“Oh, yes. She was quite sure, miss. But Mr. Cade didn’t see a thing. Or if he did, he didn’t say so. Kathleen was still out of sorts the next morning, saying Mrs. Scott’s crying woke her in the night.”
“That was the day she died?”
Janie’s face fell and tears sprang to her eyes. “They found her body just before nightfall.”
“And you think the woman had something to do with her death?”
“Kath’s granny says the woman in white came to warn her that death was coming.” Her face was earnest and concerned as she met my gaze. “You must be careful, Miss Garrett. In case the woman came to warn you, too.”
“Thank you for your concern, Janie, but I don’t expect anything will happen to me.”
“Perhaps she’s warning us all of Mr. Cade’s death, miss. They say he’ll hang for Mrs. Scott’s murder.”
“He’ll stand trial first, and we can only pray they will find him innocent.”
“I just can’t believe a man who would love Miss Tabby like he does could kill someone.”
I agreed with her assessment, but his love for Tabby was the motive behind the murder, if everything I’d heard was to be believed. It alone was the reason he’d threatened to kill her to begin with.
I looked down at the child who had fallen asleep in my arms, and love for her welled up within me. I had known her only a few weeks, yet I knew I would lay down my life for her. How much more willing would the man who was her father be to die for her? Would he really have killed to keep her here? Was Desdemona’s threat to leave real, or had she only used it as a way to hurt him?
I kissed Tabitha gently, laid her in bed, and bid Janie good night before tiptoeing down the stairs to Desi’s morning room. I could hear Lorraine and Calvin playing a card game down the hall, and I had seen Eleanor go into Devlin’s room earlier. I was free to search Desi’s space uninterrupted.
Taking a seat at the secretary, I searched her calendar, her drawers, her books, anything I could find, for any sign of what her life as mistress of Almenara had been like, who might have killed her, or what might have frightened her in the days before her death. Judging from the blank pages of her books and calendars, it appeared her duties had been limited and she’d had very few real responsibilities here. When I had exhausted every avenue in my search for answers and the clock in the hallway was striking one in the morning, I went upstairs to my room.
I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow, only to be startled awake a few hours later by a dream I couldn’t remember. As I fought to calm the frantic pounding of my heart, I heard the muffled but familiar sound of a woman sobbing.
Shivering with apprehension, I donned my robe and followed the sound down the nursery hall, finally stopping in front of the door that led to the roof.
Nerves made my breathing shaky as I crept up the stairs and crossed the rooftop to stand beside the huge copper cistern. Like the last time I’d followed the ghostly specter, there was no one in sight, and I turned to go inside.
The small mourning dove resting in front of the open door stopped me in my tracks. How had I missed her when I came outside? Her wing was bent at an odd angle and I scooped her up, cupping her in my hands as I went inside.
“Mr. Devlin’s calling for you, Miss Fee,” Dory called to me from the end of the hall.
“For me?” I asked in order to clarify what part I was to play when I entered his room. I had advised the people who would be involved with him that they were not to inform him of Desdemona’s death. The doctor had agreed that it was best that we not force him to accept what his mind denied.
“No, he’s calling for your sister.”
I entered the room as Desi, the bird still cupped in my hands. “Dory says you were calling for me, darling.”
He was half asleep, the strong doses of medicine Richard had given him taking their toll, but he reached out his hand to pet the bird.
“You and your birds,” he said lovingly, an indulgent smile playing about his mouth.
“I found her on the roof. She’s very young, I think.”
“A dove like your sweet Ophelia.”
“Yes.” Tears pricked my eyes when I realized Desi must have spoken kindly of me to him.
“I heard you crying.” His words were slurred, and I wondered if I’d heard him correctly. “In the hall.”
A chill went up my spine at his acknowledgment of the ghostly sobs.
“It wasn’t me,” I whispered.
“It was Desdemona.” The words were barely out of his mouth before he was asleep once more, leaving me to wonder if he had seen through my charade and why he thought he heard Desi crying.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The next morning, I was determined to talk Cade into hiring an attorney to defend him. I could hardly wait to question Calvin Scott on why he would still think Cade had killed the women when he was obviously arrested before Kathleen’s body was even found.
After I dressed, I fed and watered the little dove, which seemed happy enough in an empty hatbox I pilfered from Desi’s room.
As I walked past Devlin’s room on my way downstairs, I peeked inside.
He was awake, propped up in bed and letting Eleanor spoon broth into his mouth. He seemed relieved when I entered the room, and shook his head when she lifted the spoon once more.
“Devlin, you must eat a bit more,” she cajoled. “It will help build your strength.”
“I have eaten enough, Eleanor. Now be a good girl and let me alone for a while.”
“Of course. I’ll just tidy up your room.”
“No, I mean leave me alone, as in leave the room.”
“Oh, yes. I’ll run your tray to the kitchen. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“Give me an hour, woman!” he exclaimed. “I am not so unwell that I will die in that amount of time, but I am certainly not in such good health that I could do anything more than talk to a woman.”
I blushed as he grinned at me, and Eleanor hurried from the room. When she was out of earshot, he spoke, and I was surprised that he seemed so lucid.
He crooked his finger toward me and I went to him, perching on the edge of the bed, as he ran his hands over my face and hair. His eyes searched mine, and with a small moan, he kissed me. It was a probing, searching kiss, and I felt nothing save pity for the man.
“You really aren’t her,” he sighed, tears spilling from his eyes. “She truly is dead.”
“What gave me away?”
“I suspected it when I kissed you yesterday, but I contributed the lack of fire to my injuries. Today I feel much better, I have refused all but a small amount of laudanum, and I’m certain. You aren’t Desdemona. You are quite adept at acting like her, but you missed some of her more endearing nuances and added one of your own. Your blush at my words to Eleanor sealed my certainty.”
“But you kissed me again.”
“It couldn’t hurt to be sure there was no fire.”
I felt myself turn red again, and he smiled sadly.
“Do you have a pencil and paper?” he asked, glancing around the room.
I rummaged through several drawers of the small writing table in front of the window before finding the items he asked for and handing them to him.
He began to draw with quick slices of the pencil, as he spoke.
“The difference in you and Desdemona is your perspective. People like you and Cade see everything in straight bold lines, like this.” He turned the paper to show me what he’d drawn. The view of the lighthouse from the shore behind Almenara was quite realistic.
As he continued talking, he began moving the pencil over the paper in softer movements, occasionally rubbing a finger or eraser here or there across the paper. “Desi, on the other hand, saw softer lines. She realized that smudging a line here and there wasn’t the end of the world. You have always been in a box of straight lines, while she flew outside the box, seeing the world from a bird’s-eye view.”
He turned the picture
around and I gasped. By taking the same picture, removing some of the bold lines, adding some softer ones, and smudging them here and there, he had turned it into a view from the parapet of the lighthouse. On the rocks below, a swallow and a mourning dove sat side by side.
“It’s amazing that two creatures so similar could be so different,” he observed. “Two girls borne by the same woman, raised by the same man, but seeing life in such different ways.”
“It was always that way.”
“Yes, she told me. She wondered how different things would have been had your mother lived. She felt certain they shared a kindred spirit like you and your father did.”
“I’ve often thought the same thing. Perhaps my mother would have seen things from Desi’s perspective.”
He smiled. “I told you once that I wouldn’t tell you what I knew until you forgave your sister. Have you forgiven her?”
“I’ve come to accept that I played a role in what happened between us,” I answered, knowing it wasn’t the answer he was seeking, but it was the closest thing to the truth I could offer him.
“That’s a huge step for you, Ophelia.”
“Yes.”
“You will forgive her soon,” he proclaimed, “and you’ll forgive yourself. Then you’ll be free to face your future.”
“My future is with Cade.”
“And Cade will hang.”
“Yes.”
“I told you I watched Cade kill her.”
“Yes.” I waited breathlessly.
“I didn’t mean it as literally as you may have taken it.”
What did that mean? What metaphoric meaning could his words possibly have? It didn’t matter, really, for a well of hope sprang up inside of me as he went on.
“I didn’t see who threw her from the lighthouse, Fee, and, honestly, I find it impossible to imagine Cade doing such a thing. The view I had of her murder was murky at best, and when I found her, she was already dead, as was young Kathleen. What I saw Cade do was drive her there to that lonely, dangerous spot where she died, high above the rest of us, like a princess in a tower, with no one to rescue her. Their marriage was doomed from the moment they met, and their regret and disillusionment created a wall between them that was impossible for either of them to scale, even if they wanted to. Neither of them ever got over the pain they caused you. He pushed her away, and she ran into the arms of other men, always seeking the absolution no one else could give her. Before me, I don’t think she had ever truly been loved.”
“Cade told me he had never seen her as happy as she was during your time together.”
His eyes filled with tears once more, but he smiled and nodded his head. “I am glad I was able to give her that. I loved her as I’ve never loved another.”
Eleanor entered the room at that moment, and I stood to leave. As I turned to the door, Devlin called my name.
“I am truly sorry I hurt you, Ophelia.”
“Thank you for telling me the truth,” I said, and left the room with a much lighter heart.
I hardly recognized Dennis when I met him on the stairs. His shoulders were hunched, his steps heavy, and his face was a pale mask of gloom.
“Are you well, Dennis?” I asked in concern, and he nodded sharply.
“Yes, why shouldn’t I be?”
“You just seem out of sorts. Are you here to see Devlin?”
“The sheriff has ordered me to play nursemaid. I’ll be here looking after him all morning.”
“Well, it shouldn’t be too difficult, as Eleanor is doing a fine job of it already.”
“Calvin said if you’re ready, he’ll give you a ride into town.”
“Wonderful! Try to have a good day, Dennis.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“How long will you keep up this farce?” I demanded as I rode beside Calvin on the seat of the wagon. He had received word earlier that the judge was still detained, and his face was a dark mask of frustration. “You know Cade didn’t kill Kathleen and Susan.”
He gave me a sidelong glance. “He wasn’t arrested for killing them, Miss Garrett. He was arrested for killing his wife.”
“But those girls were killed the same way she was.”
“Yes, they were. Or maybe they threw themselves over. Neither of them was bound as Desdemona was.”
“Two young girls threw themselves to their deaths within days of each other? Why? Young women don’t do such things for no reason, Mr. Scott, and neither of them seemed unhappy.”
He was silent for a moment, allowing me to ponder the cruelty of my observations. A month ago I would never have thought I could say something to another human that I knew would open a wound, but since coming to Almenara I had been a different person. I wasn’t sure I liked the woman I had become, and I wondered if Desdemona had felt the same.
“I’m so sorry,” I said softly, laying a hand on his arm. “It was a careless observance.”
“No,” he answered. “You’re right. Amelia was unhappy and ill. I blame Cade for her death, but contrary to popular belief, I never suspected he killed her.”
“He didn’t kill my sister either.”
He shrugged.
“He’s the only suspect I have, Miss Garrett. All the evidence points to him, and like I’ve told you, he is the only one with a motive.”
“Were you really sleeping with my sister?”
“No,” he said, his eyes meeting mine. “Lorraine is all the woman I need.”
Something about the words and the way he said them, touched me deeply, and I blinked back the sudden prick of tears.
“Mr. Scott, you aren’t nearly as awful as you pretend to be,” I proclaimed. “You have no reason to want Cade dead, and I expect you’ll help me talk him into hiring an attorney to defend him. Then, you’ll begin the search for the person who killed those girls, because I truly believe the person who killed them is the person who killed Desdemona.”
He shook his head in exasperation. “I’ll be looking for the truth about their deaths, but it won’t change Cade’s fate. Like I said, he wasn’t arrested for their murders.”
“He’s your cousin.”
A harsh laugh rumbled from his chest. “I’m not the first person to have a murderer in their family tree, Miss Garrett, and I doubt I’ll be the last.”
We rode the rest of the way in silence, but when I would have jumped down, his hands encircled my waist and he lifted me down effortlessly.
I hurried toward the jailhouse door, but he called my name, and I stopped and turned back to him.
“Be careful, Miss Garrett,” he said softly, with what I though was real concern. “If Cade didn’t kill Desdemona, I doubt the man who did will be pleased with your meddling.”
I nodded in agreement before hurrying to the cell where Cade was being held. He lay on his back on the hard cot, shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows. His strong tan arms were crossed over his face, covering all but his dark hair and the stubble that grew on his chin. Sunlight streamed through the small high window, glinting off the skin of his chest, where he had unfastened several of the buttons of his shirt. Desire strummed through my veins, and I called his name rather more breathlessly than I intended.
“Cade?”
He made no move, either at my soft greeting or the sound of Calvin unlocking the door and letting me in. I went toward him, laying a hand on his arm. He opened his eyes, and the dark pools of hopelessness made my breath catch in my throat. I whispered his name again, this time more a plea than a question. I needed him to believe we would find the truth. I needed him to find hope in the future.
“Go home, Fee,” he said quietly as Calvin’s footsteps grew farther away. “There’s no need for you to witness it. Take my daughter and leave this place. Find someone who will love you both after I’m gone.”
He took a shuddering breath and closed his eyes, pain etching itself into his face and voice.
“Richard Scarborough is a fine man, Fee. He loves Tabitha and I can see his attraction
to you. Marry him when he asks, Fee. He’ll make you happy enough.”
“You fool,” I cried, dropping to my knees beside him. “I don’t want to be happy enough. I want you. Can’t you understand? That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
He growled out an indecipherable word as one arm shot out and caught the back of my neck, pulling me into his embrace. His lips caught mine in a kiss that turned my world on its ear. I answered his growl with a purr of my own as his tongue teased mine, and his lips melded against my own.
My body’s reaction was so swift and powerful, I had little knowledge of how I came to be on the cot with him, my body pressed against his as his free hand caressed my breast through the taffeta dress. I shoved my hands beneath his shirt, running them across the smooth contours of his chest and torso. Each move of my hand sent a shiver through him, and I felt drunk on the power of eliciting such a response.
“We can’t do this here,” he murmured when my leg slid across his as if I would straddle him. His voice was tight and pained, but I ignored it all as I drank in his panting breaths and continued my exploration.
I was silent, oblivious to the world around us, as we caressed each other, exploring areas we had never dared before. I had never felt as alive as I did there in his arms, and I knew only that I never wanted it to end.
The sound of footsteps down the hall echoed through the cell and Cade sat up quickly, bringing me with him, while pushing me away at the same time. I staggered upright, my legs wobbly as a colt’s, and watched through a daze of lingering passion as he jammed his shirt back into his pants and raked a trembling hand through his hair, which sprang back up as if he’d never attempted to calm it at all.
“Lunch time,” Dennis called from the other side of the bars, although the door had not been locked behind me when I entered.
His eyes narrowed, making me wonder just how disheveled I looked. I offered him a smile as I pulled the pins from my hair and began to pin it in a looser chignon than usual as I spoke.
“How are you this afternoon, Dennis? Relieved of your nursemaid duties, I see.”
When Swallows Fall Page 18