Herald of Death (29 page)

Cecily avoided looking at Samuel, who was now staring in dismay at the hapless seamstress. “Madeline is going up to Putney Downs today to the woods nearby the spot where Thomas Willow was killed. There she will conduct a private séance, some sort of ritual that will give her the name of the Christmas Angel. Once she has it, she will bring it to me at the Pennyfoot where P.C. Northcott will be waiting for the news.”

Caroline opened and closed her mouth, as if seeking words that wouldn’t come.

Samuel cleared his throat, and Cecily gave him a sharp nudge. “Come, Samuel. We must get back to the club with as much speed as possible, so that we can be there when Madeline returns with the name of our infamous killer.”

She headed for the door, saying, “Thank you for finishing my gown today. I shall enjoy wearing it at the Welcome Ball.”

Caroline seemed in a daze as she followed them out to the hallway. She barely managed to acknowledge Cecily’s farewell before shutting the front door in her face.

“How terribly rude,” Cecily murmured, as she walked down the path to the gate.

Samuel leapt ahead of her to open it. When he spoke his voice was full of despair. “She just doesn’t look like a dangerous killer.”

“Most people don’t.” Cecily paused at the carriage, waiting for him to open the door. “I’m sorry, Samuel. I know you like her but—”

Samuel shook his head. “You know, lots of people buy those stamps. I saw them in the toy store the other day. A whole pile of them. Anyone could buy them.”

“It isn’t just the stamps, Samuel. On our first visit I smelled something awful burning in the sewing room, like human hair. Also, Lady Marion told me that Miss Blanchard was at the Bellevue estate delivering her gown the morning Henry Farnsworth died.” She swept an arm toward the house. “It’s because of those animals, Samuel. She rescues them, and punishes those who ill-treat them.”

Samuel jutted out his jaw. “I don’t believe it. I don’t believe she’s capable of killing all those men.”

Cecily climbed aboard the carriage and settled her skirt around her ankles. “Given enough reason and the right circumstances, everyone is capable of killing. We all have our dark side. Thankfully the vast majority of us know how to control it. Anyway, it’s out of our hands now. The plan has been set in motion and we shall soon see if I am right.”

Samuel looked far from happy as he closed the door. Cecily leaned back and braced herself for the jerk of the carriage as he urged the chestnut forward.

They had barely reached the edge of the lane before a horse and cloaked rider passed them at lightning speed. Cecily watched them disappear around the bend ahead and slowly let out her breath.

Now that everything was set, she could think of all sorts of reasons why it could go wrong. The bait could be ignored, or dealt with in a way she hadn’t thought about, or, in the worst-case scenario, Madeline could be killed before help could get to her.

Cecily deliberately shut off her thoughts along that line. She had learned from experience never to try to second-guess an adversary. She knew what she had to do now, and the rest was up to providence.

 

 

Thanks to Gertie’s help with the dishes, Pansy arrived at the final dress rehearsal with plenty of time to spare. She was thankful she had no lines to speak, since she was certain she would forget every word in her excitement.

Standing in the wings, she watched Doris perform, knowing without a shadow of a doubt that she would never be as good as her. She would just have to do the best she could and hope she didn’t mess things up too much.

Now that she could fly, she could really get into the part of Tinker Bell. She remembered something Mrs. Fortescue had told her.
Believe you really are the person you are playing.

Pansy closed her eyes. She was Tinker Bell—Peter Pan’s protector and friend. A beloved fairy, capable of magic. Soon the ballroom would be full of toffs, all watching her fly. All watching her big dying scene.

She heard her cue and floated forward, ready to take on the world. This was what she wanted to do for the rest of her life. She wanted to be an actress, performing in front of huge appreciative audiences. She wanted to hear applause and know it was for her. She wanted to travel to exciting places, and she wanted to be really famous, with people clamoring for her autograph.

“Tinker Bell!”

The thunderous roar snatched Pansy out of her daydream. A smattering of giggles dragged her focus back to the stage. Peter Pan stood in front of her, hands on hips, glaring at her with a ferocious scowl.

Mrs. Fortescue hovered in front of the stage, staring up at her. “We are all waiting for you, Tinker Bell, to fly onto the ship. I suggest you attach your wings, however, before you fall flat on your face.”

Several of the children started giggling again, and were immediately hushed by a fierce stare and a sharp flap of Phoebe’s hand.

Pansy’s face grew warm as she realized she’d forgotten to have her wires attached before she came out onstage. The footman who was supposed to help her with it stood in the wings, waving the contraption at her.

“Sorry, Mrs. Fortescue.” She skipped back to the wings and waited for the footman to attach the wires. From now on, she promised herself, she’d concentrate on the performance. The daydreams would have to wait for another time.

Cecily waited until the carriage was clear of the town before tapping on the window that separated her from Samuel.

He reached back and slid the windowpane across, calling out, “Yes, m’m?”

“Make sure you take the next turn out to the Downs, Samuel.”

There was a long pause, then her stable manager’s voice, heavy with apprehension, answered her. “Are you quite sure you want to do this, m’m?”

“Yes, Samuel, I am quite sure, and hurry. As fast as you can.”

“Very well, m’m.” The carriage swayed to one side as Samuel guided the chestnut into the turn, then they were rattling up the cliff path to the Downs.

All Cecily could hope was that they would not be too late. She would never forgive herself if something happened to Madeline.

Gazing out the window at the sands below, she tried to reassure herself. She had gone over the plan carefully with everyone. All the pieces were in place. Surely it would work as she had envisioned?

Curling her fingers into her palms she leaned forward, as if urging the carriage to go faster. By now Madeline would be at the edge of the woods, waiting for a dangerous killer to approach.

If her friend had rung P.C. Northcott as instructed, the constable should also be waiting within a short distance, waiting to pounce on the killer the moment Madeline appeared to be in danger.

Over ruts and bumps the carriage bounced, jolting Cecily up and down and side to side, snapping her teeth. Barely aware of the bruising ride, her gaze was glued to the edge of the forest.

They were nearing the spot where Thomas Willow had died. Dark clouds had gathered angrily overhead. The change in the weather had brought a thunderstorm in from the sea. The wind whipped the carriage as it bounded across the cliffs, and rain now streamed down the windows.

Cecily could hardly see, squinting through the rivulets of water obstructing her view. Somewhere out there in the mist, Madeline was waiting. Somewhere out there a killer stalked, intent on murder.

Vaguely Cecily could see the outline of trees, and then a flash of color. “Stop!” She pounded on the window. “Stop, Samuel!”

The carriage rocked violently as Samuel dragged on the reins. The chestnut, taken by surprise, reared up on its hind legs, whinnying its outrage.

The carriage halted. Without waiting for Samuel, Cecily flung open the carriage door. Madeline was there, on the far slope of the Downs, facing the cloaked rider. The hood had fallen back, and even at that distance, Cecily recognized the auburn hair.

There was no sign of the constable. She looked in vain for the stocky figure wearing the dark blue uniform. Samuel leapt down from his seat, his eyes wide with apprehension. “She’s there. Where’s the bobby?”

“He was supposed to be here. I can’t see him anywhere.”

Samuel took one look and started racing across the grass. Cecily took off after him, cursing her stupidity in thinking that she could rely on Sam Northcott.

The Christmas Angel had swallowed the bait, but the constable was not where he was supposed to be. Now it was up to her and Samuel to save Madeline.

Samuel closed in, just as Caroline turned, her hand raised and her gleaming knife poised to strike.

Cecily screamed, and stumbled across the wet grass, the wind tearing at her hat and the rain beating her face. She saw Madeline raise both hands, fingers outstretched, her long, wet hair streaming behind her.

Her voice rose with the wind, calling out words Cecily didn’t understand. Samuel leapt toward Caroline, reaching for the hand that held the knife.

The woman neatly sidestepped, giving Samuel a shove. He tumbled forward and cracked his head on the massive trunk of an ancient oak. With a grunt he collapsed and lay sprawled on the ground.

Cecily no longer had breath to scream. She could only stand there, watching as Caroline, poised above Samuel’s fallen body, raised the knife above her head.

“You will die, wretch!” she yelled, grasping the knife with both hands. “No one can stop the angel of mercy! The animals need me!”

Cecily willed Samuel to get up, but he lay still, unconscious from the blow to his head.

Madeline called out again, her face lifted to the heavens. There was a loud crack, and a bolt of lightning flashed down from above and slashed across the knife, sending it spinning from Caroline’s hand.

The seamstress screamed and fell to her knees, clutching her hand to her chest.

From behind Cecily came the sound of pounding hoofs and rattling wheels. Out of the rain came a horse and carriage, with Kevin Prestwick flailing a whip, and P.C. Northcott seated beside him, one hand firmly holding on to his helmet.

Cecily dropped to her knees by Samuel’s side, thankful to see him stirring. Behind her she heard the doctor’s worried voice, asking if Madeline was hurt.

Northcott announced that he was arresting Caroline for the attempted murder of Samuel.

“She tried to kill me,” Caroline insisted. “Keep that witch away from me!”

Dr. Prestwick examined Samuel, who by now had opened his eyes and was trying to sit up. “He’ll be fine,” the doctor announced, then turned his attention to Caroline’s hand.

“It’s badly burned,” he said, as Northcott dragged the defiant woman to her feet. “I’ll take you both down to the constabulary and I’ll treat her there.” He looked at Madeline. “Samuel can take you home on his way back to the Pennyfoot.”

She nodded, then took a step toward Caroline, who shrank back. “You will tell them the truth,” she said, her dark eyes glittering with a strange, fierce light. “You will tell them everything. For if you don’t, if you leave out one single word, I promise you will find yourself facing a far more terrible fire that will consume you until you are nothing but ashes.”

Caroline flinched and allowed the constable to lead her over to the carriage.

Kevin paused, his probing gaze on his wife’s face, then he gave her a brief nod and turned to follow Northcott to the carriage.

Cecily called after him. “Why was Sam with you? He was supposed to be here to protect Madeline.”

The doctor paused. “The constable had another accident on his bicycle. Hit a rock and buckled the front wheel. He should ride in a carriage from now on. I passed him on the road and offered to give him a ride.”

He looked back at Madeline. “I never dreamed when I saw him that he was on his way to save my wife from a killer.” He shifted his gaze to Cecily. “You would have had much to answer for had she come to any harm.”

“I know,” Cecily said quietly. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s all right, Cecily.” Madeline walked over to him and laid a hand on his arm. “It was my idea, and it was worth everything to capture the Christmas Angel.”

Frowning, he dropped a quick kiss on her forehead, and left.

Samuel climbed to his feet. “What happened?”

“Caroline is on her way to jail.” Cecily took his arm. “Are you all right?”

Samuel grimaced and rubbed his jaw. “My pride’s hurt more than anything. She was too fast for me.”

“Do you feel like driving the carriage home?”

“Of course.” He grinned at Madeline. “Glad to see you’re okay. I reckon your husband turned up just in the nick of time.”

“Yes, I suppose he did.” Madeline smiled at Cecily. “All’s well that ends well, as they say.”

“Yeah. It could have been a lot worse.” Samuel headed a little unsteadily toward the carriage, followed by the two women.

“Thank you, Madeline,” Cecily said, as Samuel drew out of earshot. “That’s another of my lives you have saved.”

Madeline smiled. “You may want to slow down, Cecily. You’ll run out of lives one day.”

“I’m inclined to agree with you. I almost cost you yours today.”

“Nonsense. You saved my life. If you and Samuel hadn’t distracted that awful woman when you did, I might not have been able to defend myself in time.”

“Then the lightning bolt
was
your doing.”

Madeline’s expression was inscrutable. “Let us just call it divine intervention. It will avoid a lot of awkward explanations.”

Cecily had no time to answer before they reached the carriage, where Samuel waited to open the door. Drenched to the skin, she climbed inside, thankful to be under a dry roof again.

“How awful! You could have been killed!” Pansy stared at Samuel in horror, chilled by the story he had just told her.

“Yeah, if it weren’t for the bobby and Dr. Prestwick turning up,” Samuel agreed. “They saved my life, as well as madam’s and Mrs. Prestwick’s, too.”