Conduct Unbecoming of a Gentleman (25 page)

Chapter 25

Blinded by panic, Laurel sprinted down the hall with her breath coming in short bursts. Even in her hysterical state, she knew enough to keep Oather away from Jamie but where to hide?
She needed a weapon, Robert’s gun—in the library. Laurel dashed inside, locking the door behind her. Frantically searching through the drawers of Robert’s desk, she remembered she’d locked the gun in the safe. She gritted her teeth to keep from screaming in frustration.

Falling to her knees in front of the safe, she twisted the lock. Her trembling fingers slipped and hearing Oather’s assault on the door heightened her panic. She couldn’t fall apart now—not now.
What was the combination?
Was twelve the first number or the second?
She couldn’t recall.

Oather kicked the door-jam, shattering the door and was nearly on her before she could jump to her feet. Laurel spring up and raced across the room. Grabbing the poker from the fireplace, she brandished her weapon at him.

He chortled long and loud before his scowl turned into an evil mask. “You bitch. You think to out do ole Oather eh? Where is the pendant?”

“I-I,” she stammered. Laurel actually had no idea if the diamond had been placed back in her casket of jewelry or whether the pendant was still in Adron’s safe.

In two strides, Oather closed the space with her and snatched at the poker. She fought, trying to break free but he managed to wrestle the poker from her grasp. Flinging the iron rod across the room, he grabbed a hand full of her hair, twisted a hold in the long length and shook her.

“O-w-w,” she screeched, inserting her fingers at the roots of her hair to ease the pain. “Let go, you demon.”

His breath carried the strong odor of mint mixed with tobacco and she shuddered in distaste at the unforgettable smell. Brandishing his bloodied knife at her, he hissed between his teeth, “Tell me and ye might keep your little whelp alive.”

Ways to escape skittered through her mind. If the Bow Street Runner were still about, perhaps she could run out the back door and alert him to her danger. At least she could draw Oather farther away from Jamie.

“What’s it to be, ducky?”

“I’ll tell you.” Laurel hesitated trying to gather her thoughts. “It’s in my trunk. Stored in the attic.”
That’s good.
She might have her chance to disappear out the back if she led him up the servant’s stairs. “We’ll need a candle. It’s dark even in the daytime.”

“Fine. Get to it,” he snarled. “I want that pendant. I don’t particularly care what I do to get it.”

Her limbs were heavy and she moved slowly as if in a trance. At the delay, anger roiled in his eyes, but she was helpless to move faster. Finally fury got the best of him. “Get going.”

Oather slapped her across the face, knocking her to the floor. A side table took the brunt of her fall and her flailing arms sent objects flying. Her bible exploded through the air, crashed into a vase shattering the glass object against the wall and the pieces scattered behind her. While she struggled to rise, she managed to slip a long shard of glass in her sash. Dabbing at the smear of blood on her lip, she struck the flint to the candle. Her fingers trembled so badly she could hardly set blaze to the wick but finally the flame flickered to life.

“Go first where I can keep my eye on ye. Don’t mind watchin you swish your tail afore me neither.”

His crude words speared through her adding to her fear as she headed toward the back of the house. There was no doubt in her mind that he meant to kill her whether he received the pendant or not. If she could distract him somehow, she’d have a better chance of escape. She paused on the steps. “Why are you so determined to have that particular pendant?”

“It belongs to me,” he snarled. “It was promised to me if I was to gull Lady Rhonda, which I did.” He let out a demented laugh. “The Lady thought as how we was making fakes for you and giving the real thing to her. Not hardly.”

With some thought to distract him, to keep him talking and gain time to escape, she forced herself to continue with her questions. “I don’t understand. Why did you shoot Percy? He was your partner in crime and your nephew.”

“That Percy, he made me shoot him. Yes sir, twas his fault. He had no stomach for crime and he fell for Lady Rhonda.” His voice held a sneer. “Course I never had the rising of him. But Edmond, he’s different. Not soft. He’s waiting for his ole uncle at the dock. Me and him is gonna set sail for Italy with the jewels.”

Much to her dismay, he stayed between her and the outside door.

“Climb them stairs. I want my diamond.” Oather chortled.

Her pulse raced even faster and her breath came in shallow gasps. Tomorrow the servants would be back but that didn’t help her now. Each word he spoke firmed her resolve to bury the long shard of glass in his neck. If she failed to escape or produce the pendant, he would be after Jamie and she couldn’t allow that to happen. She gathered her courage. Now all she needed was the opportunity.

The light from the candle cast an eerie glow against the bare walls along the servant’s staircase and her heart pounded even harder as she climbed to the eaves of the house. The door to the attic wavered before her eyes but she shoved into the long, dark room with Oather at her heels. She held the candle high and light danced across the shrouded furniture casting odd shadows on the wall.

She pointed. “Over there.”

Placing the candle on a box as far away from her trunk as she could manage, she opened the lid, leaving her even deeper in the gloom. With one swift move, she plucked a vase from the trunk and hurled the object at the candle. When the attic pitched into almost complete darkness, she ducked into the secret room. Hesitating as she shut the door, she tried to remember exactly where everything had been placed. Laurel reached out with her right arm, touching a wooden crate and sank onto to the rough wood. She wondered if using the box to gain an advantage in height would be helpful and decided he wouldn’t expect a threat to come at him from that level. Withdrawing the shard of glass, she drew a shaky breath. She was poised to strike.

Adron entered Landings Manor on the run. The sound of his heavy boots echoed against the polished floor and he could hear George behind him as he advanced. A fine-pitched wail came from the parlor and Adron dashed inside. His heart skipped a beat as he surveyed the room. Percy lay in a pool of blood, unmoving and his complexion was pasty white. He appeared dead. Adron’s gaze swept to the maid bent over her mistress trying to staunch the flow of blood and moaning all the while.

“My poor Lady.”

Adron hurried to her side. Rhonda opened her eyes and she groaned. “Adron. Don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me.”

Frantic with worry for Laurel, he paid little heed to Rhonda’s words. “Rhonda, where is Laurel.”

“Laurel?” she murmured softly before reaching out a limp hand to him. “Don’t leave me.”

“Where is she?”

Rhonda’s maid looked up from her position next to Rhonda. “That awful man. The one that stabbed my poor mistress forced her up the back stairs to the attics. That’s when I came down and found poor Lady Rhonda.” Tears tracked down her cheeks.

“George, get the doctor. I’m going after Laurel.”

“No, Adron. Don’t leave me,” Rhonda cried, moisture spilled from her eyes while sobs shook her body.

He briefly glanced at her. “Laurel needs me.”

“I need you,” Rhonda cried.

He ignored her plea and dashed up the stairs.

Oather’s voice roared in rage with a string of savage oaths fouling the air. “You stupid cow. Come out. You ain’t no ghost to be disappearing on me.”

The sounds of the trunk lid being viciously slammed along with shattering glass reached her inside the hidden room. His heavy boots pounded the floor with each step while he began to whack the walls ever closer to her hiding place. The moon must have peeked from behind the clouds because silver light crawled beneath the door of the secret room. “If ye don’t want me to gut that little whelp of yours, show yourself.”

Time had run out. Her heart beat so fast her chest hurt, but rage filled her with strength. He threatened her child and she must act. Her stomach roiled as she climbed onto the box and raised her arm. “I’m over here, behind the wall. The door’s stuck.”

He kicked at the walls and finally located the hidden door, slamming into the hidden room. Before he could locate her, she plunged the shad of glass deep into his neck and hot blood spurted over her hand. Screaming, she jumped sideways. He clutched at his throat, made a gurgling sound and sank to his knees. It took a long moment before he crashed to the floor. One trembling hand flew to her mouth and she started to gag.

Adron thought to extinguish his candle to make his arrival more of a surprise for the killer but before he could do so, Laurel’s scream pierced the air. He raced up the remaining stairs and flung into the attic, his heart pounding in fear for what he would find. Laurel nearly knocked him down as she hurled against him. He braced himself and received her with one arm.

“Adron, thank God you’re here,” she panted, convulsing into deep, shuddering sobs. “He’s dead, Adron. I killed him.”

Adron deposited the candle on a box and wrapped her in his arms. “Did he hurt you?”

She shook her head and clutched his lapel.

“It’s over. You’re safe now.”

“You don’t understand. I’m glad he’s dead but I killed him. Ugh!”

Adron pulled her closer and his lips tightened. “Don’t fret. He was an evil man.”

Leaning into him, she cried even harder. “He threatened Jamie.”

“You did what was necessary.” He released her. “Where is he? He might not be dead.”

Laurel pointed to the broken panel with a shaking finger. “He’s in the secret room. He’s dead I tell you.”

Adron scooped up the candle and stepped into the room.

Horrified at having killed a man, she followed Adron and surveyed the crumpled body. Oather’s expression seemed fixed in terror, but his eyes were blank, staring at nothing. Laurel shuddered. A moment ago, she regretted taking a life, but now she was empty inside, completely drained.

Adron placed his arm around her shoulders. “Come away. He’s no longer a threat.”

Comforted by the feel of his embrace, she meekly accompanied him out of the attic and down the main stairs.

“Oather shot Percy. I fear he is dead.” She didn’t know if her words were an attempt to justify Oather’s death at her hands or to find comfort in the fact he was dead. “He stabbed Rhonda too.” Laurel rushed forward.

Adron caught her hand. “I know. I left her maid trying to stay the flow of blood and George went for the doctor.”

“She’s not dead?”

“I hope not, but I couldn’t wait. Her maid told me Oather was after you.”

Laurel couldn’t help being pleased that Adron had placed her safety before Rhonda’s well being and renewed hope welled up. When he’d offered her the chance, she should’ve accepted him, his strengths and weaknesses without letting the past intrude on her decision. “There’s always hope. Perhaps we can help Rhonda.”

Laurel linked arms with him and descended the stairs. Purposely avoiding looking at Percy’s prone figure, she pushed to Rhonda’s side. “Let me see.”

“Milady, I don’t know what to do?”

After examining the wound, Laurel took charge and glanced at Adron. “Adron, carry her to her room. She’ll be more comfortable once we get her settled in her bed. And send the doctor up immediately when he arrives.”

Moisture gathered on Laurel’s upper lip as she stripped Rhonda, sponged her down and tucked her into bed. At that moment, Rhonda’s lids fluttered open. “Laurel, why would you help me?” she asked in a voice little more than a whisper

Laurel shrugged. “You’re Robert’s sister. Now keep still until the doctor comes.”

Tears flooded Rhonda’s eyes. “That makes it worse.” She hesitated, averting her gaze and drew a breath. “Hate’s been eating me up. Perhaps it’s too late but I ask for your forgiveness. Finding that Robert had been murdered because of my greed and jealousy—well it opened my eyes.”

“Rhonda. Don’t.”

Rhonda ignored Laurel’s plea. “I hated you when Robert brought you home. I knew I would lose everything and I did. I harassed him until he left me in charge—but I knew. I knew you would win. And then you took Adron too.” Tears tracked down her face. “He’s my cousin but cousins do marry. I wanted him.” She stared into Laurel’s eyes. “I couldn’t see Jamie as Robert’s son, only yours and not a true Laningham. I considered myself the only remaining Laningham therefore the jewelry belonged to me.” Rhonda blinked back more tears. “My selfishness led to this. Blinded by bitterness, I never dreamed Percy and his uncle would murder Robert.”

Laurel patted her hand. “Calm yourself. I think I hear the doctor now.”

An hour later, Laurel descended the stairs and entered the parlor. Adron welcomed her with an anxious frown and she hated seeing the pain in his eyes. “The doctor isn’t sure but he said there is hope.”

George stepped into her line of vision. “I can hardly believe that cur stabbed her.”

Involuntarily she glanced to the spot where Percy had fallen, thankful he had been removed. Covering her face with both hands, she slumped into a chair as the housekeeper bustled into the room carrying a tray of tea.

“Your Ladyship. It’s that glad I am to see you home and I came as soon as I gathered my things.” Mrs. Parson set the tray on a low table, wiped her eyes with the corner of her apron and curtsied. “It was my duty to come. Me that’s been serving here since I was little more than a girl.”

“Thank you for the tea, Mrs. Parsons. I’m glad you’re back as well.”

Laurel poured the tea with shaking hands and collapsed to gather her thoughts. As she related the day’s happenings, the distress in Adron’s eyes when she mentioned Rhonda’s part in the tragedy, filled her with sadness.