Chapter 31 #2
She’d backed into the hallway table. The vase had toppled onto the floor. A brief distraction. Enough for her to run to the parlor. Not enough to shut the door on Miss Finch.
She shook her head in an effort to clear it, and saw that she stood in the very room where she’d met the Crofts during her previous visit. She just couldn’t recall entering it.
“Are you all right?” Peter’s voice at her shoulder was firm but soothing.
“Of course not.” She doubted she ever would be and it was important for him to know that.
His arms came around her, pulling her close. Releasing a heaving sigh, she pressed into his warmth — the strength and support he offered — and savored each second. There was no telling if or when they would ever be this close again.
So she drew the scent of tobacco mingled with wet wool and notes of musk into her lungs as she wound her arms around his torso.
Her fingertips curled, gripping him hard — as though she feared she’d fall off the planet the moment she let him go.
A sound vibrated next to her ear. A low hum of assurance.
“Gabriella.” There was a world of emotion in the strain of his voice. So much so, it threatened to shatter whatever composure she still possessed.
“As you’ve said, everything will be all right. Let’s try to believe that.” It was all she had at the moment. A fragile promise based on nothing but hope.
“I don’t just believe it,” he said. “I’m certain of it.”
If only she had his confidence. Perhaps she should try to. She nodded against his chest and stepped back. He released her, but took hold of her hand, his fingers threading with hers.
“Gabriella, I need you to know that—”
Approaching footsteps cut him off and then Croft was there, his weight supported by a cane.
Despite his slightly battered appearance, his dark gaze was as sharp as usual.
He assessed their close proximity, their expressions, and anything else that caught his interest. Gabriella pulled her hand free from Peter’s and turned more fully toward her host. He seemed to scrutinize her every pore before shifting his full attention to Peter.
She almost sagged with relief.
“I wasn’t expecting to see you again so soon,” Croft said, his tone slightly critical, perhaps even annoyed.
He glanced toward the fireplace, or more likely the clock that sat on the mantlepiece, then said, “As I’m sure you can imagine, I’m a bit preoccupied at the moment, so the help you require will have to wait until tomorrow. If you don’t mind?”
Croft turned while sweeping his arm toward the door. A clear indication that they were expected to leave. Gabriella shifted onto her left foot, but Peter stayed her with his hand.
“This cannot wait,” Peter said, his voice as steady as a sniper’s aim. “Miss Hastings needs your protection. I’d like for her to remain here until all has been done to ensure that she won’t be charged with murder.”
Croft held Peter’s gaze for a long silent moment, then said, “It’s probably best if you explain the situation to me in full.”
Peter proceeded to do so in a precise manner that focused on details instead of emotion. When he reached the part about finding Gabriella and the observations he’d made regarding Miss Finch, he paused.
“Perhaps it’s best if you tell Croft what happened,” he told her softly. “If you think you’re able?”
She swallowed past a knot in her throat and started searching for the right words.
“Miss Hastings.” Croft’s voice made her realize she’d just been standing there without speaking, she knew not for how long. “Would you like a brandy?”
“Yes, please.” At least she’d have a glass to hold onto.
The drink itself might help soothe her nerves as well.
She watched Croft prepare the drink and thanked him when he handed it to her a few seconds later.
The liquid had a rich flavor, the smooth texture leaving a comforting warmth in its wake as it slid down her throat.
“How many times do you think you stabbed Miss Finch before you stopped?” Croft asked, so casually it took a moment for the weight of the question to hit her.
She blinked. “I’m not entirely sure.”
“Four times?” Croft angled his head, affecting a pensive pose. “Five?”
“More,” she whispered, her throat once again tight. “I couldn’t stop.”
“Why not?”
The prompt reminded her of the scissors she’d snatched off the parlor table — of their weight in her hand and what it had felt like to push them through flesh and tissue. That initial resistance followed by softness. She started shaking. “I knew what she’d done and I thought I was next.”
“It would have been best if Miss Finch had been threatening you with a weapon.” Croft spoke as though to himself, then said, “You’re welcome to stay here as long as you wish, Miss Hastings. Elks can show you up to one of the guest rooms while I see Kendrick out.”
She hesitated. “My family needs to be informed so they don’t worry.”
“I’ll see to it,” Peter assured her. “They’ll know you’re safe.”
Croft called the butler and issued instructions, after which Gabriella reluctantly left Peter’s side and went to find the bedchamber where she’d be staying until further notice.
* * *
“You care for her a great deal,” Croft murmured as soon as Gabriella was gone. “One might even dare suggest that you love her.”
“I will do whatever I can to prevent her from facing an unfair trial.”
“As I did?”
“Precisely. You know better than anyone that the legal system isn’t always as fair as it should be. And given what Miss Hastings did, I fear there will be some who won’t sympathize with her actions. Despite what Miss Finch herself was guilty of doing.”
Croft dipped his chin. “How far are you willing to go for this woman?”
Peter stared at the man he’d once investigated, a man he’d tried so hard to take down, the same man whose life he’d helped save when he realized threats and bribes had ensured his trial went a certain way.
He’d always considered himself incorruptible.
He believed in the law and the legal system built upon it.
He just didn’t believe in people as much as he once had.
“I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure she doesn’t face sentencing.” Lord knew, there were those who might want to make an example of her — men who’d want to prove that not even the chief magistrate’s daughter was beyond reproach. He shuddered to think of it. Of what she might have to endure.
“Then I would recommend you find another weapon at the scene of the crime,” Croft said. “Perhaps you missed something during your initial inspection?”
“What you’re suggesting is—”
“I am aware of what it is. I’m also aware that it may be the thing that determines whether or not Miss Hastings walks free or ends up at the gallows. There’s also the chance she’ll be found mad and sentenced to spend the rest of her days in Bedlam.”
Peter nodded. “Very well. What else?”
“I’ll speak with Abernathy tomorrow,” Croft said, “Make sure he writes the first article about what occurred. He’ll paint Miss Finch as the villain she was and make sure Miss Hastings receives the sympathy she deserves.”
“I don’t know… It feels so…”
“Dishonest?” Croft snorted in response to Peter’s nod. “We can still pretend we never had this conversation. You can retain a clear conscience and put your faith in the legal system if that will help you sleep better at night.”
“The only thing that will help me do so is the certainty that I did all I could to make sure Miss Hastings’s life isn’t ruined over this.”
“There’s a chance it already is.” Croft’s words were soft, yet horribly jarring. “These sorts of experiences tend to leave a mark, Kendrick. You know this as well as I do.”
Of course he did. To suggest anything else was absurd. “That’s not what I meant. I was referring to how the world will react — how she’ll be treated henceforth — and what will become of her.” He shook his head, aware that he stood at a line he never imagined he’d ever consider crossing.
What he’d done to help Croft was one thing, but this? It involved planting evidence and skewing the facts.
“I will do what I can to help her, Kendrick, but only if you agree to do your part.” Croft’s tone matched his serious expression.
“Despite everything, I’m not ready to trust that you won’t eventually turn on me.
So if I’m to stick my neck out for this woman, then you must do the same.
Besides, this is the best way to ensure that she will avoid prosecution. ”
“You’re right.” It had to be made to look as though Gabriella had fought for her life. Beyond any shadow of a doubt. “I’ll take care of it.”
Peter parted ways with Croft, then headed to Bow Street where he ordered two more Runners to meet him at Number 17 Shoe Lane with the hearse.
When he entered the house, Anderson had moved to the parlor where he was sketching the scene. Meanwhile, Lewis was speaking with Mrs. Rivers, who’d gained consciousness during Peter’s absence.
The older woman sat on the edge of her bed, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Lewis, who was taking notes, excused himself to Mrs. Rivers as soon as he registered Peter’s presence.
“She says she admitted Miss Finch because she believed her to be in need of assistance,” Lewis said when he joined Peter in the hallway.
“Apparently Miss Finch came knocking and when Mrs. Rivers opened the door, Miss Finch was in a panic about a couple of men who’d been following her.
She asked Mrs. Rivers to let her hide in her home and Mrs. Rivers agreed.
She even offered to make her some tea but doesn’t remember much after that. ”
“I’d like you to make arrangements for Mrs. Rivers to see a physician,” Peter told Lewis.
“Agreed. I can accompany her to St. George’s and make sure she gets back home again safely.”
“Good man.” Peter turned toward the parlor. “Join me for a moment, will you?”
They entered the room where Anderson still worked.