Winter Rose, The

by Jennifer Donnelly

  Sid had come here? India's happiness turned to terror. Freddie would kill him. She flung back the bed covers and put her feet on the floor. Nausea gripped her.

  "Charlotte," she said, "where's Mr. Baxter now? Where's your father?"

  "Mr. Baxter had to go. I wanted him to stay but he said he couldn't. He left two days ago. The hyenas got Father. I heard the grown-ups talking about it."

  India blinked at her. "What?" she whispered. "My God. Charlotte, is he... is he dead?"

  "I hope so. I never want him to come back. Never."

  There was a knock on the door.

  Mary entered the bedroom. "I thought I heard your voice! Oh, it's good to see you awake, ma'am! But you must get back into bed!" She hurried to India's side, eased her legs up off the floor, and pulled the bedclothes back over her. "We were all so worried about you. How are you feeling? Can I get you a pot of tea? Something to eat?"

  "Mary, is my husband dead?"

  "Oh, Charlotte!" Mary said, dismayed. "I said you weren't to tell your mother such things. Not yet. She's too frail."

  "Is he?" India repeated, sharply this time.

  "Yes, ma'am, he is. Mr. Baxter told us. He told Joseph where he'd found him and Joseph sent two men to bring his remains back. They left yesterday. I'm so very sorry, ma'am."

  India lay back against her pillows. Mary, the servants, and the rest of the world would expect her to feel sorrow, but she felt only relief.

  "Where is Mr. Baxter?"

  "He has left."

  "Did he leave anything for me? A note?" India asked.

  "No, ma'am."

  "Nothing? Nothing at all?"

  "He told me he was riding east. That was all he would say, I'm afraid. I asked him to stay. I knew you would want to thank him in person, but he refused. There's someone else here to see you, however. A Mrs. Margaret Carr. She has a young man with her. His name is Seamus Finnegan. I told her that you can't possibly receive them now. You're far too weak. Not fit to be seen in your present condition."

  "Oh, never mind about that," a woman's voice boomed. "It's only me who's seeing her."

  "Mrs. Carr! You cannot come in here! I asked you to please be seated in the drawing room," Mary protested.

  "And I told you I've no time for dilly-dallying. Get your missus a wrapper, will you? Hello, Mrs. Lytton. I'm sorry to barge in like this, but it's about Sid. There's a lot to tell you and we need to tell it before Tom Meade arrives and he's only about half an hour behind me. You decent, then? Good. Seamie! Come in! Hurry, lad!"

  Seamie stepped into the room. India gasped, then recovered herself. "I'm sorry. I thought for a second that you were someone else."

  "Sid Baxter?"

  She nodded.

  "I'm his brother, Seamus Finnegan. I'm very pleased to meet you. And pleased to see you again, Miss Lytton," he said, smiling at Charlotte. "We met on the beach at Mombasa. Do you remember?"

  Charlotte nodded and smiled.

  "His brother. Sid's brother," India repeated wonderingly. Remembering herself, she said, "Mary, please bring something for our guests."

  "May I bring you tea, Mrs. Carr?" Mary said tightly.

  "I'll want something stronger than tea," Maggie said. "I've been riding nonstop for the last ten hours. I can barely feel my backside."

  "Brandy and port, please, Mary," India said. "And sandwiches."

  Mary left and Maggie and Seamie seated themselves, Maggie on the bed and Seamie in Charlotte's abandoned chair.

  "What the devil happened to you, Mrs. Lytton? You look bloody awful. I tried to get Madam there to tell me," she said, hooking her thumb in the direction Mary had taken, "and you'd think from the look I got that I'd asked what size drawers you wear."

  Charlotte giggled. Maggie winked at her. India was happy to hear her daughter laugh. She was worried that after everything she'd seen and heard, everything that had happened to her, she might never laugh again.

  India told Maggie and Seamie about the music box and what was inside it. She told them what Freddie had done to them, and why, and that he was now thought to be dead.

  "The bloody bastard!" Maggie spat. "Hyenas are too good for him! He should've lived to go to London! He should've had to answer the charges!"

  "Charges?" India echoed. "What charges? I don't understand."

  "The Home office telegraphed Nairobi. They wanted to question your husband in connection with the Gemma Dean case," Maggie said.

  "How do you know that?" India asked.

  "I'm not supposed to. But Delamere's a good friend of mine, and he told me that he was in a meeting with the governor when a telegram came through from the home secretary. Apparently a man in London accused Freddie of committing the murder. His name is Frankie Betts. He said he saw it all. Saw Lytton kill the girl. Saw him take her jewelry. Gave a sworn statement. That's why Meade's coming. To get Lytton. And that's why we've come. To tell Sid. We hoped we could catch him, but we're too late."

  "If only we still had the jewelry," India said. "It would've helped to confirm Freddie's guilt, dead or alive."

  "We do have it, Mummy," Charlotte said.

  "But it was in the music box, darling. Don't you remember? And that's at the bottom of a river somewhere."

  "No, it isn't. I have it. I stuffed it inside Jane's bloomers. Don't you remember? I threw a piece at the lioness who was growling at us. Mr. Baxter told me that's what saved us. He said he saw it sparkling in the sun."

  She ran out of the room, leaving India, Maggie, and Seamie to exchange puzzled glances. In a few minutes she was back, her hands full of jewels. She laid them on India's bed.

  "Charlotte, you are a remarkable girl," Seamie said. Maggie tousled her hair. India beamed at her. And Charlotte flushed at the praise.

  India looked at the jewels. They were proof. Proof of Freddie's treachery. They were also reminders of the lives he'd stolen. Someone had died for every piece of jewelry she held--Hugh, Wish, Gemma Dean. The sorrow she felt thinking about it was almost unbearable.

  "Maggie, there's something I don't understand," she finally said. "Sid saved us, but how did he get to us? He was in jail. And why would he leave again so quickly? Charlotte told me he left yesterday."

  Maggie and Seamie exchanged glances. "He escaped," Maggie said.

  "How?" India asked.

  "Charlotte, my girl, do you think you might be able to find old Mary and see how she's coming with those sandwiches? Tell her not to bother the cook too much. Just a bit of cheese and pickle on some bread will do."

  Charlotte nodded and skipped out of the room.

  Maggie turned back to India and said, "The how of it is that he over-powered Seamie and made him change places with him. Then he forced me to walk him outside the prison. He tied me up in the Norfolk's barn and took my horse." She gave India a long look. "At least that's what we told the police."

  "I understand," India said. "And they'll never hear differently from me. But why did he come here? If Freddie had seen him, he would have tried to kill him. And if he was prepared to risk Freddie's wrath, why did he leave when he knew Freddie was dead?"

  Seamie sat forward in his chair. "He came here because he thought Charlotte might be his. He wanted to know for sure. He planned to ride out here and ask you."

  India nodded. "She is his," she said quietly.

  "Sid's daughter," Seamie said, smiling. "And my niece. No wonder she's remarkable."

  India laughed. She liked this young man immensely. He was brave like his brother. And good, she could see that. He had Sid's eyes, too. They were as green, as lively, and in their depths--as sad.

  "Yes, his daughter. If he knew that, if he even thought it, why would he rescue us and then disappear? He didn't even tell us where he was going. Or if he'd ever be back. Why didn't he stay with me to ask me about Charlotte? Why didn't he stay with her?"

  India thought she might know the answer to her many questions, but she couldn't bear to admit it.

  "He was afraid of the law catching up
with him," Maggie said. "When he escaped, he didn't know about Frankie Betts's statement. Didn't know that Freddie was going to be questioned."

  "Perhaps," India said. She looked at her hands, then sadly said, "But I think the real reason is that he's angry with me. For not telling him about Charlotte. For keeping the truth from him for all these years. I almost did tell him. A few weeks ago. But I knew we were going back to London, and that he might never see her again. I thought it would be cruel. So I didn't tell him. And now he's so furious that he doesn't want to see either of us ever again."

  Maggie and Seamie exchanged worried glances.

  "I'm sure that's not it," Maggie said.

  "I'm sure it is," India said. "It must be. Nothing else could explain his leaving without so much as a note telling me why. Or where he's going."

  There was a noise from outside India's bedroom door. A small, scraping sound.

  "Charlotte?" India called.

  There was no reply.

  "My God. I hope that wasn't her. I hope she didn't hear--"

  India didn't get to finish her sentence for Mary came bustling into the room wringing her hands.

  "Mary, is Charlotte hiding there?"

  "Where?"

  "Outside my room?"

  "No, ma'am."

  "How about those sandwiches?" Maggie said. "Where are they hiding?"

  Mary glared at Maggie, then she said, "Lady India, I'm terribly sorry about the delay with the tea but the kitchen's in an uproar. The men are

  back. They've ey've found Lord Frederick's remains. And the ADC's

  ...th

  arrived from Nairobi with his men. I've told him you're unwell, but he insists on speaking to you. And to Lord Frederick. He doesn't know, you see, and I don't know what to do," Mary said, near tears now. "I didn't know if I should tell him what's happened."

  "Tell Joseph to see that our guests are fed, Mary. Tell him to make up enough beds for everyone as well. Tell Tom I'll be with him shortly, then please come back and draw my bath."

  "Are you certain that's wise, Lady India? You're still weak."

  "It's probably not wise, but I've no choice. While I'm with Tom, you may start packing our things."

  "Will you leave now?" Maggie asked when Mary had bustled off again.

  "As soon as I can. I'll speak to Tom Meade and tell him what happened. I'll give him the jewelry and tell him what I know about it. I'll have to make arrangements for Freddie's remains. I'm sure there will be an inquest in Nairobi. When it's over, Charlotte and I will return to London."

  Maggie nodded. "We must let you dress," she said.

  Seamie was silent. He and Maggie were nearly out of the door when he turned around and said, "Lady Lytton ...India ... stay. Wait for him."

  "He's not coming back here, Seamie. I know it. I feel it. I've lost him. Again."

  "He will come."

  India shook her head sadly. "I had the chance to tell him. I didn't take it. I don't think I will get another."

  Chapter 131

  Joe lowered his weary head into his hands and let out a long, defeated sigh. He was in his carriage on the way home from the home secretary's office. He'd just been to see Gladstone again, desperate for news on his quest to reopen the Dean case, only to find out that there wasn't any.

  The home secretary had summoned Freddie Lytton home, but had received no response. It seemed that no one could find the man.

  Joe had made it known to Gladstone--after getting nowhere with Desi Shaw and Joe Grizzard--that if the Home office continued to do nothing about Frankie Betts's accusations, he would take Betts's statement to the papers himself.

  "What if you're wrong, Herbert?" he'd asked him. "What if you're wrong and I'm right, and you do nothing when you had the chance to do something?

  What if I do end up finding out where that jewelry got to? What if I get a second witness, a second statement? And you never so much as questioned the accused? It'll look like a double standard. One set of laws for privileged cabinet ministers, another set for everyone else."

  Gladstone had drummed his fingers on the desk, then said, "All right, I'll do this much. I'll telegraph Nairobi. Tell the governor there what's occurred. Tell Lytton to return to London. See what he has to say about it when he arrives. You'll have to give me some time though, Joe. He's out in the middle of East Africa; I think there's only one telegraph machine in the whole place and no telephones. It might take a few days to find him."

  Joe had said that was reasonable. He promised to sit tight and do nothing. But that was a week ago. He'd been so disappointed today to find that Gladstone had had no meaningful news from Nairobi. Only a telegram from the governor saying they were still trying to locate Lytton. That there appeared to be some problem up at Mount Kenya, where Lytton was holidaying. He would be in touch as soon as he knew more.

  He raised his head now and looked out of the carriage window. He was empty-handed. He had so hoped to do this for Fiona. To give her the gift of her brother. Safe, sound, and back in her life. He'd tried--pursuing every avenue he could think of--but he'd failed. Desi Shaw told him that he'd never heard a word about anyone trying to move Gemma Dean's jewelry. And Joe Grizzard had said the same thing. Wherever he went, whatever avenue he tried, he encountered nothing but dead ends. He was no closer now to clearing Sid Malone's name than he had been when he'd first sat down across from Frankie Betts. The carriage stopped outside 94 Grosvenor Square. It had been built especially for him, and allowed him to get in and out easily in his wheelchair. He lowered the folding ramp--he liked to do these things himself and not have people fuss over him--and carefully rolled down it. Then he rolled himself up the ramp in front of his mansion. He reached up to ring the bell, but before he could do so, the door was yanked open. He expected Foster to be standing on the other side, but it was Fiona.

  "Thank God you're home!" she cried. She was clutching two sheets of paper in her hands. Her face was streaked with tears. She was talking so fast, Joe could barely understand her.

  He heard the words Charlie, Seamie, Africa, jail, amputation, Kilimanjaro, and rhinofficeros in quick succession.

  Rhinofficeros, he thought stupidly. That can't be good.

  As he rolled himself into the foyer, he saw that Katie and Charlie were sitting on the stairs, their faces peeking through the spindles. Anna, the nurse, sat with them, holding little Peter in her arms.

  "Calm down, Fiona," Joe said, mindful of the fact that she was in the ninth month of her pregnancy and due any day. "Take a breath. Now, what's wrong?"

  Fiona tried again to tell him, but fresh tears overtook her and she couldn't.

  At that moment Foster breezed into the hall, a tea tray in his hands. "Cook's made a lovely jam sponge, sir. And a dish of custard sauce to go with it," he said.

  Joe wondered if the entire household had gone mad. "Mr. Foster, I'm hardly interested in puddings right now!"

  Foster inclined his head toward the stairs. "The children, sir."

  "Of course. I'm sorry. Katie, Charlie, would you like a nice dish of pudding?"

  "Mummy's crying," Katie said.

  "A cinoseros bit Uncle Seamie's leg off," Charlie added.

  "It's rhinofficeros, and I'm sure nothing of the sort happened. Go downstairs with Anna. You can have some pudding with Cook. She'll tell you a story."

  "But ..."

  "Go. Mummy and I will come down later. You be sure to save us some pudding, all right?"

  "I'll put this in the drawing room for you, sir," Foster said, disappearing with the tray.

  The children followed Anna to the kitchen as Joe led Fiona to the drawing room. Foster had already poured the tea. He left, quietly pulling the doors closed behind him. Joe made Fiona sit down. He moved close to her. Their knees were touching.

  "Fee, luv, you've got to calm down," he told her. "This is no good for the baby. Whatever's happened, we'll sort it out. Now tell me, what has happened?"

  Fiona handed him the papers she was holding. "It's all
there," she said, her voice catching. "It's all in the telegram."

  "This is a telegram? It's two bloody pages long! Who's it from?"

  "Seamie."

  Joe started to read.

  Dear Joe and Fiona, the telegram began, Despite what you may soon read or hear, I am well.