Elly sighed sadly. “Auntie will never leave this house. She told me a hundred times that she was born here and wishes to stay here always. She’s welcome to it. I never want to see it again.”
The Chief-Inspector nodded. “Very well then, we agree that Father Folen was murdered, and Sir John died by misadventure.” He shared an exhausted smiled with Isabelle. They both sighed with relief. “Miss Roundtree, you shouldn’t be bothered again, at least anytime soon. There will be an inquest, and a judge will eventually try your father - uncle - whatever he is. Assize judges are notoriously slow reaching villages this far from London. Roundtree may rot in jail for months before he is finally tried. He’s sure to be speedily hanged, so it hardly matters. Tonight, my sergeant and I will stay at the pub in town. We should clear up all the details in a day or two, then...”
Angry voices sounded from downstairs, and Isabelle rushed to the kitchen. She found Sam sitting up on the kitchen table. His face was grey and his eyes sunken. His bare chest was a ghastly collage of red and purple marks crisscrossing an old scar. The white plaster cast hung like a deformed wing at his side.
Dr. Vickers’s hands were on his hips. “You’re a damn fool, Smelling. That cast is barely dry. Your ribs are cracked. You could puncture a lung and die. Is it worth risking your life for a bloody newspaper story?”
“Yes, doctor, it certainly is.” Sam’s eyes watered. “This is a great story.” He took a painful breath. “I can serialize it.” He took another breath. “It’ll make a fortune.”
“If you live to enjoy it.”
“My life won’t be worth much, if I let someone else get it.”
“Who else, man? There’s no one else who knows about it.”
“Isabelle!”
“Yes, darling.” She hurried to his side.
Sam closed his eyes against the pain. “You wired Settle from London, didn’t you?”
“There were two wires: the first from my secretary, procuring a carriage from the station, and the second from the Chief-Inspector, ordering the local constable to meet us.”
Sam spoke in short, painful phrases. “If it went over the wire service -- some spy has it -- If I don’t get it to The Times before -- tomorrow’s -- mid-day edition -- someone else will. I’ve got to get back to London -- tonight. Garingham won’t be needing his car. The driver can take me all the way to Skipton.”
Mary curtsied. “I’ll fetch the chauffeur.” She hurried out.
Sam called after her, “Thanks Mary. Look Isabelle, with my arm -- I can’t write.”
“Not to worry. Bill employs a woman who works one of those typing machines. She’s clever. As soon as we get back, I’ll set her to work for you.”
“Great!” He smiled.
“But darling, this is too dangerous. You…”
“Doctor, wrap me up anyway you have to. I’m leaving.”
Sam stood up and staggered two steps.
Dr. Vickers pushed him back toward the table. “All right, man. Stay still while I bind your ribs. Won’t take but a few minutes and it could save your life.”
“Sam, I’m going with you.” They all turned to see Elly, pale and trembling, at the foot of the stairs.
Isabelle’s mouth fell open. “Don’t be ridiculous, Elly. You’re injured. One lunatic among us is enough. I’m not even sure there’s a train this late.”
Elly limped over to Sam. He took her hand. “Your friend Robert Dennison, I need to see him as soon as we get back.”
“Whatever for?”
“If this story gets anywhere near the coverage I think it will, the part about the portrait could make him famous. It’ll also make him infamous.” He laughed, then doubled over from the pain. “Parents won’t want him near their daughters -- and no school will hire him, But - It could get him a lot of commissions. Do you think he’d risk it?”
She laughed. “He’ll love it.”
At the sound of ripping cloth, Sam sat back and Elly hopped to a chair. Dr Vickers carefully bound Sam’s ribs. When he finished, he tore thinner strips and bound Elly’s ankle.
Sam took a breath, pushing against his binding. Tears filled his eyes. He was in terrible pain, but not about to admit it.
Isabelle pleaded, “Sam, darling, certainly we can wait until daylight.”
He closed his eyes against the pain. “Don’t fight me Isabelle -- just help me -- all right?”
“Of course. I’ll do whatever you want.” Totally exhausted, Isabelle shrugged. “Elly darling, I’ve tried talking with your aunt. She’s huddled in bed, staring at that family portrait. She keeps saying, ‘I need to take care of Papa’s house.’ She doesn’t seem to know what happened tonight.”
Elly shrugged, “I told you she will never leave.”
The dog woke, staggered out from under the table, yawned, leaned against Sam, and nudged him with a wet nose.
Dr. Vickers smiled. “That’s some dog. What are you going to do with him?”
Sam scratched Rex behind the ear. “I can’t take him to London. I’ve no idea where he belongs.”
“Is he a good watchdog?”
“The best.”
The doctor nodded. “Rex!”
The dog looked at Dr. Vickers.
“How would you like to live in the Dales?”
Rex wagged his tail and looked to Sam for approval.
Sam chuckled, “Sounds like a good arrangement to me. Go on boy!” He pointed to Dr. Vickers.
Rex ambled over to the doctor, sat on his foot, looked up, beat his tail against the floor, and panted bad breath.
Dr. Vickers smiled and scratched his head.
Isabelle begged, “Dr. Vickers, please travel with us. I’ll pay well for your services, and I can’t let Sam be further injured.”
Vickers shrugged. “Sorry madam, but I’m the only doctor in this part of the Dales. I’m needed here, and there’s nothing you or I can do, to help a fool bent on suicide.”
Isabelle wrung her hands. “But Elly insists on traveling, too. I can’t possibly handle two invalids by myself.”
Mary hurried to Isabelle. “Please, My Lady, take me wi’ thee. I’m a good worker and I’m fond o’ Sam.”
Isabelle nodded. “Of course. I’m grateful for the help.”
It was 10:30. A light freezing rain beat against the kitchen windows. Isabelle tried to stay calm calculating train connections. The daytime trip had taken five hours. Night time connections were not as good. The Skipton station house may not be open. They might end up waiting on a cold platform in the rain. This was madness. Why not wait until morning? She looked at Sam. He glared back with fierce blue eyes, daring her to delay the trip. She said nothing and braced herself for a horrible journey.
Chapter Fourteen
Mary took Sam’s jacket and coat, opened the right seams, and removed the right arms. He cautiously slid off the kitchen table and braced himself as she slid the clothes over his left arm. She arranged the right side over his shoulder and under his cast. With a thick needle and heavy thread, she sewed the clothes together, leaving his cast exposed.
Isabelle was surprised. “Well done, Mary.”
Sam said, “Yeah Mary. That’s great.”
Mary looked pleased with herself as she knotted the thread and cut off the needle. She smiled into Sam’s deep blue eyes. “I’d do anythin’ for thee, Sam.”
He sent Isabelle a crooked smile. “You owe me a suit.”
Isabelle laughed and nodded. “At the very least.”
Dr. Vickers stood back and crossed his arms. “It’s raining. How are you going to keep that cast dry?” Mary was ahead of him, already wrapping a waxed cotton raincoat around the delicate plaster. She bundled extra blankets to take on the train.
Elly used one of her uncle’s walking sticks as a cane, and gave another to Sam.
Dr. Vickers shook his head, and gave Sam another shot of morphine.
Chief-Inspector Hayes spoke to Sir John’s chauffer. “How much petrol do you have?”
“A full tank, sir. I filled up before I left.”
“Good. You can drive Lady Richfield’s party all the way to the Skipton train station and return immediately. You and the car are both needed for the murder investigation.”
The chauffeur looked worried. “I already told the constable everything I know.”
“Fine, then you can tell me when you get back.” He turned to Isabelle. “I wish I could help you get to London, but I can’t leave the crime scene. There will be an inquest, and you may all need to come back.”
Isabelle sighed from exhaustion. “How soon will that be?”
“It depends on the coroner.”
Dr. Vickers laughed. “Don’t worry, I’m the coroner. For the past twenty years, I’ve signed every death certificate in the area. Poor Father Folen died from Anthony Roundtree’s bullet. No one will challenge that.” He grimaced and went upstairs to check on Lillian Roundtree.
The Chief-Inspector watched him go. “Unless Roundtree is daft enough to plead innocent, there won’t even be a trial.”
Isabelle’s shuddered. “I understand. Thank you, Chief-Inspector, you’ve been extraordinary through all this. Once again, I’ve dragged you away from your family.”
“And, once again, it wasn’t your fault -- and once again, thank you for actually believing I have a life other than chasing criminals.”
“Did I ever thank you for your speech, last night?” She shook her head in disbelief. “Was that really only last night?”
He chuckled, “It was, and you did thank me. I was happy to assist in a cause close to my heart. Any father of daughters should care about other men’s daughters.” He looked at Mary, wrapping Sam and Elly in raincoats and mufflers. “Good luck with this lot.”
Isabelle sighed. “Thanks, I’ll need it. I hope the next time we meet will be a happy event.”
“This one could have ended much worse.”
Isabelle closed her eyes and breathed deeply. “You’re right of course. Good bye.” She held out her hand.
He took her hand, looked into her lovely face, smiled, and went back to work.
The chauffeur drove the car close to the front door. Isabelle said a silent prayer as Sam eased into the front seat. The women sat in back, with Elly between Mary and Isabelle. The chauffeur climbed in, next to Sam, and started off.
Elly gazed out the window. The house became smaller and smaller, finally disappearing from view. A feeling of relief washed over her. “I’m never going back there, not ever.” She snuggled against Isabelle’s shoulder, inhaling her comforting perfume. The car hit a bump and Sam moaned. Elly called, “Sam, are you all right?”
He called back, “Don’t you worry about me. I’ll have the best story of my career. Soon as this morphine does its job I’ll be so sleepy you’ll have to carry me onto the train.”
Isabelle yawned and stretched her neck. “When we get a train. We may be at the station for hours.” She cuddled Elly. “But you, my sweet child, are finally safe. I hope there’s a telephone at the station. Kathy, Jerry, and your Robert must all be worried sick.” She chuckled, “I almost forgot about Rory. He’s probably the most worried of all.”
She looked past Elly to Mary, huddled tearfully against the car door. “Mary, have you traveled far from the Dales?”
Mary sniffed, “No My Lady. I never been even this far from ‘ome.”
“Did you like working for Mr. Roundtree?”
She hesitated. “Well, no ma’am. My job as serving maid were fine, but t’ Master and Sir John…”
Elly almost screamed. “Oh, Mary -- did they…?”
“They both tried, Miss. I was able to run away each time, but didn’t know how much longer they’d let me…” She sniffled and wiped her eyes with her skirt.
Isabelle reached her arm and squeezed Mary’s shoulder. “Mary dear, you are very kind to help us on this journey. After we get home, that is -- to London, and you’ve had a good rest, you can decide if you wish to remain, or come back to Settle. If you choose to remain, I’ll give you a reference and help you find a position at one of the big houses. If you wish to go home, you’ll be paid for your time with us, and given the train fare back.”
“Oh, aye, thank thee My Lady. Thank thee kindly.” She sat back as the car drove toward the station.
*
Elly woke with a start. The car had stopped. It was pitch dark and horribly cold. She shivered and rubbed her eyes. All around her was blackness. There wasn’t a sound. She leaned into Isabelle but the seat was empty. Frantic, she reached forward for Sam. There was only heavy wool upholstery on empty seats.
“Isabelle? Sam? Mary? Chauffer?” She screamed into the dark. “Where are you? What’s happened? Has something happened to Sam?” Frantic that Sam was worse and they had taken him to get help, Elly reached blindly for the door. The car lurched, the door flew open, and the silver gleam of Peg’s knife flew at her face. Mick laughed through yellow teeth. Elly screamed and fell down a bottomless pit.
There was a screech of brakes and calls of, “Elly! Elly! Wake up!”
The car skidded to a halt, throwing everyone forward. Isabelle shook Elly. “You’re dreaming. Elly! Wake up. It’s just a bad dream.”
Elly was drenched with sweat, her heart pounding out of her chest. She clutched Isabelle. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Sam, Mary, and the chauffeur stared at her.
Isabelle held her tight. “What was it? Tell me what you were dreaming?”
Elly shook her head and sat back sobbing.
Her scream had panicked everyone. It was a few minutes before the chauffeur was calm enough to continue driving.
Afraid of dreaming again, Elly clenched her teeth to stay awake. She silently recited every song and poem she had ever learned.
Skipton Station was dark and deserted. Isabelle cursed silently. She wanted everyone to wait in the warm car, but the poor chauffeur was a mess of nerves. “I’m sorry, M’ Lady, but t’ Chief-Inspector told me to return immediately. I’ve got t’ go back.”
Isabelle clenched her jaw and tossed a waxed cotton rain slicker over her coat. She bundled her wounded troops out of the car and onto the windy platform. The car drove away, leaving them alone. The rain had stopped and slight moonlight illuminated the station awning. Like refugees, Elly and Sam huddled together on a narrow bench. Mary wrapped the extra blankets around them, then sat as close to Sam as his cast allowed. Soon, all three were asleep. Isabelle paced the dark windy platform, cursing, willing a train to magically appear. As the minutes crawled by she became more and more angry.
Sam moaned in his sleep. She spun around, whispering through gritted teeth, “Serves you right. Obstinate fool! All this pain for a stupid story.”
She caught her breath. He was pale and shivering. She protectively adjusted the blankets around all three. Mary woke, saw her mistress, and started to stand. Isabelle put a finger to her lips and motioned for the girl to stay where she was. There were beads of sweat on Sam’s face. Isabelle felt his cheeks and forehead.
“He’s got a fever. I’ll brew him some Maidenhair tea when we get home. There’s nothing I can do for him now.” Shivering, she snuggled down next to Elly. The girl’s screaming nightmare still rang in her ears. She whispered, “What really happened to you? I’m sure you haven't told us half of it."
*
Elly woke up warm under blankets, cuddled between Sam and Isabelle. The rain had stopped. Across the tracks, a lighted SKIPTON station sign shone clear in the fresh fragrant air. A dark mist blew off the side of the sign. It was pretty. She had never seen mist that colour. She yawned, wondering if there was a lake on the other side. What was making it glow like that? There was no moon. It was too early for the sun. Through heavy eyelids she could see the mist became thicker, longer. Funny, it looked like horsehair. Almost asleep, she giggled. “It’s not horsehair, silly. It’s a girl’s hair. It’s so pretty, long and dark. It’s Peg’s hair.” The hair burst into flame. Witch eyes like hot coals flew at her.
&n
bsp; “Come on Princess, daddy’s waitin’!”
“NO! NO!”
“Elly! Oh, my, Elly! You’re having another dream, wake up.”
This time Elly thought her heart would explode from her chest. She threw off the blankets and ran down the platform, eyes bulging, and sweat running down her face. Her ankle throbbed, but she barely noticed the pain. Mary covered Sam with blankets as Isabelle chased Elly down the dark walkway.
She caught the girl, threw her arms around her, and held her still. “Elly, what did you dream? Tell me.”
“Peg!” Elly’s eyes were wild, her voice strained. “There! Behind the sign.” She stopped and stared. “Where’s the sign? There was a sign.”
“The dream in the car, what did you see?”
“That was Mick, with Peg’s knife.” Her legs collapsed and she sunk onto the moist wooden planks.
Isabelle went down with her. “Tell me about the knife. What really happened? I know there’s more than you told the Chief-Inspector.”
Elly shook her head and lay in a dejected heap.
Isabelle sat back, clutching her own pounding heart. “And I was worried about Sam.” After a few minutes, Elly quieted and slowly rolled into a ball. Her ankle throbbed.
Isabelle spoke in a monotone. “I’ll kill Sam for this trip… Once he’s well enough.” Elly chuckled and Isabelle lay down next to her on the hard, wet wood. They looked sideways at each other and started to giggle. The absurd situation, and overwhelming fatigue, set them both into fits of laughter.
Elly’s throat tightened. “I’m so frightened.”
Isabelle sighed and closed her eyes, “It’s over, darling. There’s nothing more to be frightened of.”
“They’re still out there… Mick and Peg. I think Tommy Quinn’s left the country.”
Truth and Beauty Page 11