The Daughter of Highland Hall

by Carrie Turansky

  Helen rested on the couch, her feet up and a light blanket over her legs. “I should be the one serving you tea.”

  “I don’t mind.” Lydia placed the tea strainer on top of Helen’s cup. “It makes me happy to see you resting.” She poured the tea, added sugar and milk, and then passed the steaming cup to her sister.

  Helen took a sip. “Ah, that’s good. Thank you.”

  Lydia prepared her own tea and sat across from Helen. “How has it been, stayin’ with the Pittsfords?”

  “They been kind and ask nothin’ in return.”

  “I’m glad.” Lydia passed Helen a plate with two small sandwiches. “That’s an answer to prayer.”

  Helen’s hands stilled, and she looked down at her teacup.

  “Helen, what is it?”

  She bit her lip, then glanced at Lydia. “I feel like a fool for running away with Charlie. I don’t know how the good Lord can stomach hearing my name in a prayer.”

  “Well, thank goodness He doesn’t see things like that.”

  Helen’s brow creased. “What do you mean?”

  “He knows the mistakes we’re going to make before we even make them, and He loves us anyway.”

  “But I ran away from home and turned my back on all we were taught. I lived with Charlie even though we weren’t married. How could He overlook something like that?”

  Lydia wanted to comfort Helen, but she didn’t want to pretend what she had done was right. She sent off a silent plea for the right words. “He knows what happened, and it breaks His heart. But all you need to do is confess it to Him and ask forgiveness. That wipes the slate clean.”

  “But I’ll still be having a baby in a few days, and there won’t be any husband to care for us.”

  “You’re right. That won’t change. But you don’t have to carry the guilt or shame. Jesus carried those for us when He died on the cross. And He did it all for love.”

  Tears filled Helen’s eyes. “How can you be sure?”

  “Because it says so in the Bible.” She glanced around the parlor. Surely, a godly family like the Pittsfords had a Bible somewhere nearby. Lydia headed for the bookshelf in the corner. As she passed the window, her steps stalled. A large man in a brown coat crossed the street and walked toward the house. Lydia gasped.

  Helen followed her gaze. “What is it?”

  Lydia ran to the front door, jerked down the shade, and slid the chain lock into place.

  Helen sat forward. “Lydia? What’s wrong?”

  “Shh!” Lydia lifted her finger to her lips as footsteps clomped up the front steps and a loud knock sounded at the door.

  Helen froze and stared at Lydia.

  The knock came again, harder this time. “Helen! I know you’re in there!”

  Helen’s hands flew to cover her mouth and stifle her cry.

  “Open this door and let me in!” Charlie pounded so hard the door rattled on its hinges.

  Lydia jumped back. Please, Lord, help us!

  “I’m not leaving till I talk to you! Now, open up!”

  “Oh, Lydia, he sounds so angry.” Helen’s voice trembled.

  Lydia waved her hand to quiet her sister, then she crept across the room and leaned close to Helen’s ear. “Is there a back door?”

  “Yes, through the kitchen,” Helen whispered.

  “Stay here, and don’t answer the door, no matter what he says.” On light feet, Lydia raced down the hall and into the large kitchen. The back door stood open to a small rear courtyard. She rushed forward, pushed the door closed, and turned the lock.

  Charlie’s angry shouts echoed through the house as she ran back to the parlor. Standing to the side of the parlor windows, she quickly lowered one shade and then the other.

  “You can’t run away from me!” Charlie yelled. “I won’t let it rest!”

  Helen’s chin trembled. “What are we going to do?”

  Lydia crossed to her sister’s side. “Stay quiet and pray.”

  Helen clasped her hands and squeezed her eyes tight. Her lips moved silently as the pounding and yelling continued. Lydia barely had time to form her thoughts into a prayer before another voice rang out.

  “What’s going on out here?”

  Helen’s eyes flew open, and she stared at Lydia.

  “It’s none of your business,” Charlie shouted back.

  “Surely ’tis! You’re disturbin’ the whole street!”

  “I’ll be doing more than that if you don’t go back in your house and leave me alone!”

  “Don’t be telling me what to do! This is my street, and you’re the one makin’ trouble where it’s not wanted! Now be off with you, or I’ll go for the police!”

  Charlie growled and banged on the door. “I’m not finished, Helen. I’m coming back for you.” He stomped down the stairs, and his footsteps faded away.

  Lydia laid her hand on her chest, trying to still her racing heart.

  Tears overflowed down Helen’s cheeks. “Oh, Lydia, what am I going to do?”

  “I don’t know, but you can’t stay here.”

  “Where can I go?” Helen’s panicked gaze darted around the room.

  Lydia laid her hand on Helen’s shoulder. “We must find somewhere safe, and we must do it today.”

  Helen sniffed and swiped a tear from her cheek. “But if we try to leave, he might be out there waiting.”

  Lydia swallowed and tried to focus her thoughts. Helen was right. Charlie might be watching the house. She could run to the clinic for help, but Dr. Pittsford was a peaceful man with a slight build—no match for Charlie Gibbons. She needed someone stronger. Two or three men would be a better idea. Mr. Foster and his friend Mr. Anderson might come. But could she find them and bring them back before Charlie returned?

  She had no other idea and no time to waste.

  She knelt in front of Helen and took her hand. “I’m going to get help. Stay here and keep the doors locked.”

  “Don’t leave me here alone!” Helen tightened her grip on Lydia’s hand. “What if he comes back?”

  “Don’t answer him or unlock that door. I promise I’ll return as soon as I can.” Lydia squeezed Helen’s hand. “Gather your things, and keep on praying.”

  “All right.”

  Lydia kissed her sister’s cheek, then hurried out the back door and slipped through the neighbor’s property behind the Pittsfords’. If Charlie Gibbons waited on Conover Street, Lydia didn’t want to be seen by him.

  She scrambled down the street, repeating her prayer as she ran: Please, God, help us!

  Kate walked across her bedroom, opened the window, and looked out at the lovely day. Only a few wispy clouds drifted across the bright blue sky. A chorus of birds sent up a song from the trees in the front garden.

  She glanced over her shoulder. Did she really have to go back to bed? Her throat felt much better, and if she hurried there was still time to dress and attend the afternoon sessions of the conference and the final dinner. Jon might be surprised, but when she explained—

  The door flew open. Lydia rushed in, her face flushed and her hat askew.

  “Goodness, Lydia, are you all right?”

  “Oh, Miss Katherine, Helen’s in trouble!”

  Kate met Lydia in the middle of the room. “What happened?”

  “Charlie found out she’s at the Pittsfords’.”

  Kate gasped.

  “He came to the house and pounded on the door like a madman.”

  “Oh, my goodness.”

  “We locked him out and pulled the shades, but I was afraid he was going to break down the door and drag Helen away.” Lydia laid her hands on her cheeks. “He wouldn’t stop yelling until a neighbor came out and told him he was going for the police.”

  “That stopped him?”

  “Yes, he stomped off, but he said he’s coming back for Helen. She’s terrified!”

  “We’ve got to get her away from there.” Kate strode to her wardrobe and pulled open the door. “Help me dress, and I
’ll go with you.”

  “Oh no, miss! We can’t go back alone. It wouldn’t be safe.” Lydia hurried to her side. “Do you think Mr. Foster would help us?”

  Kate’s mind raced. “I’m sure he would, but he’s at the mission conference at St. Paul’s Church in Knightsbridge.”

  Lydia’s face fell. “That’s so far away.” She wrung her hands, then looked up. “What about Sir William?”

  Kate shook her head. “David is being released today. They’ve gone to pick him up. I have no idea where that is or when he’s coming back.”

  “Should we go to the police?”

  Kate clenched her hands. “I don’t know that they would help us unless Charlie attacks Helen, and we can’t let that happen.”

  “Oh no, miss!”

  Kate paced across the room, trying to think of another idea, but there was no time. She turned back to Lydia. “You must go to St. Paul’s, and tell Mr. Foster what’s happened. I’m sure he’ll go with you to the Pittsfords’. Then you must bring Helen here.”

  “Will Sir William allow it?”

  “When I explain the circumstances, I’m sure he’ll understand.” She crossed to her dressing table and took two five-pound notes from the top drawer. She pressed them into Lydia’s hand. “Take a cab. Have the driver wait for you in Knightsbridge, and then at the Pittsfords’.”

  Lydia took the notes and then clutched Kate’s hand. “Thank you, miss. I’m ever so grateful.”

  Kate pulled Lydia in for a quick embrace.

  Lydia slipped away and rushed out the door.

  Kate closed her eyes. Father, please go with Lydia. Help her find Jon, and guide them quickly back to the Pittsfords’. And please watch over Helen and keep her and the baby safe until they arrive.

  Kate lifted her head, and an unsettled feeling washed over her. She crossed to the nightstand, picked up the conference program, and scanned the schedule. Today’s morning session at St. Paul’s in Knightsbridge concluded at twelve. She glanced at the clock, and pulled in a sharp breath.

  The meeting had ended forty minutes ago. She scanned the rest of the schedule: there was a break for luncheon and then three more sessions that afternoon, starting at one o’clock, one at All Saints’ and the other two at St. Matthew’s.

  Where was Jon? How would Lydia ever find him?

  Kate sank down on the bed and stared across the room.

  Who would help Helen now?

  Jon shifted in the pew and glanced at his watch. The early afternoon hours were a difficult time to listen to a speaker, especially a soft-spoken one who seemed to be droning on and on. If he didn’t get up and take a break, he would probably fall asleep and embarrass himself and his parents.

  He leaned toward his mother. “I’m going to slip out for a bit.”

  “Is everything all right?”

  “Yes. I just need to stretch my legs.” He excused himself past the two elderly women at the end of the pew and walked out of the sanctuary. With a sigh of relief, he pushed open the back door and stepped outside.

  A woman rushed up the steps. She lifted her head, looked up at him, and her eyes widened. “Mr. Foster!”

  “Lydia, what are you doing here?”

  “I need your help.”

  Alarm shot through him. “Is it Miss Katherine?”

  “No, it’s Helen.” Lydia poured out the story in frightening detail. “Does Dr. Pittsford know?”

  Lydia shook her head, looking dazed. “I should’ve gone there first, but I went back to Ramsey House to find you. Then Miss Katherine told me to go to St. Paul’s. I couldn’t find you there, but a kind priest saw me crying and sent me here.” Lydia gulped in a breath.

  Jon laid his hand on her shoulder. “It’s all right. I’ll go with you. We’ll make sure Helen is safe.”

  Lydia sniffed. “Thank you, sir.”

  He slipped back inside and told his parents he needed to leave and would explain later, then he guided Lydia down the steps and into the waiting cab.

  Kate clenched her hands in her lap as the cab turned the corner and started down Conover Street. “It’s just a few houses down, on the right.”

  The gray-haired driver glanced in the rearview mirror.

  She leaned forward. “There it is—number 322.”

  The cab rolled to a stop in front of Dr. Pittsford’s home. The elderly driver climbed out, circled the cab, and opened Kate’s door.

  Kate stepped up to the curb. “Please wait for me. I should only be a few minutes.”

  “All right, miss.” He touched his black cap and closed the door.

  Kate looked down the street. Two little girls squatted in front of the house next door, petting a gray-striped cat. A few houses down on the left, an old man sat on his front step smoking a pipe. But there was no sign of Charlie Gibbons.

  Kate lifted her skirt and climbed the front steps. The curtains were all closed, and the house stood silent. She knocked on the front door and waited, but no one answered. She knocked again, harder. “Helen, it’s Katherine Ramsey.”

  Two seconds passed. She heard the chain slide and the lock turn. The door opened a few inches, and Helen peeked out, her eyes wide.

  “May I come in?” Kate kept her voice calm, hoping to ease Helen’s fears.

  Helen’s gaze darted around, then she opened the door a little wider. Kate slipped through. Helen quickly closed the door and slid the chain lock back in place.

  “Where’s Lydia?” Helen whispered.

  “She went to find Mr. Foster, but I’m afraid I gave her the wrong address.”

  Helen bit her lip, a frantic look filling her eyes. “What are we going do?”

  Kate laid her hand on Helen’s arm. “Everything’s going to be all right. I have a cab waiting right outside the door. The driver will take us to Ramsey House.”

  Tears flooded Helen’s eyes. “Oh, miss, are you sure? What about your family?”

  “I’m sure they’ll agree this is the best plan.”

  Helen nodded. “All right. Thank you.”

  “Let’s pack your things, and we can be on our way.”

  Helen motioned toward the satchel and small suitcase by the door. “Lydia told me to get ready to go.” She started to reach for them.

  Kate held out her hand. “I’ll take them.”

  “Thank you, miss.” She glanced around the parlor. “I wish I could thank the doctor and his wife. They’ve been kind.”

  “We can send them a note when you’re settled at Ramsey House. I’m sure they’ll understand why you needed to leave.”

  Helen unlocked the door and stepped outside. She shot a wary glance around before she lumbered down the steps, one hand lifting her skirt and the other resting over the babe within. Kate followed her down, carrying the bags.

  The cab driver opened his door and stepped out. “Can I take those bags for you, miss?”

  “Yes, thank you.” Before the driver was halfway there, a man strode around the back of the cab. Kate looked up and pulled in a sharp breath.

  Charlie lunged for Helen and grabbed her arm. “Where do you think you’re goin’?”

  Helen cried out.

  “Hey, now!” The cab driver spun toward Helen.

  Charlie tugged Helen out of the driver’s reach.

  “No, Charlie, please! You’re hurting me!”

  “Let go of her!” Kate dropped the suitcase and swung the satchel at Charlie, smashing it into his arm.

  He growled and released Helen, then turned on Kate, curses flying from his mouth. He ripped the satchel from her hand and threw it aside.

  Fear clawed at Kate’s throat, stealing her breath. Charlie’s face contorted. He lunged and grabbed her by both shoulders. Kate gasped and tried to pull away, but he tightened his grip, and slid one hand toward her neck.

  His fingers closed around her throat.

  God! Save me!

  TWENTY-ONE

  Jon leaned forward in the back seat of the cab. “Can you hurry, please?” The driver looked
over his shoulder. “We’re almost there, sir.”

  Lydia glanced out her window as they rounded the corner at Conover Street, her expression taut.

  The driver slowed. “What’s the number again?”

  “Three twenty-two.” Jon scanned the street. Up ahead, Dr. Pittsford and two men stood in front of the building they planned to open as the children’s center. Jon gripped the door handle. “Stop the car! We’ll get out here.”

  Lydia looked at Jon. “Why are we stopping?”

  “We may need Dr. Pittsford’s help.” Jon thrust some money at the driver and hopped out of the cab. Lydia slid out behind him.

  Dr. Pittsford lifted his hand and smiled. “Jon, you’re just in time to meet Mr. Yardley and Mr. Pennington. They’re writing an article for the Daily Mail about our fund-raising program for the children’s center.”

  Jon glanced at the two men. One man carried a camera attached to a wooden tripod, and the other held a small pad and pencil, apparently taking notes for the article. “I’m sorry to interrupt, Doctor, but something has happened. You’re needed at home.”

  Dr. Pittsford straightened. “What is it?”

  A scream pierced the air.

  Jon’s heart jerked, and he spun around.

  Down the street, in front of the Pittsfords’ house, Charlie Gibbons grabbed Helen. Another woman swung a satchel at Charlie, knocking his hand away from Helen—

  It was Kate!

  Energy surged through Jon, and he took off running toward them.

  Charlie lunged for Kate. Helen screamed and tugged on his coat. A whistle pierced the air. Across the street, two policemen ran toward the scene.

  Charlie’s head jerked up, his eyes wide. He shoved Kate hard. She crashed on the steps in a crumpled heap.

  The shrill whistle blasted again. Charlie dashed away. The policemen crossed the street, one chasing Charlie and the other heading toward the Pittsfords’.

  Jon ran toward Kate. Charlie passed him, running in the opposite direction, with the policeman close behind. Footsteps pounded the pavement behind Jon, but he didn’t look back to see who followed.