Chapter 5
Ginny bustled back into the room in the midst of our foreboding, funereal silence. She stopped, seeming to sense the shift in mood immediately. “What’s happened?” she asked, one hand going to her chest. “Jack?”
He stood, clearing his throat. “There is some . . . concern about the fact that Beatrice can identify their attacker.”
Ginny inhaled sharply and came to my side. She understood immediately. Her father had been a magistrate for nearly a decade, and tonight her wits were clearly quicker than mine.
“Is she in danger?” Her face was pale against her vibrant red hair.
“We cannot know for certain.” Mr. Rawlings stood with a wince. Heavens, he looked worse for the wear—white shirt caked with blood and dirt, his hair in disarray. “The attacker was after me. It is unlikely he knows who Miss Lacey is.”
“But it would not be difficult for him to discover her name,” Mr. Drake pointed out. “The man is clearly resourceful if he was able to follow you to Vauxhall. He knows she can identify him, the same as you.”
“He spoke to her,” Jack said, voice grim. “Threatened her.”
The room stilled, the quiet a living, breathing thing.
“If he is indeed the murderer, as you suspect,” Jack continued, “then I have little doubt he is ruthless enough to tie up any loose ends.”
Loose ends. I was a loose end.
“What can we do?” Ginny’s hand found my arm, as if to comfort me.
I barely registered her touch, trying desperately to keep apace of the conversation.
The doctor, finished packing up his things, appeared more than ready to leave. He quickly clasped his bag, grabbed his hat and gloves, and slipped from the room.
Jack frowned, his mouth set in a grave line. “We need to get Beatrice out of London. Immediately.”
I had been clinging to the unraveling threads of my sanity, but this made me lose my grasp completely. “Leave?” I gaped at him.
“She cannot leave,” Ginny insisted. “We must keep her here, keep her safe.”
Jack shook his head. “London is not safe for her, Ginny,” he said. “You must see that.”
Ginny seemed about to protest yet again, but Mr. Drake broke in. “Where could we send her? Home?”
“No,” Mr. Rawlings said shortly. “That will only put her family in danger as well. It cannot be anywhere she is known.”
“Somewhere in the country,” Mr. Drake suggested. “Do we have any contacts who might take her in?”
“Perhaps,” Jack said. “Wily might know a place. Though we can hardly send her off by herself.”
“Of course not.” Ginny stepped forward. “I will go with her.”
Jack turned to her in disbelief. “You?”
“Beatrice needs me,” she said stubbornly.
He shook his head. “And how would you help her? What could you do if he tracked you down?”
“It would not be the first time I’ve faced down a murderer.” She raised her chin.
“No, Ginny.” I stood abruptly, heart racing. How could she think to put herself in the path of such a man? “Jack is right. You must think of the baby. I would never forgive myself if something happened to you.”
Ginny stared at me. “But then . . .” She stopped a moment, her eyes glassy, then regained her composure. “Who will go with you?”
“Verity?” Jack suggested.
Mr. Drake shook his head, his face filled with regret. “We need Verity here,” he said. “If we are to lose Rawlings in the investigation, then we need all the help we can get.”
Ginny turned away, plainly upset. She didn’t like this. Neither did I, but what were we to do?
Mr. Drake sighed. “There is an obvious solution.” He turned toward Mr. Rawlings, still standing opposite the room from me, shoulders bent around his injured arm.
Realization struck me immediately, and my mouth dropped. Mr. Rawlings blinked slowly, taking longer to catch on.
“Me?” he finally said in disbelief.
“Yes, you,” Mr. Drake said. “You’ve already been relieved of the case, and we’ve established that you need time to heal.”
“We have not establi—”
“Where better to recuperate than in some sleepy village, keeping an eye on Miss Lacey?” Mr. Drake continued on, overriding Mr. Rawlings’s protest.
Oh no. Heavens no. I could think of nothing worse than traveling with the reticent, high-handed Mr. Rawlings. “Is that really necessary?” I asked, trying not to reveal my absolute dread at the idea. “I could . . . I could go by myself.”
It was a foolish, desperate idea, one I knew would be rejected before I’d even finished speaking it.
“I am afraid that is out of the question,” Mr. Drake said, and there was no sign of the friendly, lighthearted man who’d sat beside me at dinner last night.
He was all business, though there was some sympathy in his voice.
“We cannot leave a lady like yourself unprotected. And besides that, you are also a witness now, important to any prosecution that should come against our culprit.”
“But Mr. Rawlings is injured,” I blurted out. “He isn’t in any state to protect me.”
Mr. Rawlings gave a dry laugh. “I managed well enough tonight, but I’m grateful for your confidence, Miss Lacey.”
I glared at him. Couldn’t he see that I was trying to free us both from this debacle? “As I recall, we both managed well enough,” I said, jaw tight. A reminder that he hadn’t acted alone. That I had saved his life as well.
His eyes narrowed on mine and held there, as if daring me to break away. I only planted my feet more firmly and stared him down.
“You needn’t worry, Beatrice,” Jack said. “Mr. Rawlings is more capable with one arm than most men are with two. You will be safe with him.”
I did not doubt it. The man was infuriatingly competent in everything he did.
“We still need somewhere to send them,” Mr. Drake said. “Or this discussion is pointless.”
Another moment of silence.
“I know of a place,” Mr. Rawlings said, his words clipped, expression resigned.
I stared at him. Was he giving in? He could not want this any more than I did.
“Where?” Ginny pressed.
Mr. Rawlings shook his head. “I should not say. It would be safer for everyone involved to know as little as possible.” He had returned once again to his natural state, indifferent and aloof.
“Even me?” I challenged. “Are you to blindfold me in the carriage?”
He turned that penetrating gaze back to me. “If you would feel more at ease.”
I made a noise of disbelief. We couldn’t actually be contemplating this, could we?
“What of her reputation?” Ginny asked, crossing her arms. “They cannot travel alone together, let alone hide away for an undetermined length of time.”
I nearly retorted that my reputation was the least of my worries but just stopped myself. That wouldn’t help my case at all.
Mr. Rawlings broke in again. “Safety must be our first priority. But we will depart in secret, and we will take every precaution to protect Miss Lacey’s reputation.”
If I wasn’t imagining things, he put the slightest emphasis on that last word, reminding me that he knew my reputation was already in tatters.
Ginny faced Mr. Rawlings, her face steeped in worry. “Are you sure about this place?” she asked. “Are you sure Beatrice will be safe there?”
Mr. Rawlings nodded just once, a sharp drop of his chin. “Yes.”
I expected more arguments from the others, but Ginny bit her lip, the tension in her face ebbing slightly. Jack looked thoughtful, and Mr. Drake was nodding his approval. Apparently, everything was already settled.
I wasn’t ready to give in just yet. “My mother is expecting me home in a week. I cannot just dash off into the country.”
“I have every hope that this will all be over in a week,” Mr. Drake offered. “If the murderer was so bold as to attack the lead investigator, I believe we are closer to solving this case than we realize. You and Rawlings will return soon enough.”
I shook my head. They all had an answer for every protest I made. It was infuriating. “There has to be another way,” I insisted. “A better way. What if—”
“Beatrice.” Jack stepped forward, fixing me with a serious stare. “You must see reason. This man is a murderer. If he finds you, he will kill you.”
His words hit me with enough force to tear the breath from my lungs. All the terror from earlier tonight swept over me again, along with the memory of the pure hate in our attacker’s eyes. I tried to push the image away, but it refused to yield its hold on me.
You’re mine, he’d said. He’d meant it. I knew he had. He would be looking for me, the woman who had drawn his blood and kept him from his quarry.
“There is no time for arguing,” Jack said firmly. “We have to get you out of London. Now.”
I said nothing, my hands curling into fists around my skirts. My pulse was like a battering ram in my ear.
“I am sorry, Miss Lacey,” Mr. Drake said softly. “But I promise we shall do our best to resolve this as quickly as possible.”
My mounting irritation—and the suffocating tide of utter powerlessness—dissipated at his words. This was not the fault of anyone here, I knew that. It was chance that had placed me at Mr. Rawlings’s side tonight and into this precarious situation.
I took a deep breath. This was clearly going to happen whether I liked it or not. I had to adapt, make the best of things. That was always my way in life, and I would not abandon my creed so easily.
“Very well,” I finally said, my voice catching in my throat. “I’ll go.”
I looked at Mr. Rawlings, who had said nothing more since he’d offered his unwanted port in this maelstrom. He met my gaze, and I could feel the weight of his stare like a physical thing. What was he really thinking behind that careful facade?
“We must leave tonight,” he said. “The dark will help us avoid any tails.”
“You’ll take my carriage,” Ginny said immediately. “Please.”
He nodded, accepting her offer. “Can you be ready to leave within the hour?” he asked me, a challenge strung through his words, as if he expected me to need hours of preparation before we could depart.
“Yes.” I kept my voice cool. “Can you?”