The Flame and the Flower (62 page)

She raced up the stairs in an unladylike manner, her skirts raised high above her knees, and pressed her search through the second floor. Here the storm seemed closer. The drafts were chilling and the rain battered with heavy hand upon the roof. Branches slammed against the shutters and set them banging. She flung each door wide and searched beneath each bed. She paused but a moment beside Louisa's bed and realized that here was where Brandon most likely had exercised his manhood on that woman's charms. In a quick, bitchy rage, she tore the satin covers from the bed and trod across them to continue her search.

The house was empty to her efforts. The attic entry was a small ceiling trap door, unattainable without steps or aid. She returned once more to the first level and realizing she had not looked here, entered the drawing room.

Heather drew a deep breath which seemed to freeze in her chest. Draperies were torn from the windows and a chair lay broken in the tangle of its pleats. A small table balanced precariously in front of the fireplace on three legs, the fourth leg missing. A writing desk stood with nothing on top of it; papers, pens and inkwell were scattered on the rug beneath. Several books lay tumbled from the bookcase and those remaining in it were in a sad state of disarray. The room bore evidence of a raging quest as if some object of great concern had gone astray. There was no reason to believe that the object had not been found, yet Heather began to probe the room as only a woman's query can. She had no idea for what she sought. She only knew something might lie here. Her eyes swept the rug and dusted the top of every level surface. Her hands rearranged bric-a-brac and knickknacks, straightened the hangings on the wall, and her fingers tested each crack for what it might contain. The fireplace screen stood slightly ajar and her woman's sense of neatness demanded it be righted. As she moved the screen, a twinkle at its base caught her eye. The object was lodged in a crack between two bricks on the fireplace floor. She bent and gasped.

It was one of Catherine Birmingham's diamond earrings, her own earring, one of the pair she had given Mr. Hint. Picking it up, she stared at it in disbelief.

In her note to Brandon, Louisa had stated her knowledge of some interesting information. And what other secret could the woman have learned except the one concerning William Court? There was no other. But why had Mr. Hint told her? Surely he realized that Brandon would not let her continue to pay blackmail to keep him silent, and if Louisa had knowledge of William's death she would do everything in her power to let Brandon know, for spite if not for another reason. So why had Mr. Hint told Louisa? Why had he given her the earrings? For what reason would he jeopardize a fortune by such a stupid act? Had he fallen in love with the woman and thought to bribe her with these trinkets? That ugly man? Louisa would have laughed in his face.

But was that it? Could he have killed her for laughing—or to insure her silence? Did he have the strength to break her neck with his bare hands? Brandon had such ability, she knew, but could a man almost half his size possess enough power for such a feat?

"Well, if it ain't my good friend, Mistress Birmingham."

Heather whirled in alarm. There was no denying who that high pitched, squeaky voice belonged to. Pure terror gripped her, paralyzed her. Mr. Hint smiled at her and showed a face clawed and bruised.

"Ah-h, I see you've found the earring."

She nodded once slightly, cautiously.

"In the hearth yet," he laughed. "I didn't think of that. Bless you for findin' it for me. I thought it be lost forever."

"Did..." She swallowed and began again. "Did you give my earrings to Louisa?"

"Well—not exactly. 'Twas like this, you see. I showed them to her and I promised her a life of ease with me." His mouth tightened hideously. "She seen them though and knowed them as being yours, she did. She would not rest 'til she found out why I had them. Then a queer shine come into her eyes when I told her about poor Willy and she grabbed the earrings in her fist and vowed to have her revenge. She went crazy. I had a hard time understandin' her. She was like a mad woman, one minute laughing, the next crying, all the time screaming what revenge she'd have on you. She vowed to see you hanged. I had to slap her face 'fore she come to her senses again. A cold look came in her eye and she told me what she was going to do. I tried to tell her she was being a fool, that she could have her revenge by the money we took from you. I knowed once your man found out about you there'd be no more jewels for me, you see, and he might kill me to hush my mouth. But she refused to listen. She was wantin' to see you hanged, but first she wanted to tell your man and watch him plead for your life. She sent Lulu to fetch him with that note. The girl seen I was mad and run off quick with the note while Louisa and me was arguing. I tried to reason with Louisa and tell her we could be rich, but she said she wanted to see you hanged. She was all set to tell your man about you and show him the earrings as proof, and she laughed at me and called me an ugly toad—said she'd been leading me on for what I could give her. I made every gown she ever wanted and give them to her without gettin' a farthing, and she called me a swine, a loathsome caricature of a man. I loved her, I did, and she called me that." Tears were streaming down his face and he began to sob. "She hit me too when I told her it was your gown I copied for her and called me worse names that I ever even heard from a man, foul words what tore me insides to pieces. I couldn't help myself. My hands reached for her neck without knowing what they were doing. She got panicky and jumped away from me into the drapes, but I caught her in them and dragged her down. I didn't know she had such strength. She kicked me and give me a wallop like a man would. Knocked me off her, she did. I never knowed a woman what was so strong. We had a regular fight as you can see by this room. I had my pleasure on her though, and she had hers. I could tell, her amoaning and moving under me. I be thinking we could still be happy together, but I sees her eyes go narrow when she was through with me. She spit in my face and called me a freak, said I'd be seeing what a real man was when your spouse come. My hands flew round her throat and they squeezed the life from her. I couldn't stop them. I'd just pulled my hands from her when your man come riding up. Furious, he was. Never even stopped to knock on the door. Hardly give me time to get off her and hide."

"You mean you were here when my husband came?" Heather choked out.

"Aye. He come a raging in here like the very devil, he did. He scared me good with him being so big and there I was hiding behind the door. Mayhaps it were the shock of seein' his work done that saved me from him. A man what looks the same as your man come in right after he left, and he didn't see me either."

"Why are you telling me all this, Mr. Hint?" she asked, already afraid of the answer.

"Why shouldn't I now? You knowed it were me what killed Louisa when you picked up that earring. I'll take it now 'fore it gets lost again." He snatched it from her hand and stared for a long time at the piece. "Louisa told me when I made her gowns that I wasn't a cripple in her eyes. She called me her love and let me touch those white breasts and kiss them. I loved her, I did, and she called me a toad."

Tears streaked down his ugly face. He looked up at her, his eyes narrowing dangerously.

"She weren't the first woman what I killed for laughing. That dress you wore when you ran from Willy's shop belonged to another what laughed. Willy, the bloke, he thought she never come back 'cause she couldn't afford the gown." He laughed wildly. "She couldn't come back, you see, she was dead. I broke her bloody neck for her like I did Louisa's. I fixed Miss Scott too, for laughing."

He moved toward Heather menacingly and she was again aware of that strong odor of cologne. She realized what he had just said, and with a start she remembered where she first had a whiff of the cologne. Her eyes flew open wide.

"You were there behind those curtains in William Court's shop! You saw me run out, wearing that gown!"

He smiled his horrible smirk. "Aye. You never even glanced back. I should be grateful to you. You made my work easy."

"Your work?"

"Aye, my work. You really didn't think you killed Willy, did you, with only that little wound you give him? Nay. He only passed out, more from the wine he had than what you done to him."

"You mean he lives?" she gasped.

Thomas Hint chuckled as he shook his head negatively. "Nay, madam. I slit his bloody throat for him, I did. It were easy. All those years I made his gowns for him and the bloke, he told everyone he made them. Why, he couldn't even thread a needle. It were very easy. Only thing—the cook she seen me kill him. She come back to clean up the dishes, and she seen me take me knife to him. I had to leave England 'cause of her. I couldn't get my hands on her neck. She took off like Lulu, scared enough for to die, and I couldn't find her."

Heather backed to the fireplace, more than stunned. All this time she thought she had killed a man!

"It won't be so easy killin' you, madam. You never really done me no wrong. You never laughed at me like those other women. In a way, you were even kind to me. And you're such a lovely piece. I told Sybil once that some of the most beautiful women in the world had worn my clothes. I was speaking of you when I said it. You were really the only one what did me gowns justice. But now, you'll tell them I killed Louisa to save that man of yours."

He was moving toward her now, blocking her escape. With her back to the fireplace he could go no further as he reached out for her throat. Seeing those clawlike hands of her dream coming toward her, Heather was possessed with the sudden courage to fight him, no matter what. In a quick eluding movement she darted past. He reached out, catching his hand into the back of her habit, but it ripped away as she leapt from him. He was quick despite his distorted shape and snatched at her skirt as she flew toward the door, closing his hand over a fold. The gown tore again but it held to imprison her. He jerked her back to him with frightening strength and spun her around. His eyes went to the white shoulder emerging from the tattered gown, and his tongue passed over his lips.

"Your skin is like satin. I've a fondness for the sweetness of a woman's flesh. Mayhaps we can delay your—departure—for a few moments," he muttered. With clawlike fingers he reached up and snatched the garment from her bosom. The habit fell away, leaving her clad only in a damp chemise. His eyes seemed to burn through the flimsy material, and his breathing deepened until he panted over her like a hungry dog over a bone. He tore at the garment until not a thread remained to cover her.

Heather screamed and strained against him, pushing at his chest, but he was strong despite his size and only laughed at her pitiful struggles.

"You've not half the strength Louisa had."

He crushed her to him, making her arch away in disgust, and covered her neck and breasts with loathsome kisses. Then, as viciously as if he were a mad dog, he sank his teeth into her shoulder. A scream tore itself from Heather's throat and her head rolled limply with the agony. Sobbing, she felt his mouth move downward toward her breast and realized he was going to bite her again. He had her bent so far backward she was sure she was the only thing bracing him. Suddenly she remembered when once before she had been bent against her will. She had sent William Court sprawling because she sank to the floor. She had no time to wonder if it might work again. Without giving him any warning, she picked up her feet. Immediately she felt both of them begin to fall. He let go of her in an effort to break his fall. She hit the floor first and rolled away from him and was on her feet in an instant and moving. He reached out a long arm and grabbed at her but his hand only brushed her thigh. She was running now, fiercely, toward the stairs, not looking back. She knew he was already on his feet, and she hoped the stairs would slow him down. Her breath came in quick gasps, and she forced every bit of strength she possessed into her legs to propel herself up the stairs. At the top, she glanced around. He was at the bottom steps, coming up fast, and now in each hand was a pistol.

With a cry, she turned and darted into the first room she came to. She ran through it to an adjoining bedroom, closing the doors noiselessly behind her. It was only when she reached the last room on that side of the hall that she stopped. She could go no further without entering the hall, and there his footsteps could be heard, soft and hesitant; he was wondering where she was.

Heather closed her eyes and tried to slow the fast beat of her heart. It was like a drum in her ears, making it almost impossible to hear the direction he took in his search for her. It was doubly hard over the noise of the storm outside. Quivering, she sank against the wall and touched her shoulder where the marks of his teeth branded her skin. If he caught her, he would not cease until he had torn her body to shreds with those cruel teeth, and she wondered if Sybil and Louisa had had to contend with that torture. He had raped both women and now was after her. A sudden flash of memory made a vision loom up before her of a dark, sinister figure on horseback, coming—coming toward her, swathed in a black cloak. But this time its face was visible. It was Mr. Hint's.

Heather threw her arm over her face to shut out the aberration. It was too horrible. He was too horrible. God grant her death before he used her for his pleasure!

She shivered as she stood huddled against the wall. Without her clothes, the drafts from the vibrating shutters seemed twice as chilling. She gazed down at her nakedness and bit into her lip. She longed to look for clothes in the wardrobe beside her but couldn't chance the slightest sound.