CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Anna drew in her breath sharply and stepped back from the window. For an instant her thoughts were scattered, and she could not move. Then she whirled and ran out of Kit’s room and down the stairs, calling for the butler. She ran to the side door and checked to make sure it was locked. She ducked into the next room, which was the study and almost directly across from where she had seen the figure in the trees. She did not light a lamp, but hurried over to the window and peeked through the drapes.
But even though she was closer to the spot where the creature had stood, she could not see it clearly, for the shrubs in the garden blocked her view. She went to each window, making sure that it was securely locked. By the time she reached the hallway, the butler, Hargrove, had arrived, followed by one of the footmen. The butler had already retired, and his dignity was considerably diminished by the nightcap he wore on his head and the robe wrapped around his ample girth.
“Miss? Is something amiss?”
“I saw—I saw something outside,” Anna told him. It sounded weak and foolish now that she said it. “A person in the trees beyond the garden.”
The footman gaped at her, and though Hargrove was better at hiding his astonishment, his voice could not completely conceal a note of disbelief as he said, “A person, miss?”
“Yes,” Anna said firmly, and looked him in the eye. “My brother was attacked tonight. I do not know who I saw just now or why he is here, but I think that, considering the things that have been occurring lately, we cannot take anything lightly.”
“No, miss, of course not.” The man hesitated. “Should I…send someone outside?”
“No. Just make sure that all the doors and windows are locked. Don’t overlook any of them.”
“Of course, miss. Right away.”
Hargrove turned to the footman, snapping out orders, and then the two men bustled away. Anna hurried back up the stairs to her brother’s room. She crossed to the window and parted the drapes, looking out into the night. There was no sign of anyone beneath the trees.
She could feel little relief. She turned away from the window and crossed over to her brother’s bed. Kit was still sleeping. She sat down in the chair, scooting it a little closer to the bed, so that she could lay her arm down and put her hand on Kit’s. Right then, she needed to have contact with him. She settled down to wait.
* * *
“Anna?” Kit’s groggy voice woke her, and Anna lifted her head, confused for a moment.
“Oh.” Her brain cleared as she realized that it was morning, the sun creeping around the cracks in the draperies, and she had fallen asleep. In the next instant it sank in on her that Kit’s eyes were open and he was looking at her. “Kit, you’re awake!”
She sprang to her feet, ignoring the painful twinge in her neck and shoulder from falling asleep with her head on her arm on Kit’s bed.
“’Course I am,” Kit replied a little thickly. “What is happening? Why are you here?”
“Do you not remember?” Anna asked.
“Remember what?” Kit frowned and raised one hand to his head. “I have the very devil of a headache. Was I—in the bag?”
Anna had to smile a little. “No. At least, I don’t think so. Dr. Felton said that you had only a few drinks.”
“The doctor?” He looked even more puzzled. “Was he here? Was I—was last night our card game?”
“Yes. Do you not remember it?”
He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again, saying, “The last thing I remember is Mrs. Bennett and Felicity being here.”
“Well, you received a bump on the head somehow,” Anna said. “We found you lying in the road, unconscious.”
Kit stared at her. “You’re not serious.”
“Unfortunately, I am.”
“But how—I couldn’t have fallen off my horse,” he said in a mortified voice. “Not even if I was dead drunk.”
“I don’t think you did. I think someone attacked you. I only wish you could remember.”
“Attacked me!” Kit clearly found the idea ludicrous. Anna related everything she knew about the matter, but he could not bring himself to believe that anyone had tried to harm him.
“I think the doctor’s right. I knocked my head on a low-hanging branch, that’s all.”
“And what about the figure I saw bending over you?” Anna asked, folding her arms and raising one brow.
“Well, you said it was quite dark….”
“Not dark enough that I conjured up a person who was not there! And Cooper saw him, too.”
Kit had no answer for that, but she could see in his face that neither could he really accept what she had said.
“But who could—why would anyone do that?” he asked.
“I don’t know. I can’t understand this person’s mind. But, Kit, even if you cannot believe that someone harmed you, you must promise me that you will act as if you do,” Anna told him urgently. “You must take care. Guard yourself against danger.”
“What are you suggesting?” Kit asked, looking appalled. “That I hide here in the house? I have work to do. There is the estate—’tis the busiest time of the year, apart from harvest.”
“I know. And you have your pride, as well,” Anna added dryly. “I am not suggesting that you hide in the house—although I do hope that you will be sensible enough to rest today and take the powder Dr. Felton left for you. It will ease your headache.”
“I will be more than happy to do that,” Kit told her fervently. “I feel as if someone has taken a hammer to my head.”
Anna went to the table and unwrapped the paper the doctor had left, shaking a fourth of it into a glass and filling it with water. As she stirred, she turned back to her brother. “I trust that whoever it is will not try anything during the daylight hours. He seems to confine his activities to the nighttime. But, please, try to make sure that you are around other people as much as possible. And look out for danger. Take a groom with you.”
“Take a groom with me?” Kit repeated, outraged. “Like a child?”
“Like someone with sense,” Anna retorted, handing him the glass.
Kit took a drink and made a face. “This is bitter.”
“It’s medicine. It’s supposed to be bitter. Drink up.”
Kit obediently drank the rest of it, and Anna took the opportunity to press her point. “At least take a groom with you if you go out at night. Personally, I think you should stay in in the evening, but I know you well enough to assume that you will make it a point of going out at night, just to prove that you are not afraid.” She directed a pointed look at him. “So if you do, take a groom with you. Do not go alone.”
“And how long am I supposed to do this?” Kit asked, setting down the empty glass and adding sarcastically, “For the rest of my life?”
“That won’t be very long if the killer gets hold of you again,” Anna replied acerbically.
Kit groaned theatrically and flopped back against his pillows. “Anna…”
“Reed and I are trying to find the killer. With luck we will be able to do so, and then you won’t have to keep looking over your shoulder.”
“What?” Kit bounced back up from his pillows. “You are telling me to be careful, and all the while you are actually trying to track down the killer? Good Lord, Anna, are you mad?”
“No, I’m not mad. I am sure he doesn’t know we are trying to find him. It isn’t as if we advertised that we were looking into the murders.”
“Is that what you have been doing lately?” Kit went on. “Obviously I should have been spending less time on the estate and staying here to keep an eye on you.”
Anna cast him an exasperated look. “Don’t try to turn this around on me. We are talking about your safety. I haven’t been doing this on my own. I have been with Reed the whole time.”
Kit frowned. “Anna…how much time are you spending with him? Do you really think it is wise? You took me to task for seeing Rosemary too much, yet it seems to me that you are putting your heart into worse danger.”
“It is in no danger,” Anna replied, somewhat untruthfully. “Reed knows that we can never be together. I told him why.”
“You told him about Uncle Charles!” Kit exclaimed, then glanced toward the door to make sure it was closed and no one had overheard his hasty words.
“Yes. He will tell no one,” Anna assured him. “I simply could not hide it any longer.
Her brother looked at her searchingly. “Are you sure? A man in love—”
“He does not love me,” Anna interrupted. “Not any longer. How could he, after my refusal three years ago? He has spent the last three years disliking me, I assure you. He was upset that I had not told him the truth, but he told me that he understood.”
“Lord Moreland seems to me to be a man who does not give up easily.”
“Of course not. But he sees the impossibility of tying his line to mine.” Anna’s throat closed a little, the pain of her lost love welling up in her, but she swallowed hard and went on. “How could he not? His father is a duke, after all.”
“I suppose you are right,” Kit replied, but there was still skepticism on his face. “Still, it cannot be good, the two of you working closely together like this, seeing each other so often….”
“Kit, don’t,” Anna said sharply. “Don’t tell me I should not see him. Reed and I can be friends, at least.”
There was pity in her brother’s eyes as he looked at her. “Anna…I don’t want to see you hurt. That is all.”
“I know.” She gave him a smile. “I won’t be. I will be quite careful with my heart—as you must promise me you will be with your life.”
He smiled faintly. “All right. I promise.”
He held out his hand, and she took it, squeezing it tightly.
In truth, she was well aware that she was placing her heart in danger. But she could not bear to stay away from Reed. Even though she ached inside whenever she looked at him, wanting him, wanting a life with him, and knowing that could never happen, still she was willing to endure that pain. However much she hurt, however much she yearned, there was a greater pleasure in looking at him and talking to him, simply being with him. It was foolish, she suspected, but at the moment, she didn’t really want to examine her actions.
Kit was feeling better by evening, and the next day he insisted on being up and about his work. Anna returned to her investigation. She and Reed rode to Eddlesburrow, where the records were kept for the local coroner’s inquests. But first they planned to stop at the house of the former Winterset maid whom Reed had located.
Her name was Margaret Lackey, and she lived in a small stone cottage on the edge of the village. A series of stepping-stones led from the street to her front door, and on either side of the path grew a neatly cultivated garden.
As they approached the house, they saw a woman kneeling in front of a flower bed, busily tugging up every weed within reach. A wide-brimmed bonnet shielded her face from the sun and from their view, but she looked up as Reed and Anna dismounted and tied their horses. Black button eyes peered out of a wrinkled face, and she smiled as Anna and Reed started toward her.
“Good day to you, madam,” Reed said, sweeping off his hat and bowing formally to her. “We are looking for a Miss Margaret Lackey.”
“Then you have found her,” the woman replied cheerfully. “Except that the name is Margaret Parmer, for the past forty years.” She looked at Anna and Reed with curiosity.
“Mrs. Parmer,” Reed amended, and introduced Anna and himself. “We would like to talk to you, if we may.”
The woman whipped off her gloves and extended a hand to Reed. “If you’ll help me up, here, then we can go inside, where we can talk a little better.”
Reed reached down, took her hand and helped her to her feet. She brushed the dirt from her skirt and led them inside her house, leaving her gardening tools where they lay.
It was a pleasant house inside, small but well kept, and Margaret Parmer showed them into the parlor. She called to someone, and a moment later a middle-aged woman came into the room, wiping her hands on a towel.
“Tea, Gert,” Mrs. Parmer said cheerfully. “For three, and some of those biscuits you made yesterday.” As Gert left, Mrs. Parmer turned to Reed and Anna, smiling. “Gert helps me out. I can’t keep a house up by myself any longer.” She wiggled her fingers; the knuckles were knobby and swollen.
Mrs. Lackey took off her bonnet, revealing white hair, pulled back and knotted in a bun at the crown of her head. Stray hairs had come loose as she removed her hat, and she smoothed them back behind her ears as she sat down in a chair.
The former maid was the opposite of the housekeeper whom they had interviewed the other day. Though her fingers were knotted and her movements careful, she was still spry and alert. Her dark eyes gleamed with intelligence and curiosity as she looked at them, waiting for the purpose of their call.
“Mrs. Parmer, I live at Winterset,” Reed began.
The woman’s eyes widened a little, but she said nothing, waiting for Reed to continue.
“We found in our records that you were once a maid there.”
“Yes, I was,” the old woman agreed. “That was before I married Mr. Parmer.”
“The time we are interested in is forty-eight years ago,” Anna put in. “When Susan Emmett was killed.”
The lively interest in Mrs. Parmer’s face blinked out, as if a candle had been snuffed. “Oh. Why are you asking about that?”
“Because some similar murders have happened recently,” Reed told her. “Perhaps you have heard.”
Mrs. Parmer shook her head. “No. I don’t get out much. But I can’t see what that has to do with Susan. That was years and years ago.”
“Yes. But there are similarities. Miss Holcomb and I are trying to find out what we can about what happened to Susan Emmett.”
“The woman who was killed recently was a maid in my house,” Anna explained, and the old woman’s dark eyes slid to her for a moment.
“I’m sorry, miss.”
“The way she died was quite like the way Susan Emmett died,” Anna added.
Mrs. Parmer studied her for a moment, then asked, “Are you Miss Babs’ daughter?”
Anna looked at her, surprised, then said, “I am Barbara de Winter’s daughter.”
The old woman smiled. “Aye, that was Miss Babs. She was a cute baby, that one. I missed her when her aunt took her off to London. ’Course, it wasn’t too long afterward that I met my Ned and left the house. I’d heard that Miss Babs married the Holcomb lad.”
Anna nodded. “Yes. Sir Edmund was my father.”
They had wandered rather far afield from the subject, Anna thought, and she wasn’t sure how to bring it back. Fortunately, Reed stepped in.
“Mrs. Parmer,” he began, “do you remember Susan Emmett?”
“Oh, yes. She worked at the house with me for two or three years, I guess.”
“What can you tell us about her death?” Reed asked her.
She looked at him blankly. “I—I don’t know what you mean. I didn’t know much about her death. One day she wasn’t there, and we didn’t know what happened to her. Then they found her and said she’d been killed.”
“Didn’t you think about who might have done it?” Anna asked. “I mean, didn’t you and the others talk about who the killer might be?”
Mrs. Parmer looked down at her hands, twisting the gold band on her ring finger around and around beneath the swollen knuckle. “It wasn’t my place to talk about things like that. That was for the magistrate and such.”
“Did you talk to the magistrate? The constable?”
Mrs. Parmer shrugged. “I remember the constable came and talked to all of us. I didn’t know anything to tell him.”
“You don’t remember any speculation about who could have killed Susan—or the farmer?” Anna asked.
“Everyone said it was the Beast,” Mrs. Parmer offered.
At that moment Gert trundled in, carrying the tea tray, and their conversation was interrupted. A few minutes were taken up with the niceties of serving the tea.
Finally, after Anna felt she had taken enough sips to be polite, she said, “Did you believe that Susan was killed by the Beast, Mrs. Parmer?”
“Who else would have done it?” the woman replied.
“Well, at first, did they not believe it was her fiancé?” Reed put in.
“Oh, him.” Mrs. Parmer grimaced and made a dismissive move with her hand. “That one didn’t have it in him to kill anyone, let alone Susan. It was daft to think he had done it.”
“What about some other man?” Anna asked. “Was there anyone else with whom you saw Susan talking? Or someone who seemed interested in her? Jealous, perhaps, because she had chosen another?”
The old woman shook her head. “No. We weren’t allowed to have callers at the house. The only time Susan saw her fiancé or anyone besides the rest of us servants was when she went home on a Sunday.”
“Did she go home on the day she was killed?”
Mrs. Parmer looked at her. “It’s been a long time, miss. I don’t remember.”
“Were you off that Sunday, Mrs. Parmer?” Reed inquired.
“Oh, no. I was working. We got every other Sunday off. Reduced staff, you see, so that there would be someone there to wait on the family.”
Anna looked at Reed. She felt dissatisfied, but she could think of nothing else to ask the woman. Reed gave a ghost of a shrug, as if he felt the same way. He turned to Mrs. Parmer.
“Thank you very much for talking to us today. I hope we have not disturbed your day too much.”
“Oh, no, indeed.” The old woman smiled a little archly at Reed, not too old, apparently, to feel his charm.
They took their leave of Mrs. Parmer and mounted their horses, riding away from her neat little house. Anna cast a glance over at Reed.
“Did you think—” She cast about in her mind for a way to express what she felt.
“That she was hiding something?” Reed suggested.
“You felt it, too!” Anna exclaimed. “Well, perhaps not that she was hiding something, but at least that she was not telling us everything she knew.”
“She seemed cagey,” Reed agreed. “The way she sidestepped gossiping about the event.”
“Yes, and the pious statement that it wasn’t her place to speculate about such things. As if that ever stopped anyone from doing so.”
“The thing is,” Reed went on, “I cannot imagine why she would do so. After all these years, what difference does it make? Almost everyone involved in the matter must be dead. Who would she hurt? Who would care?”
“I don’t know. It was frustrating. I kept thinking, if only I could ask her the right question, she would start chattering. But I couldn’t think what it could be.”
They rode to the center of town, where they stabled their horses at the inn and took a private dining room for a bit of lunch before continuing to the records office. They were shown to the best room by an obsequious innkeeper who, while he did not know them, knew well enough the cut and quality of their clothing, as well as the high breeding of their horses, and had great expectations of a large bill.
The private room was well apportioned, but small, creating a sense of intimacy. They seemed much more alone, Anna thought, than they ever did in either of their homes, with all the servants about. Here, once the maids had bustled in with their meal and laid it on the table, they were left quite alone, the door closed between them and the rest of the world. The room lay at the back of the inn, and the windows were open to the summer breeze, letting in the peaceful sounds of birds and the occasional distant noise of a horse and wagon, or the laughter of one of the ostlers.
Anna glanced over at Reed, who was busy carving the roast. She enjoyed looking at him this way, without his knowing how long her eyes dwelled on him, or seeing the warmth that she was afraid crept into her face when she saw him. Her eyes went to his hands, strong and quick, then back up his arms, the muscles moving beneath his coat.
“Anna?”
“What? Oh.” Startled, she looked up into Reed’s face to find him watching her, holding a slice of meat ready for her. Color flamed in her cheeks, and she quickly held out her plate. “I’m sorry. I was thinking…about the murders.”
“Yes?” he said questioningly.
“I was wondering whether we are actually accomplishing anything,” Anna said. It was a thought that had occurred to her more than once in the past few days. “Even if we are able to find out something about the murders that took place forty-eight years ago—and I frankly wonder how we can accomplish that when no one was able to at the time—will it really help us to find out what happened to Estelle and Frank Johnson?”
“I’ve wondered, too,” Reed admitted, slicing off another piece of meat and laying it on his own plate. “Anyone could have decided to copy the murders. He wouldn’t have to have a connection to the earlier ones. Yet I can’t help but think that it would be wrong of us not to pursue those killings. What if we do find something that will give us a clue about the recent murders?”
“I know. I don’t mean that we should abandon what we are doing,” Anna told him. “But I wish we could think of some way we could find out more about what happened to Estelle or that boy.”
Reed glanced at her somewhat speculatively. Anna’s eyebrows went up.
“What?” she said. “You are thinking something.”
A half smile touched his lips. “You are right.”
“And you’re thinking I won’t like it,” she continued.
“Right again.” The partial smile turned into a full one, and Anna felt her insides melting. If he only knew, that smile would probably have her agreeing to almost anything. “I have been thinking about your ‘gift.’”
“My gift?” Anna looked puzzled.
“Your ability to—to sense what has happened. Or is about to happen. As you did with your brother, or what you felt when you found the Johnson lad.”
“Oh.” Anna put down her fork and leaned back in her chair, looking at him warily. She did not know what he was going to say, but she disliked the thought of talking about her visions. She feared that he wondered, as she often did, if these strange occurrences were evidence that she, too, might be slipping into madness. “What were you thinking about this ‘gift’?”
“Only that I wish we could use it.”
Whatever she had been expecting, it had not been this. “Use it? How?” she asked, leaning forward a little.
“To tell us more about the case. I don’t understand it. But what you sensed about your brother was remarkably accurate, don’t you think?”
Anna nodded. “Yes, I suppose it was.”
“You saw the place where it occurred. You felt something of what happened to him. I wish there was some way you could direct that ability onto these killings. Maybe you could get some sense of who had done them, or how.”
Anna shifted in her seat. “I—I don’t know.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to push you,” Reed said quickly, reaching out to lay his hand over hers on the table. “I wouldn’t want you to do it if you didn’t want to. If it made you uneasy or…” His voice trailed off.
Anna was very aware of his hand resting on hers, of the warmth and texture of his skin. It sent a tingle up her arm and into her chest. She shifted in her chair, sliding her hand from his and folding it with her other hand in her lap.
“It’s not that I don’t want to, exactly,” she said. “I just…don’t know how to do it. It isn’t something I have ever tried to do. The visions, the feelings, or whatever you want to call them, just come upon me. There is no warning, and I don’t do anything that causes them. I just suddenly feel them. I’m sorry, but I wouldn’t know how to go about encouraging them.”
Reed removed his hand and started in on his food, nodding.
“Perhaps…I could try thinking about Estelle,” Anna mused. It sent a little shiver through her to think about trying to open her mind up to thoughts about the murder.
Reed looked over at her and saw the way her face had paled. “No,” he said quickly. “It isn’t worth it. I didn’t think—the effect on you would be too terrible. It was a foolish idea.”
Anna was warmed by his concern, just as she had been by the way he talked about her visions as if they were something normal and natural, an asset, rather than something to be hidden and denied.
“No, it wasn’t foolish at all. If it would help us find the killer, it would be worth a bit of discomfort for me.”
“I think it would be more than a bit of discomfort,” Reed guessed shrewdly. “I saw the look on your face just now when you were considering it. They must be very difficult for you.”
“They are…rather frightening,” Anna admitted. There was something freeing about being able to talk about her visions to someone. “I—I feel the pain and the terror that they are feeling—or at least a part of it. The way I felt the burst of pain in my head when I was thinking about Kit.”
“Then you certainly shan’t do it,” Reed said in a voice that brooked no denial.
Anna smiled a little. “Don’t you think that it is for me to decide?”
He grimaced. “You are as bad as my sisters. Well, promise me this—tell me you will not try to experiment with your ability unless I am with you, so that I can help you if you need it.”
Anna looked at him. She realized that her visions would be easier to bear if Reed was there with her. His presence would give her strength, make her feel safer.
“All right. I will not try unless you are there.”
Reed nodded with relief, and they returned to their meal. Putting aside the gloomy topic of their research, they talked about lighter and more general subjects as they finished their food.
When they were done, they walked to the records office. There, Reed, looking and behaving every inch the son of a duke, informed the clerk of the records they wished to search, and after a brief and futile protest, the man disappeared into the back and returned some time later, bearing a wide, stiff book fastened by brads.
There was no convenient place to sit, so they stood at the long oaken counter and opened the book, thumbing through the yellowed pages until they reached the inquest they wanted. There were several pages of testimony from witnesses regarding the discovery of Susan Emmett’s body, beginning with the senior Dr. Felton, who expounded on the wounds he had found on the woman’s body. There was nothing in his testimony that had not been included in his notes. Indeed, there was less, as there was none of his speculation about the manner in which the wounds might have been inflicted.
The next witness to testify was the man who had discovered the maid’s body lying beneath a tree at Weller’s Point. As Anna looked at the name of the witness, she stiffened, staring in stunned surprise. The man who had testified about finding the body was Nicholas Perkins.