A Season Beyond a Kiss (25 page)

An instant before her husband reached the double doors, she slammed the bolt home, securing her safety, at least temporarily. Bathed in the glow of the oil lamp, the two of them stood facing each other, scant inches apart, separated not only by the glass-paned, rectangular-shaped muntins of the French doors, but by the horrible suspicions that had suddenly erupted between them.

A booted foot could have easily dispensed with the barrier, but Jeff knew that breaking down the door would likely send his wife fleeing like a woman possessed and, no doubt, solidify the awful suspicions in her mind. Somehow he had to soothe her fears.

Meeting her gaze through the wealth of tears brimming her eyes, Jeff made every attempt to speak calmly. “Raelynn, my love, I realize you’ve had a terrible shock, but there’s no reason for you to be afraid of me. Don’t you understand? When I reached the stables, Nell was already dead. I was just falling asleep when I heard her scream, and I went down to investigate. Now, please, Raelynn, my love, just open the door and let me talk with you. I’m not going to hurt you. I would never do such a thing.”

Over and over, the hideous reminder of Nell lying bloody and lifeless in the horse stall jolted Raelynn with waves of shocking horror. She had no idea why the girl had come out to Oakley again after Jeff had warned her not to, but with all the guests arriving and then later departing, Nell’s presence would hardly have been noticed, certainly not by any of the staff. The stable hands had been assigned the task of fetching water for the teams of visiting carriages soon after their arrival. It was a courtesy extended in consideration of the lengthy jaunt from Charleston and neighboring plantations and the possibility of the festivities lasting until the wee hours of the morning. After performing the service, the grooms had likely gone to their respective quarters and then, later, to their beds.

Perhaps once again, Nell had come to the plantation to plead for support for a child she had insisted was Jeff’s, conceivably having reasoned that if he could give such a lavish ball in honor of his wife, then surely he could afford a monthly stipend for the babe. Nell’s most recent accusations had attested to her inability to comprehend Jeff’s reluctance to share any portion of his wealth with her and her offspring in spite of his vast riches. Quite simply she had failed to understand his refusal to be blackmailed. Though he could expend a generous sum saving a black girl from the abuse of her former master, there was a hard-core stubbornness within Jeff that would not allow him to be coerced by threats. Raelynn had seen it in her father, and she had glimpsed it in her husband. That hadn’t bothered her in the least. What now plagued her was the possibility that Nell might have driven Jeff beyond the limits of his patience. He had told the girl during her last visit that he wanted to strangle her. If he had become truly vexed with her, there was the possibility that he had lost his temper and put a permanent end to her harassment.

Much as Raelynn shrank from the idea of her gallant, handsome husband harming
any
woman in
any
fashion, she could not dismiss what she had seen with her own eyes. He had been holding a bloody knife that had obviously killed Nell, a knife that he himself owned and normally kept on his desk in the bedroom. How could she thrust those facts from her mind?

Raelynn’s face contorted with wrenching emotions as cascading tears continued to flow unheeded. Jeff was her beautiful husband. He had saved her from the dire fate of becoming Gustav’s possession, had transported her into a world of luxury, and had taught her the joy of marital bliss and fulfillment as a woman. Yet, at the moment, she felt as if she really didn’t know him at all. The experience of the past year had taught her how easily one could trust the wrong people and be betrayed by them. Hadn’t her own father been accused of traitorous deeds by other noblemen, albeit strangers to her? Her mother’s acceptance of Cooper Frye as her long lost brother had eventually led to her tragic death aboard ship. Lately
trusting
seemed a very risky business indeed.

“Please go away, Jeff,” she choked tearfully, fearing now to meet his gaze through the glass panes. Those darkly translucent eyes silently pleading for her to listen and to believe in him had the strength to rend her very soul. “I need time to sort this matter out in my mind and for the shock to ease. Perhaps I can think more clearly after I’m allowed some time to myself.”

Jeff lifted a hand to make another appeal, but when his wife’s gaze became riveted on the extremity, he glanced toward it and realized his fingers were covered with sticky gore. Slowly he lowered his arm to his side and heaved a despondent sigh. Talking to his wife at this point seemed futile; she was clearly terrified of him. Slowly he walked away, retreating to his bedchamber and leaving her to consider his innocence or guilt.

Exhausted and trembling so violently she could hardly stand, Raelynn turned on wobbly limbs and stumbled back to the bed. Flinging herself across it, she buried her face into the pillows and allowed her sobs to flow unrestrained. The cold, dark, murky feeling in the pit of her stomach refused to yield to reason and trust. It was as if Jeff had already been convicted, and there was only the hanging to be witnessed.

Dark, impenetrable gloom settled in with a vengeance, and at length, mental exhaustion dragged her down into a dazed stupor. Merciful darkness flickered at the edge of her awareness, drawing her down into a dark, deep vale.

  
  “G
RACIOUS ME ALIVE,
M
ISTAH
J
EFFREY
! I
S YO
’ wounded, suh?”

Having scrambled out of bed and dragged on a dressing robe on his way downstairs, Kingston was still blinking sleep from his eyes when he caught sight of his approaching master. The shock of so much blood had widened the dark orbs precipitously. Almost as swiftly his jaw had dropped.

The slamming of several doors had awakened Kingston even in his quarters on the top floor of the manse. Before hastening from his room, he had seized a stout stick, which after Gustav Fridrich’s visit, he had been keeping underneath his bed on the chance that the German and his unruly rabble would come back and launch another forceful invasion. Yet, upon espying his master, Kingston had cause to wonder if he should have collected the medical supplies instead.

Jeff could imagine the morbid spectacle he presented in bloodstained garments and with his hands and arms smeared with sticky red. Though he had been on his way to awaken the butler and issue instructions, in view of his own appearance, it now seemed necessary to allay the man’s qualms. “The blood isn’t mine, Kingston. I’m afraid it came from Nell. Someone stabbed the girl to death in the stable. Her baby is out there, too, squalling his head off, but, as far as I know, he’s unharmed. What I need you to do is to fetch the boy and find him a wet nurse, but you’d better be prepared for a ghastly sight. Whoever murdered Nell was rather vicious about it.”

Jeff paused to force the scene from the forefront of his own thoughts. After a moment he heaved a troubled sigh and continued. “Send one of the grooms to Charleston to fetch the sheriff. While we’re waiting for him, ask Sparky and Thaddeus to search the stall for some clue to the murderer’s identity.”

Kingston finally closed his mouth and gulped. “Yassuh, Mistah Jeffrey. Ah’ll be seein’ ta those things right away, suh. But in de meantime, be there anythin’ yo’ll be needin’? Yo’ sho’ is lookin’ mighty upset.”

Jeff could think of several things right off, beginning with the reasons behind Nell’s death and the name of her murderer. “I am, Kingston, but there’s nothing you can do about that. It will probably take some time for me to get over the brutality of this foul deed. Considering my last confrontation with Nell, I suppose people will be thinking I had something to do with her murder.”

“Naw, suh!” Kingston shook his head, affirming the fact that such an idea had never crossed his mind. “At least, not any o’ us whad’s been knowin’ an’ workin’ for yo’ for a while. If’n yo’ had it in yo’ ta do somethin’ like dat ta Miz Nell, then yo’da’ve been o’ a mind ta beat one o’ us or maybe dat ornery mule, Brutus, but yo’ ne’er even been so much as cross wit’ us, Mistah Jeffrey.”

“I was certainly
cross
with Nell,” Jeff pointed out.

“Yassuh, an’ so was ah, but yo’ had good reason ta be aftah whad she done tried ta do, sneakin’ inta your bed when yo’ was asleep an’ den tryin’ ta say yo’ made a baby wit’ her. Why, ah was so vexed wit’ her ah wanted ta take a switch ta her myself.”

“There’s a baby in the stables crying to be fed, Kingston,” Jeff reminded the man. “We shouldn’t stand here talking about this matter while the boy is in need.”

“Yassuh, I’ma goin’ now.”

Upon his return to his bedchambers, Jeff made quick work of removing his bloodstained clothing. The water in the washbowl was tepid, but he hardly noticed. He scrubbed his hands, face and chest with soap and water, wishing he could scour with the same cleansing results the bloody scene from his mind.

Once more garbed in fresh clothes, Jeff picked up a lamp and made his way back along the veranda to the French doors behind which his wife had taken shelter. The room was dark, and only by the soft light streaming from his lamp could he see her huddled in a knot on the far side of the bed. The meager radiance failed to draw a reaction, leaving him no other option but to conclude that his wife had fallen asleep in the midst of the horrible trauma she had suffered.

It was just as well, Jeff mused dismally. Her mind needed the soothing succor of sleep after what she had seen. If he had been able to block the morbid scene from his own mind in such a way, he’d have gone right then and there to his bed, but he had heard Nell’s pitiful requests for some show of affection and was now plagued by a deep remorse for not having helped the girl in a way that, in the simplest sense, could not have been construed as kowtowing to her blackmailing demands.

A pensive sigh slipped from Jeff’s lips before he realized that he was as tense as a twisted cord. He had a clear idea what the scene in Ariadne’s stall must have looked like to Raelynn. After all, he had been holding the murder weapon, a knife that had obviously gone missing from his desk sometime during the ball. Anyone attending the affair could have entered his chambers and taken it, for that’s exactly what the murderer had done, stolen his knife to kill a young girl.

Growing curious as to the child’s welfare, Jeff went downstairs to make inquiries and intercepted Kingston just as the butler was returning with the wailing infant.

“Lawsy, Mistah Jeffrey,” the man drawled above the squalling. “Ah ain’t ne’er seen de likes o’ a woman stabbed afore. For a li’l thing, Miss Nell sho’ lost a lot o’ blood. Ah was sure dis li’l fella was hurt, too, what wit’ him all covered wit’ blood an’ squallin’ enuff ta raise de roof, but he’s jes’ mad, Mistah Jeffrey, jes’ like yo’ said.”

Jeff glanced down at the baby who was making every effort to let his distress be known. Considering the fact that the tiny face was compressed in a small, outraged ball, it was impossible to make any firm judgments as to the infant’s looks. Other than black hair, any resemblance between the two of them seemed farfetched in spite of Nell’s assertions, but then, coincidences had a way of happening.

“Have you found a wet nurse yet?”

“Yassuh, de overseer’s wife say she can nurse Mistah Daniel right along wit’ her own. Ain’t gonna be no trouble atall, Miz Fergus said ta tell yo’.” Kingston glanced aside as he heard the patter of brisk footfalls and inclined his head toward the housekeeper who was hurrying toward them from the back of the house. “Here’s Cora now, suh. She’s come ta fetch de babe for Miz Fergus.”

Cora gathered the bawling baby into her arms and checked him over quickly to verify for herself that the gore on his blanket wasn’t from him. “We’ll look aftah de po’ li’l fella, Mistah Jeffrey. Doan yo’ go worryin’ yo’self none atall ’bout him.”

Having been reassured in that area, Jeff returned to the stables and felt some relief when he noticed that a sheet had been draped over Nell’s body. Sparky and Thaddeus had been given the task of sorting through the wood shavings and, when Jeff appeared at the stall door, the younger man stepped near.

“We ain’t found nothin’ yet, Mistah Jeffrey.” The trainer cast a nervous glance toward the covered body. “We’ve searched everywhere but underneath Miz Nell.”

“The sheriff can do that after he gets here,” Jeff said, taking pity on the two men.

Visibly relieved, Sparky nodded jerkily.

Thaddeus shuffled from the stall, solemnly shaking his head. “Mistah Jeffrey, ah’ve asked all de stables hands, but I can’t find nobody whad heared or seen whad went on here last night.”

Jeff glanced down the aisle toward the other stalls before he returned a bemused frown to Sparky. “But where is Ariadne?”

“We put her in the paddock next to the stables last night, suh, but since then, we ain’t seen hide nor hair o’ her.”

“Why in heaven’s name did you put her out, Sparky? You know that if she takes it into her head, she can jump any fence on my land.”