A Lady in Attendance

by Rachel Fordham

  “It’s that one.” Hazel pointed to a tall brick home with dark shutters and iron railings around the porch. “I think no one will notice us if we go in through the side gate. The trees are thick over there and block the view. There’s a door in the back we might be able to get in through.”

  Gilbert felt small as he stared up at the large, ornate home where Hazel had lived with her husband. It was twice the size of Mrs. Northly’s and had a gold finial on the top. He knew her life was different before, but his imagination never conjured up an image this grand.

  “Are there any hidden keys?” Duncan asked.

  “I don’t know of any,” she said, her eyes sweeping over the home. “Follow me around back.”

  As stealthily as they could, the four of them stepped through the gate, under the trees, and to the back door. A twig snapped under someone’s foot and they froze. But they were alone, and if they could get the door open, they would be inside soon.

  “I can get us in.” Eddie pulled a piece of wire from his pocket, surprising everyone. “I’ve picked a few locks before. Brought this just in case.”

  Had they been somewhere else at some other time, Gilbert would have insisted Eddie tell him where he’d learned such an unusual talent. Tonight, in the eerie darkness, all he felt was grateful that his brother possessed such a skill.

  Eddie bent the wire and set to work picking the lock while the others looked out into the darkness. Seconds that felt like minutes passed before Eddie pushed open the door and they entered the abandoned home.

  “It’s so dark,” Duncan whispered. “I don’t think we’ll be able to see anything.”

  “If nothing has been changed, then I can find a candle.” Hazel stepped past the men and felt her way inside.

  “They’re still here,” he heard her say.

  When she returned, candlelight flickered across all their faces. “The drapes are drawn. I think if we are careful, no one will see the light from the candles. I can find more too. We had them stored all over the house and there are lanterns. From what I can tell, everything’s just how we left it.”

  “Why didn’t they sell the house?” Duncan asked, taking his candle and holding it up so he could look around the large kitchen. Shelves covered in a thick layer of dust lined the walls.

  “I’m not certain. Perhaps because it’s a family home. But I never thought they’d leave it neglected.”

  “I had trouble changing my father’s home when he died. Grief can do strange things to us. It’s a good thing for us though. We’re more likely to find a clue with it all untouched.” Gilbert’s voice was a low whisper. He straightened and held out his candle in front of him, using the dim light to see what he could of the home. “It’s very fancy.”

  “Nathaniel came from money,” Hazel said. “Follow me.” They left the kitchen and entered a hallway. “That way is a large bedroom.” She pointed. “And that way is the parlor and an office, and upstairs are all guest bedrooms. There’s also a library and sitting room. It’s all bigger than I remembered. Where do we begin?” Hazel turned to Duncan for direction.

  “It’s hard to say, but my hope is that we’ll find some evidence that Nathaniel had suspicions regarding a crime. Your story seems to point to something involving his parents’ boat, but I’m not sure what to look for,” Duncan said. “I’ll take Eddie, and we will start upstairs. You and Gilbert search this floor. Look for papers, names, whatever might help.”

  Gilbert nodded, glad someone was taking charge. “We’ll meet you back here.” Being in the dark house uninvited made him nervous. “Let’s all hurry.”

  Duncan and Eddie headed up the stairs, leaving him with Hazel. Together they went down the back hall and started on the far side of the house. He’d been alone with Hazel many times, but never like this—in the dark, in a bedroom she once shared with another man. A board creaked under his foot and they both jumped.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

  “I used to like that spot. I always knew when Nathaniel was home. I should have warned you.”

  Raising his candle higher, he tried to decipher the contents of the large bedroom—a four-poster bed, bureaus, chests of drawers, a plush wingback chair, and a washstand. Drapes with golden tassels adorned the windows. Everything was grand—dusty but grand.

  “My old dresses are still in here.” Hazel’s voice was a low whisper. “The dust is all that’s changed.”

  “If we are caught, that will be our defense. We will tell the police you were looking for a dress to wear to a party.”

  “Do you think they’d question why I had to bring three men with me?” Hazel pulled open a drawer and stared into it with her mouth ajar. “Gil, look. This jewelry was all mine.” She rolled a string of pearls between her fingers. “This necklace was my mother’s. She gave it to me when I was sixteen. I remember not wanting to wear it because it was so plain. If only I’d valued the simple things.”

  He stepped near her and looked at the necklace. “You should take it. It’s yours. You can care about simple things from this day forward, if you wish.” He riffled through the jewels. “Why is this all just sitting here?”

  “It’s strange, isn’t it? They accused me of stealing jewelry, and here sits a whole pile of it that no one cares about. Look, here’s a jade necklace, and this one has a diamond in it. Why would I steal jewels? I already had a fortune’s worth.” She slid the thin string of pearls into her pocket and left the rest. “My verdict was decided before I ever spoke.”

  “They’ll listen this time.” Gilbert inched closer to her. The candlelight danced across her face, glistening off the flecks of green in her eyes. The setting was all wrong. It was dark and eerie and they were in the room she’d lived in as a wife, but he couldn’t help but admire how beautiful she was. “We’ll find a way.”

  She closed the drawer and moved to the other side of the room. “Nathaniel’s belongings were stored over here. Something may be in them. He often had notes tucked away in his pockets or he left them on the nightstand.”

  Hazel pulled out a suit, covering a sneeze as she did so. “All this dust gets to me.”

  “Dust and cobwebs have taken over this place.”

  “Nathaniel was their only son, and coming here may have been too painful. Elizabeth, his mother, was tenderhearted. I can only speculate, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they pay someone to keep this place secure but have never come back themselves, at least not often.”

  “I’ve never possessed much excess, certainly not enough to keep a house for spiders to live in.” Gilbert searched through the pockets of the finely tailored suits, keenly aware of the fact that he’d never worn anything so fine. He differed from Nathaniel at least in his manner of dress and likely in other ways. Hazel’s life with Nathaniel must have been one of ease and glamour—words he’d never pick to describe his own existence.

  “Here’s a note that lists a boat schedule.” She held a scrap of paper near the candlelight. “It’s hardly incriminating, but I’ll keep it.”

  “What do you make of this one?” Gilbert held up a faded note to the light. “It says, ‘Sally Belle.’”

  “That’s one of his parents’ ships. The night I followed him to the docks, it was the Sally Belle he was sneaking around on. He mentioned it before he died. It’s connected somehow, I’m sure of it.”

  “Is there anywhere else we should check in this bedroom?”

  Hazel looked around the room again. “I don’t know. It was all so long ago, and I didn’t know at the time that I needed to watch him for clues. We didn’t talk about his suspicions. We did other things together, ordinary things.”

  He couldn’t bring himself to ask what sorts of things. They were married, after all. “What about under the bed?”

  They knelt side by side and peered underneath but found nothing.

  “What if he was trying to hide something from you too? Where would he have put it?” Gilbert kicked at the floorboards, trying to find a loose one. He looked
under doilies and even moved a side table to look beneath and behind it.

  “We can check the library. When he would first come home, he often went in there before he looked for me.”

  “Let’s check there.” He moved toward the door, but she lingered in the bedroom. “Hazel.”

  “I’m sorry. I was remembering . . . I was remembering so many moments. He died in this room.” She sneezed again. “I remember when this room wasn’t covered in dust. I remember it all.”

  “Was it a happy home before he died?”

  “It was becoming one.” She turned her back on the room. “Come on, I don’t want to dwell on his passing. I’ll show you the library. There’s no time for sentiments right now.”

  They went through the dark house as cautiously as they could. Even moving slowly, he still bumped into a chair, nearly losing his candle as he stumbled.

  “Give me your hand,” she said. “I seem to still remember my way around.”

  He took it and let her lead him around the old furniture—her small hand so capable, a perfect guide in the near darkness.

  “At night I was often too tired to light a candle. I could navigate the whole house in the dark,” she whispered as she walked. “This is the library.”

  The room was large, with bookcases filled with a fortune’s worth of books lining the walls. “Was he a reader?”

  “He was. He introduced me to many authors and ideas. In fact, he is the one who bought me my first copy of Jane Eyre. Perhaps that is part of why I love it.”

  A younger Hazel had roamed this library picking up these very books, thumbing through them, and pondering their contents. He rubbed his tight chest, uncomfortable with the jealous feelings that swelled within.

  “It’s an impressive library,” he said while running his fingers over the spines of the books.

  “I’ve no idea where to begin in here.”

  “What books would you have never picked up?”

  “Latin. I don’t read it, but he did, and he had several volumes written in it. They’re over here.” She pulled a chair over and stood on it. “Shine your light.”

  He held his candle high while she pulled bulky old volumes off the shelves and fingered through the pages.

  “There’s nothing here. Just words.”

  A yellow glow softly floated into the room. Eddie and Duncan followed behind it.

  “We found nothing upstairs,” Eddie said. “What about you?”

  “We found a sailing schedule and the name of a boat. The Sally Belle. But that’s all.” Gilbert reached out a hand and helped Hazel off the chair. “I don’t think we are any closer than before.”

  Hazel pursed her lips. “We haven’t finished looking in here, and there’s still the parlor and the kitchen. But I don’t think he would have kept anything in the kitchen since it wasn’t a very private place.”

  Eddie looked around the library. “Have you checked the desk? Do any of the drawers have a false bottom?”

  “I don’t know. I never helped with the accounts, so I never opened it.”

  All four went to the desk that sat by the far wall of the library. Its drawers creaked as they were pulled open for the first time in years. They held their candles close and riffled through the notes, bills, and letters.

  “Look here,” Eddie said, holding a leather journal near his candle.

  “What is it?” they asked.

  “I’ll read it.” He bent nearer to it and read. “‘I wake every morning and have to remind myself that I am a married man.’”

  Hazel reached for the book, but not quickly enough.

  “‘I’m trapped, and I will be forever,’” Eddie continued, “‘and all because my father and hers decided it was what we must do.’”

  Gilbert ripped the book from Eddie’s hands. “Enough.”

  “Don’t you want to see what Nathaniel had to say about his lover?” Eddie filled the room with a wicked laugh. “Are you not curious?”

  “Quiet down.” Gilbert glared at his brother. “He was her husband. And he’s dead. Where is your sense of decency?” He passed the journal to Hazel’s waiting hands. “You should have this.”

  Duncan ignored the commotion and continued looking through the desk. “Let’s keep looking. We don’t have time to quarrel.” He scooped out the papers and handed them to Gilbert to look through, and then he pried at the bottom of the drawer. It stuck a moment before coming open. They gasped and leaned in closer. Hidden in the bottom compartment was a large folder.

  Eddie grabbed it before anyone else could. Duncan moved his candle closer, adding light so everyone could see.

  “This is what we’re after. It has to be.” Eddie waved the now-open folder in the air. “It’s a list of names and boat schedules. It even has a list of police officers. I don’t know what it all means, but he was hiding—”

  “We have to go. We have to go now.” Hazel pulled on Gilbert’s sleeve. “We have to go.”

  “Do you hear something?” Gilbert asked, his heart racing at the urgency in her voice. “What is it?”

  “No, but this is why he was killed. It has to be.” She was breathing rapidly, pulling him with more force than he’d expected. “Someone killed Nathaniel. They killed a good man because of whatever he knew. We have to go.”

  “All right. We will.” He took her hand and squeezed it. “No one is here though. It’s safe.”

  “I saw his body the night he was killed. I know what these people are capable of.” She let go of his arm and put her hand on her forehead and paced away from Duncan and Eddie. “They beat him and shot him. Police said he was caught in the cross fire, but someone killed him. They killed him because he knew something, and now we know too.”

  She was trembling.

  Empowered by a protective instinct, he put an arm around her. “It’s all right. Nobody knows we’re here. We’re safe. No one is watching the house.” He felt her breathing slow as he soothed her. “No one is coming. It’ll be all right.”

  “We can put the desk back together, but there’s no way to hide the fact that we’ve been here. Let’s go. We need to get away and put all these clues together—and quick,” Eddie said, breaking the two apart. “Save that for later. You said you were brave enough to come, so act like it.”

  Hazel glared at Eddie, but she obeyed and led the way out of the house. Only when they were several blocks away did they dare speak.

  “I’ll go through the papers tonight. See what I can make of them,” Duncan said. “But we can’t talk to anyone about this until I have a solid case. And even then, if these names are correct and the police are involved, we have to be careful whose help we seek.”

  “But how will we prove it?” Gilbert asked. This was all bigger than he’d ever imagined, lists of names and boats. Standing in Hazel’s old house, where her husband died, made it more real than it’d been when they’d been sitting in his house talking around the table.

  “Tomorrow I’ll meet with my friend. I’ve known him for years. He’s trustworthy. I’ll ask him only about the jewelry case, and hopefully we’ll be able to match up a name from this list with one from that case. After that, I’m not sure. We might have to go to the boats and see if we can discover what’s going on with them. Assuming that whatever was happening before has not ended.” Duncan rubbed his balding head. “I don’t know exactly how we will prove anything. But I believe we have stumbled upon something serious. Hazel, you’ve got to try to remember all you can. Think back.”

  “I will. I’ll think on it all night.”

  CHAPTER

  SEVENTEEN

  Hazel raced on bare feet through the house, confused by the pounding at the door. Her nightdress caught on a door handle. She stopped only long enough to pry it loose, then rushed on. The instant she swung the heavy wooden door open, two men rushed past her with a body in their arms.

  “He was awake when we found him and insisted we bring him to his wife,” one of the men said. “He lost consciousness just aft
er telling us where his home was.”

  A deafening scream escaped her lips. It was a sound she’d never heard the likes of before. This couldn’t be Nathaniel’s bloodied face. “Who did this?”

  “We heard the commotion and came running. We’re told it started as a brawl and then people started shooting. He was caught in the cross fire and left for dead, but there’s still life in him. It don’t look good. Put pressure on the wound. It might buy him some time.”

  She forced her shaking hands to rip off the hem of her nightdress and pressed the torn fabric against the wound in her husband’s side. “Go, then,” she shouted without turning from her husband. “Go for help.”

  A trickle of blood ran beneath Nathaniel’s lip. His right eye was swollen shut and painted in purple. Her breath came rapidly as she scoured his body, searching for other injuries, more marks and bruises, but it was the dark red soaking the compress that brought tears to her eyes.

  “What happened?” she pleaded with him in a voice of sheer desperation. “Wake up and tell me what has happened. Tell me you’ll be all right.”

  She put her free hand on his cheek and stroked his face. “Nathaniel, it’s Hazel. I’m here.”

  His eyelids fluttered open, and she felt hope grow. He swallowed like his mouth was dry. With a weak hand, he reached up and touched her face.

  “My parents. Their boat.” His words came slowly and required great effort.

  “Who did this to you?” She grabbed his hand and held it tightly in her own. “What happened?”

  “Sally Belle,” he said. Then a strange choking sound came from his throat. “Sally Belle.”

  When his body calmed, she buried her head in his neck. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” She sobbed, knowing somehow she was to blame for his pain. Every bad thing had been her fault, and now a good man, her husband, was lying in a pool of his own blood. “I’m sorry you were stuck with me.”