The Mystery Woman

by Amanda Quick

  Nelson grinned. “Is that one of Hazelton’s sayings?”

  Joshua surprised everyone with a smile. “Actually, I made that one up myself.”

  Beatrice looked at him. “What will you do now?”

  Joshua’s smile vanished. “I’m going to do the only thing I can for Victor.”

  “I understand. May I come with you?”

  “Are you certain you want to accompany me?”

  “Yes,” she said. “I want to be with you when you say your goodbyes to both of them.”

  Fifty

  Following breakfast Joshua escorted Beatrice home in a cab and then went off to speak with one of his mysterious associates at Scotland Yard. Nelson accompanied him.

  The house echoed with emptiness. Clarissa was still on assignment in the country. Mrs. Rambley had left a note saying that she had gone to visit her recently widowed sister.

  Beatrice was in the middle of a bath when the exhaustion finally overtook her. Yawning, she stepped out of the tub, pulled on her wrapper and went to her bedroom to take a nap.

  She awoke to the sound of rain on the windows and a knock on the front door. She rose from the bed and went to the window to look down at the street.

  Joshua was on the front step. He was wearing a long black coat and a hat against the rain. The cab in which he had arrived was disappearing into the gray mist.

  She tightened the sash of her wrapper and hurried downstairs, anxious for a report of his conversation with the police. When she opened the door she knew from the energy that shifted in the atmosphere around him and his fierce grip on the cane that it was only his iron will that was keeping him on his feet.

  “Joshua,” she said. She stepped back. “Come in.”

  “I’m sorry if I woke you.”

  “It’s all right. I was just getting up from a nap.” She blushed. Her wrapper was entirely modest but she was suddenly aware that she was wearing nothing under it. “You look like you could use some sleep, too.”

  “I will go home and get some rest after I’m finished here.”

  After I’m finished here did not bode well. A small shiver of uncertainty lanced across her senses, igniting her intuition. Whatever the reason for this visit, it was a matter of great seriousness to Joshua.

  She stepped back. He moved through the doorway and shrugged out of his wet coat. She hung the garment on a wall hook and set his hat to dry on the console.

  It was odd to realize that this was only the second time that he had crossed the threshold of her home. Then again, she had never been to his house. They knew so little about each other and yet they knew so much of an intimate nature. But that was the way of the world for those who indulged in illicit love affairs, she reminded herself. The one thing such couples could not share was a home.

  A whisper of melancholia twisted her insides.

  “What are you thinking?” he asked quietly.

  Startled, she summoned her acting talents and managed a bright little smile. “I was thinking that in some ways we are for the most part still strangers. It seems that we have spent the whole of our acquaintance dealing with blackmailers, killers and the odd madman or two.”

  He watched her with an unwavering intensity. “I have been waiting my entire life to meet you, Beatrice.”

  She caught her breath. For a few seconds she stood frozen. Her instinct was to throw herself into his arms. But logic reminded her that the darkly passionate energy she sensed in him could easily be explained by the recent excitement and the strong emotions they had experienced together.

  To cover her confusion, she led the way into the small parlor. “Would you like tea? My housekeeper is out but I am quite capable of putting the kettle on the stove myself.”

  “No, thank you.”

  “Your leg appears to be giving you some trouble today. That is hardly a surprise after what happened last night. I have a bottle of Mrs. Marsh’s tonic upstairs in my bedroom. I’ll just dash up there and get some for you.”

  She started toward the stairs.

  “No.” He paused. “Thank you.”

  She reminded herself that he had been through a great deal in the past twenty-four hours.

  He followed her into the parlor but he did not sit down. Instead, he braced himself with both hands on the hilt of his cane and did not take his eyes off her.

  “I stopped here before going home because there is something very important I must say to you,” he said. “I want to say it before I sleep.”

  Dread descended on her. The small parlor seemed to grow darker. She tried to prepare herself for whatever was coming. Perhaps this was when he would explain in a kindly fashion that he cared for her but that marriage was not an option. Was she willing to commit to the continuation of their affair? she wondered. Yes. But such an arrangement could last only as long as he did not take a wife. She would not be a married man’s mistress.

  But Joshua would never ask that of her, she told herself. He would not deceive a wife. He was above all a man of honor.

  “I understand why both of them did what they did,” he said.

  Consumed with her wild speculations about their future together or lack thereof, she did not immediately grasp his meaning.

  “What?” she asked, going quite blank.

  “I understand why Victor and Clement did the things they did.”

  She pulled her jumbled thoughts together. This was about the closure of the case, not about their personal affairs. Really, what had she been thinking? Naturally he would want to tie up all the loose ends before he allowed himself to consider the personal angle.

  “Yes, of course,” she said crisply. “A father’s grief and a lover’s sense of guilt are both very powerful motives.”

  “I don’t think you comprehend what I am trying to tell you, Beatrice. I know why they went to the lengths they did, why they allowed themselves to be deluded and driven mad. Why they were willing to kill to revive Emma. I understand those things fully and completely because I am no different.”

  “What?” Once again she felt blindsided.

  “I would do whatever it took to save you,” he said.

  She took a deep breath and allowed herself to relax.

  “Yes, I know,” she said. “You were born to protect others. But you would find another way to go about it.”

  “Perhaps,” he said. “If there was another way. But in the end, whatever it took. I love you, Beatrice.”

  She was so dumbfounded she could only stare at him for a few seconds. She said the first words that came into her head.

  “Do you mean to say that you actually believe in love?” she managed. “A form of energy that you cannot see or measure or test?”

  “I certainly don’t believe that love is a form of paranormal energy,” he clarified, very serious now. “And I will admit that until I met you I had never experienced emotions of the sort that I feel for you. But I do not doubt this sense of certainty. It would be like doubting the truth of a sunrise or the tide. Simply because some powerful forces cannot be tested or measured does not mean that one must resort to psychical explanations.”

  She was suddenly breathless. There was a peculiar roaring in her ears. The world outside the parlor ceased to exist. Frantically she struggled to hang on to reality.

  “Well, actually there are other explanations for strong passions,” she said carefully. “Physical and intellectual attraction. The stimulating effects of shared danger. Mutual admiration. That very long year you spent in the country—”

  “Do you love me?” he asked. “Could you love me?”

  With that she tossed aside the tattered remnants of common sense. Laughter did battle with tears. She flung herself into his arms. He staggered under the impact but he somehow managed to move the cane out of the way, catch her and maintain his balance all at the same time. She put her arms aro
und his neck.

  “Oh, Joshua, yes, yes,” she said, joy flooding her senses. “Of course I love you. Surely you knew that.”

  He took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly. “I have learned that some things require words.”

  She smiled. “Do you mean to say that not everything can be deduced through logic and observation?”

  “Am I going to have to listen to you tease me about that for the rest of my life?”

  “That depends. Are we talking about the rest of your life?”

  He frowned. “You just said you loved me. I love you. That means we will be married.”

  “You haven’t asked. Some things require words.”

  He smiled his slow, sensual smile, the one that set all of her senses aflutter.

  “Will you marry me so that you will be in a position to tease me endlessly about my way of coming to conclusions?”

  “How could I pass up such a spectacularly appealing offer?” She flattened her palms on his chest. “Yes, Joshua, I will marry you.”

  His eyes were darkly brilliant with something she thought might be joy.

  “I will take very good care of you,” he vowed.

  “Just as I will take very good care of you,” she said.

  He gripped the cane in one hand and wrapped his other arm around her. He kissed her. It was a binding kiss, a kiss that promised the future.

  It was, Beatrice thought, the kiss she had been waiting for all of her life.

  Fifty-One

  The following day Joshua stood with Victor in the pouring rain. Together they watched as the casket containing Emma’s body was lowered into the grave. A clergyman murmured the ritual words.

  “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust . . .”

  Victor’s legs were shackled. His right arm was in a sling. Three constables stood respectfully nearby. A black police van waited at the iron gates of the cemetery. But in spite of it all, Victor stood proud and undiminished, still a commanding presence, still the brilliant and mysterious Mr. Smith.

  Beatrice and Nelson waited some distance away. A somber funeral attendant held an umbrella over Beatrice’s head.

  When the solemn service was concluded Victor reached down with his left hand and scooped up a clod of wet earth. He tossed it down onto the casket. He straightened, closed his eyes in silent prayer and then he looked at Joshua.

  “Thank you,” he said. “I should have said my goodbyes to her long ago. Now it’s done and I am free to seek my own peace tonight.”

  Joshua did not speak. There was nothing to say.

  Victor looked at Beatrice. A melancholy smile flickered at the edge of his mouth. “I congratulate you on finding a woman who will always know your heart. You are a fortunate man.”

  “I’m aware of that,” Joshua said.

  “Does it strike you as ironic that you might never have found her if it hadn’t been for me?”

  “Yes,” Joshua said, “it does.”

  “Your nephew reminds me of you at that age. Smart, fast, with a bit of talent. He is looking to you for guidance now that he is coming into the fullness of his manhood. You have a task ahead of you. I know you will not fail him.”

  “Everything I know about being a man I learned from you,” Joshua said.

  “No.” Victor shook his head. “You became what you were meant to be. All I did was help you uncover the strength inside you and teach you the discipline and control you needed to handle it. If that strength of spirit had not been there at the start, there is nothing I or anyone else could have done to endow you with those qualities.”

  “I will miss you, Victor.”

  “You are the son of my heart,” Victor said. “I am very proud of you.”

  “You came into my life when I needed you. You saved me from myself. I will never forget you.”

  Victor was quietly pleased. “That is good to know. Goodbye, my son.”

  “Goodbye, sir.”

  The constables led Victor to the police van and ushered him into the iron cage. Joshua watched until the carriage clattered away into the rain.

  After a while he realized that Beatrice had come to stand beside him.

  “We said our farewells,” Joshua explained. “He told me that he will find his peace tonight. He will be gone by morning.”

  “Shackled as he is?”

  “He will find a way,” Joshua said. “He is Mr. Smith.”

  He took Beatrice’s arm. Together they walked through the rain to where Nelson stood waiting for them.

  Fifty-Two

  Nelson told me that he intends to undertake instruction in meditation and the martial arts from you,” Hannah said.

  She sounded resigned, Joshua thought, but at the same time accepting. They were in his study. He was propped against the edge of his desk, his cane close at hand. Hannah was at the window, gazing out into the small garden. She had arrived on his doorstep a short time earlier. One look at her face had told him that Nelson had spoken to her of his plans.

  “I made it clear that he would have to inform you of his decision before I would begin the lessons,” Joshua said. “But it is his decision, Hannah.”

  “I know that. I’ve always known it. I wanted to protect him.”

  “I understand. But he has become a man. You cannot protect him any longer.”

  “You are right, of course.” Hannah turned to face him. “Beatrice and I talked. She said that the most generous gift I could give Nelson would be to remove the chains of guilt that I have placed on him. When he told me of his decision, I tried to do that. I said I understood and that he had my blessing.”

  “I’m sure he appreciated that.”

  Hannah smiled faintly. “I also told him that I could not imagine a finer mentor and teacher than you.”

  Joshua hesitated. “I’m surprised to hear you say that.”

  “Beatrice pointed out the obvious to me. She said that Nelson had clearly inherited the Gage talent and that the most prudent thing to do with such a gift was to learn to control it and channel it in a responsible manner.”

  “It’s not the Gage talent that Nelson inherited. It’s the Gage temperament.”

  Hannah smiled. “Call it what you will, I certainly do not want Nelson to continue down the path he has been following for the past few months, gambling and drinking to excess.”

  “You knew about that, did you?”

  “Of course. He is my son. At the rate he was going he would have come to a bad end, just like Papa.”

  “Nelson is not like our father, Hannah. He is his own man. He needs to discover what it is that he was born to do.”

  “But what is that?”

  “I don’t know,” Joshua said. “But in time he will find his own path.”

  Hannah turned away from the window. “Will you find yours now that Victor Hazelton is gone?”

  He tapped his fingers together, wondering how much to tell her. She deserved the truth, he thought.

  “I have been approached by the people to whom Victor once reported,” he said, “people at the highest levels of the government.”

  Hannah was appalled. “They want you to take his place?”

  “Yes.”

  Hannah closed her eyes. “I see.”

  “After discussing the matter with Beatrice, I declined the post. I do not want to return to a life in the shadows. I want to walk in the sunlight with Beatrice and—if we are blessed—with our children.”

  Hannah frowned. “Somehow, I cannot envision you turning your back on what you do best—finding that which is lost.”

  He sat forward. “Beatrice said much the same thing. You are both correct, of course. I intend to become a private consultant who specializes in finding people and things that have disappeared. But I will choose my clients with great care. Not everyone who is lost wants to be found.”

/>   Fifty-Three

  The wedding reception was held on the grounds of Crystal Gardens. It was the second time within the span of a few months that Abigail and Sara had been invited to the nuptials of a former employee. Evangeline Ames—now the wife of Lucas Sebastian, the owner of the Gardens—had been the first bride to be married there. As one of Beatrice’s two closest friends, she had insisted on arranging the reception for Beatrice and Joshua. Clarissa Slate, having successfully concluded her recent case, was the bridesmaid.

  The day was sunny and warm. In addition to Evangeline and Lucas and Clarissa, Hannah Trafford and her son, Nelson, were among the guests.

  The grounds of the mysterious estate looked considerably less ominous than they had the last time they had all gathered there, Sara thought. The level of paranormal energy had definitely been reduced, although Lucas had explained that due to the properties of the ancient underground spring in the center of the gardens, nothing would ever be normal about the plant life that thrived there.

  One could not run decades of bizarre paranormal experiments in a garden as Lucas’s uncle had done and not expect to come up with some very dangerous results, Sara thought. There was a tremendous amount of psychical energy in the botanical world.

  She stood with Abigail near the buffet table and watched Beatrice and Joshua talk with Lucas and Evangeline near a fountain. Joshua and Lucas had obviously become friends. Perhaps it was because they were both so much alike when it came to character and spirit, Sara thought. Both would do whatever was necessary to protect the ones they loved. They shared something else, as well. Joshua was still reluctant to put any credence in the paranormal, but there was no doubt in her mind that he possessed a measure of psychical talent.

  “Our Beatrice looks absolutely radiant, doesn’t she, Abby?” Sara whipped out a hankie to dab a small tear away from the corner of her eye. “And look at the way Joshua is standing so close to her. One can see the strong bond between them. He would ride into hell to protect her.”