When Swallows Fall

by Gloria Davidson Marlow

  Dory, Mrs. Hartley, and the other servants would only be expected to be there for two reasons: should cleaning be necessary or to pack Desdemona’s things away. I assumed that before her things were packed away, both Cade and I would have been expected to wander through her room, searching for memories and mementos of the woman we had known and loved.

  I tried not to picture Cade alone in Desi’s room, touching her things, remembering the times they’d shared, the things that had made him love her. I had found, in the years of assisting my father in his bereavement duties, that it took some spouses longer to get to that point than others. I had not seen Cade’s grief, only the hurt Desi had caused before her death, but I knew somewhere inside of him was the grief of a man who had lost his wife and the mother of his child. To have lost her in such a violent and unexpected manner would, in all probability, affect the grief process in some way.

  I forced myself to focus, not on Cade the grieving husband but on Cade the murder suspect. The night I chased the woman in white up to the rooftop, I’d told him our father called me his dove and Desi his barn swallow. Had he left the bird there after that, knowing I would be the one to find it? Or had he known it before Desi was killed? In my shock at finding it, had I missed the signs that it had been there longer? Why would he do such a thing?

  Regardless of its target, Desi or me, the message was clear. A murderer walked the halls of Almenara.

  I pulled a robe on over my nightgown and tiptoed down the hallway toward Desi’s room. Through the open window, I heard Cade’s voice calling out to the grooms in the stable. I watched as they brought the black stallion to him, and he swung himself up in the saddle. Within seconds, he disappeared from sight, the thundering of the horse’s hooves drifting back over the dunes.

  Without wasting a second, I slipped into Cade’s room instead of Desi’s. I inhaled the thick, warm fragrance of the soap he used, combined with the scent that was uniquely his. My eyes searched the room, trying to ignore the unmade bed and the pillow where his head had rested only moments ago. If I touched it, would it still hold his body warmth? I gave myself a mental shake, reminding myself that I was here for a reason other than fantasizing about Cade.

  I had no idea what I was searching for as I opened bureau drawers and doors. I only knew I needed to find some proof of Cade’s innocence, or his guilt. Feeling like a burglar, I tiptoed around the room, looking in every nook and cranny until, at last, I admitted defeat.

  There was nothing here that could prove or disprove Cade’s innocence, and nothing that would tell me if he had left the bird in Desi’s room.

  I slipped out as quietly as I had come in, and turned from the door, gasping when I came face to face with Calvin Scott.

  “Good morning, Miss Garrett,” he said with a leering grin.

  “Good morning, Mr. Scott.” Although my voice sounded calm enough, I felt the heat rise up my neck to blaze across my face.

  “It is good to see you up and about,” he said. “Although I must admit, I hadn’t expected you to venture so far from the comfort of your own bed.”

  My face grew even hotter, and I was certain it was red as a beet. I made to pass him, and his hand snaked out, catching me by the arm before I could move.

  “Watch yourself, Miss Garrett,” he said in a voice so low I had to strain to hear him. “You don’t want to end up like your sister.”

  “Or your wife?” The words were out before I could stop them. I had never tried to hurt another person, physically or verbally, and I was sorry the moment I spoke.

  Calvin’s face went white as a sheet, and he took a step back, as if to distance himself from my hateful reminder. It was the first real emotion I had ever witnessed from him, and there was no denying the pain that darkened his eyes.

  “What do you know of Amelia?”

  “I only know she died the same way my sister did. I know she fell from the lighthouse.”

  The color rushed back to his face and his grip tightened on my arm.

  “That’s where you’re wrong, Miss Garrett. Neither my Amelia nor your sister fell from the lighthouse. My sweet little wife threw herself over the side, and Cade threw your sister over.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “Oh, yes, I do.”

  “What evidence do you have?” I cried. “You’ll have to prove it in court.”

  “I have all the evidence I need, Miss Garrett.” He let go of my arm, and his usual artificial smile curved his mouth. “You see, Miss Garrett, Cade used his own cravat to tie her hands. When we found her, his collar still covered her eyes.”

  The air rushed out of me, leaving me slightly dizzy, but I held my ground as questions swirled through my mind. How could Cade have left those details out when he told me what happened to Desi? He had led me to believe there was no evidence against him, and that he didn’t need to worry about a defense. No wonder he was so certain he needed to make arrangements for Tabitha. He had known all along that this trial was nothing but a formality. He would hang for Desdemona’s murder, not because he did it, but because all the evidence pointed to him.

  “Thank you for your concern, Mr. Scott,” I said through my parched throat. “I will keep your warning in mind.”

  I had just settled down in the chair overlooking the garden when there was a light tap on the door.

  “Oh, Fee, I’m so glad you’re feeling better,” Eleanor exclaimed as she came toward me. “You gave us all quite a fright. I thought Cade would go out of his mind before your fever broke.”

  “I’m feeling much better, Eleanor. Thank you for your concern.”

  “Of course we were concerned. You are Cade’s family and therefore ours as well.” She was dressed in an emerald green riding habit, trimmed with black ribbons, and as she sat in the other chair, she pulled off her matching hat and gloves.

  “Have you already been riding?” I asked.

  “Yes. I went out early this morning. I saw Cade down by the water. He was so deep in thought, I don’t think he even saw me.”

  Below us, Lorraine and Calvin appeared, walking arm in arm along the winding stone path. Here and there she pointed and he nodded, continuing on until at last they came to the edge of the woods. I wondered if they were planning the future as master and mistress of the manor. Had he and Amelia done the same?

  They sat together on an iron bench, and I wondered, as Lorraine smoothed her skirts and adjusted the small hat perched on her head, how she had come from being a judge’s lover to Calvin’s wife. Had she been content to live here in a house that was not hers, watching Desi play lady of the house for the last six years? Had the fact that she had been here longer but was not the woman who made even the most basic household decisions gnawed at her as I suspected? How had she felt when Cade came home with a wife? There did not appear to have been any love lost between her and my sister, but had she hated her for usurping what little power she might have once had or for other reasons altogether? Could she have killed her?

  Hadn’t Calvin himself hinted at a relationship between him and Desi? Had that merely been a ploy to infuriate Cade, or had it been true? Had they worked together to frame Cade for Desi’s murder?

  Eleanor gasped as Devlin came up over the dunes and lurched toward the couple.

  He looked as he had the day of Desi’s funeral, with Lorraine’s dark blue cloak covering his clothes and his hair standing on end. How had he managed to appear so sane as we sat at Nellie’s table a week ago?

  Eleanor pushed the window open, ready to call out to him, but I stopped her with a hand on her arm.

  “No!”

  She jerked her arm away, shooting me an angry glance. Before she could speak to him, he caught sight of us at the window.

  “Ophelia!” he called. “I’ve come to speak to you.”

  I shrank back, my heart pounding as I hid in the shadows.

  “Ophelia, please!”

  “Cade, no!” Eleanor’s screech echoed through the house, as she turned from the win
dow and rushed from the room.

  I stepped in front of the window, shocked to see Cade tackle Devlin, who came up like a wild man, fists balled and face fiery red. I watched in horror as the two of them beat each other senseless. Calvin held his sister around the waist, as she kicked and fought him like a wild cat. His face turned crimson beneath her onslaught, and finally, without missing a beat, he struck her across the face. She crumpled to the ground at his feet, and Calvin stepped over her as if she were nothing but a pile of rags.

  His meaty fists grasped Devlin, pulling him to his feet, and with a hard push sent him stumbling back toward the dunes.

  Turning to Cade, he held out a hand and pulled him to his feet also. Cade lifted his face toward me, and I grasped the windowsill for support. His beautiful face was bruised and bloodied, but it was the crooked grin that scared the wits out of me. How could I trust a man who found pleasure in the pain he and Devlin had just inflicted on one another?

  Although I barely remember packing, within an hour I stood on the porch, luggage in hand, and waited for the carriage that would take me to the train station.

  In all my life I had never witnessed such violence and hatred as I had seen here at Almenara. My father had striven to give Desi and me the most peaceful of lives, and if my sister had chosen to live the last years of her life in a place of madness, that was her business. I would not live another minute of mine here. It seemed to me that most of the inhabitants of this place were driven by demons I had no desire to know.

  Cade appeared on the porch beside me.

  “Dory says you’re leaving.”

  “Yes.”

  “Eleanor is not injured.”

  “That is good to know.”

  “Has the carriage already been summoned?”

  “Yes.”

  “Will I ever see you again?”

  “Not at Almenara.”

  “Calvin regrets hitting her. And I did no permanent damage to Devlin.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “What happened to your compassion for all mankind?”

  I turned and look into his haggard face. I tried my best to summon any feeling that would overcome my need for self-preservation. His trial loomed ahead of him, and more than likely he would be found guilty. If nothing proving his innocence came to light, he would hang within weeks and I would never see him again. It was a sign of my own shock and dismay that these facts didn’t seem to faze me a bit.

  “My compassion extends only so far, Cade. My sister died here, most likely murdered by someone she knew, and although you are the one who stands accused, and you are the one all the evidence points to, you are just one in a household full of people capable of it.”

  His face was very pale, and I felt a moment of regret at my words. “Who told you about the evidence?”

  “It doesn’t matter now. Make arrangements for Tabitha and Janie to be sent to me, should it come to that,” I said, my voice cold and distant.

  “Good-bye, Ophelia,” he said quietly as he opened the carriage door for me.

  I looked back once before we rounded the corner in the drive. He stood where I’d left him, a desolate and lonely man, with no one left who was convinced of his innocence.

  Chapter Twenty

  The cozy cottage my father and I had shared was a welcome sight, and I breathed a sigh of relief as I came through its front door late that night. Everything was endearingly familiar, still in the same place I’d left it a fortnight ago, and for the most part in the same place my father had kept it for years. There were no surprises to be found here, and for that I was profoundly grateful.

  With another thankful sigh, I sank into the overstuffed chair in front of the fireplace. It felt as if I had been gone for years instead of days, and I was happy to be back where I belonged.

  Music drifted through the windows, and the sound of laughter mingled with the murmur of familiar voices. The pub down the street would be overflowing with people I had known all my life. Dear, familiar people who, although far from perfect, were caring and decent and loyal to those they loved. If I went there tonight, they would raise a glass in honor of Desdemona and regale me with stories of the high-spirited girl we had all once known. They would be stories I knew by heart, containing no secrets or vile surprises. To a man, they would speak kindly of her, of me, and of our father. I would be asked to dance by the same men who had asked me a thousand times before, and when they took my hand, I would feel nothing but safe in their friendly arms.

  This was a world far from the drama of Almenara, and it was the world in which I belonged. Even as I thought it, however, the memory of Cade came unbidden, and the aching loneliness of years past collided with all those yet to come.

  I slept soundly, without the benefit of laudanum, for the first time in what seemed a lifetime.

  I dressed for church the next morning, hoping to come and go through the back door without any of the parishioners noticing my presence. I had no desire to answer the questions I was sure my wounded visage would spark or hear the murmured condolences of people who remembered Desi as the girl they had watched grow up here.

  I was lucky that John Bailey had sent Amos to pick me up from the station last night. Amos was a quiet man, caught up in the workings of his own mind, and hadn’t even noticed my injuries and pallor.

  If I could continue to avoid John and Mrs. Dupree, I should be able to make up an acceptable excuse for my appearance to offer the others. It was only those two who would delve deeper into anything I said and force me to either tell the truth or make up lies too elaborate for me to ever support.

  I intentionally arrived several minutes late and waited until the congregation stood to sing the first hymn before sneaking in and taking a seat on the back pew. Mrs. Dupree always sat on the second row to the left, and although I couldn’t see her from where I sat, I could see John and Jess Bailey standing side by side several rows away.

  I stood with everyone else to sing the hymns, sat when told, and let out a sigh of relief when the preacher moved to the pulpit with his Bible. My energy and strength had not yet fully returned, and I found my eyes drifting closed several times during the sermon. When he asked that everyone stand for the last hymn, I slipped out the door.

  “I hope you don’t think you’ll get away that easily,” said Adelaide Dupree as I came around the corner. She stood beside her carriage, and I guessed she had been waiting for me for quite a while. She confirmed this by saying, “I missed the entire sermon, awaiting your exit. I know you well enough to know you thought you could sneak in and out and avoid the wild speculations and questions your banged-up face would cause.”

  “I really don’t wish to talk about it, Mrs. Dupree.”

  “Well, girl, that is just too bad. You are joining me for lunch at my house, and you are going to tell me exactly what that foolish young man did to you this time.”

  “It wasn’t him,” I said, and her eyebrows rose dramatically at my quick defense of Cade.

  “I’ll decide if it was his fault or not, once I hear the tale. Otherwise, I’ll assume he is as dastardly as they say he is, that he murdered Desdemona and injured you to boot.”

  I sighed in surrender, or maybe relief, I couldn’t tell. All I knew was that the desire to talk about the events of the last few weeks with someone who was not directly involved suddenly seemed like a welcome idea.

  I climbed up into her carriage, and within a few moments we were at her house, where she led me into the dining room. Mrs. Dupree was exceedingly punctual, and her maid had already set the table with lunch and tableware prior to our arrival.

  “We’ll talk while we eat,” she announced. “And afterwards, my man will take you home. You seem as if you could use some rest, and even an exercise as sedate as attending church tires me out these days.”

  Mrs. Dupree had been well into her sixties when her husband passed away and in her early seventies when I accompanied her to New Orleans, meaning she was somewhere around eighty now. I once
again told myself that I shouldn’t burden her with anything but the most minimal of details regarding my time at Almenara. With that in my mind, I began my story. It wasn’t until the grandfather clock in the corner struck two that I realized we had been talking for over an hour, and with her gentle prodding, she had somehow gotten every sordid detail out of me.

  “I’m so sorry. I only meant to share a condensed version of what happened.”

  She chuckled at my obvious dismay. “Well, it needed to come out, I’d say. Besides, if I hadn’t heard it all, there would be things that weren’t as crystal clear as they are to me now.”

  I had a hard time believing anything about what I’d just told her could be crystal clear, but I was game for her observations.

  “First of all, it’s quite clear to me that you are even more madly in love with Cade Scott than you were in New Orleans. Second, it’s quite clear to me that he feels the same way. I see that you have both found a convenient scapegoat for the time you’ve lost, but I don’t feel that you should wear the blame alone. He was quite as guilty as you were.”

  Once again, I opened my mouth to come to Cade’s defense, but she lifted her hand.

  “Don’t give me that drivel about you choosing to leave Desdemona behind. While I can vouch for the boy’s attempts to resist her charms, he failed miserably in the end. When she told him she was pregnant, he believed it to be his and married her straight away. If he was completely innocent, she’d never have been able to trap him so effectively.”

  I agreed, of course, but it didn’t change the fact that I was in love with him, or that I truly believed he was in love with me.

  “I hate to speak ill of the dead, but your sister worked her wiles on Cade, just as she did every other man she ever wanted. He missed you horribly after you’d gone, but there she was, not only looking just like you, but acting like you, too. If I hadn’t known any better, I would have thought she was you for the first few weeks after your departure.”