“Let me hold her while you get this blasted dress off her,” he told Dory.
“I can call for Mrs. Hartley or one of the other—” Her protest seemed to die on her lips, and I could well imagine the look he gave her to quell it.
A chill swept through me, and I shivered violently in his arms. He murmured some soft nonsense and pressed his lips to the top of my aching head. By the time they had me undressed, gowned and tucked in bed, I was racked by chills and my teeth chattered in my head.
“She’s burning with fever, Mr. Cade.”
“Calvin’s gone for the doctor.”
“Poor miss. It’s the rain did it to her. That daft man shouldn’t have left her up there like that.”
Even through the clouds in my head, I heard the murderous rage in Cade’s low voice. “He’ll be sorry he ever touched her.”
Chapter Eighteen
It took extreme determination to open my eyes to the bright sunshine streaming through the windows of my room. On the first try, I moaned and snapped my eyelids shut against it, but the second attempt was a success and, very slowly, the room came into focus. Cade stood in front of the largest window, silhouetted by the sun as he stared at some distant point beyond the garden. He must have heard my futile efforts to sit up, because he turned toward the bed, looking exhausted and haggard with worry.
“Fee,” he choked, gathering me against him. He took several long breaths, as if trying to get hold of himself. “Thank God, you’re awake. We were afraid you wouldn’t make it another night.”
“How long have I been ill?”
“Your fever raged for four nights. It finally broke earlier this morning.”
Four nights? I had always prided myself on my hearty constitution, and the thought of being brought so low by being out in the rain was hard for me to accept.
“I’ve been rained on before, Cade, and I’ve never gotten anything more than a bit of a chill.”
“Richard says you were already in a weakened state from the trauma of Desi’s death and your fall at the lighthouse. When Devlin accosted you and left you in the storm, your body wasn’t able to fight illness off as it normally might.”
I shuddered at the reminder of those sightless, terrifying moments at the top of the lighthouse. I could almost feel Devlin’s breath on my neck as he whispered those horrible words.
He killed her, Ophelia. I watched him do it.
“What is it? You’ve gone white as a sheet.” He placed a hand on my head, feeling for fever. “Perhaps you should lie back down.”
“I’m fine,” I assured him. “Just lingering effects of the fever, I daresay.”
“I’ve brought the breakfast you’ve asked for, sir,” Dory said quietly from the doorway. Her brow was drawn together with worry, but upon seeing me awake, a wide smile stretched across her pretty face. “Oh, miss, praise be! You’re awake!”
She set Cade’s tray on the table in front of the windows and then turned to me.
“I’ve brought eggs and ham for Mr. Cade. Would you like me to fetch you some? Or Cook makes porridge for Miss Tabby every morning. Perhaps, you’d prefer that.”
“Thank you, Dory, but I’m really not hungry.” At her look of dismay and worry, however, I offered a smile and nodded. “Actually, a nice bowl of hot porridge would be lovely. With a bit of honey and butter, if it’s no bother.”
“Oh, no, miss. It’s no bother at all. I’ll bring it right up. And a pot of tea, as well.”
She darted from the room, and I closed my eyes for a moment. I had never felt so weak in my life.
“You are not feeling well enough to worry about hurt feelings, Ophelia,” Cade groused from the table.
“I wasn’t worrying about her feelings.”
“You claimed not to be hungry, and then I assume she looked crestfallen, so you changed your mind. Now you’ll feel obligated to eat all of your porridge out of some misguided notion of politeness.”
My stomach chose that very opportune moment to rumble loudly, and I gave him a triumphant smile.
He shook his head and began eating his breakfast.
The upholstered chair that usually faced the fireplace had been pulled to the side of my bed, and I wondered if he’d been here the entire time I was ill. His face was gray with exhaustion, and a scraggly beard shadowed his chin. As I watched, his head nodded over his breakfast.
“You’re exhausted, Cade. Why don’t you go to your room and rest?”
He scrubbed a hand over his face and shook his head.
“No, I’m fine. I’ll stay with you until Richard arrives.”
“At least go and bathe, Cade. Richard won’t come and go while you refresh yourself.”
“I’ll wait for Dory to return.”
“No, you won’t. I want to bathe and rest, and I can’t do either with you here. Go.”
“Do you swear you’ll stay put? You won’t go traipsing off to parts unknown as soon as I leave the room?”
“I swear I’ve learned my lesson, Cade. Besides, I don’t think I could possibly get very far.”
“No, I suppose you couldn’t.” He bent and kissed the top of my head. “I’ll send Dory up to help you bathe.”
Before he left, he went to the lavatory and turned the knobs on the tub.
“Wait for Dory. I don’t want you falling over while you try to bathe.”
When he was gone, I forced myself to stand, fighting my weakness and managing through sheer force of will to keep myself upright. With a huge effort, I was already soaking in the tub when Dory arrived with my breakfast tray.
She clucked disapprovingly but went to work changing my bed linens and laying out a clean nightgown as I bathed.
“It’s good to see you on the mend, miss. We were all worried about you, but Mr. Cade was near crazed with it. He wouldn’t leave your side. He just sat there holding your hand and talking to you real soft. I don’t know what he said, but it seemed like the sound of his voice calmed you and you rested better.”
“Dory, you weren’t in trouble after my escapade, were you?”
“Of course not, miss,” she said, but her voice was clipped, and I suspected she may have endured a setting down by someone. Whether it was Mrs. Hartley or Cade, I wasn’t sure.
“If you were, I sincerely hope you’ll forgive me. I should never have gotten you involved.”
“I guessed you were lying when you said you weren’t going to the cabin. If Miss Desi had been my sister, I’d have done the same. That’s why I sent Donald ahead to warn Devlin. I hoped that man would meet you somewhere along the way. He isn’t a safe man, miss, and he could have killed you easy enough. If you didn’t break your neck crossing those rocks looking for him, that is.”
“Could you do me another favor?” I asked, not missing the wariness in her eyes.
“I don’t know, miss. I can’t lie to Mr. Cade again, if that’s what you’re going to ask me to do.”
“No, it was wrong of me to expect that of you, and what I want now is simply to have a message delivered.”
“To who?”
“Nellie Arnold. I’d like to talk to her, and I would need her to come here, as I don’t think Cade would let me go there.”
“Mrs. Arnold couldn’t possibly make it here, miss. She’s already tried to start having the baby. The doctor put her to bed and told her to stay there, hoping to hold it off a little longer. But from what my mother said, it will most likely be any day now. Reverend Arnold’s fit to be tied.”
I knew that a fall like the one Nellie had taken when trying to stop Devlin could very well have caused her to go into premature labor. I’d been at my father’s side several times when he was called to console women who lost their babies after giving birth early. Even with only a month before her due date, it was still dangerous for Nellie and the baby, and guilt overwhelmed me. How would I ever forgive myself if my recklessness caused either of them injury?
“I must go to her at once,” I said, grabbing the towel and surging to my feet. My head spun
from the sudden motion, but I fought off the lightheadedness and stepped out of the tub. “Get my gray plaid dress from the wardrobe, Dory.”
The girl shook her head. “Mr. Cade gave strict orders that you were to get back in bed as soon as your bath was over. I won’t disobey him again, Miss Fee.”
I moved past her and pulled the dress from my closet. “I’m not so helpless that I can’t get dressed on my own, Dory. And if I do it on my own, then no one can blame you for it.”
By the time I had the dress over my head, my room was empty, and I didn’t have to think very hard to know where she’d gone. I was pulling on my stockings, sweat beading my brow from exertion, when my door flew open so hard it cracked against the wall.
“You little fool,” Cade ground out as he marched toward me.
“Why didn’t you tell me about Nellie?”
“You’ve been conscious for less than two hours, Ophelia. You nearly died. Forgive me if your health and wellbeing were foremost on my mind.”
“Well, I’m fine now, and I must see about Nellie.”
“You are not fine, and you are most certainly not leaving this house.”
“I will do as I please, Cade, and you can’t stop me.” I glared at him. “You are my brother-in-law. You have no say over what I do.”
“I’m a damn sight more than your brother-in-law, and we both know it.”
He plucked my shoes from my grasp, and flung them at the wardrobe. He grabbed the bottle of medicine and poured a hefty dose into the spoon from the bedside table.
“Drink it,” he ordered, holding it out to me.
“No.”
“Ophelia, the doctor has ordered you to rest, and if you have to be drugged to do so, then by God, I’ll drug you. You will take this medicine.”
When I still refused, he used one arm to pin me against the mattress, as he tried to force the medicine through my pursed lips. Sobbing with frustration and still refusing to open my mouth, I put up a futile fight against him. Just when I felt as if my chest would burst from trying to breathe through my nose and fight against the pressure of his arm on my chest, I managed to jerk my head to the side hard enough to send the spoon flying from his hand.
I had never seen him so furious, and fear caught up what was left of the breath in my chest.
He killed her, Ophelia. I watched him do it. Had this terrifying fury been the last thing my sister had seen? Had he held her down as he tied her up? Had she known it was him who threw her to her death?
Suddenly afraid he might pour the whole bottle down my throat if I continued to fight him, I ceased my struggling.
“Please, Cade,” I begged, my voice dry with fear. “I’ll do as you say. Please, just let me go.”
The fury in his eyes was replaced by startled surprise, and he stepped back, his eyes swinging from the open medicine bottle to me. I shot upright, gasping for air as I wondered if fear really could choke a body to death.
With a wounded cry, Cade hurled the bottle of laudanum across the room, where it crashed against the hearth in a puddle of shattered glass and liquid.
He reached for me, his arms falling to his sides when I moved away from him. “I would never hurt you, Fee.”
“I don’t believe you anymore,” I whispered.
I wanted to believe him. I truly did. He looked old and tired and wounded, and I wanted to soothe the worry from his eyes and accept him at his word. Now that I had experienced his fury firsthand, however, doubt overcame me. Still, I needed to know Nellie was all right.
“I need to see Nellie. She might need my help.”
“She’s fine. Her sister is with her, and some of the ladies from the village.”
“I’ve attended women during their lying-in before.”
“You aren’t attending anyone, Fee. Get that through your head. You are homebound for the next few days.”
“This isn’t my home.”
My words silenced him, and he stood from the side of the bed, pacing back and forth while raking his hand through his hair. Finally, he stopped and came back to sit beside me. His dark eyes were nearly black with pain, and he took my hand in his. I controlled the desire to jerk it away from him.
“I know this isn’t your home, and I’m sure you’re more than ready to leave this godforsaken place, but I’m begging you to stay. I need you here. Just through the trial. I need to know that you will be here for Tabitha.”
“I have no intention of leaving before the end of the trial, and there won’t be any need for someone to look after Tabitha. You’ll be here for her.”
Tears welled in his eyes, and he looked away. “I know I can be harsh, and I can’t seem to keep my distance from you. But you are the only person who has believed in me in a very long time. You make me remember the man I should be instead of the one I’ve become. I’m begging you not to stop.”
“I’ll be here.” I couldn’t promise I wouldn’t stop believing in his innocence. Although I longed to feel as certain as I had the day I came to Almenara, I no longer was. It would do no good to lie to him or myself.
“You only have to rest a few more days, Ophelia. You aren’t strong enough yet to be of any help to Nellie or anyone else.”
“I know,” I admitted. Then with a heavy heart, I looked him in the eye. “I’ll agree to stay in bed until I’m stronger, Cade, but I need you to stay away from me.”
“Of course,” he agreed, and with a derisive bow that reeked of despair, he left the room.
****
Richard stopped by in the evening, and I questioned him thoroughly about Nellie as he checked my eyes and ears and listened to my heart. He ran his fingers beneath my chin, a small smile playing about his mouth as he did so.
“Cade tells me you’ve already tried to escape,” he teased.
“I only wanted to check on Nellie. It wasn’t as if I was going to traipse off into the wild.”
His voice and eyes were stern when he spoke again.
“Obviously, you don’t appreciate how ill you were, Ophelia. I believe you are out of the woods at this point, but you are far from well. Your lungs are still congested, and you are to rest until I say different. No more running about trying to solve crimes or catch ghosts. Do you understand?”
I grimaced. Had Cade actually told him about my ghostly visions? He laughed out loud.
“Calm yourself, sweetheart. Cade was concerned that your ghost sighting was a reaction to the medication, so he questioned me about it.”
I tried to smile and laugh it off, but it bothered me immensely that the two of them had discussed me when I was not present. I was becoming increasingly ill-tempered, and Richard’s next words set my teeth on edge.
“I don’t know what is or was between you and Cade, Ophelia, but I can tell you that he cares deeply for you."
“He is my brother-in-law, Richard.” I tried to sound appropriately offended by his implications.
He looked at me for a long moment, before his face brightened. “He was the boy you loved in New Orleans, wasn’t he?”
“Yes,” I admitted quietly.
“He didn’t die. He married your sister.”
“I never said he died. I only said he was gone.”
“And you let Nellie infer that he died.”
“Yes. I couldn’t very well tell everyone the truth.”
“So you aren’t pining away for a dead lover?”
“No.”
“Good,” he said, his eyes gleaming with excitement. “Then I shall court you as if my competition for your affections is someone I can actually overcome, instead of a man upon whom sainthood has already been bestowed.”
He snapped his bag shut, and with a bow much like Cade had left me with earlier, he was gone.
Chapter Nineteen
Richard’s assurances that Nellie was in good hands eased my mind to the point that I was able to relax, and I slept soundly for the next night and most of the following day.
On Saturday, I woke at dawn feeling greatly renewed
and sat at the table by the window. The rising sun dappled the water in the small fish pond below, and a family of cottontails hopped about in the grass between the garden and the woods.
For the first time since the night I fell ill, I thought of what I’d found in Desi’s room. The poor dead bird, obviously killed with the blood-streaked hatpin in its chest, and the handkerchief, stained with several tiny droplets of blood and stark black ink.
With shaking hands, I reached for the book on the table. I pulled out the square of white linen, my fingers brushing across the dark blue embroidery thread that formed the letter at the corner. I turned it over, so that the finely lettered quote faced me, and I read it silently, each word cinching more tightly around my heart than the one before.
For murder, though it have no tongue,
will speak with most miraculous organ.
From the time we were girls, my sister and I had read and re-read the plays of Shakespeare. We were certain that somewhere, hidden within the words and verses, we would find some small glimpse of our mother, the woman who had bore us, bestowed on us the names of two such ill-fated girls, and left the world before we ever knew her at all.
My father had entrusted my mother’s well-worn books to Desi and me many years ago, and we had treasured them, poring through them each night before we climbed into our beds to sleep. Were I home, I could easily find the crimped and stained pages of Hamlet in the large tome of Shakespeare’s works. Here, I could only go by memory. I closed my eyes and conjured up the words that surrounded them, the scene of which they were a part.
That this quote was written on the handkerchief covering the small murdered bird had to mean something. I shuddered as I recalled the dull eyes, its stiff feet, the painted porcelain hatpin that rested snugly in its feathered breast. There was no sign or smell to warn me of what lay beneath the linen shroud, none of the sagging flesh or bone that bespoke decomposition. Desi had been dead for nearly a month. If the bird had been there on her dressing table the night she died, it would have been much more decayed than it had seemed.
Obviously, whoever left it there expected it to be found by someone. But who was expected to enter Desi’s room? The servants, Mrs. Hartley, Cade, and I were the most obvious choices, but I narrowed it down quickly to only two: Cade and I.
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