The Anatomist's Wife (12 page)

“Damned if I know.”

“Really?” Gage remarked doubtfully. “Nothing happened between you two? No argument?”

He huffed. “Well, how was I to know she would take offense at my mentioning how much
I liked her new curves. Gave her a compliment and what does she do but throw me out
of her room. Now, tell me, was that really called for? Women,” he muttered, shaking
his head. “They don’t make any bloody sense.”

“Did you try to speak with her about it?”

“I did. I made a right flowery apology, even though I didn’t understand what had offended
her in the first place. She told me we were finished.”

“It sounds like you were upset by this?”

“I was. But then I figured, good riddance. Let some other bloke deal with her tantrums.
She wasn’t as talented between the sheets as she was rumored to be. And she was starting
to get fat.”

If Mr. Fitzpatrick’s outrage was to be believed, and I found it quite convincing,
then he had not been bright enough to connect Lady Godwin’s new curves and increasing
weight to the fact that she was with child. And in that case, he might have been angry
enough to do her harm, but he would never have harmed a baby he didn’t know existed.

I assumed Gage deduced the same thing, for he sat quietly contemplating Mr. Fitzpatrick’s
spent rage. For his part, Mr. Fitzpatrick came to the belated realization that his
display of temper could make him a prime suspect in the murder of his former mistress.
He leaned forward in his seat to plead his case.

“You don’t think I killed her, do you? Because I didn’t. I never even contemplated
it. I . . . I wouldn’t hurt a fly. Well, maybe a fly. But certainly not a woman.”

“Hold on, Fitzpatrick.” Gage held up his hand to slow the man’s panicked monologue.
“Take a deep breath.”

He took an exaggerated inhale of air before audibly blowing it out.

“Now, tell me where you were when you heard Lady Lydia’s scream.”

“I . . . I was talking to Mr. Abingdon and Sir David by the rosebushes that border
the lawn near the maze,” he said quickly. “We were discussing Mr. Abingdon’s new filly.”

“And how long were you with them before the scream?” Gage asked, clearly struggling
for patience in the face of the man’s frightened ramblings.

“Well, I didn’t exit the house with them after dinner, if that’s what you mean, but
I met up with them soon after.” Mr. Fitzpatrick brightened, sitting taller in his
chair. “So you see, I had no opportunity to kill her.”

It did appear that way. Unless Sir David or Mr. Abingdon had assisted him. Still,
I had a hard time believing the fidgety Mr. Fitzpatrick had any part in this nasty
business.

Gage relaxed back in his seat. He didn’t comment on Mr. Fitzpatrick’s alibi, although
I was beginning to read him well enough to tell that he believed him. It was likely
he would confirm Mr. Fitzpatrick’s story with at least one of the other men just for
the sake of thoroughness, but I felt confident he didn’t expect to catch Mr. Fitzpatrick
in a lie.

“Are you aware of anyone who might have wished Lady Godwin harm?” Gage asked.

Mr. Fitzpatrick seemed to think this new line of questioning indicated he was no longer
a suspect, for he settled deeper into the cushions and took a leisurely sip of his
port. “Sure. But I don’t think any of them would kill her.” He drained his glass and
set it aside. “What about Lady Darby? If I thought anyone was capable of such a thing,
it would be her.”

My stomach dropped and the breath squeezed in my chest. I stared at Gage’s head, waiting
to hear his reply to this suggestion.

“You are not the first person to suggest such a thing,” he said broodingly. “But I
have yet to hear a credible reason why she would murder Lady Godwin.”

“Surely you heard how she helped her husband with his human dissections.” Mr. Fitzpatrick
leaned toward Gage. “It’s said they hired grave robbers and asked them to commit murder
just so they could have more subjects for their experimentations.”

“Like Burke and Hare.”

“Exactly. It’s even rumored that they performed at least one vivisection, slicing
open the fellow while he was still alive.”

My stomach churned hearing someone speak the now-familiar accusations in a voice filled
with such horrified fascination, as if I were a carnival freak show. The scandal over
the actions of renowned anatomist Robert Knox at the Royal College of Surgeons of
Edinburgh and his relationship with the body snatchers and murderers Burke and Hare
had broken only months before Sir Anthony’s death. It had not surprised me when questions
arose regarding Sir Anthony’s methods of procuring bodies. However, I had never known
the public possessed such macabre imaginations, or that they would invent even more
horrific charges to throw at me.

“But I thought Lady Darby was cleared of all charges?” Gage replied in a leading voice.

Mr. Fitzpatrick nodded. “She was. The authorities placed all blame on her husband,
but no one believed she was as ignorant of it all as she protested. I mean, what woman
could handle such a gruesome sight if she wasn’t already so unnatural.”

“Indeed.”

Mr. Fitzpatrick missed the dry tone of Gage’s voice and continued to level the charges
against me. “They say she picked the victims herself by walking the streets of Whitechapel
and St. Giles looking for handsome young men. I even heard tell that she cut out some
of their organs and asked for them to be cooked and served up to her for dinner.”

Gage’s head jerked backward in disgust. “Mr. Fitzpatrick!” he admonished.

The other man sat back. “Perhaps the last is a bit sensational,” he admitted abashedly.
“But I assure you the others have been well documented as truth. Lady Darby is just
lucky that her brother and Lord Cromarty are so well respected, or she would have
danced the dead man’s jig long ago.”

I pulled my knees up to my chest, trying to make myself as small as possible. Though
I knew that others had been discussing them behind my back, no one had leveled such
accusations directly at me since the charges against me were dismissed and I departed
London. To hear the words formed again within my hearing made the small amount of
food I had consumed at dinner churn in my stomach. I had never understood society’s
urge to crucify me for the abuses of my husband. I wasn’t certain I ever would. And
I was so tired of fighting them. Of defending myself at every turn. Of being forced
to hide away in the Highlands and conceal my talent.

“I assure you Lady Darby is being closely watched and considered,” Gage told Mr. Fitzpatrick.
There was a curious twist in his voice I could not decipher. “But I would be foolish
not to pursue every possibility. So if you should remember anything suspicious, anything
at all, please let me know.”

A rock settled in my gut upon hearing Gage so baldly confirm that I was a suspect.
Perhaps his prime suspect. I dared not move from my position, for fear that I would
hurl something down at him. Instead, I clasped my arms tighter around my legs, heedless
of the wrinkles that would form in the skirts of my dress.

“Will you take Lady Darby into custody?” Mr. Fitzpatrick asked eagerly.

“Nothing will be done until either my investigation is complete or the procurator
fiscal arrives,” he stated carefully. “And I would appreciate it if you would keep
everything we have discussed to yourself. I do not want Lady Darby declared the culprit
until I uncover proof.”

“Of course, of course. No one will hear anything from me.”

I could hear the beginnings of a smile forming on Mr. Fitzpatrick’s face, and I dug
my fingernails into my arms. The men rose from their seats and exchanged pleasantries,
while my fury continued to build.

My worst fears seemed confirmed. The lying snake had used me. Accepting my assistance
and all the while building a case against me. He wouldn’t have a shred of pertinent
evidence if not for me.

I heard the door to the library open and close below me, and then Mr. Gage sighed
heavily as he sank back into his chair. Rising from my crouch, I leaned against the
banister and glared down at him. He sat in a sprawl, running his hand through his
hair as if
he
had had a difficult day.

I swallowed the vile epithets I wanted to yell at him and instead spoke in a calm,
clipped voice. “Shall I lead you to where I’ve buried the baby, then?”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

I
f I had been in another state of mind, I might have enjoyed the way Mr. Gage bristled
like a cat and leapt out of his chair. As it was, the only thing I could see was the
red haze that descended over my vision.

“Or perhaps the real murder weapon? Would you like to know where that is?”

“Damn it, Lady Darby!” Gage exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”

I wandered across the loft, toward the stairs, gliding my hand over the banister.
“Even better, shall I come up with a motive for you? I’m certain my unnatural, knife-wielding,
cannibalistic tendencies are enough for most people, but perhaps you need a more common
explanation for my actions.”

“Have you been up there the entire time?” he demanded, and then answered for himself.
“But, of course, you have. I thought I specifically told you to stay away while I
interviewed Mr. Fitzpatrick.”

“No. You only said Mr. Fitzpatrick would not speak freely if I accompanied you. He
never knew I was listening. And neither did you.” I narrowed my eyes. “I must say
I’m rather glad I chose to circumvent your orders. At least now I know what you really
think of me.” I was amazed by the steadiness of my voice, considering how angry I
felt. “I imagine Philip and Alana will be quite unhappy to discover how much you’ve
abused their trust.”

“You have to understand, I need to gain these people’s confidence,” he began impatiently
to explain as I slowly descended the spiral staircase. “They all believe you are some
ghoul, and if I don’t take their concerns about you seriously, they will never trust
me enough to speak openly. Besides, if the real murderer believes I’m focusing my
attention on you, they might imagine themselves safe and slip up.”

He met me at the bottom of the stairs, and I stopped on the next-to-last step so that
I was equal to his height. “So you’re not intending to name me as a suspect to the
procurator fiscal when he arrives?” I raised my eyebrows. “Even if you can’t come
up with a better person to accuse, you’re not going to present me as suspect number
one?”

He did not reply immediately, and I took that as the answer it was and narrowed my
eyes.

“I have to present all of my findings to the magistrate, regardless of my feelings
on the matter.”

“Don’t you mean
my
findings?” I challenged. “After all, the most damning evidence you have against me
are the clues
I
uncovered for you. Without my assistance, you wouldn’t have a shred of useful information
beyond a bunch of nasty rumors.”

“And a corpse, Lady Darby,” he snapped, crowding in closer to me and blocking my escape
from the stairs. “Don’t forget Lady Godwin herself.”

“Oh, yes.” I sneered. “A dead body, which you would have failed to realize was missing
something very precious inside.”

“I would have discovered it eventually.”

“Of course you would have,” I replied sarcastically. “You wouldn’t have just assumed
someone was trying to disfigure her womanhood.”

Gage gritted his teeth as I reminded him of the suppositions he made on the subject
of Lady Godwin’s abdominal wounds.

“I believe my cooperation with you on the matter is finished. You can continue chasing
rumors while I find the real killer.” I pushed forward, trying to sweep past Gage,
but he would not let me by and, in fact, moved in closer until his nose was nearly
touching mine. I refused to step back, even though his proximity made my stomach dip.

“You will not go this alone,” he told me, his blue eyes blazing. “You cannot go it
alone.” I began to protest, but he pushed on. “No one will speak with you about it.
They’re all too afraid of you and, at the very least, highly suspicious that you are
the actual culprit.” I frowned, not liking the truth of his words. “Besides, Cromarty
will never allow you to continue alone.”

“I do not need Philip’s permission,” I protested.

“In this matter, you do. Otherwise, I can ask him to lock you in your chambers for
your own protection.”

A bolt of alarm streaked through me. “He wouldn’t.
You
wouldn’t,” I snapped furiously.

He moved his face an inch closer to mine. “I would,” he growled.

The air between us crackled with tension, neither of us wanting to be the one to relent.
I was so close to Gage that I could pick out the silver flecks dotting his irises
near his pupils.

I was furious with him, and myself. Angry that all of the control seemed to be in
his hands—my fate yet again relegated to a man, as it had been with my father, Sir
Anthony, and even Philip, as I depended on his approval to reside at Gairloch. I could
not stand idly by and let Gage decide whether I should be accused before the magistrate.
I would be a fool to do so. And I was incensed that I had been inclined to trust him,
to share some of myself with him when he so clearly did not trust me in return and,
in fact, planned to betray me.

However, irate as I was, I could not seem to shut down my awareness of him. And the
longer I glared into his eyes, our bodies inches from touching, the stronger the tingling
heat in my chest became, and the fuzzier my anger became. The tension and frustration
were still there arcing between us, but they had taken on a blunter edge—one that
suddenly seemed to draw me closer rather than push me away.

I sucked in a startled breath, one filled with the sweat and musk of his skin and
the spicy scent of his cologne, as I realized what was happening. Gage clearly recognized
it, too, for his pupils dilated and flicked down to my mouth. My lips tingled as if
his gaze was tangible. For a moment, we hung there in limbo, neither of us moving,
nor hardly daring to breathe. I was torn by indecision—and the fact that I was torn
at all troubled me.

I watched as Gage swallowed, making the Adam’s apple bob up and down in his throat,
and then slowly stepped back. I was forced to take a solid grip of the stair rails
in order to resist the urge to follow his retreat, as if I were suddenly a lodestone
and he was north. I breathed in deeply and exhaled, waiting to hear what he would
say.

Only a small tremor in his voice revealed that he was in the least affected by whatever
had just passed between us. “Well, it appears you have as much need of my charm and
communication skills as I do of your powers of observation and intelligence. It would
not be in either of our best interests to split up.”

I appreciated his attempt to soften the blow of his earlier declaration, but I did
not understand how he thought to make me agree with him. “How can you expect me to
continue to assist you when you’ve just admitted you will be naming me as a suspect
to the procurator fiscal?” I demanded, albeit with less heat than before. If he was
willing to be calm and reasonable, I could be as well.

His hand lifted from the banister, where it had blocked my path, and he raked it through
his hair. “I’m not telling you I would do so in order to hurt you. I don’t have a
choice, Lady Darby. After one conversation with the other guests, the procurator fiscal
is going to name you a suspect himself.
Unless
we can point him toward someone more culpable.”

I studied him, reluctant to trust him but aware his words were true.

“For what it’s worth,” he continued, planting one hand on his hip. “I don’t believe
you’re the murderer.” His voice sounded steady enough, but his eyes told me he still
held doubts. “Although, it would be helpful if someone would explain to me just what
happened during this trial last year everyone keeps alluding to.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “There was never a trial. It never came to that,”
I replied, but refused to elaborate further. Not after what had just transpired between
us.

He searched my face, perhaps looking for any sign of weakness, of willingness to confide,
but he quickly discovered I was determined in my silence. A few pretty words would
not break through four years of wariness and fear, and a lifetime of circumspection
when it came to sharing things about myself.

He moved aside to let me pass down the last step. “We have three days until the procurator
fiscal arrives,” he told me, as if I didn’t already hear the time ticking away. “I
would like to question Lord Marsdale and Mr. Calvin, Lady Godwin’s other lovers, next.
I suspect Mr. Calvin is much like Mr. Fitzpatrick, or worse, and would not speak freely
with a woman present, but you may accompany me to question Lord Marsdale if you wish.”

I turned to watch Gage closely, wondering if he had witnessed my exchange with Marsdale
in the hall earlier.

“I suggest we wait until morning, however,” he continued. “Marsdale seemed a little
worse for drink this evening.” He smirked. “Since he does not normally arise until
after noon, I think a morning interview will be just the thing after a night of heavy
indulgence. He will be quite grateful to us for waking him so early.” He glanced at
me, and seeing my expression, his grin widened. “Did you think I hadn’t noticed how
Marsdale finds you intriguing?” I tensed and he chuckled. “The man can’t stand to
be turned down, and I suspect you’ve done it more than once. He’s fairly quivering
with the need to conquer you before the party is over.”

I blushed. “Marsdale is only interested in tormenting me,” I protested.

“Which, in your case, indicates interest. You’re not like the typical ladies of our
acquaintance, where displays of attention and flattery work easily. You’re a bit more
challenging than all that.”

I scowled in indignation. “I should hope so.”

Gage smiled as if I had said something humorous. “Marsdale is a rather curious fellow,
and I think your presence will actually loosen his lips instead of sealing them.”

I didn’t want to talk about Marsdale anymore—or contemplate why Gage did not seem
bothered by his pursuit. “In the meantime, I wondered if perhaps we should search
Lady Godwin’s chamber.” The thought had occurred to me after we passed by it twice
this afternoon when we visited with Lady Stratford.

It was his turn to blush. “I already did.”

“When?”

He cleared his throat. “After our interview with Lady Lydia and Mr. Tuthill.”

I narrowed my eyes. “
That
was what you needed to do? Why didn’t you take me with you?”

He seemed to struggle with answering the question, for he tugged at his coat sleeves.
“Well . . . I thought it would be best if you were not caught searching the room with
me, just in case someone were to happen by.”

I arched an eyebrow in skepticism.

“I didn’t find anything of interest, in any case.”

“Did you even know what to look for?” I asked, recalling the mental list I’d constructed
while I dressed for dinner.

Gage took exception to my criticism. “Madam, this is not my first investigation. I
believe I know a bit more than you about what I need to search for.”

I ignored his irritation. “Yes, but do you know what to search for in regards to a
woman who is with child?”

“How would those items have anything to do with incriminating a murderer?” Gage asked
crossly.

“Well, it could tell us how many people knew she was expecting. For example, did her
lady’s maid know?”

“We can interview her and ask her that.”

“Yes, but did Lady Godwin have anything lying around that would imply such a thing
to others who might visit her room?” I asked impatiently.

Gage looked upward in thought. “No. It appeared like any lady’s bedchamber.”

I bit my tongue before I could ask just how many ladies’ bedchambers he had been in.
I suspected I wouldn’t like the answer. “Fine,” I replied sharply. “Then I shall wish
you a good night.” I turned to march out of the library, but he grabbed my arm to
stop me.

“Promise me you will not pursue any leads without first informing me.”

I scowled.

“Tell me now,” he insisted, his pale blue eyes holding my gaze steadily. “Or I
will
ask Philip to lock you away for your own protection.”

“I don’t need protection,” I snapped.

Gage raised a single eyebrow. “Lord Westlock’s attack last evening, and the other
guests’ hostility toward you, say otherwise.”

I frowned, hating that he saw as much as I.

He squeezed my arm. “Promise me.”

It was clear he was serious. I also knew that as much as Philip believed in me, and
as often as he indulged my eccentricities, he would always place the matter of my
safety before anything else. He would not hesitate to take Gage’s advice.

I stared defiantly at Gage, angry that he would place Philip and me at cross-purposes
and win. No matter the futility in the fight, there was no way I was going to give
in to his demand without first attempting to extract some assurances of my own. “I
will if you will promise me the same,” I demanded.

He lowered his brow, clearly not liking the bargain. But after discovering he had
searched Lady Godwin’s rooms without me, no matter the reasons, I was certainly not
going to let him run free while I could not.

“All right,” he reluctantly agreed. “But do not think that I will let you control
this investigation,” he warned, gripping my arm tighter. “You are assisting me. And
what I say goes. If I believe for a minute you are in danger, I will pull you from
this investigation and have you locked up somewhere safe. Do you understand?”

I had absolutely no intention of complying with such a command, not when I needed
to be free in order to catch the murderer and prevent Gage from suggesting me to the
magistrate. However, there was no need for Gage to know that. It would be best to
carry on with him in blissful ignorance. So I bobbed my head once in agreement before
fleeing the room.

I was grateful for the anger fueling my movements as I hurried up the central staircase
and through the hallways toward my room, for it distracted me from the gloom and shadows
that otherwise might have frightened me. By the time I reached my bedchamber, I was
so absorbed in contemplating ways to thwart Gage that I nearly stepped over the piece
of paper lying on the floor just inside my door.