The Sanctuary (A Spencer Novel)

by Sandra Lea Rice

  Rafael and Philippe strode through the front door. Anthony swung to face them. “Clairece is missing. Gather the men. Search every hut, shack, and hovel, every room in the village, and every inch of the woods until she’s found. I want the docks and boats secured and searched. Nothing leaves until we find her.”

  At the touch of a hand on his shoulder, Anthony turned to his friend. “I cannot lose her, James.”

  Clairece huddled at the bottom of the icehouse door, the ice hook discarded at her side. Her fingers were numb. The energy to pound the weighty tool against the door had slipped away. She snuggled deeper into the heavy folds of her cape and blew on her fingers.

  A tear slipped down her cheek. She would never watch her daughter grow into a young woman, or see Anthony and the others again. She would never feel her husband’s arms around her, or hear the deep rumble of his voice as they made love.

  Clairece swiped the tear away and summoned enough energy to heft the apparatus one more time. She swung the hook and heard the satisfying thud as it struck the door. Her fingers relaxed and the iron hook fell to the ground.

  The door swung open and a man’s figure stood in the entrance, the light behind him casting a halo around his body.

  She sighed. “Are you an angel?”

  The apparition chuckled. “Far from it, I fear.” The specter swooped and lifted her high against his chest.

  She snuggled closer to the sudden warmth offered by her rescuer, and stared into the man’s face. He stilled.

  Between chattering teeth, she managed to whisper, “Thank you for saving me.”

  His lips twitched. “Life does have its little ironies.”

  Chapter 53

  A heavy bang against the front door had Hodges rushing to open it. A man brushed passed the startled butler and stopped, surveying the group of people gathered in the hall. His gaze came to rest on Anthony.

  “I believe this is yours, Cousin,” Gerald said, indicating the bundle in his arms.

  Anthony pushed through the crowd and extracted Clairece from Gerald’s hold, closing his eyes for fear of what he would see. At her soft murmur, he buried his face in her hair and drew in her scent.

  “Where did you find her?” Anthony finally managed.

  Gerald handed his coat to a waiting footman and advanced farther into the foyer, now filled to overflowing with people. “The icehouse. I heard a noise and decided to investigate.” He touched Clairece’s cheek. “You must do something about that door before a regrettable accident occurs.”

  Anthony carried her into the drawing room and set her on a settee near the fire. After covering her legs with a lap robe, he dropped to his knees and began to chafe her icy hands.

  Virginia settled beside Clairece, enfolding her daughter in her arms.

  “I was so frightened, and . . . and cold.” Clairece licked her lips. “The worst was when I realized I might never see you again—any of you, again.”

  Clairece’s cheeks were pale and her lips held a blue cast, but her teeth had ceased to chatter.

  Gerald withdrew a piece of faded parchment from his coat pocket and held it out to Anthony. “We keep forgetting this. Once it’s filed, Roxbury Abbey will officially be yours.”

  Anthony rose and accepted the deed, handing it directly to Jason Rutledge before placing a hand on Gerald’s shoulder. “If you wish to keep it, I’ll help you.”

  Gerald’s lips lifted at the corners. “Thank you, but no. That was never the life I wanted. The Abbey and its contents are yours to do with as you will.” His gaze slid to Clairece and Virginia huddled together on the sofa. “You always had the Midas touch, Cousin.”

  “You’re Anthony’s cousin?” Clairece asked, struggling to rise.

  Gerald offered his hand to assist her. “Sir Gerald Wade, Baronet Roxbury, at your service, my lady.”

  “I owe you more than I can repay,” Clairece whispered.

  His smile shifted subtly. “My . . . pleasure.” When he glanced at Anthony, something unholy flickered in Gerald’s eyes.

  Inexplicably, Anthony’s stomach revolted.

  “I also came to say goodbye,” Gerald continued. “I’ve often thought I would like to see the continent and try the amusements to be found there.”

  Before Anthony could speak, Clairece urged, “You must at least accept our hospitality for a couple of days, especially if you are to leave for an extended time.”

  Gerald acknowledged the invitation with a dip of his head. “I would be delighted. But first, I must collect my belongings and make arrangements for the voyage.”

  Anthony guessed it to be some misguided attempt on Clairece’s part to reconcile the two of them, but it would take far more to resolve their differences. “I would like Farris to see you, my love.”

  “There’s no need to trouble the doctor. A hot bath will set everything to rights.” Clairece pivoted toward the door.

  A nagging question formed. “Where were the footmen who accompanied you to the icehouse?” His wife slowly turned to face him. At her reticence, anger ignited. “Where were the damned guards, Clairece?”

  Clairece bit her lower lip. “All the footmen were busy. I didn’t think—”

  “No, you damn well didn’t think!” Anthony bellowed. At the shocked gasps around him, he worked to suppress the rage roiling inside.

  Clairece stiffened, her nostrils flared, and her face set in a way Anthony could only interpret as mutinous.

  “Go to your rooms, madam. I will attend you there shortly,” Anthony ordered through gritted teeth.

  Clairece rested her balled fists on her hips. “You think to send me to my chamber like a disobedient child?”

  “You wish to do this now?” Anthony asked in a tone which had caused grown men to quake in their boots.

  His recalcitrant wife edged forward and stared at him. “What right—”

  Anthony’s already strained control snapped. “What right do I have? Is that what you were about to say?” He advanced a few steps and halted when her eyes widened in alarm. “I have a husband’s right. The only reason I don’t turn you over my knee and paddle you, which you so obviously deserve, is because I’m damned thankful you’re alive.”

  Clairece shifted uncomfortably.

  “What in God’s name were you doing? I set down rules for the express purpose of protecting those who live here. I expected them to be followed, especially by my wife who seems to have forgotten there’s a maniac trying to kill her.”

  Men’s voices rumbled in warning.

  “Do you have any idea what it would do to me if I lost you? Do you even care?” Anthony raged.

  “This is neither the time nor place, Tony,” James advised, gripping Anthony’s shoulder.

  Anthony shuddered. “For the love of God, Clairece, please go upstairs.”

  Her sob broke the silence in the room. Anthony watched as stricken, Clairece whirled and flew up the stairs, Virginia hurrying after her.

  Dr. Farris started for the door. “With your permission, I’ll attend Lady Clairece.”

  Anthony scrubbed his hand over his face. “Please do.”

  “So she’s your Achilles heel. I never thought to see it,” Gerald murmured.

  Anthony turned on his cousin, his facial muscles taut with the effort to remain cordial. “My wife has a kind heart and would mend what she believes to be a simple rift between us. But I’m under no such illusion.”

  Gerald’s eyes narrowed.

  “Never underestimate what I would do to protect what is mine,” Anthony growled.

  “My lord,” Hodges intoned from the doorway. “I’ve taken the liberty of setting up a cart of libations, tea, and coffee for your guests.”

  “I, for one, could use a drink.” With a mockery of a bow, Gerald headed for
the impromptu tantalus.

  Anthony whirled toward the hearth. He’d made a complete arse of himself in front of a room full of men, most of which were Clairece’s family. The thought of his wife knowingly placing herself at risk had catapulted him into a morass of fear no amount of practiced discipline could control.

  “May I speak to you for a moment?”

  So lost in thought, Anthony hadn’t heard Joel approach. “Of course.”

  “I’d like to ask a few questions. You don’t have to answer.”

  Anthony thought he probably did. “Ask your questions.”

  “What drew you to my daughter?”

  Surprised, Anthony responded slowly. “At first, her beauty. She is the most exquisite woman I’ve ever seen.” He thought back and smiled. “Her voice, with its husky quality. And her eyes. Besides their most astonishing color, Clairece has a way of looking inside a man and seeing things others do not.” He warmed to the subject. “Her naïveté. For all Clairece exudes an air of sophistication, I have this overwhelming urge to protect her. I did from the beginning.”

  Joel cleared his throat. “Yes, well, I heard something about the way you met.”

  Anthony felt heat rise in his face. “Sir . . .” he began, only to have Joel raise his hand.

  “Is there anything else about her?” Joel questioned.

  “Much more. She’s stubborn, at times reckless in her determination, and so damned courageous. But with all that’s happened to her, she still loves wholeheartedly, forgives when some wouldn’t, and is far too trusting for her own good.” Anthony looked into Joel’s eyes and saw . . . understanding.

  “You’ve described my daughter perfectly. Better, perhaps, than those who have known her longer—but for one thing. Clairece has always been tremendously impulsive. She sees, she feels, she acts, and damn the consequences.”

  Anthony choked back a laugh. “It’s her fervor for life.”

  “Ah, you will find the same spontaneity in both her mother and aunt when you get to know them,” Joel supplied, his eyes lighting with humor.

  “If I get to know them. After the hash I made of things, Clairece may want nothing to do with me.” Anthony rubbed his forehead. “God, I was so terrified. I pictured . . . in my mind I saw—” he choked, unable to finish.

  “Son, if you’re trying to be the perfect friend, the perfect husband, the perfect father, you won’t succeed. No man can. Strive to be the best man you possibly can and it will be more than sufficient.” Joel crossed the room and joined the others.

  After a moment, Anthony followed.

  “Uncle Joel,” Phillip Michael enthused. “Chief Stallings was about to tell us about Jack the Ripper.”

  “Was he, indeed?” Joel flicked a glance at Stallings.

  “At Lord Phillip’s insistence,” Stallings added. “In 1887, I transferred to the newly formed Criminal Investigations Department at Scotland Yard to work under Howard Vincent. I was thirty years old and thought I’d seen about everything.” His gaze settled somewhere in the distant past, then, just as quickly, returned.

  “Young for the CID,” Adrian suggested.

  “We all were. The murders started in 1888 and the criminal was originally dubbed The Whitechapel Murderer. They were violent, brutal murders of women.”

  “Whores and prostitutes,” Gerald mused.

  Stallings voice took on a chill. “They were defenseless women. What the murderer did was so horrendous the papers dubbed him ‘Jack the Ripper.’” His gaze swung to the other men.

  “Between 1888 and 1891, five women died at his hands. We suspect there were more. Frederic Porter Wensley was the detective assigned to find the Ripper. Although Wensley followed every lead, he was unable to definitively identify a suspect. The murders stopped and the case was officially closed in 1892, unsolved.”

  “Could nothing more be done?” Adrian asked.

  “The CID started taking photographic images of crime scenes in 1888. The procedure has proven much more efficient in identifying important facts which might otherwise have been missed, and helped in the conviction of many criminals.” Stallings sipped at his brandy. “In reference to the Ripper, no. The case is closed.”

  “Some believe him to be an aristocrat and, therefore, outside the law,” James suggested.

  “No one is outside the law, even those who seek to find justice in their own way.” Stallings emptied his glass in one gulp.

  Adrian frowned. “What are you referring to?”

  “A group of men, presumably noblemen, have formed an alliance to mete out justice when a crime committed by one of their own appears to go unpunished.” Stallings set his empty glass on the cart. “However, as to our repeat killer . . . it’s only a matter of time and we’ll have him.”

  “Repeat killer?” Gerald’s head jerked up in surprise.

  “Yes, the deviate responsible for the deaths of quite a few women in London and the recent murder here. A vile miscreant who cannot perform as a man unless the bugger sees pain and fear in the faces of his victims as he rapes and strangles them. But, we’re closing in,” Stallings finished casually.

  The glass in Gerald’s hand shattered.

  Anthony grabbed a towel from the beverage cart and latched onto Gerald’s wrist, carefully prying his fingers open. “My God, Gerald.”

  “It’s nothing,” Gerald snapped, jerking his hand away. “Only a few small cuts.”

  “What happened?” Anthony asked, handing Gerald the towel.

  “I hadn’t heard—” Gerald hissed as he removed a deeply imbedded fragment from his palm.

  “My apologies, Roxbury. The details of the murders are unsettling, but I can assure you, we will have our man soon.” Stallings came forward to view the injury. “You should have Farris look at your hand.”

  “It’s not necessary,” Gerald insisted. “I would think a blighter with a scar on his face would be easy to find.”

  “Ah,” Stallings uttered softly. “But he isn’t the one responsible.”

  Gerald’s head whipped around. “You need to get your facts straight, Chief. Everyone knows the scar-faced bloke tried to kill Lady Harding and murdered the maid.”

  “Not everyone,” Stallings voiced. “We’ll see what the scar-faced man has to say when he’s questioned.”

  Gerald wrapped the towel around his injured palm. “You have him in custody?”

  “Soon,” Stallings replied.

  Gerald stared at his hand a moment before facing Anthony. “I must leave if I’m to catch the train.”

  “When should we expect your return?”

  His cousin smiled tightly. “Several days from now.”

  After Gerald departed, Stallings motioned to Philippe and Rafael. “When will your men start their search?”

  “At sunrise. If the man is in the vicinity, we will find him,” Rafael stated.

  “Your men know to bring him in alive?” Stallings asked.

  “Si. We understand what is at stake,” Rafael peered at Stallings. “But I would ask if you do?”

  Chapter 54

  Farris entered and crossed the room to Anthony’s side. “A word, my lord.”

  Anthony set the decanter on the cart. “My study?”

  Farris nodded.

  Once the study door closed behind them, Anthony asked, “How is my wife?”

  “I can find no lasting effects from this last ordeal. Lady Clairece is remarkably fit.” Farris shook his head at the offer of a drink. “I have your wife’s permission to tell you what I’ve shared with her. It concerns her daughter.”

  “Go on.”

  “Miranda is weak. However, I believe it to be from the over protectiveness of her guardians. With proper exercise, I see no reason she won’t mature into a healthy adult. She’s a
bright and tenacious child. If Miranda understands what is required, I have no doubt she will accomplish it.”

  “Marvelous news. If you leave instructions, I’ll see she has whatever is needed.”

  “As for the little red-haired minx, she is an absolute delight. I checked her eyes and it’s my opinion she will always require glasses.”

  “You examined Sophie?”

  “At her insistence, yes.” Farris smiled. “I believe she wanted to be included. I also examined your wife to determine if there was any reason she might not conceive.”

  Anthony stilled.

  “There is some scarring, to be sure. I would say she had a difficult time during Miranda’s birth. Carrying a child is a possibility, though perhaps a slim one.”

  His chest tightened at the news. “And the risk to Clairece?”

  “Should she conceive, I would suggest she be monitored closely by a physician.”

  A tap at the door, and Anthony called, “Enter.”

  Hodges stepped within. “My lord, a variety of dishes have been set on the sideboard. Lady Harding thought an informal supper might be best.”

  “I agree. Is my wife still in her chambers?”

  “She has asked not to be disturbed,” Hodges responded, not meeting Anthony’s gaze.

  “Please ask Aunt Ruby to act as hostess, and let our guests know I’ve been detained.”

  “As you wish, my lord.” Hodges bowed.

  Anthony flicked a glance at Benjamin Farris. “If you will excuse me?”

  Clairece huddled in the window seat staring out at the darkening sky. Once again, her foolish need to show her independence had overrun her common sense, to the point of becoming dangerous. Her headlong dash into situations which, only by the grace of God had she escaped unharmed, had demonstrated her reckless and irresponsible behavior.

  The chamber door clicked shut. She knew who it was and dreaded facing him.