Tenacious Trents 02 - A Perfect Gentleman (26 page)

Miss Cooper shivered and brought a hand to
her throat.

“That is impossible,” Mrs. Thomas
insisted.

Mr. Thomas squeezed his wife’s shoulder and
Perkins turned on her, a look of shock on his face.

“What do you mean?” Grace asked in a quiet
voice.

Mrs. Thomas looked at Perkins. Their eyes
seemed to lock in private understanding. What did these two know
that hadn’t been said before? After a moment Perkins sighed and
turned away.

“Mrs. Thomas?” Grace asked.

“Nobody tried to kill your father.”

“Of course they did. Mr. Cooper could have
never climbed the stairs on his own,” Matthew insisted. Unless
these two had helped him, but the thought was not something he
could come to terms with. That meant Mrs. Thomas and Perkins had
been lying to them.

“I helped Mr. Cooper up the stairs.” Perkins
sighed again and sank into a chair.

The man wasn’t strong enough to have gotten
Mr. Cooper up the steps. Matthew had to help him take the man to
his bed the other day.

“As did I,” Mrs. Thomas said.

Grace stepped forward and grasped the end of
the bed as if she needed support. “Why?”

Mr. Cooper stirred and opened his eyes. He
slowly looked at those in the room. Had he been awake this entire
time and heard the conversation. His eyes locked with Grace and a
tear leaked out of the corner of his eye. Matt’s gut tightened. Had
the man truly tried to kill himself? But why and who had written
the note? And, if he had, who had just tried to kill Grace?
Question after question formed in his mind but there were no
answers.

Miss Cooper moved to the side of the bed, sat
and picked up her father’s hand. “Why Papa?”

The man struggled and he tried to form words.
It was barely a whisper but after a few moments Matthew was certain
he heard the whispered words of “Love you.”

“Oh, Papa,” Grace crumpled, her head on her
father’s chest as sobs shook her body. Mr. Cooper’s good hand came
up and stroked her back. Perkins turned away from the tender sight
and hung his head. Mrs. Thomas looked away. If one attempted to
help another with suicide did that make them guilty of attempted
murder? Matthew wasn’t certain what the law was and he also wasn’t
sure he would tell. What these two did was out of love for Mr.
Cooper, but surely they also knew how wrong their actions were.
Yet, neither was a murderer, not like the person who had come into
the house earlier.

Matthew straightened. How did that man get
in? Each door to the house was locked. Matthew had seen to that
before he retired. He looked at Mr. Thomas. “How did you get in? I
didn’t hear anyone knock.”

“My wife has a key.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t hear you come in.”
He was on the settee, in the parlor just inside the door.

“You were sound asleep and we were careful to
be quiet.”

He slept so soundly that three people got
past him. Some guard he turned out to be. Had he slept any deeper,
Grace would be dead. He needed to post security at the house, but
who could he trust?

His hand fell to the side and Grace sat up.
“Papa?”

Please, don’t let him die. Not now.

“Papa?” Grace cried.

“He sleeps, Miss Cooper.”

She glanced back at Perkins. “Are you
sure?”

“Yes.”

She lay her head back on her father’s chest,
as if to listen. “His heart still beats,” she whispered.

Matthew pulled away from the bed. “We should
go to another room so Mr. Cooper can rest.”

With reluctance Grace pulled away from her
father. When she stood she wrapped her arms tight about her body,
rubbing her upper arms.

“Dear, you should put on a robe and
slippers.”

Grace continued walking but when she got to
the foot of the stairs she stopped. “I can’t go up there.”

“I will.” Mrs. Thomas moved around her and
climbed the stairs. Her husband followed after her.

Matthew led Grace into the parlor and helped
her get settled on the settee and tucked the blanket around her
before he moved to build a fire. There was a chill in the room that
had not been her earlier. Perkins followed a moment later and stood
by the window.

Nobody said anything until Mrs. Thomas
returned and helped Grace into her robe and slid the slippers onto
her feet. When she stood she glanced around the room. “I’ll put a
pot of tea on. I think we are going to be here a bit.”

“Yes,” Matthew agreed. “Miss Cooper deserves
answers.” He didn’t want to sound harsh, but these two, who Grace
trusted, had lied to her. Or had they? Perkins said her father had
tried to kill himself. He and Grace were the ones who had not
accepted the possibility. But, Mrs. Thomas had claimed to be locked
in the cellar, which was not possible if she was helping get Mr.
Cooper upstairs.

Mrs. Thomas gently pushed a cup of hot tea
into Grace’s hands. Grace clutched it, willing the warmth to sink
in. She was so cold and numb. She couldn’t focus on one single
thought. None of this made sense to her. Why would someone try to
kill her? Why would her father try to kill himself? Why had Perkins
and Mrs. Thomas helped?

She glanced up and looked around the room.
Everyone was watching her, as if waiting for her to burst into
hysterics again. She wouldn’t. She was stronger than this. If she
could only manage to concentrate and focus on one issue at a time
maybe she could come to conclusions that would set her world right
once again.

“Did my father really try to kill
himself?”

“Yes,” Perkins answered.

It was not the answer she hoped for, but she
needed to accept the fact. Had she failed him somehow? If she had
married, would he have taken this action? “The note. Who wrote
it?”

“I did,” Perkins answered again.

But his handwriting looked so much like
Papa’s before the accident. How is that possible?

“For years before your father’s injury he
suffered from pains in his hands. I believe the doctor called it
arthritis. I used to do all his writing. He didn’t want you to
know.”

Grace could barely remember a time when
Perkins had not accompanied her father to work and then home. They
spent hours together. Even though Grace wasn’t in society, even she
knew that Perkins did more than a mere valet, but she hadn’t
troubled herself to consider the situation further and assumed that
in addition to the valet duties, he acted as father’s secretary as
well.

“How long has it been since father has
written?”

He shook his head. “I can no longer recall,
but many years. The accident has only made it more difficult since
he had to learn to write with this left hand and through the pain
in his hands.”

“I wish he would have told me.”

“He didn’t want to trouble you.”

Grace accepted her father suffered from pain
and it wasn’t unusual for a secretary to do all the things that
Perkins did. But, most secretaries did not pen suicide notes. “How
did you know what my father wanted to write?”

“He wrote that himself.”

Grace stood. “I know my father did not write
that note so don’t try to tell me he did.”

“No, Miss Cooper. He wrote another.”

“Where is it?” She held out her hand. She
refused to believe her father had taken this action without proof.
Who were they to tell her that Papa wanted to die? He couldn’t
speak for himself. They could be lying to her now, as he had for so
many years, and Mrs. Thomas too. Was there anyone she could
trust?

“I’ll be back in a moment.”

Grace sipped the cooling tea and settled back
down on the settee. Until she had proof, she would not believe
anything that was told to her. Someone had tried to kill her
tonight and that same person had pushed her father down the stairs.
It was the only reasonable explanation.

Nobody talked, for which she was grateful.
She didn’t want to hear any more lies, or be forced to think of
matters best left alone.

“Here you are, Miss Cooper.”

Perkins held out sheets of paper which she
took. They were in her father’s handwriting. “I am certain they do
not say what you think they do.” Grace looked away and refused to
take them. She didn’t want to find out the truth. It hurt too
deeply.

“Take them Miss Cooper,” Vicar Trent urged.
She swallowed and accepted the parchment.

Though near indecipherable, the words were
nearly the same as Perkins had penned. By the time she reached the
end Grace could barely see what was written because of tears. It
was too much. She couldn’t accept her father wanted to do this. If
she did, she would have to accept that it was her fault. Oh, why
hadn’t she married when she had the opportunity, before this? He
wouldn’t have felt the need to take such a drastic action. And,
could she truly blame him? If uncle Stillwaite got his way, he
would live out the rest of his life in Bedlam. She would rather be
dead as well.

“Why didn’t you try to stop him? Why did you
help?” The question came from Vicar Trent and it was something she
wanted to know as well. Her father would be fine right now if
Perkins and Mrs. Thomas had refused to assist him.

“We didn’t know his intention,” Mrs. Thomas
answered.

“He insisted on going upstairs,” Perkins
confirmed. “He was trying to get up there himself and kept
pointing. I had no idea what he wanted but there was an urgency in
his actions.”

“Had I known what he intended, I would have
never helped. I just assumed he wanted something so Perkins and I
helped him to the top of the stairs.”

“But he struggled,” Vicar Trent pointed
out.

Perkins shook his head. “Only in that it was
difficult to manage. Mr. Cooper was determined to get
upstairs.”

“The rungs were broken on the stairs.”

“One from when Mr. Cooper slipped, taking me
with him, and the other from Mr. Cooper’s fall,” Perkins
explained

Grace looked away and pulled the blanket
tight. Did she really want to know the details?

Yes. From details she could find a nugget of
truth and perhaps her father hadn’t really meant to do himself
harm.

“Then what happened?” Vicar Trent
prompted.

Mrs. Thomas and Perkins looked at each other
for a moment before she continued. “When we got to the top of the
stairs we asked which way he wanted to go. I was on his good side
and he pushed me away. Perkins let go of Mr. Cooper for a moment to
steady me and then Mr. Cooper pushed at Perkins. We both stumbled
back and before we could get to your father.” She looked at Grace.
“He turned and flung himself down the stairs. There was nothing we
could do.” Her voice broke and tears streamed down her face.

“We ran down the stairs after him, but could
not reach him before he was at the bottom,” Perkins continued.

“I thought he was dead,” Mrs. Thomas
whispered.

“I ran down to the Zucker’s home and asked
Clive to go for the doctor and came back here.”

“While we waited, Perkins and I moved your
father to his bed and tended him as best we could.”

“That is when I found the note. It was on his
nightstand,” Perkins continued. “That is when we realized what he
had done and that he had used us.”

“Why rewrite the note?” Grace found herself
asking.

“We didn’t know if your father would
live.”

“I don’t see why that makes a
difference.”

“If your father were to die of a suicide, he
could not be buried on sacred ground, but at the corner of a
crossroad,” Vicar Trent answered.

Perkins nodded. “I knew that nobody would
believe Mr. Cooper wrote the note and would suspect someone had
attempted to kill him. And, since nobody had, a killer would not be
found. Then, if he did pass, he could be buried next to his
wife.”

It was too much to take in. Everything fit
into place, but Grace couldn’t bring herself to accept the facts,
though in her heart she knew they were true.

“I am the one who made up the story of being
locked in the cellar.”

“And the real reason you left that day?”
Vicar Trent asked.

“I couldn’t remain in this house and live
with the guilt of what I had done.”

“Yet you came back, tonight?” Grace
asked.

“Yes. The guilt wasn’t any easier at home.”
Mrs. Thomas looked at her husband. His smile was kind.

Vicar Trent stood. “What if someone would
have been arrested for the attempted murder of Mr. Cooper? An
innocent man could have gone to the gallows.”

“No.” Perkins shook his head. “As much as I
wished to protect Miss Cooper and her father, I would have never
allowed that to happen. That is why I kept his original note. Just
in case it was needed.”

Vicar Trent paced across the room and poured
a glass of brandy. She had never seen him drink anything other than
tea. She wished for a glass herself. Perhaps it would calm her and
bring clarity. He turned to look at her and as if reading her mind,
he poured another and handed it to her.