The Philanthropist's Danse (27 page)

C
amille glared at Bethany and Junior moved to stand with Caroline Smith as she endured a verbal beating from an angry group that included the Elliots, Freddie Hagood and Betty Freah. The French woman shook her head. “How could you vote against your own flesh and blood, sister? I am disappointed.”

Bethany wanted to explain that she was tired and wanted it to be over, but she kept her thoughts private. She did not want a fight with Camille. It would be unpleasant enough with Junior. Bethany saw her brother sneer at the group that surrounded him and Smith. He had one hand around Caroline’s waist. It was a gesture that should have been protective, but instead seemed menacing. Caroline looked as uncomfortable with his hand on her as she did with the insults from the angry group.

Judge Freeman left the table and took a seat on the wide window ledge and watched the scene before him. He was upset the vote had failed. He had not suspected that Caroline would support Junior so firmly. She must have been promised a terrific deal. Freeman was intrigued by Bethany’s vote to settle and wondered if she might be the conduit through which a deal between the rival groups could be brokered.

A woman cried out in alarm. Freeman was on his feet and amid the group in a second. Dennis Elliot held Junior by the throat with one hand and was aiming to take a punch when the Judge stepped in and grabbed Dennis’ arm and put a stop to it.

“Enough. All of you, that’s enough. Dennis, take your wife and leave before this goes too far.” The Judge glared at Dennis until he released Junior and led his wife away by the hand. Freeman turned to Junior, who was greatly disheveled and flustered. “Junior, you take Ms. Smith and get out of here too. Everybody needs to calm down, what’s done is done. Tomorrow we’ll have to start again.”

The Judge pulled himself to his full height and looked at the crowd. “All of you go to your rooms or somewhere else, but break this up immediately. Nothing useful can be achieved tonight. The deadline has come and gone. We’ve lost the money we tried to save. It’s over.” His voice carried such authority that not even Freddie argued with him. Their disappointment was palpable, but they obeyed the Judge and broke the pack up.

Junior led Caroline away, indicating for Camille to follow them. Camille rose from her seat and beckoned to Bethany. “Come, sister. We must fix this.” Bethany sighed deeply but accompanied her sister from the room, following a few paces behind Caroline and Junior. She saw her brother had his hand in the small of Smith’s back, pushing her toward the stairway.

$

Freddie and Betty met the Elliots in the lobby and the four of them headed for the bar in the dining room. The only people left in the conference room were Larry MacLean and the Judge. They looked at each other but had nothing to say. Freeman turned on his heel and left, he needed to speak to William. Larry was alone, and Winnie was unavailable to him, which left him friendless until he could leave the mansion.

Larry thought Junior’s insistence that the family take the largest share of the fortune was in part because he did not want Larry to be rewarded equally with the family he had betrayed. He looked around the deserted room, shoved his hands deep into his pockets and headed up to his suite. He passed Winnie’s room with a wistful glance but went directly to his suite where the only company he could look forward to was a bottle of expensive brandy.

$

Philip was uncomfortable. He had tried many different positions on the floor, but the unyielding stone tiles made his body ache. He wrapped the blanket around him as defense against a draft, but still the room was cold and dark. The only light in his private dungeon came from the digital temperature gauges on the ranks of refrigerators beyond the iron grille.

He had no idea what the time was, he had not seen anyone since Jeremy had delivered a stark supper. He’d tried to sleep, but there was no hope of that. His head ached, and his jaw reminded him of its distress with each mouthful of his meal. The anger of his attack had left him, and now he was left with the aftermath. Philip sat in the dark and brooded about his future.

He saw a shadow move in the light under the door and heard the scrape of the key in the lock. The door opened and Jeremy stood in silhouette for a second before flipping a switch in the hallway and flooding the cellar with harsh light. Philip squinted against the sudden brightness as Jeremy came into the room. The major-domo was not alone. Another man was behind him, carrying something heavy.

Philip made no attempt to move. Jeremy intimidated him, and Philip had no wish to give him a reason to attack. The major-domo pointed to the man behind him. “We’ve brought a cot and a pillow. Your blanket will be enough to keep you warm. There’s a bottle of water and some cookies, in case you’re hungry. I’ll bring breakfast in the morning. I don’t expect to hear from you until then, understand?” As Jeremy spoke, the other man set up the cot and placed the rations where Philip could see them.

“Can you give me a flashlight at least?”

Philip hated how meek he sounded, but Jeremy shook his head. “You get nothing you might use as a weapon, son. What you have now is all you get. If you don’t want that, we can take it away.”

Philip wanted to be off the floor. “No, I want the bed, please.” With a quick glance around the cellar, Jeremy seemed satisfied everything was safe and then he was gone. The light was extinguished and the door locked. Philip felt his way to the cot and fell asleep before he even had time to pull the blanket over himself.

$

Ron Freeman knocked firmly on William’s office door and heard a call to enter. He pushed the door open and for the second night in a row entered the lawyer’s inner sanctum. Bird was at his desk reading. A yellow envelope lay open on his desk. William waved for Freeman to take a seat while he finished reading, and the Judge complied. He took the opportunity to admire the study while he waited. Bird’s office was dominated by dark woods, rich leather and lots of books. It was a comfortable room, designed for a man.

The Judge had taken no time to observe the décor when he had been in the office last night. He had been focused only on saving his prospects. He marveled at the difference in his situation twenty-four hours later. Freeman saw silver picture frames on Bird’s desk, but they were turned to face the lawyer, so he was left to guess they were of the lawyer’s family.

William looked up from his papers. “I was hoping you would come. We need to talk about the others. Emotions are running too high.”

Freeman nodded. “Your experience this afternoon is evidence enough of that, William. You were lucky Philip didn’t harm you, or worse.”

The lawyer nodded, momentarily startled by a vivid flashback of Philip standing over him. He shook his head to clear it and returned his attention to the Judge. “The group is down to ten people, so the rules require eight votes to pass anything. But Junior and the family can block any motion, and they don’t seem open to compromise. I was surprised to see Bethany break ranks in the last round, but I don’t expect it to happen again. I imagine Junior and the others will straighten her out before tomorrow.”

Freeman nodded, everything he heard confirmed his own thoughts, but Bird had more to say. “I can’t tell you what to do. As Chair, you have limited ability to affect what motions are called, let alone how votes are cast. All I ask is that you try to keep their emotions under control. Tomorrow morning is likely to start with the fallout of the penalty. Both sides will blame the other, but if they can’t get past recriminations, we are likely to repeat this discussion tomorrow night.”

Freeman sighed, he felt guilty about his own role in raising the temperature. Now he was charged with bringing the situation under control. “William, the only path to a resolution is to solve the question of whether the family is entitled to a larger share than the rest of the group, or not. Either the family must accept equality, or the others must drop their demand for it. Until that question is settled, I see no opportunity for a motion to succeed.” He scratched the back of his neck as he thought through the problems.

He decided to be open about what he knew. “William, there are six people, including me, who have agreed to work together. The only people not in our group are the three family members and Caroline Smith. To break the deadlock, two people from the family group need to change their minds, or four people from my group must defect.

“I don’t believe anyone in my group is prepared to compromise. There are some very firm opinions among its members. I imagine the same is true of the family bloc. I cannot imagine Junior accepting equality. He seems more interested in a point of principle than his diminishing inheritance.”

William nodded, he guessed the group had split into factions, but was surprised to learn only two existed. He had not suspected MacLean was included in a group. Larry seemed alone even in a crowded room. He looked at the Judge’s troubled face. “I’m sorry I can’t do more to help you, Ron. I’m pushing the envelope of my duties even with this conversation. If there is anything I can do within the rules, I’ll try.”

Freeman smiled. “Can you tell me how much we’re talking about, Bill? It might help focus minds if we were dealing in dollars instead of percentages.”

The lawyer shook his head even before Freeman finished the sentence. “Sorry, I can’t. The sum won’t be revealed at all. Of course, once the conversion from percentages to cash is made, you’ll be able to extrapolate what the number was. My instructions are specific on this point, there is no negotiating it.”

Ron Freeman offered a rueful smile. “I had to try, you understand?”

The two men understood one another, but with nothing else to say and afraid he may already have said too much, William stood. Freeman knew he was dismissed and left the lawyer’s office. He hoped the other members of his group had not retired to their rooms yet, there was still serious talking to be done.

B
ethany sat in Camille’s suite, opposite Junior and her sister. An uncomfortable silence had fallen as soon as the door had closed. Caroline fixed dirty martinis at the bar and the sound of her working was the only noise in the room. Bethany looked at her brother nervously. He was flushed, and she knew he was still furious with her. She saw some sympathy when she looked at Camille, but there was coolness in her sister’s demeanor and their fledgling sisterhood was being severely tested.

No one said anything and Bethany did not feel like being the one to start. She knew whatever she said would provoke a verbal assault from Junior and was in no hurry to hear it. Caroline delivered drinks to Junior and Camille, then to Bethany before taking a seat across from her. The arrangement looked like a parole-board hearing, and Bethany was left in no doubt whom the petitioner was.

Camille was the first to speak, her heavily accented voice was soft, but her question was direct. “Why did you turn on your family, sister? Do you not agree we deserve more than the others? Please explain that we might understand.”

Bethany swallowed and tried to delay suffering Junior’s pent-up wrath. “I can answer that, but I think we should discuss this as a family, not in front of others.” She looked directly at Smith who smiled over the rim of her cocktail glass without an ounce of warmth in her eyes.

Junior leaned forward and jabbed a finger at Bethany. “Really? You think we should ask Caroline to wait outside while we find out why she is more loyal to our family than you? You should be trying to explain why we should even listen to a single word that crosses your treacherous lips.”

Junior’s face was deep scarlet, and flecks of spittle hit her face as his temper broke through the frail dam of his self-control. Bethany tried to hold her head high, but as he rose to his feet and launched into a crescendo of furious epithets, her courage failed and she began to cry. Junior’s mouth creased into a cruel sneer when he saw his sister break. This was what he craved, his unfaithful bitch sister cowering and begging for forgiveness. He felt the sweet rush of power fill his body and despite the subject of his fury being his sister, he was aroused as he watched her defenses crumble.

Caroline watched as Junior destroyed his sister with words. She was appalled by his withering attack, yet awed by his ability to use words to open wounds in Bethany’s soul as surely as if he wielded a scalpel. She shuddered, but could not tear her eyes away from Junior’s masterful performance in fury.

Camille was disgusted. Junior was out of control and had crossed the line. She had seen and heard enough but waited until she sensed Junior had crested the peak of his rage before she dared intervene. She had no doubt he would turn on her if she tried to stop him. When he paused to take a breath she reached and took his hand.

She quailed when he turned to look at her, but she squeezed his hand. “Enough, brother. She can see the error of her ways. It is clear to her now, non? We must repair the injury she has caused us. It is time to regroup and be of one mind again.” She demurely flattered him with her lashes as she pled her case. He was breathing hard, and his hand felt clammy and cold in hers, it was an unpleasant sensation.

Junior did not answer. She did not see his hand move but felt a crushing blow to her head. She fell back with a cry and tried to cover her face with her hands but Junior held her wrist in a vice-like grip. She struggled to get away, but he stood over her and aimed a solid punch to her head. She went limp, the blow dazed her and Camille tasted blood and was terrified.

Bethany rose quickly, and grabbed her brother’s arm to stop his attack, but he shook her off easily and she fell hard to the floor, her ankle twisted painfully under her. She looked pleadingly to Caroline, but Smith had turned away and covered her ears to muffle the sounds of Camille’s beating.

Junior felt adrenaline pump into through system as he threw two, three more punches at Camille’s face. Her panicked eyes filled with pain and fear. She was helpless, and his arousal grew with the power he wielded. If they’d been alone, he would have taken her. He tipped his head back and roared with primal joy, his face contorted into a dreadful mask of hate.

Bethany crawled to the couch and took the French girl’s head in her hands. She used her sleeve to stem the flow of blood from a split brow that was swelling quickly. Junior looked down and sneered. “I’m alone in this fucking family. I have a halfwit brother, a traitor for a sister and a French slut who would dare order me around. You’re not even a part of this family, you stupid bitch. We would have disowned you long ago if it wasn’t for your fucking vote.”

He paused when a needle of fear prodded him through his rage. He saw Bethany’s tears mixed with Camille’s blood on the white couch and felt the power drain from his body like air released from a balloon. He saw Caroline looking at him with frightened eyes. She looked like she wanted to run for the door but was rooted to her seat by fear.

Junior breathed hard. His temper had gotten out of control, and he realized he had gone too far. He stared at the scene before him. His sisters sobbed, and Bethany cradled Camille’s bloodied head as she moaned in pain. He looked at his hand, still balled into a fist. The knuckles were red with blood, but it was not his. He left the room without looking back. He ran to his suite and locked the door behind him, wondering if anyone would come after him. Junior was suddenly acutely afraid that Dennis Elliot might knock on his door.

$

Caroline saw Junior leave and ran to the door and locked it, in case he decided to come back. She stood with her back to the door and trembled, she wanted to run and hide but the other women needed help. Caroline’s partisan agenda was forgotten when she saw the two sisters in pain. She grabbed the ice bucket and some bar towels.

Bethany looked up when she felt a tender hand touch her. She was too stunned to be surprised who offered her aid, but gratefully took a towel and patted it on Camille’s face to blot away the blood. Camille’s cheek was already swollen, but Bethany was more worried about her right eye. The brow was badly cut, and blood seeped from the wound at an alarming rate. “Call for help, she needs medical attention.”

Smith reached for the telephone and in no time Bethany felt strong hands lift her gently. She saw many people were in the room. A red-haired man carried Camille to her bedroom as others tidied the upset room.

Bethany was suddenly exhausted. She looked up at her savior and saw Jeremy’s face, filled with concern. The major-domo carried her easily and laid her next to Camille. He pleaded for her to stay awake, but she was too tired to fight her exhaustion and embraced blackness as it descended.

$

William entered Camille’s room and stopped in his tracks. Caroline was seated opposite a bloody sofa, hugging herself as she spoke with Jeremy. Her face was white with shock. The Judge stood in the bedroom doorway talking to a small gray-haired woman he recognized as one of the staff.

Bird walked quickly through the chaos to join Freeman, who looked relieved to see him. “Bill, you’re here, good. This is Sarah. She’s a nurse, and she’s looked at both girls. Camille has sustained quite a beating but should be okay. I haven’t been able to find out for sure what happened, but Junior is involved, that much is certain.”

William asked the nurse if he could see the two women. She stood aside and permitted him entry to the dimly lit room. They lay side by side on the bed facing each other holding hands in the dark. Camille’s back was to him, but Bethany saw him and offered a wan smile.

He saw a bandage around Bethany’s ankle and wondered what injury had befallen her, but forgot about it when he saw Camille. He suppressed a gasp, the girl’s face was swollen and a deep cut over her right eye was held together by five fresh stitches. Camille saw his shocked face and closed her eyes. Fresh tears flowed down her bruised and puffy cheek. He sat on the chair next to the bed, and Bethany turned to look at him. “What happened here, Beth? It was Junior, wasn’t it?”

“I’m okay, Bill. Camille tried to stop Junior. He was angry with me. You know how he gets sometimes.” Bird grimaced, he was well aware of Junior’s temper, but he did not interrupt her. “She tried to stop him, and he beat her. He beat her, Bill, like she was a dog. He just kept hitting her. I tried to stop him, but he pushed me away and my ankle twisted. He hit her so hard. It was awful.”

She cried as she described the attack and Bird took her hand in his. “It’s alright Beth, he won’t hurt you anymore. We’ll make sure of that.”

She was shaking and could not look up to meet his eyes. “What are you going to do, Bill? Have you called the police?”

He shook his head. “I can’t Beth. Not for this, nor for Phil’s attack on me. We have to stay isolated until a deal is reached, short of medical emergency. You and Camille are hurt, but Sarah says you don’t need hospitalization.”

She stared at him wordlessly before she turned her attention back to Camille and stroked her hair. William felt helpless and left them whispering comforting words to each other. Outside their room, he and the Judge stood together in silence and watched Jeremy wrap a blanket around Caroline Smith’s shoulders before he joined them. “Gentlemen, I propose we chat outside, where we won’t upset the ladies?”

The three men stepped into the hallway. Jeremy closed the door behind them and turned to the others. “Junior Thurwell did this. Ms. Smith says they came here to discuss something after your meeting broke up. Whatever was said led to the attack on Miss Jolivet and Miss Bethany. I called Sarah to attend to Miss Jolivet’s injuries, and she tells me both women will be okay. They were offered sedatives but refused them. Miss Jolivet took a couple of painkillers, but that’s all. What do you want to do?”

Freeman growled. “Now we find Junior.”

William asked the others to accompany him. He was not fully recovered from Philip’s attack and seeing the aftermath of Junior’s assault had made him nauseous. He knocked on Junior’s door with a firmer rap than he intended, but it went unanswered. He tried a second time and called for Junior to answer, but again there was no response. He looked at the Judge. “You don’t suppose he’s hurt himself, do you?”

Freeman grunted. “That man is too in love with himself to commit suicide. He likes to hurt others, not himself. He’s a coward, and he’s hiding.”

Jeremy stepped forward and sorted through a large key ring. “Excuse me, sir, we can easily find out if Mr. Thurwell needs our assistance.” He selected a key, slipped it into the lock and opened the door. The room was dark, and there was no sign of life.

Jeremy signaled the others to wait in the hallway and stepped into the room. Freeman noticed how the major-domo moved, slow and quiet, not a movement wasted or out of place. He disappeared from their view, and they waited anxiously.

Moments later, the lights came on, and Jeremy reappeared. “He’s in the washroom. The door is locked, but I can hear him in there. He’s hiding.” He led William and the Judge into the room. There was no sign of occupation except a jacket tossed over the back of a couch. A sliver of light was visible under the bathroom door, and they saw a shadow cross once, then again in the opposite direction. Junior was pacing the length of the washroom.

William banged on the door. “Junior, come out of there. It’s Bill. You have nothing to be afraid of. Come out, we need to talk.”

The shadow stopped moving, and Junior called out. “I’m not coming out if he’s there. Send him away and I’ll think about it.”

William was confused. He looked at the others and saw the same reaction. He shrugged and turned back to the door. “Send who away, Junior? I don’t understand.”

The shadow resumed pacing, and there was a delay as they watched it pass the door, three, four times before it stopped again. “Don’t fuck with me, Bill. Is he there or not? Is Elliot with you?”

Junior wasn’t making sense. “Elliot? You mean Dennis Elliot? He’s not here Junior, why would he be? I’m here with Jeremy and Judge Freeman. We want to talk. Open the door.”

The doorknob turned, and William stepped back. The door opened a crack, and a red-rimmed eye appeared. “No one else is with you?”

The three men nodded, and the Judge stepped to one side so Junior could see into the suite beyond him. Junior peered as deeply into the room as he could and only when he was fully satisfied did he step out into the room. William and the Judge followed him as he took a seat. His eyes were red, and he was pale, he had been crying.

Jeremy noticed scrapes on the knuckles of Junior’s right hand. He had probably cut them on Camille’s teeth when he was beating her. Freeman walked to the door and took a quick look in the hallway before closing it and turning the deadbolt, ensuring the four men had privacy.

William was in no mood to pander to a petty thug and got right to business. “Do you want to tell us what happened?”

Junior understood there could be no denying his assault. He saw from how they looked at him that they knew what he had done. Junior lowered his head and appeared to shrink as he sat on a couch identical to the one he had left covered with blood and tears in his sister’s room. “I don’t know. Bill, I don’t know what happened. I was mad at Beth because she voted against the family. I was upset.”

He looked up to see if there was an ounce of sympathy for him and dropped his eyes quickly when he saw the other’s expressions. “Camille tried to stop me. I didn’t hit Beth, I was only talking to her, but Camille was tugging on my hand and telling me to stop. I know what happened next, but it wasn’t me. You have to believe me, Bill, I wouldn’t hit a woman.”

William felt his stomach turn into a cold knot as he watched his employer’s eldest son grovel. He’d heard Junior had such a dreadful reputation among society women that few would allow themselves to be alone with him. Junior’s protest fell on deaf ears.

Jeremy knew what he was looking at. Junior was a serial abuser who had gotten caught near enough in the act. He was a typical bully, full of cruelty and bluster when he was able to dominate his prey, but a coward when confronted. The major-domo felt his hands ball into fists. He had loved his employer as much as any loyal servant, to think the wretch before him was the Old Man’s flesh and blood was too much to bear, and he took a step forward.