explained.

  “Your father has given us permission to search the premises in the morning,” Simms said, “I imagine we will find it before long.”

  Chapter 31

  Ye will come never more,

  The house fell into an eerie quiet once the detectives left, their quarry secured in the back of the police carriage. Margaret and Daniel kept a vigil at Evelyn's side and Lord Marshall had taken a bottle of scotch to his room. Ainsley was finally able to return to the dining room to reassemble his doctor's bag. He found the room already set to rights, a new gleaming lace tablecloth replaced the one Ainsley and Margaret had shredded for the procedure. The candelabras had been replaced and all evidence of any medical procedure had been erased. Julia was hunched before the small fire, shifting the pieces of burning wood, spreading the embers apart and encouraging the flames to dissipate. She turned and saw Ainsley behind her.

  “Oh beg my pardon, Lord Marshall,” she said, “Mr. Billis has asked me to see to the room and take down the fire.” She stood, holding the ash filled metal pail in one of her hands, the iron fire poker in the other.

  “No pardon is necessary,” Ainsley explained. “I was just looking for my bag.”

  “Mr. Billis has it, sir,” she said hurriedly. “I saw him leave the room with it. Perhaps he wanted it hidden from the Inspectors.”

  Ainsley nodded, the full scope of his conspiracy and the numbers within his circle of trust expanding in his mind. He wondered how long he could keep his profession a secret. “Thank you,” he said. He turned to leave but stopped at the door. “Julia, I should thank you.”

  “Whatever for, my lord?” she asked.

  “Today you assisted without question. You could not have known my training as a surgeon.”

  “You spoke with such authority, sir,” she answered, allowing her gaze to drop to the floor.

  “You've been such a help to my family these past few weeks. I know my sister has made your work here rather trying.”

  “Not at all,” Julia answered quickly.

  “I am afraid she thought you were a spy hired by our father. She has a tendency to wander from home and it's put her in a few undesirable situations.”

  “I don't believe it, my lord,” Julia said, “Lady Margaret is a fine young woman of modest character.”

  Ainsley began to smile. “If you say so.”

  “If you don't mind me saying so, sir, I feel my position will come to an end soon,” she said, her tone becoming quiet.

  “Why would you say that?”

  “With her mistress gone, Violetta could better serve Lady Margaret,” Julia spoke slowly. Even in the dim light Ainsly could see her eyes gleam with threatening tears.

  Ainsley began to shake his head but in truth he had no say in the hiring and firing of family staff. He'd like to see the girl stay. “I shall speak to my father.”

  “Oh no,” Julia said quickly, “please don't.”

  “Why not? You have served us well.”

  Julia shook her head emphatically. “In truth, sir, I was not hired to serve the family as much as I was hired for an ulterior purpose.”

  “What other purpose could there be?”

  “Lord Marshall hired me to keep an eye on Lady Marshall,” Julia lowered her eyes, ashamed of her confession as she said it. “The late Lady Marshall, I should say.”

  Margaret's suspicions had not been far off the mark, Ainsley realized. Julia had been hired by Father to supervise, only she was not keeping a close eye on Margaret. “Father hired a spy for Mother?”

  Julia swallowed hard and nodded. Perhaps she regretted saying anything about it.

  “I have said too much,” she answered quickly. She moved to step around him but Ainsley prevented her from reaching the door.

  “Tell me,” he said softly.

  She could not look him in the eye. “He said he could not trust her maid to bring him information. Violetta had been her maid for so long. He wished me to befriend Violetta in the hopes she would give me some household gossip and—”

  “And you would relay it to him.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Ainsley's face became hard and tight as the meaning of her words registered in his mind.

  “He did it out of love, I assure you. He was worried for her health and,” she began to stammer, “her safety.”

  He could not help but smile. Hiring Julia had been a desperate act by a man worried for the woman he loved.

  “I will confess to Lady Margaret this instant,” Julia continued. Again she made a move to bypass him and Ainsley moved slightly to the side as she passed.

  It was the pinnacle of loyalty for both Violetta and Julia. His mother's maid had betrayed nothing and yet Julia remained steadfast to her assigned duty. Many English families could not count themselves so lucky and yet the Marshall's had benefited from many such servants, Billis included.

  “Julia,” Ainsley went to the foyer and saw her halted halfway up the stairs. “Let me speak to Father,” he said, “I'd like to see you stay. He will listen to reason.”

  Julia gave a smile, curtsied slightly and continued her ascent.

  Ainsley headed down the hall to the servant’s stairs at the back of the house. Billis' office was across from the kitchen and as expected the butler was at his desk, a small lamp burning bright on his desk.

  “An eventful evening was it not?” Ainsley asked as a way to announce his presence.

  Billis jumped at the sound of Ainsley's voice and it was then that the young surgeon saw his medical bag open on his desk. Billis was applying a wet cloth to a set of parallel scratches running the length of his forearm. The wound appeared red and slightly swollen even in the ambient light.

  “Billis?”

  “It's just a scratch, sir,” the butler answered quickly. He threw the cloth down and began to roll down his shirt sleeve. His gaze found the open medical bag. “I took the liberty of using some supplies. I shall reimburse you.”

  “I won't hear of it. Did Will give you these?” Ainsley asked remembering the fight between the butler and Evelyn's brother. “Why did you not say?”

  Billis swallowed but said nothing.

  “Let me have a look,” Ainsley said quickly.

  “No.” Billis put his hand up to prevent Ainsley from approaching.

  “Billis, don't be a fool.”

  “I shall be fine, my lord,” he insisted. “It just needs time.”

  Ainsley looked to the wound now that he stood closer and saw that there were already signs of an infection around the scratches. When he looked to Billis' face he looked haggard and old.

  “Billis you do not look well.”

  “Only tired, my lord,” the butler explained. He replaced the bottle to Ainsley's bag and clasped the top. Handing it to Ainsley, he let out a deep breath and found his normal composure. “Do you require anything else, my lord?”

  Ainsley hesitated, returning
Billis' gaze. There was something, Ainsley thought, something that was different about him. In truth, Ainsley had never concerned himself much with his family’s servants. He had always had a jovial relationship with them but never much more.

  Billis raised an eyebrow at Ainsley's hesitation.

  “No, Billis,” Ainsley answered at last. He accepted the medical bag Billis offered him and turned from the room. As he walked away he heard the creak of the hinges and click of the latch behind him.

  There was something about his demeanor that unsettled Ainsley who had always known him to be forthcoming and honest, not protective as he had just been. Ainsley made his way to the stairs that would take him to the main floor of the house. Turning the corner and grabbing the handrail, Ainsley stopped.

  Those scratches were not from the fight with Will. The wounds had already completely healed over. Not enough time could have passed to bring the onset of infection and yet Ainsley saw the red, tight skin around his wounds.

  Mother.

  Ainsley dropped his bag and clung to the railing to remain upright, sure that he would vomit at the thought. Billis had forced his mother under the water. Jonas suggested mother had wounded her murderer given the evidence of her two broken nails. Ainsley slumped onto one of the steps, bending his knees and using them to hold up his hands as he lowered his face into them. The images swept into his mind, swirling quickly but each one falling into place like the puzzle he had been constructing with Clara's shattered mirror.

  Billis would have known Lady Marshall requested a bath thanks to Violetta's multiple trips to the kitchen for water. He had access to her room, and his sudden arrival would have been surprising but not out of the realm of possibility. But why? Why would he have reason to kill her?

  Ainsley put a hand to his mouth.

  Father.

  Billis' loyalty was unmatched. He would have done anything to save Father from scandal or harm, and Mother had caused both.

  Ainsley heard the familiar sound of the door latch followed by the creaking hinges. Slowly, Ainsley inched to peer around the corner and look into the hall. He saw Billis, dressed in his overcoat, hat and scarf, making his way for the door that would lead him outside and up to the street.