Death Misconstrued

by Beth Byers

“Why?”

  “He has a second family.”

  Georgette gasped. “And Mrs. Allyn knows?”

  Mr. Page nodded. “She’s left him twice, but he convinces her to return every time. If not for his sons, I’m not so sure Mr. Allyn would bother.”

  “And you described her as irrational?” Georgette accused Kaspar, who had the good sense to look abashed. She turned back to the window. Mrs. Allyn’s golden hair was pulled back with a black headband. Her dress was black as well with a red belt around her waist. She wore black stockings with seams up her legs. “Look at her. She’s everything every woman wants to be, and she’s not enough for him? No wonder she’s irrational and emotional. You would be too.”

  Anna Allyn’s lips were full, her cheekbones high, and her eyes large, but she was too far away to see the color. Georgette had little doubt that Mrs. Allyn had brilliantly colored eyes that were the jewels of her face.

  “The secrets Edna probably knows from all those street-side hugs.” Kaspar shook his head. “She’s a vault of state secrets.”

  When Edna returned to the parlor where she had her tea, Kaspar crossed and kissed Edna on the cheek. “Brilliantly done. You’re a gem.”

  Mr. Page also crossed and whispered something into Edna’s ear and she blushed deeply. Her gaze flicked to him and then back to the floor. Georgette knew that look, she thought. It was the look of someone who was baffled by the affection of another. She didn’t miss that Mr. Page placed his hand over the top of Edna’s.

  Chapter 7

  Georgette Dorothy Marsh

  After the tea, Georgette, Marian and Harrsion sent Mrs. Parker back in a black cab so they could walk through Bath.

  “Pulteney Bridge, I want to walk over it,” Marian said as she walked next to Harrison, her hand on his arm. “I hope to go with Joseph when he comes.”

  “He’ll come,” Georgette told Marian from Harrison’s other side. “Don’t sound so mopey.”

  “It’s unbecoming,” Harrison told Marian, who smacked his arm.

  “Oh look,” Marian said, letting go of Harrison’s arm to cross to an English bulldog. She dropped down on her knees to say hello to the dog. The fat old fellow wagged his tail as though it hurt to move it, but he was excited, and when Marian leaned down to accept his kisses, he moaned to her.

  “Not you?” Harrison asked while they watched Marian accept the dog’s kisses.

  Georgette winced at the slobber and started digging through her handbag for a handkerchief for Marian. She pulled it out from under a book, a notebook and pencil for book notes, and Charles’s letter that Georgette wanted to read for the fifth time before the day ended. If Harrison weren’t with Georgette and Marian, Georgette would lean against the side of the bridge, unfold her letter, and savor it before daring to discuss dreams of the future with her dearest friend.

  “I only like my own dogs.”

  Harrison’s head cocked as he examined her. “You’re funny, Georgette Marsh. I was convinced I had ruined my proposal when I said they needed to go.”

  “You did,” Georgette told him plainly. The fact that he’d told her they would marry and declared she would have to get rid of her dogs infuriated her still. As though Georgette would ever let Susan, Dorcas, or Beatrice go. They provided her a daily, constant comfort, and were—in fact—part of Georgette’s family. “I would have said no regardless.”

  “Because you love Charles Aaron?”

  Georgette nodded. Charles, the dogs, the assumption that she should be grateful for his attention. She knew she wasn’t all that desirable to the vast majority of mankind, but she still liked herself well enough to know she deserved better than such nonsense.

  “Georgette?”

  She turned from Harrison, her heart leaping. There he was. Distinguished in a fine suit, with kind eyes and a blank expression.

  “Charles—”

  His face was a mask, and she felt suddenly like she’d been doing something wrong. She hadn’t, she’d been thinking of him in each passing moment, but if she’d come across him arm-in-arm with another woman, she’d have been hurt too.

  “Charles!” Marian said, rising from where she’d knelt by the dog. “We were just talking about you coming and walking with Georgette on the bridge. You will, won’t you?”

  Bless Marian’s perfect heart, Georgette thought. Her dearest friend knew just what to say to fix everything without even trying.

  Charles nodded, relaxing just enough, and Georgette hastily dropped Harrison’s arm and crossed to Charles. They stared at each other awkwardly and Georgette felt guilty again for no reason whatsoever.

  “I—” She bit her bottom lip before daring to push up on her toes and kiss his cheek. “I missed you. I’m so glad you’re here.”

  Charles pressed his forehead against hers and she closed her eyes, feeling the relief of his presence. At some point her home had shifted from Bard’s Crook to him, and she hadn’t realized it until that moment.

  When they looked up from each other, Charles confessed, “Joseph is concerned that you and Marian have gotten into trouble. Oh! I have a letter for her from Joseph.”

  Georgette paused and followed Charles’s gaze. It seemed that they’d been abandoned. “Maybe they didn’t want to be here when I told you about the last few days.”

  Charles’s gaze widened. “What have you done?”

  Georgette laughed at the expression on Charles’s face and told him. “I will free you from my troubles, if you need it.”

  His expression was distinctly unamused.

  Georgette put her hand on Charles’s arm and they walked while she told him what she’d been up to. From seeing her books in the bookstore, to meeting Edna, to the request to pretend to be Jane, and somehow convincing Mrs. Parker to join in.

  When she finished her tale, Charles asked, “Only Edna Williams realized you were Joseph Jones?”

  Georgette nodded, shaking her head. She really would have thought that someone who bought a half-dozen books and shared the name with the recently outed author Joseph Jones would have—at the least—been asked if they were one and the same. Her persona was too quiet, too solemn, and too unassuming to be anything other than any village’s spinster.

  “Even with your name and the article? Georgette Marsh is not that common of a name.”

  She shrugged. She didn’t understand it either and couldn’t account for it.

  Charles shook his head and then pressed a kiss against the side of hers. “Mrs. Parker lied?”

  Georgette nodded, holding back the laugh. “Mostly she didn’t say anything when the subject came up. Edna was better at deflection than I’d have thought. She jumped in and changed the subject every time.”

  Charles laughed. “I might call you Jane now.”

  “I prefer Georgette, Georgie, or even ‘Hey You.’”

  “What about Mrs. Aaron?”

  She paused for a moment. “I’ve already agreed to that.” Oh yes, she thought, that was exactly what she wanted. She wanted to curl herself up in his arms, take his name, and be each other’s family. Each other’s refuge.

  “I wondered if you’d consider eloping as soon as we find a place to live. Be Mrs. Aaron sooner.” His expression was fixed on her face, and she could see that he hesitated. He hadn’t wanted to ask her even though he’d described exactly what she wanted.

  “You don’t want a big wedding?”

  Charles turned her to him. “I want what you want, Georgette. But my choice would be together sooner.”

  “I want Marian, Eunice, Joseph, and Robert there.”

  “Of course.” His gaze was searching hers. “This is what you want?”

  “I’d rather have something small with those who are happy for us than anything else. All I want is to be your wife.”

  Charles pressed a kiss against her forehead. “I was so worried about asking you. I didn’t want to take any dreams away.”

  Georgette adored his kind eyes. They were fixed on her face with the same expr
ession that had convinced her that he really loved her—truly her and only her. “I want the same thing. A quiet moment between you and me for our wedding. That’s all I want. I was trying to find a way to say the same thing.”

  “Eunice is checking villages and Joseph is visiting Harper’s Hollow. If it works, what do you think? He swore to write immediately about the village.”

  “If the village has what we want,” Georgette said, “surely we can find something we can live in? I’m not picky, I don’t think. We could just go and see for ourselves.”

  “I don’t know about just trusting what they say either.” Charles hesitated and she could see the business reasoning come out in him. She was all instinct, and he balanced her with reason. “You’re right. Let’s visit ourselves. We don’t have anything tying us to Bath other than each other. Why don’t we take an auto for the day, have a picnic, wander the village like spies and see if it has what we want? Make sure it’s the right place for us.”

  “Like spies? Sounds delightful.”

  “What are you looking for?”

  “What feels right.” She didn’t know how to describe it. She wanted to go there and feel like she did when Charles appeared out of nowhere like he had that night. As though things had slipped into place.

  “What feels right?” He pressed another kiss to the top of her head as though he needed to remind himself that she was truly with him. “If it feels right to you, I’m sure that the rest will work for me.”

  She laughed and then took his hand and tugged him after her. “Your reason is coming into play, and here I am talking about what feels right. Do you feel as though you’ve dipped into fairyland? Or just straight madness?”

  “I think that what feels right to you is based off of little things that you notice and add up with your instincts. It isn’t madness. Maybe, I’ll just follow your instincts instead of my reasoning.”

  “I think you give me credit I don’t deserve.”

  He just shook his head.

  “How are we going to know we found the right place? This feels like such a big decision. I’m not sure I’m prepared. It’s the rest of our lives. What if we mess up?”

  “How can we?”

  Her laugh was a scoff. How could they mess up? She’d written a simple duo of books and caused death and mayhem.

  Charles tugged her back to his side and slid his hand around her waist. “This is only our beginning. Eventually, we’ll be settled in our house. We’ll make it our own, the combination of both of us, and it’ll feel like we should never have lived anywhere else or been apart at all.”

  Georgette pressed her blushing face into his chest. “You’re the one who should be writing books, not me. You know just what to say to make me feel like we can’t possibly go amiss.”

  “We can’t, Georgette, when we’ve decided upon happiness, no matter what little bumps might appear in our path. If I wanted simple, I’d have remained a bachelor.”

  They were making their way through Bath without any plan when they found Anna Allyn storming down the road. Georgette whispered to Charles about the evening. She told him of the breaking china, the crying in Edna’s arms, and the declaration from Mr. Page that Mr. Allyn kept a mistress and had additional children with her.

  “How did I miss a story about a tantrum in the street?”

  “You weren’t paying attention,” retorted Georgette.

  Charles teased before admitting, “I was distracted by the rest.”

  Georgette tugged on his hand, so she could follow Anna Allyn. The woman’s looks were only highlighted by her fury. She moved as though each step was an assault, her hands fisted at her side, and her expression said she’d storm the castle and retrieve the princess. Dragon or no dragon, this was a woman who intended to conquer.

  Georgette was distracted from her observations by Charles who cleared his throat before saying, “So, let me get this correct. Edna Williams thinks her nephew might have killed her cousin.”

  Georgette nodded. It sounded less ridiculous when the woman was begging for someone to believe her with wide, sad eyes.

  Charles hadn’t experienced the same, but he only said, “She somehow convinced you to make her nephew believe that you’re staying at her house, so she doesn’t have to have the potential murderer in her home.”

  Georgette nodded and Charles’s gaze moved over her face with the weight of a caress. It was a loving look, but a baffled one, and he asked, “How?”

  Georgette pressed her cheek against his shoulder. “I saw myself in her.”

  “You don’t see yourself correctly.” Charles sounded affectionate, but still baffled. He lifted her face to his and pressed a kiss against it. “You are not what you think you are.”

  “What if you are wrong, not me?” she shot back.

  “I’m not,” he said, kissing her forehead again. Mrs. Allyn had turned, and they moseyed after as though they were randomly ending in the same location as the woman. The fact that Charles didn’t question it was one of the reasons Georgette adored him.

  “Wait until Joseph hears that there was talk of another murder. He will come down here, throw Marian over his shoulder, and drag her before a priest despite the protests of his in-laws.”

  Georgette put off Charles’s attempt to lighten her mood. “I can’t decide if I believe her or if I think she’s ridiculous.”

  Charles’s hand squeezed her waist, and Georgette barely hid a jump. She had gone so long without being touched by anyone at all that she wanted to both purr like a cat and flinch away. Instead of doing either, she pulled Charles to a stop and wrapped her arms around his waist, hugging him tightly to her.

  “You are going to have to be patient with me while I learn how to, well, everything.”

  “Everyone is going to remind us how we’re set in our ways.”

  “What if we are?”

  “What if the reason we found each other is because we fit?”

  “Can you stand if I jump sometimes when you touch me?”

  “Can you stand the smell of pipe smoke?”

  “I suppose I could get used to it.”

  “Then I can as well.”

  She grinned at him and then told herself to relax against his chest. They were shooting questions and worried at each other with a speed that left her dazed and feeling a little exposed.

  “What about breakfast?” he asked. “What do you eat?”

  “Tea and toast or tea and buns. You?”

  “Poached eggs and bacon.”

  Georgette scrunched her nose. “As long as I can have tea. I can handle the scent of bacon when my stomach would prefer to be sleeping.”

  “You can have toast as well,” he said magnanimously.

  “I write in the night sometimes,” she said, testing him.

  “I’ll endeavor to tire you out.”

  Georgette flushed so brilliantly that Charles laughed and pressed another kiss on her forehead. She buried her face against his chest again. “I didn’t realize it would be so hard.”

  Charles’s head tilted in question.

  “I thought saying yes would be the hardest part. As much as I want to be with you, this is all terrifying.”

  Charles rubbed his chin against the top of her forehead. Before he could find words for her, some comforting promise, they heard Anna Allyn shriek. Both of their heads turned and they found Mrs. Allyn staring at another woman.

  The second woman was pale, thin, and she had spots on her chin. She was also heavily pregnant with two little girls in tow. She appeared not to notice Mrs. Allyn as she continued on her way, but Georgette saw the second woman’s gaze flit to Mrs. Allyn a few times as she hurried the little ones along faster.

  “Oh no.” Georgette eyes widened as she watched Mrs. Allyn shake her head frantically before turning to run. The conquerer was gone and a broken woman was left behind. Before Georgette could stop herself she pulled away from Charles to reach out toward the fleeing woman. “Mrs. Allyn?”

  Anna Al
lyn stopped and stared at Georgette. Georgette might have been an utter stranger, but she knew what it was like to feel like nothing.

  Mrs. Allyn hesitated.

  “I’m a friend of Edna Williams,” Georgette told her. “Please, can I help?” She reached out her hand in an offer of comfort. The woman blinked rapidly and then threw herself into Georgette’s arms.

  Georgette was quite shocked—they were strangers, after all—but she hid it as she held the younger woman.

  “I don’t understand,” Mrs. Allyn whispered. There was an accent there and it took Georgette a moment to realize that Mrs. Allyn was Australian. No wonder she let her husband talk her into coming back again and again. She may not have anyone to provide her refuge. “I don’t understand why he does this to me. Why did he promise me forever? Love? Is this being cherished?”

  “No,” Georgette said, crying with Mrs. Allyn. “No, of course it isn’t.”

  “Edna said she’d give me the money to leave.”

  Georgette tried to prevent a gasp, but she wasn’t quite successful.

  “I—” Mrs. Allyn pulled back and then sniffed, taking the handkerchief that Charles provided. “I’m sorry. I have to go.”

  Chapter 8

  Georgette Dorothy Marsh

  “How do we avoid that?” Georgette asked Charles as they watched the weeping Mrs. Allyn flee.

  “We could start by my not having a second woman in my life.”

  Georgette’s daggered glance had him stepping back.

  “I feel like I just had a flash of what will happen when I make you angry.”

  “When?”

  Charles chuckled and pulled her back to his side. It was as though they needed to wrap themselves up in each other after seeing what happened when love went wrong. “I feel it’s inevitable that I’ll infuriate you. I suppose it’s even inevitable that you might cry.”

  “I cry reading books,” Georgette said, but she was haunted by Mrs. Allyn.

  “I have little doubt that things will go wrong between us from time to time. But I’ll be damned if I ever see you as broken as Mrs. Allyn.”