The Anatomist's Wife (27 page)

“Oh, I don’t think he stood back. I think he deliberately set about blaming you.”

Lady Stratford looked as if she might be sick.

“How else do you explain your scissors being found near the body and your shawl wrapped
around the baby?” I pressed, wanting to break through any illusions she might still
hold about her husband’s goodness.

She pressed a fist to her mouth, and I wondered whether it was to hold back a protest
or a sob. My gut churned with fury and disgust, and the man wasn’t even
my
husband.

Lady Stratford swallowed and lowered her shaking hand to her lap. “What do we do now?”

I leaned toward her. “I left a note for Mr. Gage. As soon as he returns from . . .”

A loud crash reverberated through the walls. We all jumped.

My gaze flew to the door. “What was that?” I gasped, pressing a hand to my racing
heart.

Lady Stratford shook her head in bewilderment and opened her mouth to speak when a
series of softer thuds and smacks filtered to us through the wood. Celeste backed
away from the door, bumping into the small dining table behind her.

I slowly rose to my feet, trying to push back the dread rising inside me like a tidal
surge. “It’s probably just Mr. Gage,” I said, knowing I was trying to reassure myself
as much as them. “As I was saying, I left him a note.” Another thud shook the walls.
“He’s probably just upset I came to question you without him,” I added with a breathless
laugh. “He can be like that.” Though, why his arrival would necessitate such violent
sounds, I had no idea. “I . . . I was expecting him to join us as soon as he returned
to Gairloch. Surely this is him now.” I realized I was babbling and clamped my mouth
shut, curling up the corners of my lips in some semblance of a smile. I hoped it looked
more encouraging than it felt.

A key jiggled unnecessarily in the lock. Had the guard forgotten he left it open for
me? I pressed my sweaty palms against my thighs, praying that all I would see was
Gage’s angry face when the door opened. If a sharp reprimand were in order, I would
gladly take it and thank him for it later. If only it was him, and not who I feared
it was.

My heart dropped to my knees as Lord Stratford strode through the door.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

“G
ood evening, my dear,” Lord Stratford drawled to his wife. There was a harsh gleam
in his eyes that belied the insouciance of his words. “I simply had to see if the
accommodations they provided you were as lacking as I suspected.” His gaze slid over
the contents of the room, like a snake slithering through the brush, before landing
on me. “Why, Lady Darby. How
kind
of you to keep my wife company.” Something about the way he said “kind” made a chill
run down my spine. “I’m sure she’s enjoyed your visit. It’s only too bad it shall
be so short-lived.”

Lady Stratford and I looked at each other.

“You wished to speak with your wife alone, of course,” I gasped, thinking quickly.
The countess looked panicked at the prospect, but I knew the best way I could assist
her was to get away, to find help. “It was lovely chatting with you,” I told her,
trying to hide the quaver in my voice as I took several steps toward the door.

The door slammed, making the blood surge sharply in my veins.

Lord Stratford clucked his tongue. “Come now, Lady Darby. You don’t really think I’m
going to just let you waltz out of here, do you?” A frightening glitter entered his
eyes. “I’m afraid it’s too late for that.”

I swallowed the fear coating my throat and made myself continue moving forward. “Don’t
be ridiculous,” I replied with forced lightness. “Even in the dark, I’ll be quite
safe walking from the carriage house to the castle. Besides, there is a guard just
outside the door who will be able to observe my progress the entire way.”

“Not anymore.” Lord Stratford pulled a pepperbox pistol from his pocket.

I stopped short and stared wide-eyed at the weapon. All my concentration seemed to
narrow to the two barrels of the gun now trained at my chest. My heartbeat pounded
in my ears, making me acutely aware of that weapon’s ability to stop it.

Stratford heaved a sigh and shook his head in mock regret. “It’s your own fault, my
dear. If you’d left well enough alone, you wouldn’t be in this predicament.”

“So it
was
you!” his wife gasped, momentarily drawing his attention away from me, though not
his gun. “You killed Helena! And arranged to have
me
blamed for it.” Her voice shook with horror and outrage.

“Very good, Charlotte.” He gave her a mocking bow while still somehow managing to
keep the pistol leveled on me. “However, I assume Lady Darby helped you to that conclusion.
You’re not clever enough to have figured it out on your own.”

“How could you?” she shrieked, rising to her feet.

“Sit down,” the earl ordered as he swung the gun toward his wife.

Air rushed into my lungs, making me feel almost light-headed. I glanced back at Lady
Stratford, who stood frozen. She seemed to only just realize how perilous a situation
she was in. “You wouldn’t shoot me,” she declared with far more bravado than I had
expected from the china-shepherdess-countess. It jarred me out of my immobility.

Unfortunately, Lord Stratford was not as distracted by his wife as he looked. “Tut-tut,”
he scolded as I shifted my foot to take a step forward. His eyes were startlingly
sharp, like a hawk sighting its prey. “Be a good girl and stand over there by my wife.”
He waved his gun at me in such a careless manner that I flinched, certain it would
go off. He chuckled. “Don’t worry, Lady Darby. It won’t fire until I’m ready for it
to do so.”

A shiver ran down my spine. Following his instructions, I backed slowly toward the
countess, all the while keeping one eye trained on Lord Stratford’s gun while the
other frantically searched the room for some kind of weapon. “So you admit it? You
admit you killed Lady Godwin and her child?” I accused, trying to keep him talking.
There had to be a weapon here of some kind, something sharp or heavy. It appeared
that all such objects had been removed, likely to keep them out of the hands of our
supposed murderer, Lady Stratford. Even the hearth tools had been confiscated from
their usual position next to the fireplace. I prayed they had forgotten something.

Lord Stratford smiled back at me smugly, as if he knew exactly what I was doing. “You
there. Maid,” he called to Celeste, who stood quivering in the corner behind the dining
table. “Come here.”

She whimpered and shrank back farther into the corner.

He spared her a glance, narrowing his eyes. “If you do not wish to be shot, I suggest
you obey.”

With tears streaming down her cheeks, and quaking with fear, she inched toward him.
Her hands pleated the fabric of her apron.

“Now!”

Her body jerked forward, propelling her across the room to come to an awkward standstill
two feet from the earl. Her breath sawed in and out of her chest at such a rapid rate
that I was afraid she might pass out at any moment. Then again, perhaps such an outcome
would not be such a bad thing. Especially if she collapsed straight into Lord Stratford.
I stared at the maid’s mouth, where she sucked in air between parted lips, urging
her to breathe even faster.

Stratford reached into the pocket of his greatcoat and pulled out a length of rope.
“Hold this,” he ordered the girl, who clasped the hemp between her hands as if it
were a reptile. Stratford leaned over to extract a wicked-looking blade from a sheath
inside his boot. “Now measure out the cord into two equal parts.”

The maid blinked up at him in terrified confusion.

“Find the middle,” he barked, giving her detailed instructions and then forcing her
to hold the rope while he sliced it into two relatively even sections.

I watched in dread, knowing what was about to happen. If only I’d thought to bring
a weapon with me—a knife, a letter opener, a bottle of turpentine and a match,
something
. I scolded myself for not taking such a precaution. I thought of the ever-present
pistol tucked into the waistband of Gage’s trousers with desperation. Why hadn’t I
done something similar? Even a tiny weapon strapped to my thigh would make me feel
better than I did now, whether I was able to get to it without alerting Stratford
or not.

I glanced up at the single window, the only exit from the room other than the door
blocked by Stratford. The window was positioned too high on the wall for me to boost
myself through without assistance, and by the time I reached it, Stratford would put
a bullet in my back. Maybe a distraction would work. I turned to Lady Stratford and
then the fire, trying to think of some way to stop what was about to happen next.

“Bind Lady Darby’s hands,” he instructed Celeste, bringing my head back around. “And
make certain it’s good and tight. I’ll be checking your knots, and I will not hesitate
to shoot you should they be inadequate.”

The maid looked up at me with large, frightened eyes. I knew she had no choice. I
knew he would shoot her if she did not do as she was told. But I couldn’t comply.
I couldn’t hold my hands out for her to bind. Not knowing that escape, that self-defense,
would be all but impossible with my hands immobilized.

“Lady Darby,” Lord Stratford warned.

The click of the gun cocking ricocheted through the room. I flinched, bracing for
impact. When it did not come, I blinked up at Stratford.

His lips curled into an evil smile. “Let’s cooperate, shall we.”

I locked my knees and lifted my chin, refusing to cower. Fear and panic might be choking
me, but I was not going to give him the satisfaction of seeing it. At least, not any
more than he already had.

Forcing breath into my constricted lungs, I pressed my wrists together and presented
them to Celeste. Her hands shook as she wound the rope around my hands. I tried to
jostle the cord to keep some slack in the line, but she would not allow it, following
Lord Stratford’s instructions to the letter. My skin burned from the rub of the rough
cord, and my fingers protested the blood loss. I could not stifle a hiss of pain as
Celeste tightened the last knot.

Lord Stratford’s eyes gleamed with delight. “Very good,” he crooned as the maid stepped
back to show she was finished. He released the hammer on the pistol. My heart gave
a jolt before settling into a steadier rhythm. “Now, my lovely wife.”

Celeste flicked a glance filled with terror and shame at me before moving toward Lady
Stratford.

“Lady Darby.” He gestured for me to move toward him.

I glared at him in disgust, which only seemed to amuse him further, but followed his
command, not eager to hear the gun cock again.

“Hold out your hands.” He gave the cord such a vicious tug I had to grit my teeth
to keep from crying out in pain. “All right, now step back.”

I gladly complied.

While Stratford’s attention was mostly focused on Celeste tying his wife’s hands,
I scanned the room again for any potential weapons, any means of escape. I was desperate
to knock the gun from Lord Stratford’s grasp. If I could disarm him and stun him,
perhaps I could make a run for it. Unfortunately, the heaviest object I could see
was a book lying on a table on the opposite side of the room. There was no way I could
get to it without alerting Stratford to my intentions.

Where was Gage? And for that matter, where was the footman who was supposed to be
guarding the carriage house? Had Stratford really killed him like he had implied?
We’d heard no gunshots, but a stab from the knife tucked in Stratford’s boot or a
blow to the head could be just as fatal. Hadn’t anyone heard or seen anything? The
stables stood next door, filled with horses and stable hands, not to mention Philip’s
wolfhounds. Surely one of them had witnessed Stratford approaching the carriage house.

I stifled a grunt of frustration. Stratford had clearly planned his actions before
coming here, whether my presence was a happy coincidence or not, so there was no reason
to believe he would not have made certain his appearance went unnoticed. After all,
the man had murdered his mistress and unborn child and managed to place the blame
on his wife, all while evading suspicion. Until I decided the evidence provided wasn’t
enough.

I couldn’t be sorry I had been determined to seek the truth, but I wanted to kick
myself now for not confiding in Philip. Maybe if I had told him what I had discovered
and where I was going, I would not be facing the barrel of a loaded pistol with my
hands tied. Or maybe Stratford would have found it necessary to shoot Philip, had
he accompanied me. Or Philip might have forced me to wait for Gage, and Stratford
could have abducted Lady Stratford and Celeste right from under our noses.

It was clear that Lord Stratford did not intend to murder us—at least, not immediately.
Otherwise, why would he bind our hands? But where was he taking us?

Celeste stepped back from Lady Stratford, and he beckoned her forward to check her
knots much the same way he had done mine. I had to admire the countess’s bravery,
lifting her chin and staring down her nose at her husband as if he were an insect.
Only the flicker of her eyelashes told me that his tug on her bindings had been as
painful as mine.

“You truly are lovely, my darling,” Stratford murmured, running a finger down her
pale cheek.

Her face tightened in revulsion, but she did not look away.

“It’s too bad. Such beauty should never hide something so barren and useless.” The
last word hissed through his teeth as he pushed her back.

She flinched and staggered. Celeste steadied her.

“Now,” he declared, turning away from his wife as if she no longer mattered and focusing
on me. “We’re going to take a little walk.”

My heartbeat accelerated again.

“My lady wife is going to lead.” He smiled, a vicious twist of his lips, and leveled
the pistol at me. “And, Lady Darby, you shall have the privilege of walking just before
me.” He flicked a glance at his wife and her maid. “Should any of you choose to scream
or run, I will not hesitate to shoot you. So remember that before you attempt anything
heroic . . .” he leaned toward me with coldhearted delight “. . . Lady Darby.”

I stiffened in frustration. If he had let me lead, I might have been able to dart
into the forest. By standing directly in front of him, the gun would be trained right
at my back. I had no hope of escape.

Fear crawled up inside me and squeezed my chest in its icy grip, threatening to block
out rational thought. I fought to slow my breath, to stop the fog of panic from taking
over. I had to stay alert. I had to watch for my opportunity. I had to stay alive.

“Move!” Stratford barked, urging his wife through the door.

Celeste fell into step behind her, weeping uncontrollably into her still-unbound hands.
If the maid would just pull herself together, she would have the best chance of escape.
I glared at her back in frustration.

Stratford prodded me with his gun. “Let’s go, Lady Darby.”

I shivered as we inched forward through the corridor toward the outer door. Lady Stratford
wrangled it open, and I offered up a swift prayer that someone would see us leaving.
The words died on my lips as the soft wash of shrouded moonlight illuminated the crumpled
form of the guard lying in the storage-room doorway next to the extinguished lantern.
I gasped and leaned closer, searching for signs of life, but Stratford propelled me
forward, digging the pistol into the skin between my shoulder blades.

“Move.”

I stumbled, barely stopping myself from taking a hard tumble onto the broken cobblestones
of the path in front of the carriage house. Righting myself, I followed Celeste around
the corner of the building, into the woods.

“Right,” he ordered his wife, directing us toward the little-used path that ran through
the forest behind the carriage house and stables down toward the loch.

The heavy overgrowth of summer whacked against my legs, dampening my skirts with moisture
from the earlier rains and dragging down my steps. Whether by Lady Stratford’s conscious
choice or because she was having difficulty following such an unknown trail in the
dark, our progress slowed to a crawl, allowing me to catch my breath. Stratford hissed
for them to move faster, jabbing me in the back with his gun, but after a dozen steps,
their pace faltered once again.