Cry of the Peacock (36 page)

“My aunt is ill.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, and appeared to mean it.

“I hope it is nothing serious. She was in a hurry, I know, only I do wish I had not missed her.”

He only looked at her sympathetically. Why was she pouring out her concerns and heartaches to him? If she did not stop herself, she would go on. She would tell him how it was Ruskin’s fault, and how he meant to make a public exhibition of his pursuit of her. She should move on. She should do it now. The family had gathered in the drawing room in preparation for dinner. She ought to join them.

“How has your day been?” he asked her.

He appeared both curious and concerned. Had he understood her desire to speak to him? Or was he merely filling the void caused by her awkward and preoccupied silence?

“It was lovely. Until a moment ago. Yours?”

“Pleasant enough,” he answered and smiled weakly.

“How is Katherine?”

“Very well. Thank you,” he said with more enthusiasm. “I’ll tell her you asked.”

“I’m grateful to her, you know. For forgiving me.”

He laughed kindly. “She was bound to do it eventually, you know.”

“Perhaps.”

The footman helped him off with his coat and he turned to look at her again. His gaze was appreciative. What had she done to deserve it?

“You are, once again, a little overdressed for a family dinner,” he observed.

“Oh,” she said. “That. It’s merely a gesture of good intent.”

“Ah,” he said and smiled again. She was not so certain the gesture was for her as much for some inner thought. What was he thinking? And did she truly wish to know?

“I suppose I might as well wear them while I have the chance,” she added. Once they returned to Holdaway, there would be few occasions to dress like this. If she were to refuse Ruskin, would she have the chance ever again? The thought surprised her. She had not realized she had so seriously begun to consider refusing him until that moment. Where would she go? What would she do? And would she not, in her attempts to free herself of Ruskin’s regard, be removing herself from those whose company she had begun to think of as essential to her? James’, David’s…

“Have you plans to quit us then, and try your chances elsewhere?” he asked.

Had he read her mind? Was he teasing her? She wished to believe it was the latter, but could not tell. His face was unreadable, a blank canvas. She was ashamed of her weakness. She must conquer it. This would not do. She suddenly realized she was close to tears. She turned from him, but, with a hand at her elbow, he stopped her.

“You know I did not mean—”

“Please,” she said. It was almost a whisper. “It does not matter. It is better, I think, that we are not friends.”

His look clouded, but it was not so dark as Ruskin’s, who had just joined them.

Abbie released herself and entered the drawing room.

*   *   *

Ruskin announced his presence to David with a clearing of his throat.

David, thus recalled, turned to him.

“You’re home early,” Ruskin said. It sounded as an accusation.

What a habit his family had lately made of making him feel unwelcome. He had returned early on purpose that he might join his family for dinner. It was a bad idea, and he regretted succumbing to the impulse.

“I’m not sure a place has been set for you.”

“I meant to dine alone, at any rate,” David answered. “I’ve work to do and I’m afraid I’m not fit company for anyone tonight.”

All but the last was a lie, and even this had not been true ten minutes ago. It was certainly the truth now. He climbed the stairs to his room, where he
did
dine alone, and did
not
work, and tried very hard not to think. Of course it was a pointless battle. With nothing at all to distract him but his own, never ceasing thoughts, there was nothing to do but attend to them. He did not like to brood, but he feared he was doing it now. He resolved not to make a habit of it, and, if he could, to follow Abbie’s advice. It was certainly for the best, after all.

T
HE DISTANCE FROM the townhouse to Mariana’s was an easy enough journey by carriage. By foot it was another matter entirely. Benderby, in his madness, was determined to keep up with her. James was equally determined, but such a walk incurred certain risks. If he wore himself out before apprehending the man… If he should lose him in the evening crowd, or in the fog as it rolled in with the settling of night, then what was the point in giving chase at all?

James spotted an empty cab and approached the driver with an eye yet on Benderby. From the height of the driver’s seat, his view was greatly improved.

“Are you engaged this evening, my man?”

“I’ll be free as soon as I’m paid, sir.”

James drew a bill from his pocket—the only money he had—and winced at the sum. “This should free you. And the change is yours if you can keep that man with the cap and ginger whiskers in sight.”

“You’d best take a seat then, sir.”

And so James sat.

The driver slapped the reins and they were on their way, through darkening streets and a sea of humanity in its highest and lowest forms. He was as good as his word, too, and never once lost sight of Benderby, who could only go as fast as the Crawford carriage—which contained Mariana—and the evening traffic, would allow. It took an age, but last the park gate came into view and James gave the signal to stop. He waited a moment, but Benderby was no longer in sight.

“Will you wait?” he asked the man.

“All night if you wish, sir.”

“I might at that.”

James jumped from the carriage in time to meet Mariana stepping down from her own.

“James!”

He said nothing, but took her by the arm and guided her very quickly through the garden gate and to the door.

“What are you doing here?” she asked him, quite obviously—and deservedly—alarmed, but he only offered her a stern glance in answer. “You are frightening me.”

He knocked at the door. It was immediately answered, and with his hand still on her arm, he slipped inside.

“You can’t be here. You must leave!”

It wasn’t much of a welcome, but he had not the time to consider it. “I will,” he said. “I promise, just the moment you answer me one or two questions. Tell me you are not going out again tonight.”

“I had no plans to do so. Why?”

“You will stay here, and you will let no one in. Promise me.”

“Very well. But what is this about?”

“You were followed, Miss Gray.”

“Followed? By whom?”

“Where’s Mr. Meredith?”

“I’m here,” the lawyer said as he emerged from the study, a book in hand.

“Thank heaven! I need your help. There is a man out there by the name of Benderby.”

“Oh no!” Mariana said, and looked suddenly pale.

Mr. Meredith, without a word, set down the book and reached for his coat. He put it on as he followed James out the door. Stopping upon the street, James offered a word to one of the footmen, who went in search of a policeman. Now to find Benderby. Where had the mangy lout got to? James peered into the lamp lit darkness. The fog was growing thicker by the minute.

“Have you seen him at all since that day I first tried to point him out to you?” he asked of Mr. Meredith.

“There have been no suspicious characters. No one, I think, by the description you gave me. Is he dangerous?”

“He certainly seemed to be the last time we met.”

“He’s not armed?”

“Not to my knowledge. He wielded nothing but his fists during our last altercation, but there’s no—”

“Your last altercation? You’ve sparred with him before?”

“Yes. Twice. But that’s a story for another time. Right now we have to—”

“Is that him?” Meredith asked now. “Just there.”

James turned in the direction Mr. Meredith pointed. It was him, predictably skulking in the shadows. What did he want? James meant to find out.

Benderby was quickly walking down the street and away from Mariana’s house, thank heaven! But there was no doubt he had not finished whatever business he had come to conduct. James and Meredith followed him. They had reached the connecting street when they were met by the driver of James’ hired cab, and the two constables the footmen had gone to collect. They fell in line behind, and together, through alleyways and garden paths they pursued, out of the lamplight and into obscure and obscuring darkness. Now and then one or another of their party would split off to examine some shadowed alcove, or to search down an unlit path. James, however, kept his focus dead ahead, though he was not certain where Benderby had got to, he did know where he was bound to end up. James meant to make a wide sweep of the neighborhood and then to approach Mariana’s house from the back, he and a constable coming from one direction, Meredith, the other constable and the driver coming from the other.

At least that was the plan, but upon turning down one narrow street, and then another, and at last arriving in the alleyway he believed was the one that connected to Mariana’s house, James was aware he’d lost his bearings, and the others of his party. He stopped to catch his breath and to try to gain some sense of his surroundings, but the fog was too disorienting.

There was no one about, but neither was it quite silent. He waited, listening. Were those footsteps?  He thought so, but they had stopped again almost the moment he had become aware of them. There was a grunt from somewhere behind him. Then the sound of crunching gravel, like feet landing hard upon the earth. Footsteps again. Moving quickly now, and coming closer. James turned in a circle, trying to determine from which direction the sound was coming. It seemed to be coming from everywhere at once.

Suddenly he was grabbed from behind. An arm wrapped around his throat, strangling the breath and life from him. He had to free himself before he lost consciousness. Whatever it cost him, he would not let Benderby go free again. He turned, twisted, kicked and flailed, and at last freed himself enough to face the man. Just in time to receive Benderby’s flying fist. It grazed the side of his head, but the next punch he managed to dodge. With his head lowered, James charged at Benderby’s center, knocking them both into a brick wall. Benderby was throwing punches like a wild man, striking James’ arms, his back and shoulders, but James was not letting go. Closer and closer to the ground they inched. Benderby was weakening, sinking slowly to the earth. But then he stopped and James realized Benderby had not been sinking at all, but lowering himself strategically. Benderby reached out, grasped onto something. What was it? And how much longer would he be able to hold on? There were voices shouting in the darkness.

“Crawford, where are you? Are you here?”

“Over here!” James called out.

There were footsteps then. Many of them. Coming closer. Running.

A shattering pain ripped through James’ skull. The air around him grew thick, filling his ears and dimming his sight. There was more shouting. He could no longer understand the words, though the voices grew more urgent. Hands were upon him. Were they Benderby’s, or…? He could hold on no longer.

*   *   *

Mariana paced the entrance hall. A quarter of an hour passed, then another. Each minute felt like an eternity. Hetty soothed the baby who had begun to cry.

“I’ll take him,” Miss Russell offered.

Hetty accepted the offer and handed the baby over, but proceeded, nevertheless to pace the front hallway, folding her arms about her as she tried to sooth herself, while Anne soothed the baby.

A knock at the door startled them all. “It’s me, Miss Gray. It’s Meredith. Let us in, will you?”

Mariana nodded to the housekeeper, who opened the door.

“Is the doctor still here?”

Mariana’s grip tightened around Anne’s arm. “Yes, of course he is. But what is it? What has happened?”

“Benderby is captured. He’s well and truly in the law’s hands, but I’d feel better if I saw him to the inspector’s myself.”

“Yes, of course, but how does that require a doctor?”

Mr. Meredith hesitated to answer.

“William, please. Don’t spare my feelings. Tell me what has happened.”

“Mr. Crawford has been injured. Can I bring him in?”

“Yes!” Then: “No!”

“I can’t leave him. I might take him to my house, of course, but if the doctor is here already—”

“Yes, all right,” she said and stood aside.

A bloodied and battered James was then carried inside with the combined help of two liveried footmen and a rough-around-the-edges cab driver. James was pale and motionless. Had Benderby killed him?

“This way,” Mariana said and quickly led the way to a ground floor sitting room, where he was laid upon a sofa. Wringing her hands, she watched as half dozen of her aunt’s Magdalenes fluttered and bustled to make him comfortable. Anne wasted no time in going to fetch the doctor, who had been upstairs attending Mrs. Newhaven. Still others came, bringing towels, blankets, water—whatever it was thought might be required.

“I’ll be back as soon as I’m able,” Mr. Meredith promised and was gone.

Mariana watched anxiously over James, while the doctor made his examination. Even  considering all her time here at Newhaven House, in all their times of distress and urgent need, Mariana had never felt so helpless.

At last the doctor finished. “He’s a bit beat up, it seems,” he said. “His head received the worst of it. It appears he’s been struck, though it’s hard to tell by what. I believe it will require stitching. Is there someone you can spare to help me, Miss Gray?”

She stepped forward. “I volunteer myself, Mr. Green.”

He looked at her a moment, clearly uncertain. “Very well. If you are sure.”

She nodded, and he began to prepare, while Anne shooed the wide-eyed and anxious onlookers out.

Mariana turned back to James. He was so very pale, and his wild blonde hair was not so wild now with the dirt and the blood to mat it.

“Is it very serious, Mr. Green?”

The doctor looked at her, then at James once more.

“It’s impossible to know if he has a concussion until he wakes,” he said. “But I have no reason to believe he is in any real danger.”

“Thank you,” she said. She looked again to James, but turned away once more to walk the length of the room and back. So he had played the hero, after all. And for what? How would she hide the truth about Newhaven House now? Would he despise her? She should have confessed her secret to him when she had the chance.

“I’m ready now, Miss Gray,” the doctor said.

Mariana stopped her pacing to kneel beside James, waiting for the doctor’s instructions. He gave them at last, and she followed them strictly and to the letter as he sewed the wound closed, holding this, handing him that, wiping James’ brow and then, when the doctor had done, washing the sweat and blood from his head and face—from his hair.

The doctor returned to her aunt’s bedside, and Mariana, now alone, waited anxiously for James to wake. When at last he groaned and began to stir, she arose to pace the floor. He blinked and looked blankly before him, then, slowly regaining his senses, began to examine the room. At last he saw her and smiled. She had never been so pleased by one gesture in all her life.

“I wake to see you,” he said. “That is a good omen. Is Benderby apprehended?”

“Yes,” she answered him.

He looked instantly relieved. He closed his eyes a moment, and opened them again to examine the room. “Is this your house?” he asked her.

“It is.”

“I’m glad of it.”

“You shouldn’t be, you know.”

“Why shouldn’t I? You do not want me here. Why?”

Mariana did not answer, only looked at him, and then took a seat opposite. “I was followed,” she said.

“You were.”

“And you came after him. For Hetty?”

“I came after him because he’s a madman, because it was necessary,” he said, attempting to sit up. He stopped midway and squinted in pain. “But you have to know I was thinking of you.”

He at last succeeded in raising himself to a sitting position. For a moment more she studied him, then moved to sit beside him. She took his hand in hers.

“What’s this?” he said, but looked very pleased.

“I was so worried. I
am
so worried. How do you feel? You must be in pain.”

“I am a bit, now you mention it. But I’m quite sure I’ll survive. Benderby, on the other hand…”

“Thank you.” She pressed his hand to her lips.

He received the gesture gladly, but when she attempted to release his hand, he refused to let her. “Tell me why you do not want me here,” he said.

“When you discover where you are, where I live, and why, you will wish you hadn’t come. You certainly will not wish to come again.”

“You have some great secret, am I right?”

She nodded and looked down at their entwined hands, and successfully, this time, freed hers from his.