Lord Satan
Page 25
Libbetty knelt by her mother. “Don’t die, Mama. We all need you. I’m trying to help, but I don’t know how.” She fought back tears as she waited.
It seemed an age before Floss returned with a mound of ripped-up sheets in her arms. “What will you do with these?”
“I’m going to try to stop the bleeding.” Libbetty took several strips from the top of the pile and pushed them one at a time into her mother’s body.
Floss gasped. “Are you sure you ought to do that?”
“No. But I can’t think of anything else to try. Can you?”
The other girl backed away, and Libbetty watched as blood flowed past her improvised barrier. She grabbed more handsful of strips and inserted them, stopping to watch for continued bleeding every little while.
A knock sounded at the door, and Floss answered it. “Mrs. Berkfield is asking if you want more sheets torn?” she reported.
“Yes!”
“She says you’ll have no sheets left for the beds.”
“I don’t care if we all have to sleep on bare mattresses. Tell her to keep tearing.”
At last Libbetty could detect no bleeding past the strips of cloth packed inside her mother. She waited, hardly daring to breathe. Had she applied enough pressure to stop the bleeding? Or did the cloths merely soak up blood so she couldn’t see it?
She looked at her mother’s face. Her pallor did not appear as severe, but she lay still and unaware, the rise and fall of her breathing so slight as to be almost undetectable.
“I can do nothing more. We have to wait for Dr. Hayes.”
Floss yawned, and Libbetty said, “Go to bed. You’ll have to care for the children again in the morning.”
“Are you certain you won’t need me?”
“Not any more. Dr. Hayes should be here soon.” The other girl left, and Libbetty realized her exhaustion for the first time. She had never felt this tired in her life, and yet even without needing to keep watch, she knew she could not sleep.
Dr. Hayes finally came sometime after midnight. Libbetty had drifted into a trance-like state, and at first did not realize he had arrived.
He was bent over Mrs. Bishop, examining her, when Libbetty came to. “Oh, doctor. How is she?”
“Considering the amount of blood she lost, fair. I see that you packed her—at least I presume it was you?”
Libbetty nodded.
“How did you know to do that?”
“I didn’t know. I just couldn’t think what else to do.”
“Well, you’re a resourceful young lady. You may just have saved your mother’s life.”
“She’ll be all right?”
“It’s too early to say. She’s very weak. A lot depends on her own constitution—and the nursing she gets.”
“Oh, thank you, doctor!”
“No need to thank me. You should thank yourself—perhaps God, as well.” He stared at Libbetty, making her aware of the picture she must present, filthy and covered with blood. Despite his own sleepless night working to save a boy’s life, Dr. Hayes bore his usual elegance. His white hair appeared neatly combed, his black coat unwrinkled.
“I don’t want her disturbed, even to change the bedding. If she were moved, it could start her bleeding again.” He packed up his case, and said, “Now I should see to that infant.”
“She is in the nursery,” Libbetty replied.
He went to the door, looking back at Libbetty. “You come with me, if you please.”
“Is it all right to leave Mama?”
“For now. Your father will stay with her. He is anxious.”
“Oh, has Papa come home? How is the Murchison boy?”
“Still holding on. Your father will go back and pray with the family again in the morning, and offer what comfort he can.”
How could he leave? She needed him here. Oh, but his duties included offering comfort to families in the midst of grief or trouble. She could manage at home. Dr. Hayes’ encouraging words gave her confidence.
Libbetty led the way to the nursery. Cat had fallen asleep with the baby in bed beside her. Gently lifting the blanket-wrapped bundle from the girl’s arms, the doctor carried the infant out of the room and down the stairs.
Mr. Bishop waited in the hall, his face fearful.
“You can go up and see your wife, but don’t waken her. She needs to rest and heal.”
At Dr. Hayes’ words, Mr. Bishop raced up the stairs, with eagerness totally unlike himself.
Dr. Hayes carried the infant down the hall to the kitchen, where he tended her, cutting the cord and binding the stump. In the light of the kitchen fire, her hair gleamed auburn, a deeper shade of red than Libbetty’s.
“She’s small but seems healthy enough,” he said, handing her to Mrs. Berkfield to bathe. “You better wash yourself also, Miss Bishop. Plenty of hot water here, it appears. I will arrange for a wet nurse in the morning. Ginny Green lost a baby a few days ago.”
At Libbetty’s questioning look, he added, “Perhaps just for awhile. The baby needs nourishment, and your mother can not provide it in her condition. I’ll be back later in the morning to see how your mother fares. If she awakens before I return, give her nothing but water or weak tea.”
Mrs. Berkfield bathed the baby and wrapped her in fresh swaddles. Libbetty carried her to the nursery and awakened Catherine again to mind her, then returned to the kitchen to wash, to the accompaniment of the housekeeper’s complaints about a topsy-turvy household and her own lack of sleep.
As Libbetty started out of the kitchen, Tom came in, eyes alight with excitement. “I accompanied Cauldreigh to The Castle with the lame horse. Everyone was talking of how you captured Lord Cauldreigh’s assailant. What an adventure! What happened?”
With dull surprise, Libbetty realized that other event had happened only the previous evening. It seemed a lifetime ago, with the drama she had been embroiled in since.
“I didn’t capture him. Lord Neil did. If you want the details, you must apply to him.”
“You needn’t bite my head off. Aren’t you pleased about it?”
“Yes, Tom,” Libbetty sighed wearily, “but that was not the only event of the evening. Mama almost died tonight, and we still don’t know if she will live.” She exited the kitchen, not waiting for him to ask for an explanation, and knocked on the door to her parents’ bedchamber.
Not hearing a reply, she pushed open the door. The sight that met her gave her a lurch. Her father knelt by the bed, tears running down his face. “Papa!” she exclaimed.
“No, she is all right,” he whispered huskily. “I am sure she will live.” He got awkwardly to his feet. Removing a handkerchief from his pocket, he wiped his wet face. The rims around his eyes were red. “I must go back to the Murchisons’. Their boy may still die. He was badly wounded. It is my duty to pray and wait with them. I wish I did not have to leave your mother, but she would understand. Will you sit with her?”
“Yes, Papa, I’ll not leave her alone.”
*
Neil sent to Rose Cottage with a summons for Maude Whitelow.
She arrived within the hour, gowned in rose-colored satin. Had she expected to celebrate Trevor’s demise this evening?
“What do you mean by holding Owen here?” Maude demanded the moment she walked in the door.
“I caught him making another attempt on Cauldreigh’s life tonight.” He was sitting behind the desk in his father’s study, emphasizing his contempt for her by not rising at her entrance.
“You mean you have fixed on him to take the blame for your crimes,” she mocked.
“I mean what I said. It’s over, Maude. A witness will testify to events, and Owen will hang,” he said brutally.
Maude’s eyes glittered, but she maintained her act. “Who have you found to perjure himself? It wouldn’t be difficult when all the people around here depend upon you for their living.”
“My witness has unimpeachable honesty. It won’t do, Maude. You can only save Owen’s life by
telling the truth. Who is he?” Neil opened an enameled box on the desk and extracted a cigar. He lit it cigar from a taper on the candelabra, then arose leisurely and strolled over to the fireplace.
“He is my husband’s nephew.” Maude stood just inside the door, poised as if ready to flee.
“In that case, it won’t matter to me if he hangs, will it?”
Her hand went to her throat and she swallowed. Her eyes were huge and moist.
“I have almost worked it out. He’s your son, isn’t he—and Tipton’s?” He leaned against the mantel and puffed on the cigar.
She didn’t reply, but only stared at him with her cat-like eyes flashing hatred at him.
“I don’t understand what you hoped to gain by killing Trevor. Why do you hate Tipton’s legitimate son so much?”
“Owen is legitimate,” she spat. “Tipton received word of his first wife’s death and married me before he died. Owen came after our marriage.”
A pain like a fist to the gut struck him. “You have proof?”
“Of course,” she said, advancing toward him. “Owen could not claim the Cauldreigh titles and estates without proof. Once Cauldreigh was dead, Owen would have returned to America, and then come to England as if for the first time and showed the authorities his credentials.”
Neil went back to the desk, and, placing his hands on the top, fixed her with his stare. “Why did you feel it necessary to take such drastic action? There is plenty of money to have seen you and Owen comfortably fixed if you had stepped forward with your claim.”
“Oh yes, you were eager to have us join your family. I wrote the old marquess after Owen’s birth. He wrote back that he wanted nothing to do with us and we’d never see a penny.” From the other side of the desk, her eyes blazed hatred at him.
“He knew about Owen? He left no indication of the boy’s birth in his effects.” Neil sat, struggling to conceal his shock over his father’s coldness. Not that he should have been surprised. It was all of a piece with his other actions. “So you decided to take your revenge of him.”
“I wanted my vengeance on the old man, yes. That was hardly the most important reason. How would you know about our life—the hardships we went through to survive? I married Whitelow thinking at last we would have a comfortable life. He had an overabundance of money.” She laughed harshly and paced the room.
“He was a miser. He gave me nothing and forced Owen to work for his keep. He was a builder—at least he taught Owen a skill that proved convenient for our purposes. When Whitelow died, he left the business to his sister’s son. I received a pittance, not enough to live on for long. What could we do?”
“Murder is not the answer that would occur to most people.”
She shrugged. “It almost worked.”
“You made your son a fratricide. Doesn’t that bother you?”
“Oh yes, your family has such feelings for its own. Your father would not have cared if Owen had died—his own grandson. Why should I care what happens to some pampered aristocrat?”
Trevor burst into the study. “Uncle Neil? Woodbridge said someone really was trying to kill me? And you captured him tonight?” Then, noticing Maude, “What’s she doing here?”
“Excuse us for a moment,” Neil said to Maude, and led Trevor out of the room, closing the door, and continuing into an adjacent saloon.
As he informed him of the evening’s events, Trevor’s face paled. “You mean I have a brother, and Grandfather knew and didn’t inform anyone? Would he have done such a thing?”
“He might have. He was bitter at your father’s betrayal. He loved your mother as his own daughter.” That was misstating matters a bit. Jane had merely been his choice of wife for his heir—a dutiful and dull girl. If he had possessed a shred of human understanding, he could have foreseen it would be the worst sort of match for his high-spirited son. “He hated seeing her slowly waste away after your father left her.”
“What are we to do, Uncle Neil? We can’t subject my own brother to a trial. There must be some solution.” Trevor scrubbed his hands through his hair, his shock still evident.
Sympathy tugged at Neil’s heart. He had yet come to grips with the facts, himself. “I have a plan—a way that might insure your safety and keep Owen alive. Come back in the study with me while I talk to Maude, but don’t interfere.”
“I should have some say in the plan.”
“I will put nothing into effect without your approval. I merely wish you to leave it up to me to negotiate with Maude.”
Trevor reluctantly nodded.
Neil sat behind the desk again. He indicated a chair at his left for Trevor. The bruised look the boy wore made Neil wonder if he should allow him to witness the negotiations. He gave his attention to Maude. While he and Trevor had been absent from the room, she had finally taken a seat. “We are going to explore whether we can come to some agreement that spare’s Owen’s life.”
“In return for some concession from us, of course.”
“I do need assurances that the attempts on Trevor’s life will cease.”
“Why should I trust anything you say?”
“Unlike my father, I do have some family feelings.”
“I won’t believe any claim you make of fondness for your younger nephew.”
“Naturally I won’t claim any love for a nephew I didn’t even know existed until tonight. However, bringing his crimes to trial would be unpleasant for others for whom I do have affection. I feel an obligation to give Owen another chance in atonement for the wrong done him by his grandfather. I assure you, should I learn at any time that he has violated tonight’s agreement, he will be prosecuted for his crimes.
Maude sighed. “Very well, tell me what you have in mind.”
“I think we will need Owen in here for this. He must also agree.”
She looked at him through narrowed eyes. “He’s not of age. He can’t sign any legal document.”
“Nevertheless, he will have to carry out his part in any agreement. If he’s unwilling, there’s no point to this discussion.”
Drawing in a deep breath, she said, “Yes, bring him in.”
After Lord Neil gave the insructions for Owen to be brought in, they waited in silence for a few minutes. Trevor stood and paced, his nervousness apparent in the tension of his posture, and the more pronounced limp.
Then the boy stood a moment in the doorway before he stepped into the room. “Hello, Aunt Maude,” he said. “And this must be Lord Cauldreigh. We’ve never come face to face.” Owen walked forward and held out a hand to Trevor, as though this was an ordinary meeting. Neil had to give him credit for coolness—and then noticed the tremors in his hand as he held it out.
Looking at the two young men, he felt gut-punched all over again. There were differences between them: Owen possessed the cat-like eyes of his mother. They would probably be defined as hazel, but on the green side, whereas Trevor’s were the Colton gray. Owen’s cheekbones were sharper, his build a little stockier. But anyone would know them for brothers.
Neil could see this meeting was equally difficult for Trevor. He held back from taking the offered hand, studying the other for a long moment, then, saying, “I believe we must have come close on one occasion when you slipped something into my ale,” he held out his hand.
Owen paled as they shook hands.
“You need not maintain your pretense any longer,” Neil spoke. “Your mother has informed us of your identity. Take a seat and we will have a friendly family discussion as to what is to be done with you.”
“If my fate is to be decided, I’d just as soon stand, sir.” The time he had waited alone in the housekeeper’s room had apparently wrought a difference in his demeanor. The sneering bravado was gone, and this was a frightened, but composed edition. A point in his favor, perhaps.
Neil raised an eyebrow, but said, “Suit yourself.”
It appeared Trevor also chose to remain standing. He didn’t move away from Owen, Neil noted.
“I don’t have them.” The boy shrugged. “My mother does.”
“Maude?” Neil turned to her.
She tossed her head. “If you think I’ll let you destroy the papers, you have fewer wits than I expected. You won’t find them on your own.” She smiled smugly.
“You have matters the wrong way around. Our negotiation of any different solution for Owen, one that doesn’t result in my laying charges against him, and his conviction of attempted murder, depends on my having these papers. Tell me where to find them, or we are done.”
She glared at him, and he held his breath. If she called his bluff, he’d follow through with his threat. But that was the last thing he wanted to do.
“Tell him, Mother.” Owen looked at Neil. “You’ll think I’m saying this to save my neck, but I don’t care. I don’t want to die, or go to prison, or whatever sentence I’d receive. I wouldn’t beg to save myself, though. I did this to provide for her. I knew she wanted it mostly for revenge, but that never meant anything to me. I can manage all right for myself. And I don’t want the stupid title, never did. I won’t put my neck in the noose to preserve my right to have it.” He turned back to Maude. “So, give it to him.”
Her face turned an ugly puce color, but she did. She had hidden it at the house, as Neil suspected. He called for Woodbridge, his head groom, and most trusted servant, and gave him instructions. “Now, where were we? Yes. This is what I propose.”
Neil paused to look at his audience. Maude was not looking at him. She sat in the chair a few feet from him, looking down at her hands, which she was twisting and wringing. His two nephews still stood together, and of the two, Trevor looked the more concerned about what he would say next.
He went on, “First, Maude, you will not live with Owen. I can’t take the chance of your poisonous influence over him. I’ll grant you a comfortable annuity, and you will retire back to America.”