by Joyce Alec
“But you were present,” Miss Hawkins said firmly. “I know you were there. You went out to the gardens thereafter.” Her eyes rounded, a slightly astonished tone to her voice. “And you went out to speak to someone, did you not?”
Stephen looked at her in surprise, seeing that she was only just coming to such a conclusion but realizing that it made sense. That was what the footman had been doing. If he had stepped out into the garden, it had been to speak to the perpetrator, perhaps to confirm that Lord Atherton was dead.
“You went to tell them whether or not the attack was successful,” Stephen said slowly as Mr. Thompson glowered at the floor, his jaw set. “You did not stab him, as you said, but you ensured that there was the time and the space for the attack to occur. When my brother staggered back inside, you followed, ready to go back outside to tell your accomplice whether or not they had managed to achieve what they had intended.”
Again, there came a ripple of surprise running around the room, leaving Stephen to hold his gaze onto the stooped head of the footman, practically willing him to speak aloud and to confirm what had been said.
“I presume you will not tell us who this person is,” Lady Catherine interjected, a dry note to her voice. “Although why you are protecting them, I cannot understand.”
The footman glanced up.
“After all,” Lady Catherine continued, “if you do not, then you take the sole blame for the attack on Lord Atherton. You are, of course, responsible for what happened to Miss Hawkins, but to be the man behind the attempted killing of a nobleman will bring a great and serious consequence.” She did not say what this would be specifically, but Stephen knew that the footman would be aware of what the consequences would be.
“I don’t think so.”
There was a harshness to the footman’s tone, although Stephen heard the sneer in his voice and had to force himself not to take a step forward and grasp the man by the lapels and shake him furiously in anger. How dare he speak with such arrogance? How dare he look at Lady Catherine and laugh at what she was saying?
“There will be nothing for me but freedom,” the footman scoffed, speaking with a confidence that Stephen did not understand. “I will be protected. After all, I am only doing what I have been instructed to do. My master had demanded it and I have obeyed.”
“Your master is Lord Atherton,” Miss Seymour threw out, her voice a good deal sharper than he had heard it before. “How can you say that you are obeying the wishes of your master when…?” She trailed off, something flickering in her eyes, her mouth forming a small but perfect circle. “Unless,” she said slowly, “someone else has bought your loyalty.”
Stephen’s jaw worked furiously as the footman shot Miss Seymour a hard look, as though he thought so little of her that she was not worth his conversation.
“Someone has paid you to do all of this,” Lady Haddington stated, no inflection at all in her voice but rather a blandness that told Stephen she was doing her best not to rile the footman further. “They paid you well. You are doing as you have been asked and now you believe that they will protect you.”
“I know they will.” The footman shut his mouth after those clipped words, his jaw tight as he looked back at Lady Haddington, clearly quite contented with all that had been said. There were to be no answers from him now, Stephen realized. The footman would cling to his belief that, somehow, his ‘master’ would find a way to release him from Stephen’s captivity so that nothing of consequence could be said. Closing his eyes, Stephen let out a long breath and did his best not to explode with anger. To do so now would achieve nothing other than to let the footman know that he had managed to achieve his goal of remaining silent and giving Stephen no information at all. It would, most likely, only add to his own frustration.
“You will be held back in my own house,” he told the footman, his voice low and rasping. “You will not be allowed free. You will not be permitted to see or speak to anyone. I will have the truth from you one way or the other.”
The footman looked back at Stephen without any sense of anger in his gaze but rather that proud arrogance that made Stephen coil with fury. Turning his back for a moment, he rang the bell and then turned around again, seeing Lord Haddington rising to his feet to walk toward the door.
“I will accompany this blaggard back to your townhouse, Lord Stephen,” he said gravely, and Stephen nodded in agreement. “Lady Haddington might follow with you?”
Stephen nodded, grateful that Lord Haddington was willing to accompany the footman so that he himself would not have to do it. It was not something he thought he would be able to do, such was his anger. If he wanted the truth from the footman, then he would need to behave carefully.
“I must go to ensure my brother is quite well,” he muttered as the rest of his guests rose. “Please do excuse me, but I must ask you all to—”
“Do not apologize,” Miss Hawkins interrupted as the others nodded. “You must go to Lord Atherton at once, of course.” She stepped near to him and put one hand on his arm as Lord Haddington led the footman from the rom, one hand on the footman’s bound wrists. “You will inform me if he is worse, will you not?”
“Of course.” Stephen managed a tight smile but did not say any more. Waiting until the rest of the guests had left the room, he leaned on the back of a chair, hunching forward and taking in a long, slow breath so as to steady his frustrations. They had discovered one truth, at least. The footman had been involved in the stabbing of his brother and then had attempted to attack Miss Hawkins when he realized she had recognized him from that evening. To make things worse, he had then attempted to infiltrate Stephen’s own house so as to ensure that Atherton was tugged from life to death, as clearly had been the intention of the stabbing. But he did not know who had been behind all of this, who had managed to gain Thompson’s help and who had then attempted to kill Lord Atherton. His thoughts were clouded, his mind confused. There was so little he could do now. He could not demand that the footman tell him the truth, could not bring the fellow pain in order to force the answers from his lips, for not only was he not that sort of gentleman, but he also feared that the fellow would remain quite silent no matter what he did. There was a trust there that this gentleman, whoever it was, would come to Thompson’s aid and make sure that the footman was freed.
What was he to do? Of course, he had to first make certain that Lord Atherton was not injured or in any way worsened from Thompson’s attempt, as well as to reassure his staff. He would have to set a guard at the door and also ensure that Thompson was locked up securely. What he was to do thereafter, Stephen had very little idea.
“Lord Stephen?”
Raising his head, he saw Miss Hawkins standing at the door, her eyes locked onto his. He flushed, wondering if she had seen him lost in his own despair, but her eyes held only sympathy for him.
“Come, Lord Stephen,” she said gently, offering him her hand as she stretched it out toward him. “Progress has been made. It may not feel like it, but there is hope now.”
“Hope in what regard?” he asked, feeling rather despairing as he walked toward her. “You have been proven correct in what you thought, Miss Hawkins, but after that, we are no further on than we have been before. Thompson will not say anything more, for he believes that he will be protected and rescued by whoever it is that has paid him thus far.” He shook his head, looking down into her face and seeing how tenderly she was gazing up at him. “He may be proven right. Or he may remain silent, face the gallows, and continue to believe, up until his last moments, that he will be rescued. And I shall never know who attempted to kill my brother and will remain looking over my shoulder for the rest of my days.”
Miss Hawkins surprised him by stepping forward, putting one hand flat on his chest, and looking up at him with a warm but firm gaze.
“We will find a way to the truth,” she told him, her hand spreading heat all through his chest and making his heart quicken, pulling him from his misery. “We may
have to go about things in a less than proper manner, but I am certain we will be able to discover the truth.” She took another step closer and held his gaze, her nearness making him catch his breath. “Mayhap your brother will awaken soon and you will be able to gain more information from him. Or…” She trailed off, stopping with a suddenness that had his interest piqued.
“What is it?” he asked, putting his hand over hers and leaning down a little more. “What is it you have thought of?”
She looked up at him. “The man in question, the man working with Mr. Thompson, does not know that we are aware of his actions,” she said slowly as Stephen nodded. “He may not even know that the footman’s actions against your brother have not been successful.”
“That is true,” Stephen agreed, his brow furrowing. “But why—”
“We could use that to our advantage,” she suggested, her cheeks a little flushed. “I will not say more at present, for you must go to your brother, but perhaps tomorrow we might meet again and discuss matters further?”
He nodded, wanting to ask her to tell him everything she was thinking, but at the same time, feeling an urgency to go to his brother’s side.
“Tomorrow afternoon?” he proposed as she smiled up at him. “A walk in the park?”
“That would be wonderful,” she agreed, making to step back from him, but Stephen held her hand tightly against his chest, seeing her startled look but feeling such a swell of emotion that it was as though he could not let her go. Silence swelled between them as he lowered his head, seeing how her eyes sparkled and her lips parted just a little.
“Miss Hawkins?”
He stepped back at once, just as Miss Seymour returned to the room. She looked from one to the other, before turning her head and clearing her throat gently, clearly a little embarrassed.
“I just wanted to see if you were ready to depart,” she said, speaking to Miss Hawkins. “If Lord Stephen is to return to his brother, I thought you might wish to join me in the carriage.”
Miss Hawkins, her cheeks flushed with color, managed to smile and darted one quick look up toward Stephen, who returned her slightly self-conscious smile with one of his own.
“Until tomorrow, then, Miss Hawkins,” he said, giving her a quick bow, fully aware of what would have occurred had they not been interrupted. “I look forward to walking with you.”
“Good afternoon,” she answered quietly. “I hope your brother is no worse.”
“I thank you,” he murmured, not taking his eyes off her until she had finally quit the room.
10
Knowing that the footman was now being held securely at Lord Stephen’s home gave Julia a great sense of relief. Thankfully, her brother had not even noticed the injury to her arm and rather than call a doctor, she had asked her lady’s maid to clean and redress the wound, which she had done without comment. Thankfully, Julia trusted her maid enough to know that she would remain silent when it came to her brother, especially when Lord Steele seemed much more interested in Julia’s acquaintance with Lord Stephen than anything else.
“I shall have to ask him what his intentions are for you, Julia,” he had said as Julia had adjusted her bonnet in the mirror. “For he seems to be quite interested in you.”
She had said nothing other than to remark that she hoped her brother would be pleased that there was a gentleman calling upon her so regularly, and then had not needed to wait for his answer, for Lord Stephen’s carriage had pulled up and she had practically run from the house, so that he would not have to come out in order to wait for her.
Now, they sat opposite each other in the carriage, the sunlight streaming through the carriage window and the warmth of the afternoon making her smile. Had it not been for what they had to discuss, this might have been a perfectly lovely afternoon.
“How is your brother?” she asked as Lord Stephen smiled at her. “I hope he is no worse.”
“He is not worse,” he replied with a look of relief. “In fact, the doctor has reduced his laudanum in the hope that he might soon awaken.” Something twisted in his expression, a slight frown catching his brow. “I am not certain that giving my brother so much laudanum has helped him, if I am truthful,” he said with a shake of his head. “I feel as though it has only made his delirium worse. He has not been able to pull himself out of his unconsciousness because of the effects of the laudanum.” Shaking his head, he lifted one shoulder and shot her a rueful smile. “But then again, I am no doctor.”
Julia frowned, looking at him with a slight worry beginning to bite at her mind. “There is no suggestion that such a thing could be intentional?” she asked, her thoughts beginning to slam into one thing and then the next. “Not to suggest that the doctor is any way at fault, for, as you well know, I have no skills in that area either.”
Lord Stephen said nothing for a long moment, looking at her steadily. She kept any further comments back, waiting for him to tell her his opinion on what she had suggested.
“That is a wise remark, Miss Hawkins,” he said eventually, his brow lined now as he frowned. “I had never once thought that—”
“The footman would need to know where your brother was being kept,” Julia continued, warming to the idea. “Yes, he would know that it was within your own house but to go to and fro within the house would only add to his danger. If he was to know already which room to go to, then surely that would increase the chances of him being successful in his endeavors.” She suppressed a shudder at the thought of the footman holding a pillow over Lord Atherton’s face. “But then again, I might be entirely mistaken in my thinking.”
Lord Stephen shook his head, his lips flattening as his brow furrowed all the more. “And the footman did not stab at my brother, when he might have had the chance,” he commented, his tone pensive. “Why would he attempt to suffocate him rather than simply use a blade?”
The answer came to Julia’s mind almost immediately. “To make it appear as though he had died of his previous injuries,” she said grimly. “So that there would be no further investigation into his death, to make it appear as though the injury inflicted at the ball was the sole cause of his death.”
“So that the person responsible would not appear to be further involved, adding a little more protection to him,” Lord Stephen mused. “You may very well be correct, Miss Hawkins.”
She gave him a small but tentative smile. Lord Stephen nodded slowly, his eyes still lingering on hers for a long moment, before he turned to open the carriage door and then offered her his hand. Coming out after him, she waited for Mrs. Law, who had been sitting silently next to her, to follow, before accepting Lord Stephen’s arm and walking with him through Hyde Park.
“I—I do not mean to disparage your doctor, of course,” she said abruptly, suddenly afraid that he would think her very rude indeed for remarking on a man who might very well be the doctor that either Lord Stephen or Lord Atherton had used for many years. “If he is—”
“I know nothing of the doctor,” Lord Stephen answered with a slightly awkward smile. “He appeared on the night of my brother’s attack, which I am most grateful for. I presumed it was you that sent for him.”
Julia frowned, casting her mind back to that night. “I did not send for the doctor, no,” she answered, trying to remember what had happened. “A gentleman hurried forward and took my hand, telling me that he would ride out at once for a doctor.”
Lord Stephen looked a little surprised, but then shrugged. “That was very good of him,” he observed. “I am very grateful. If I knew his name, I would make sure to thank him.”
Julia leaned into him a little more, feeling a small sigh escape her. “I can barely recall his face,” she admitted. “It was such a shock to see your brother there and…” She stopped herself, realizing just how difficult it must have been for Lord Stephen. “If I remember him, I will make sure to let you know at once.”
“I thank you,” Lord Stephen replied warmly. “You have been quite wonderful these las
t few days, Miss Hawkins.” His free hand reached across to rest on top of hers as she held his arm. “I count myself very blessed to have met you.”
She blushed but did not pull her hand away. There was a desire within her to stay as they were at present, to become all the closer to him. He had said nothing that might suggest there was anything of significance between them, but she did not think that what she was beginning to feel was only growing within her own heart. In the looks that they had shared, in the moments that had whispered of a gentle affection between them, she had felt her heart stirring with hope. Had they not been interrupted, Julia was quite certain that he would have kissed her yesterday afternoon, and that she would have gone into his arms willingly.
“There is more for me to say, Miss Hawkins,” Lord Stephen murmured as if he had read her mind. “I have so many conflicting emotions as regards my brother and the attack, as well as your company which has become so very dear to me, that I find it difficult to bring it all into clear view even to myself.” A small but rueful smile pulled at his mouth. “But once there is an end to this situation, once I know who has done this and why, I can assure you that I will speak to you of my heart.”
Her throat worked furiously for a moment as she struggled to find something to say in response, finding herself flushed with hope and an increasing sense of excitement.
“You would not reject my request to speak to you in such a way, I hope?”
“No, no!” Her exclamation ripped from her mouth before she could stop it, her fingers clutching his arm with a little too much strength. “No, indeed, I would not,” she finished, releasing his arm a little and feeling heat climbing up her spine and rippling into her face. “I would be glad of it.”
His smile grew steadily and Julia felt her heart settle into a contented rhythm, feeling a good deal of happiness. Yes, there was still the great cloud of confusion over Lord Atherton and yes, her arm still pained her, but there was something both unexpected and wonderful now held just in front of her, waiting for them both to reach out and grasp it.