The Daughter of Highland Hall

by Carrie Turansky

  He scanned the envelope. “I’ve not heard of Bartlett Court, but I suppose if we asked a taxi driver, he could take us there.”

  Julia frowned slightly. “I’m sure our chauffeur could find the address.”

  Lydia’s eyes widened. “Oh no, miss. Helen’s not expecting us. If we all showed up at her door, I’m not sure what she would think.”

  Jon stepped forward. “Why don’t I escort Kate and Lydia, and you can take Penny home.” If they took a taxi and had the man wait, it should be safe enough. He handed the letter back to Lydia.

  “I wish you would’ve asked at home, Kate.” Julia’s brow creased as she glanced at the letter again. “I’m not sure how William would feel about you traveling around the city on your own.”

  “What harm could come to me with Lydia as my chaperone and Jon as my protector?”

  Julia looked up and her expression eased. “I suppose it’s all right to send the three of you together.” She focused on Jon. “Please be cautious. I’m trusting you to bring them safely home after the visit.”

  “Of course. We’ll return as soon as we finish.”

  Julia and Penny bid them good-bye and walked off toward the car.

  Kate stepped closer and squeezed his arm. “Thank you, Jon. I knew you would handle that well.”

  Her praise sent a warm wave through him, but reality quickly broke through as he thought of their destination. He must be on his guard and make sure no harm came to Lydia or Kate.

  “Shoes and Boots Repaired.” Lydia stared at the peeling sign hanging over the doorway of the small, dingy shop. Peering through the grimy window, she spotted a faint light flickering inside.

  “Are you sure this is the right address?” Katherine sent her a doubtful glance.

  Lydia pulled out the envelope and checked once more. “The address is 413 Bartlett Court.”

  “Let’s inquire inside.” Jon pulled open the door. A bell jingled, and they walked into the dimly lit shop.

  Lydia glanced around. The smell of leather and oil hung in the air, along with the scent of a fire burning in a stove in the corner.

  A wizened old man with flyaway white hair sat at the workbench in the center of the shop. He looked up and squinted in their direction. “Can I help you?”

  Jon stepped forward. “Good day, sir. We’re looking for Helen Chambers.”

  The old man’s forehead wrinkled. “Don’t know anyone by that name.”

  “But I have a letter from her.” Lydia held out the envelope to the old man. “She gave this as her address.”

  He pushed his spectacles up his nose and squinted at the writing. “That’s the right address.” He scratched his chin and thought for a moment. “I suppose she must be that woman staying with Charlie Gibbons.”

  Warmth rose in Lydia’s cheeks. “Yes sir. I believe she is.”

  He lifted his thumb and pointed over his shoulder. “He rents a room behind the shop.”

  Lydia looked at the far wall, but there was only one door. It stood open and looked out on a shadowy courtyard.

  The old man shook his head. “You can’t get there through that door. You have to go outside, down the alley, and ’round back.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Jon nodded to the shopkeeper and motioned toward the front door. They filed out, and Jon led them into the narrow alley at the side of the building.

  The smell of the overflowing trash bins filled the air. A straggly, orange-and-white-striped cat ran out from between a pile of crates and dashed across their path. Lydia hurried to keep pace with Katherine.

  Thank goodness she hadn’t come on her own.

  They reached the end of the alley, turned right, and walked into a stone-paved courtyard. A small woman in a faded green dress stood with her back to them, hanging a wet shirt on a sagging clothesline.

  Lydia’s steps stalled. “Helen?”

  Her sister turned. Her eyes widened and she gasped. “Lydia!”

  She rushed toward Helen and wrapped her in a tight hug, relief flowing through her.

  After a few seconds, Helen stepped back. “What are you doing here?” She pushed a loose strand of hair from her cheek and tucked it into her untidy bun.

  “I’ve come to see you, of course.” Lydia smiled. “I got your letter, and I had to be sure you’re all right.”

  Helen’s chin trembled, and tears flooded her eyes. She lifted her shaking hands and covered her face.

  Lydia pulled her close again. “Oh, Helen, I’m so glad we’ve found you.”

  Katherine looked on with misty eyes, while Jon waited at her side.

  “I’m sorry.” Helen sniffed and stepped back, wiping her face. “I’m such a mess.”

  “It’s all right.” Lydia turned to Katherine. “Helen, I want you to meet Miss Katherine Ramsey. I’m her lady’s maid. And this is Mr. Foster. He’s studying to be a doctor, and he was very kind to help us find our way here today.”

  Helen blotted her cheek with the edge of her apron. “Thank you. Please, come inside.” She slipped her arm through Lydia’s and slowly walked across the courtyard toward a faded, wooden door. She pushed it open, and they walked inside.

  Lydia glanced around, and her heart sank. The flat was no bigger than her bedroom at Ramsey House. An iron bedstead that looked barely wide enough for two people filled one corner of the room. A straight-back chair and small wooden table sat by the lone window. Three crates stacked in one corner seemed to hold Helen’s few clothes. An unlit oil lamp sat in the center of the table.

  Jon watched Helen as she crossed the room. “It looks as though you’re having a bit of trouble walking.”

  Helen ran a protective hand over her round middle. “I have some swellin’ in my feet and ankles. Makes it hard to get around.” She lifted her right hand, showing them her puffy fingers. “My hands too.”

  Lydia bit her lip. That couldn’t be good. She glanced at Katherine, who shot an apprehensive glance at Jon.

  Concern filled his eyes too. “Have you seen a midwife or a doctor?”

  Helen shook her head. “Charlie’s still lookin’ for work. We don’t have money for a doctor.”

  “Daystar Clinic is not too far away. I volunteer there a few afternoons each week. Patients only pay what they can. No one is turned away.”

  Helen gave her head a slight shake. “I don’t think Charlie would like that.”

  Jon stepped closer. “May I look at your hands?”

  Helen hesitated and glanced at Lydia.

  She nodded and smiled, hoping to ease her sister’s mind.

  Helen looked at Jon again. “All right.”

  “Why don’t you have a seat?” Jon motioned toward the chair.

  Helen slowly lowered herself onto the wooden chair in front of the window. Jon took her hands and examined them both, front and back. “May I look at your ankles?”

  Helen lifted her hands to her flushed cheeks.

  “It’s all right,” Lydia said. “Let him have a look.”

  She lowered her hands and nodded to Jon. He knelt in front of her, and she raised her skirt a few inches.

  Jon gently removed her worn slippers and examined her swollen feet and ankles, testing the skin with a gentle touch. “How long have you had this redness and swelling?”

  “Two weeks, maybe three.” Helen’s chin trembled. “Is it serious? Will the baby be all right?”

  “When is your baby due?”

  “In July, I think, but I’m not sure.”

  He looked up at her. “Some swelling is to be expected in the third trimester, but it could indicate a more serious problem. Have you had any headaches or visual problems?”

  Her lips parted, and her face paled. “I’ve had a headache off and on for a few days.”

  His mouth firmed, and he glanced at her hands once more. “I think it would be wise for you to be under a midwife’s care or to see a doctor as soon as possible.” He reached in his jacket pocket and took out a small card. “This is the address of Daystar Clinic. Dr. Al
fred Pittsford is the physician in charge, but you can see any of the doctors.”

  Helen glanced at the card. “Charlie is out looking for work most days. He doesn’t like me to go out without him.”

  Lydia laid her hand on Helen’s shoulder. “You must take care of yourself, for your own sake and for the baby’s.”

  Helen looked up at Lydia, tears filling her eyes again. “But I don’t know what Charlie would say. Being out of work is hard on him. Most days he just goes to the pub and tries to drink away his—”

  The door swung open, and a large man in a faded brown jacket and a red-plaid cap strode in. His eyes flashed, and he scowled at Jon. “What’s going on here?”

  Helen jumped up, her eyes wide. “Charlie! I thought you were working for Mr. Peterson today.”

  “I thought I told you not to let anyone in.” His glare moved from Helen to Jon, then swung around to take in Kate and Lydia. “What’s your sister doing here?”

  “She came for a visit.” Helen’s voice trembled. “Isn’t that nice?”

  “How’d she know you were here? Did you write to her?”

  Lydia stepped closer to her sister. “I’ve been searching for Helen for quite some time, and I’m glad to finally find her.”

  He huffed and stared at Lydia with a hateful glare. “So what are you going to do about it?”

  “One thing is for certain,” Lydia lifted her chin, “I won’t let you keep her locked up here like some kind of prisoner.”

  Charlie’s eyes blazed. “She’s no prisoner!” He turned on Helen. “Is that what you told your sister—I’m keeping you under lock and key?”

  Panic filled Helen’s eyes. “Oh no, Charlie, I never said that.”

  “Then what did you tell her?”

  “Nothing! I didn’t tell her anything.”

  Jon lifted his hand. “Please, we mean no harm to you or Helen.”

  Charlie turned his scowl on Jon. “Who are you?”

  “Jonathan Foster. I’m a medical student at St. George’s Hospital. I don’t want to alarm you, but I believe Helen may have complications with her pregnancy.”

  “What kinda complications?”

  “Her headaches and the swelling in her hands and feet could indicate a serious condition that may be dangerous for her and the baby.”

  “There’s nothin’ wrong with Helen,” he scoffed. “You’re just tryin’ to scare us.”

  “No sir, that’s not my intention. Helen should receive medical attention as soon as possible.”

  “She’ll be fine.” Charlie’s face flushed red under his scraggly beard and moustache. “I’ve heard enough of your lies. Go on! Get out of here!”

  Jon’s expression hardened to an icy glare.

  Charlie took a step toward Jon. “I mean it! Get moving before I forget who you are and toss you out on your ear!” He swung around toward Lydia and Kate. “That goes for you two as well. Get out!”

  Fire blazed in Katherine’s eyes. “You’re a foolish, stubborn man, Charlie Gibbons!”

  Lydia gasped, and Helen’s hand flew up to cover her mouth.

  Charlie leaned toward Katherine. “No one talks to me like that, especially a rich little chit like you!” His liquor-laced breath filled the air.

  Katherine grimaced and pulled back.

  “That’s enough!” Jon stepped between Katherine and Charlie, his fists clenched. He turned to Katherine. “We’re leaving.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “You’re just going to let him have his way?”

  Jon took Katherine by the arm. “For now, yes.”

  Lydia grabbed her sister’s hand and pulled her close. “Come with us,” she whispered.

  Helen trembled, then shook her head and pulled her hand away.

  Charlie’s scowl darkened as he jerked open the door.

  Jon led Katherine outside. Lydia followed them, her heart in her throat. The door slammed, and Charlie’s shouts followed them into the courtyard.

  Katherine pulled away from Jon. “We can’t just walk away and leave Helen in there with that brute.”

  His gaze darted from the door to Katherine, and the muscles in his jaw flickered. “I don’t see any other option right now.” He started across the courtyard.

  Katherine strode after him. “Don’t you care about Helen and the baby?”

  Jon spun around. “Of course I care, but we can’t force Helen to come with us. She has to make that decision herself. And I have to think of you and Lydia.”

  “But Helen needs medical care. Surely we can convince him to see—”

  “Charlie Gibbons is a blind fool! He won’t listen to us, and we won’t help Helen by starting a brawl and endangering her and the baby!”

  Katherine drew herself up. “I can’t believe you would let someone like Charlie Gibbons get the best of you!”

  Jon pulled back as if she’d slapped him, and anger flashed in his eyes.

  Lydia reached for Katherine’s arm. “Please, Miss Katherine, Mr. Foster is right. I asked Helen to come with us, but she won’t leave Charlie.”

  “Thank you, Lydia.” Jon tugged his jacket back in place. “At least someone is thinking clearly.”

  Katherine turned away and brushed off her sleeve, obviously trying to calm down.

  Lydia glanced from Katherine to Jon. She hated to see them at odds over this.

  Jon blew out a breath and stepped around in front of Katherine. “This is a complicated situation. Today we reached out and let Helen know she’s not alone. And hopefully, next time, she’ll be ready to get the help she needs.”

  “And leave that dreadful man,” Katherine muttered.

  Jon lifted one eyebrow. “If she did leave him, where would she go?”

  “I’m sure Julia and William wouldn’t turn her away.”

  Lydia shook her head. “She can’t come to Ramsey House. Your aunt would put up a terrible fuss, and no one would be happy.”

  “Lydia’s right. We’ve got to have a plan in place before I come back and try to convince her to leave.”

  Lydia swallowed and clasped her hands tight. “What if Charlie takes her away before that?”

  “I’ll speak to Dr. Pittsford tonight. I’m sure he’ll have an idea for us.”

  Katherine’s expression brightened. “That’s an excellent plan. Why don’t we go see him now?”

  “No.” Jon’s voice was firm. “I’m taking you home.”

  “But I don’t see why we—”

  “Kate!” The fire burned in Jon’s eyes again. “Don’t ask me to bring you back here. I won’t do it.”

  Lydia took Katherine’s arm, and they followed Jon across the courtyard. As they rounded the corner into the alley, Lydia took a last look at her sister’s door. Lord, have mercy on my sister and watch over her.

  FOURTEEN

  William pushed open the heavy front door of the police station and walked outside. Tilting his head from side to side, he tried to release the tension in his neck and shoulders. He had spent the last hour waiting in the hallway, pacing and praying, while three detectives questioned his brother. Only Mr. Bixby, their solicitor, had been allowed to go into the interrogation room with David. The look on his brother’s face when he walked out told William it had been a grueling experience.

  David and Mr. Bixby followed William outside and down the steps.

  Mr. Bixby stopped and turned to David. “I’m sorry they were hard on you, but you handled it well.”

  David placed his hat on his head, glanced down the street, and then back at Mr. Bixby. “I told them the truth, though they don’t seem inclined to believe me.”

  “They must have been convinced, or they wouldn’t have let you leave.”

  William clasped his hands behind his back and turned to the solicitor. “What happens now?”

  “We wait while the investigation continues.”

  David’s brow creased. “Will Dorothea be called in for more questioning?”

  “I would expect so.”

  A muscle
in David’s jaw flickered, and he looked away. “She is the one who is suffering the most, yet they treat her like a criminal.”

  “Everyone is a suspect until the crime is solved.” Mr. Bixby ran his hand over his silver moustache. “If they question her again, will her story corroborate yours?”

  “Yes, of course. We were the only ones there the night of the murder, except for the servants, but they didn’t come in until after Reginald was shot.”

  “You’d be surprised. Two people may see the same incident, yet report it in entirely different ways.”

  “Well, I’ll speak to her, and make sure—”

  Mr. Bixby shook his head. “I wouldn’t do that. In fact, my advice would be to stay clear of Mrs. Martindale until this whole matter is settled.”

  “I can’t do that. Dorothea needs me now more than ever.”

  William reached for his brother’s arm. “Listen to him, David. This is for your own good.”

  Hurt glittered in David’s eyes. “You’d be happy to see Dorothea and me torn apart over this, wouldn’t you?”

  William tensed. “That’s not what I said, nor what I meant.”

  “I know what you think of my relationship with her.”

  “I’m only trying to help you see what’s best.”

  “Best for you, or for me?”

  Two men passing by exchanged glances and hurried past.

  Mr. Bixby placed his hand on William’s shoulder. “Perhaps we should continue this conversation at my office or somewhere more private.”

  David waved him off. “There’s no need. I understand what you’re saying. You don’t want me to see Dorothea.”

  “I’m sorry, but I believe that’s best for you and Mrs. Martindale. If we can suppress the gossip about your relationship, it may help the outcome of the investigation. But if you persist in seeing her now, while everything is unsettled, then I fear the police will get wind of it and not look on you with any favor.”

  David’s shoulders sagged. “All right. I’ll go home and stay there.”

  Mr. Bixby sent him a serious look, but a hint of sympathy flickered in his eyes. “You may conduct your business and see your family. Carry on as usual—just be circumspect about your actions.”