Josephine stood absolutely still during the entire recitation. If the story was indeed true, there had been no reason for her to have run into Curzon Street or for Win to have chased her. My God, I am responsible for Win’s death! Tears welled in her eyes. “Thank you,” she responded to Fiona. “I’m sorry, but I don’t remember your surname.”
“My full name is Fiona Porter,” she replied. “I’m terribly sorry if I’ve caused you grief. When I learned of the earl’s death, I felt I had to show my respect for him since he was so utterly kind to me. In honour of him, I shall never take another drink of alcohol in my life.”
Josephine was aware that Fiona hadn’t the slightest notion that she had been the direct cause of the uproar that had ended with Win’s death. There was certainly no reason to tell her now. Thus, Josephine extended her hand and shook Fiona’s. “Thank you for coming and for relating your story to me. Win was a wonderful man and a true gentleman. It would have been like him to do something kind for you.”
With that, she turned and made her way through the crowded drawing room, stopping and speaking to other guests along the way. The turnout was so tremendous, Josephine really had no inkling of the name of each person. She now realised that nearly the entire village of Winthrop-on-Hart was there, as well as those who had known him in London, and even at Ascot.
As she turned to make her way to the kitchen to ask the cook for a glass of iced water, she was brought up short. Oliver, Win’s utterly disgusting brother, who had attempted to kidnap little Andy, stood in the corner with an obnoxious sneer on his face.
Anger bubbled up inside. She attempted to maintain her composure and walked to where Oliver stood, sipping a drink. “What in God’s name are you doing here?” she asked.
“I was granted compassionate leave to attend my brother’s funeral,” he retorted. “Don’t worry, milady, there is a man from Scotland Yard here too. He’s watching my every move. I’ll be returned to prison quite soon.”
“I should hope so.” She was still shocked to see the man she loathed above all others.
“Andy is looking well.” Oliver smiled.
“No thanks to you, Oliver. In fact, if you’d had your way, he wouldn’t even be here. He would in London and wouldn’t know that he was Win’s son.”
“Yes. Quite true,” he said.
“Why don’t you leave, Oliver? The funeral service is over. There is no further reason for you to be here. There really was no cause anyway. Win never wanted you to set foot in Winthrop Manor again. You knew that.”
“Yes, but Win is no longer with us, is he?” Oliver had the audacity to smile.
Josephine would have liked to slap his face, but instead simply turned her back, walking away from his disgusting presence.
Nonetheless, Oliver had more important things on his mind. He had no intention of returning to the hell-hole known as Wandsworth Prison. He had worked out a perfect scheme, fully intending to carry through with it. Placing his drink on a side table, he approached the guard from Scotland Yard, asking permission to use the lavatory. The guard nodded, but followed Oliver as he left the drawing room.
Oliver had an enormous advantage, however. The guard did not know the floor plan at Winthrop Manor. Oliver did. Instead of using any one of several loos on the second level where he was at the moment, Oliver walked down the stairway to the lower level. He passed through the kitchen, walked down the hall, and entered the water closet meant for staff use. Oliver was well aware that there were two entrances to that loo—one directly off the kitchen, and one which opened onto a hallway.
He entered it from the hallway, quickly closing the door. He had no need for use of the facility. Instead, he rapidly opened the door to the kitchen and exited. The cook, Mrs. Boyle, the under-cook, and several of the other kitchen helpers were scurrying about, attending to the preparation of food for the event. No one even looked up when Oliver hurried through the large room. There was an outside entrance to the kitchen, and he made his way to the doorway, escaping the house.
Without delay, he rushed to the garages, where the family autos were kept. He knew beyond a doubt that David, the chauffeur, would not be there, for he had participated in the service and had also been present in the drawing room. The keys to the cars were hung on pegs in the garages. He quickly plucked the one necessary to operate one of the smaller, less ostentatious vehicles, and slid into the driver’s seat.
Moments later, he was speeding down the gravelled drive. His goal was to reach the small cottage that Win had requisitioned for Josephine while he was fighting in the Great War. Oliver certainly knew it well, for that was where he had kidnapped Andy as an infant. He had no intention of staying there very long. It seemed logical that a search would begin upon the Winthrop Manor premises. In fact, it may have already begun. Once that had been accomplished, the very last thing the authorities would imagine was that Oliver would return to Winthrop Manor. He had one more score to settle before escaping to London and beyond.
Chapter Seven
Josephine leaned her back against the doorway. I’m terribly grateful for the enormous show of affection. It only proved how much Win was loved and adored by everyone he came into contact with.”
“Spot on, Josephine,” Tom said. “He was a unique person—one of a kind, really. I shall miss him enormously. Nonetheless, we must carry on. It’s what he would want. You need rest, my dear. You are only recently out of hospital. Now, please go to your rooms and have a lie-down. I’ll instruct the staff not to bother you until you show your face downstairs again.”
“Yes, thank you, Tom. I am tired. Aren’t you and Elisabeth going to rest as well?”
“Indeed, we are. Just let me have a word with Radcliffe, and we’ll be along shortly.”
Josephine wearily climbed the staircase. Her head ached, and she was exhausted. When she reached the rooms she’d shared with Win, tears formed. She had been stoic all day, but now it was safe to show the excessive amount of grief she had bottled up inside. She was glad, after all, that Fiona had attended the service. Had she chosen to stay away, Josephine might never have known the truth about her husband’s kindness to the young lady.
Would she ever be able to get over the guilt she harboured? There was no doubt in her mind that she was directly responsible for Win’s death. He’d begged her to listen, and she’d refused his pleas. Throwing herself across the down-filled comforter on the four-poster bed, she cried until there were simply no more tears to be shed.
* * *
She woke with a start. How long had she been sleeping? It seemed like hours. She went to the parlour adjoining the bedroom in the master suite and opened the draperies. The sun was setting in the west, and soon darkness would envelop the manor. It had been approximately two o’clock when she’d entered the suite. The lie-down had obviously been needed. She went back to the bedroom, and slipped out of her now-wrinkled clothing. Since it was soon going to be dark outside, she saw no reason to change back into something formal for dinner. She had no intention of following the usual routine for dining at Winthrop Manor. She slipped on a white cotton nightgown with lace at the collar and cuffs and a matching robe. Then she rang the bell for Emma. Shortly, the sweet, young maid appeared.
“Oh, Emma. I can’t believe I slept so long. I must have been even more tired than I realised.”
“Milady, you’ve been through one of the worst experiences life can throw at a person. You handled the entire tragedy with poise and dignity. Lord Winthrop would have been exceptionally proud of you.”
“Thank you, Emma.” Josephine made an attempt at a watery smile. Changing the subject, she asked, “Where is Andy? I know he went out for a ride after the services and the hospitality gathering here at the manor. He has returned?”
“Yes, indeed. I saw him come in and go straight to his room. I imagine he’s dressing for dinner.”
What about Tom and Elisabeth?” Josephine enquired.
“They’ve taken a short trip over to Cloverdale t
o retrieve some items. I understand they’ve decided to stay here for the next few weeks, so you won’t be alone.”
“Oh dear,” replied Josephine. “I sincerely hope I’m not creating difficulty for them. I would be perfectly fine here with my wonderful staff.”
“I think they truly want to be with you, milady. Elisabeth, in particular, is grieving the loss of her beloved brother. Being with you comforts her. Do you want me to assist in helping you dress for dinner?” Emma asked.
“Oh no, no, Emma. Just the opposite. I wish to have a tray brought to my room. I feel like being alone with my memories tonight.”
“I understand. I’ll pass the word downstairs. When dinner is served, I shall bring you a tray.”
“Thank you so much, Emma. You’ve been a brick throughout this entire nightmare. My attention needs to turn to Andy now. He adored Win. This is a tremendous loss for him. Tomorrow I must speak to the estate manager and make certain he understands that Andy is going to need help in training for the future tasks he’ll assume, as the new Earl of Winthrop.” Sadness tinged Josephine’s voice. “I so wish he could have continued with an unencumbered childhood for a while longer. Not that I expect him to take over the reins anytime soon. Obviously. Nevertheless, he will have to begin learning the intricacies involved in being responsible for such a vast estate.”
“Andy is a fine boy. He will survive this tragedy. I assume you’ll continue with your plans for him to finish schooling in Winthrop-on-Hart and then go on to Eton?” asked Emma.
“Absolutely,” Josephine replied. “He must be well-educated. That was Win’s fondest desire and mine too. Emma, did Uncle Roderick stay on as well as the Drews?”
“No, milady. I heard him say he was going to return to his cottage. In fact, he said to tell you to call on him if you needed anything at all.”
* * *
Emma left the master suite, and Josephine sat down at the small, corner desk to begin making a list of tasks she needed to complete in the near future. Of course, there were acknowledgments to be sent to all who had remembered Win with floral arrangements and donations to his favourite charities. She also meant to write notes to those who had travelled a considerable distance to say farewell to a wonderful friend. She needed to see to Andy’s wardrobe for the coming school year and to send a check for his tuition. She also knew there were countless things like signing legal documents, drawing up her own will, and seeing to Win’s estate.
As she sat at the desk, all was perfectly still in the massive house. Besides Andy and the staff, she was completely alone. Naturally, that had been the case on many occasions before, but now realising Win would never be returning, it was as if a giant hole gaped where her heart should have been.
Emma brought a tray to Josephine’s room and passed on the news that Tom and Elisabeth were dining with Andy. They had all made the decision to retire to their rooms early. Josephine thanked Emma and said she would place the tray outside her door to be retrieved later. She still was unable to shake the fatigue that had sapped all of her strength. She planned on crawling back into bed as soon as she finished eating the light dinner. There had been such a spread after the service for Win that she really wasn’t at all hungry. She ate only because she knew she must.
The meal was consumed, a bath run, and Josephine was back beneath the sheets with the lights out when she heard the door to her room open. It was dark in the suite, and she wasn’t able to see who had entered the room. It was completely unacceptable for anyone to enter after the lights were turned off. The only thing she could imagine was that it might be her son, who naturally was exempt from any such rule. Still, she sat straight up in bed.
“Who is it, please?”
There was no answer, but the lock clicked on the inside of the door. She reached over and turned on the bedside lamp.
There stood Oliver, to her utter shock and horror. She could scarcely believe her eyes. While she had been a bit miffed at the detective who’d been assigned to watch over Oliver, she truly hadn’t been frightened. Now she was. He stood next to her bed with a large knife in his hand. The expression on his face was pure evil.
“God’s nightgown!” she shouted. “What are you doing in my boudoir?”
“What do you think, Countess,” he answered. “I’m here to make you pay the price for taking away my opportunity to be the next Earl of Winthrop. You no longer have my brother to protect you. As you can clearly see, I have a rather nice, sharp knife here. If you so much as make a peep, your throat will be split wide open. Don’t think I wouldn’t do it. Eventually, they’ll catch me, and I’ll be returned to that beastly prison. The escape will add years to my sentence, as it is. Thus, murder will only rob me of the remainder of my life. I’ve already lost some of my best years. The most glorious times of bachelorhood have already passed. I’m a dead man, you see.”
Josephine swallowed nervously. She knew Oliver’s disposition well enough to know that he was deadly serious. Win had told her many times that, in his opinion, Oliver had always been precariously perched mentally. It now appeared that he had gone over the edge.
She knew precisely what Oliver had in mind. Before that very moment, she would have sworn that she would choose to die before ever allowing that beast to lay a hand upon her. Nevertheless, when faced with the reality of such a choice, she was not ready to die. She had Andy, and he could not lose his mother. He had just seen his father interred. If he lost her, he would never recover. The only thing that seemed remotely possible was for her to make an attempt at reasoning with Oliver.
“Oliver, don’t be a fool. You’re in enough trouble as it is. You may feel that an injustice was carried out against you, but if you’re honest with yourself, you know very well that you deserved the punishment given. Killing me will only bring an end to your life. I cannot imagine you’ve lost your will to live. We only just buried Win today. Do you want to be the next to compound the tragedy that has befallen Winthrop Manor? Please, Oliver. Put down that knife and leave this room. Leave this house, and I won’t even tell the authorities that you were here. You can get on with your escape. Go to London, board a ship and sail to America where you can begin again.”
Oliver laughed. “I have you cornered, Josephine, and your precious husband can no longer protect you. Don’t think that by blathering platitudes to me, you’ll change my mind. I don’t intend to get caught, if I can help it. I’ll perform the act I’ve come here for, and then I’ll disappear into the night. You will not escape, Josephine.”
“Oh my God, Oliver. What have I ever done to cause such hatred of me?” she asked.
“You seduced my brother, married him—in spite of your lowly status in society—and produced an heir. If you hadn’t entered Win’s life, I don’t believe he would have married. He always said he was a confirmed bachelor, but you changed all that
“Oh Oliver, how senseless. Win always told me that he understood where his duties lay. He had every intention of following the path expected of the heir. He indeed would have married, even if it had been someone he didn’t love. You would never have been the next earl.” Josephine’s voice was shaking, and tears were about to fall.
Oliver merely laughed. “None of that matters now, anyway. Quit trying to wiggle your way out of the mess you’ve caused.” Oliver approached the bed.
She had lost. She would have to face the unspeakable horror that was coming.
“I haven’t had a woman in a very long time. I always did fancy you. I hope there is such a thing as an afterlife, because it is my fondest desire that my brother is watching this from wherever he has gone.”
Josephine openly sobbed.
“Now, now.” His voice was cold, unfeeling. “You may find that you actually enjoy this. Think of it this way. Since Win has died, this could be the last time, at least in the foreseeable future, that you’ll have the opportunity to pleasure a man.” He removed the rest of his clothing and stood stark naked in front of her.
She was revolted. “You a
re a disgusting pig, Oliver. Perhaps you fancied me, but I always found you loathsome, and I still do.” She spat at him.
He lunged across the bed with a full erection. She nearly gagged. He tore at her nightdress until, in only moments, he’d managed to rip it off.
With the bandage still on her leg, Josephine found it difficult to defend herself.
“Yes,” he said. “Just as I knew you would be. Nice, big, round tits, and quite a bush down below.” He laughed heartily.
Oh. If he only weren’t still holding the knife.
Throwing himself on top of her, he began to maul her. How different from the tender gentleness she’d shared with Win. Oliver held the knife at her throat, as he mounted her. “Now, I expect you to at least act as if you are enjoying this, milady,” he said. “Lie still. Of course, you aren’t a virgin. I like knowing that I’m enjoying my brother’s leftovers. I’m familiar with Win’s anatomy. He should have paved the way nicely for me.” With those words, he entered her.
Excruciating pain ripped through her. She shut her eyes and prayed that this horror would end quickly.
He grunted and rolled off. In that climatic moment, Josephine managed to grab the knife from his hand. There was no hesitation about what she must do. She stabbed him over and over again, in the back, the side, and the groin. Finally, she thrust the blade into his heart.
Chapter Eight
Blood was everywhere. Josephine was hysterical. She stood, found her robe lying at the foot of the bed, covered herself with it and then rang for Radcliffe. She did not wish all of the staff to descend upon her rooms. It was Radcliffe whose help she required. She did not simply push the button one time, but over and over, alerting him that something was most certainly amiss. In only a matter of minutes, she heard Radcliffe’s voice outside her door.
“Milady? Are you, all right? May I enter?” he enquired.
War Comes Home to Winthrop Manor: An English Family Saga (Winthrop Manor Series Book 2) Page 6