Crystal Gardens (37 page)

“This is what he needed,” she said. “He found her vulnerable spot.”

“He chose his part well,” Beatrice said grimly.

Clarissa looked at the papers in Beatrice’s hands. “We must send a telegram to Evie at once.”

E
vangeline was in her bedroom, working on the next cliff-hanger ending and taking advantage of the peaceful atmosphere of the nearly empty house. Lucas, Stone, Beth and Tony were at work in the gardens, using Chester’s map to identify the locations of the three crystals.

Quick footsteps sounded in the hall. Molly appeared in the doorway. She was alight with excitement.

“There’s a Mr. Guthrie to see you, Miss Ames.”

“Guthrie? My publisher?” Evangeline put down her pen, unable to believe her ears. She felt a sudden fluttering sensation in her stomach. “He’s here? In this house?”

“Yes, yes, that’s him.” Evangeline sprang to her feet. “He said he is staying at one of the inns in town. Asked if you got his telegram advising you of his arrival.”

“No, indeed, I did not.”

“I expect Mr. Applewhite’s bicycle broke down again.”

“Did Mr. Mayhew bring him from town in his cab?”

“No, miss, I expect Mr. Guthrie walked.”

“Never mind. The important thing is that Mr. Guthrie is here. Let me think, we can’t put him in the library. Those vines on the windows make most people nervous. Please show him into the parlor. It’s on the sunny side of the house.”

“Yes, miss. You’ll be wanting tea?”

“Yes, yes, of course, and some of your wonderful little cakes, as well. Perhaps I can persuade him to stay for dinner. No, wait, that might not be such a good idea. He would have to be driven home through the woods and that forest can be unnerving after dark.”

Molly stepped back into the hall. “I’ll go prepare the tea tray.”

“Thank you, Molly.”

Evangeline hesitated in front of the wardrobe. She was wearing one of her more comfortable day dresses, a simple, dark blue gown. There was no elaborate draping and only one petticoat. The urge to change into a more fashionable gown was overwhelming but she dared not keep Guthrie waiting.

She contented herself with repinning a few stray strands of hair and fluffing up the scarf she had used to fill in the neckline of the gown. Taking a deep breath to compose herself, she went out into the hall and down the stairs.

A moment later she swept through the parlor doorway and paused. The man standing at the window had his back to her. His hair was gray and his coat was cut in the staid, conservative fashion that one expected middle-aged gentlemen to wear. He gripped a walking stick in one hand.

A whisper of intuition aroused her senses. There was something
wrong with Guthrie’s hair. She was suddenly quite sure that he was wearing a wig. He certainly would not be the first bald-headed man to do so, she thought. Men were entitled to their small vanities.

But the obvious explanation did not satisfy her intuition. She suppressed her unease and summoned a welcoming smile.

“Mr. Guthrie,” she said. “How kind of you to call. I’m so sorry I did not receive your telegram. But fortunately you found me at home today.”

“It is fortunate, indeed, Miss Ames.” Guthrie turned around. “You have already put me to a great deal of trouble. I would not have been pleased if you had made things even more difficult.”

Evangeline’s insides went ice-cold. Now she could see Guthrie’s right hand. It was that of a man who was nowhere near middle-aged and there was a pistol in it. The initial shock stole her breath for a few seconds.

“You are not Mr. Guthrie,” she said. “I should have paid attention to what my senses were trying to tell me.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about but, no, I’m not your publisher. My name is—”

“Garrett Willoughby, Douglas Mason’s brother.”

Garrett’s eyes hardened. “I’m impressed, Miss Ames. You’re very quick, aren’t you? My brother did say that you are far too smart for your own good.”

“People are searching for you.”

“Yes, I know.” Garrett pulled a slip of paper out of his pocket. “This was intended for you. It is from a Miss Slate advising you that she and her friend do not believe that I am on my way to America in search of new theatrical opportunities. They suspect that I may, in fact, be on the train to Little Dixby and that I am disguised as your publisher. She was right. When I found the letters from Guthrie and the contract in
your desk drawer, I knew that he was the one person you would see without question.”

“How did you intercept the telegram?”

“I was concerned that there would be some in London who would not believe that I had sailed for America. I took the precaution of calling in at the local telegraph office on my way here this afternoon to inquire about messages for a visitor who was staying at Crystal Gardens. When I discovered that one had just come in, I offered to deliver it as I was on my way out here.” He motioned toward the door with the gun. “We are leaving now.”

Evangeline edged back out into the hall. “You cannot possibly hope to escape. Lucas Sebastian will hunt you down.”

“You are wrong, Miss Ames. Sebastian is a soft, pampered man of the upper classes. I cut my teeth on the streets of London robbing men who were far more dangerous than he could ever imagine.”

“You don’t know him very well, do you?”

“Never met the man and I hope to keep it that way. But just to be sure, I rented a horse and a small, closed carriage from the livery stable in town. It is waiting just out of sight down the lane. You and I are going to take a short journey. Short for you, I should say.
Move, you murderous bitch
.”

Evangeline edged out into the hall. The silence of the big house seethed around her. Garrett prodded her toward the front door.

“Outside,” he ordered. “If you scream, you will die here and now.”

She opened the front door and moved out onto the step. “You are being very foolish, Mr. Willoughby. If you had any sense, you would run for your life while you can.”

“Don’t waste your breath trying to frighten me.” Garrett followed her outside and closed the door. He motioned with the gun again. “Quickly now, into the trees at the edge of the drive.”

Evangeline walked into the thick woods that bordered the cobblestone drive. Garrett was directly behind her. The woods closed around them, cutting off much of the view of the big house.

“Where do you intend to take me?” she asked quietly.

“Somewhere private. With luck it will take Sebastian and the others days to find your body in this forest, if they ever find it at all. By then I will, indeed, be on my way to America.”

“Why should I walk another step?”

“For the same reason that so many prisoners walk obediently to their doom. As long as you are alive you have some faint, flickering hope of escape or of being able to plead for your life. And as it happens, I do have some questions for you.”

“You want to know how your brother died, don’t you? You don’t really believe that he fell down those stairs but you don’t understand how I could have overcome him.”

“I know bloody well he didn’t fall and break his neck.” Garrett’s voice shivered with the force of his fury. “He went there that day to kill you. He was enraged because you had ruined the scheme to marry the Rutherford heiress. He told me that it was your fault that he was exposed as a fraud. He said that it was as if you were haunting him.”

“Oddly enough I thought he was the one haunting me. I could scarcely believe my eyes when I saw him that first day on the Rutherford case. I know he did not recognize me. When did he realize who I was?”

“He watched Lady Rutherford’s house for a time after his proposal had been rejected. He wanted to know how the old lady had discovered that he was a fraud. When he saw you leave with your suitcase in hand, he became suspicious. He said you no longer walked or acted like a hired companion. There was something familiar about you, he said.”

“He followed me back to the agency.”

“When you emerged without your wig and spectacles, he recognized you instantly.”

Evangeline saw the horse and a small carriage through the trees.

“So he set his trap,” she said.

“What did you do to my brother that day?”

“Why should I tell you?” Evangeline stopped and turned around. “As soon as I answer your question you will kill me.”

“Not here, not unless you make it necessary.” Garrett smiled. “Who knows? Perhaps if you answer my questions, I’ll give you a sporting chance. Let you make a run for it.”

“I doubt it.”

Garrett’s eyes flashed with rage. “Get into the carriage.”

“No,” Evangeline said.

Garrett raised the pistol as though to strike her with the handle. “You’ll do as you’re damn well told, you murdering little bitch, or you will suffer a great deal before you die.”

Dark energy howled through the woods. The horse flung its head in panic and lurched forward, dragging the carriage down the lane.

“What is that?” Shocked, Garrett spun around in a circle, searching for the source of the nightmarish energy. “What is happening?”

“This is the end of the hunt for you,” Evangeline said.

Garrett froze when he saw Lucas a short distance away, moving through the trees toward him. There was a shiver of movement in the undergrowth on the right. Stone materialized.

“One thing is for certain,” Lucas said. His eyes burned with icy fire. “I am not in a sporting mood.”

“Bastard.”
Garrett grabbed Evangeline as she attempted to move out of reach. He wrapped his arm around her throat and dragged her back against his chest. “Where did you come from?”

“Let her go,” Lucas said quietly.

“Stop whatever it is that you’re doing to me or I’ll kill her now, I swear it.”

Lucas looked at Evangeline. “Are you all right?”

“I will be soon,” she said.

She had the physical contact she needed. She clutched Garrett’s arm with both hands and sought the strongest currents of his aura, his life force. Cautiously she started to dampen them. She had learned from the experience of healing Lucas, she reminded herself. She did not have to kill Garrett in order to stop him. All she had to do was render him unconscious.

“W-what’s happening to me?” Garrett tightened his hold on Evangeline.

“It’s the energy of this place,” Lucas said. “Haven’t you heard the local legends? These woods are dangerous. Some say they’re haunted.”

“No,”
Garrett choked. He reeled away from Evangeline.

When she lost contact with him she lost her ability to manipulate his aura. But Lucas took control. More waves of fierce energy swelled in the atmosphere.

Garrett staggered, clawed at horrors only he could see and frantically tried to aim the pistol at Evangeline.

“This is your fault,” he gasped. “All of it. Your fault.”

“Get away from him, Evangeline,” Lucas said quietly.

She was already moving well beyond Garrett’s reach. But he was no longer paying any attention to her. He was lost in the storm of nightmares that had engulfed him. Horror replaced the rage in his eyes.

He put the pistol to his temple and pulled the trigger.

I
know it’s too soon to be certain of success,” Lucas said, “but it feels different out here, as if the energy is less intense.”

“I can feel it, too.” Evangeline heightened her senses. “The overheated sensation is dying down. The currents appear to be returning to whatever is normal for this place.”

She and Lucas were gathered on the terrace with Beth and Tony. They were surveying the night-shrouded gardens. Earlier the local authorities had been summoned to deal with Willoughby’s body. Lucas had provided a short, extremely edited version of events that had not included any mention of attempted murder, just a sad case of suicide.

Everyone had been shocked, but if the policeman and the undertaker wondered why an out-of-work actor had come all the way to Crystal Gardens to take his own life, they were too polite—and too intimidated by Lucas—to inquire. It was common knowledge, after
all, that actors were a temperamental lot, given to exaggerated moods, both high and low.