Chapter Sixteen #2
“We are certainly going to give it our all.” Though he was worried, for Lady Withington had been alone with only her staff for the better part of a few hours. “Let us hope they haven’t killed the other maid or the footmen for the opportunity to have Lydia alone.”
“Or worse, they’ve kidnapped her. If that has occurred, we might not be able to find her in time.”
“True, and they would have access to Withington’s carriage.
He’s a groom and could lead out a team of horses without anyone questioning why.
” Damn, this had the potential to go wrong in so many ways.
“The key here is not to panic. We don’t know what we’re walking into, and making up worst case scenarios in our minds will only distract us from the task at hand. ”
“Oh, I’m so nervous,” she whispered, and it was as if that admission expanded on the chilly air in the gloom.
“If you’d rather, I can have Daniel go by your home so you can stay there while I confront our criminal couple.” He gave her a nod. “I would understand after what you’ve already been through on this case.”
“I knew the groom’s eyes looked familiar when we questioned him at the mews, but I couldn’t understand why.
” Her voice caught on the last word. “Perhaps my mind was attempting to block that attack, or perhaps I didn’t have that good a look at him in the dark.
And I’d forgotten the time he’d helped with Debra’s dog.
” She shook her head. “While I appreciate the thought in keeping me safe, I want to see this case through. Even if it means confronting the man who nearly choked me to death.”
“I’m so proud of you.” Quickly, Felix transferred over to her bench and then slipped his arms around her.
“We’ll do this together, and hopefully that united front will minimize the danger.
” Then, because he could, he cupped her cheek and then claimed her lips with his in a brief but thorough kiss.
“Stay strong, Caro. There is every chance we’ll have this case concluded, and before Christmas even though we will undoubtedly miss dinner with your aunt tonight. ”
“I’m sure Aunt Georgiana will understand, and she’ll want the full story from you as soon as you can manage it.” But she laid a hand on his chest. “Investigating cases with you has opened my eyes to all sorts of ways the human condition can fail.”
“There is no such thing as perfect, my dear. Which is why we have laws to prevent anarchy.” But his heart went out to her. “By and large, there are many more good people in the world who outnumber the bad ones. We just need to remind ourselves to look for them instead.”
And hope to God they never disappoint us.
Twenty minutes later, the driver opened the door to the carriage and put down the steps.
Golden light illuminated a few windows on the second level, but when Felix rapped on the front door—where a Christmas wreath had been hung—no one came to answer it.
With a glance at Caroline, he pressed the latch and then pushed the panel inward.
An odd sort of hush engulfed the house. The butler as well as a footman was immediately missing, and that didn’t bode well for what he absolutely didn’t wish to find abovestairs.
With a finger to his lips, he gestured with his head toward the stairs as he softly closed the door. “I’m going up to the next level on these stairs. If you can join me but from the servants’ stairs, we can perhaps surprise them and buy us some time,” he said in a barely audible whisper.
“Good idea.” She briefly laid a hand on his arm. “Be careful.”
He nodded. “You as well.” Then as Caroline moved further down the corridor toward the back of the house, Felix made his way slowly up the main staircase.
The muffled sound of voices drifted to his ears as he climbed.
One was definitely Lady Withington, and there were notes of panic and fear in her tone.
Damn, what is happening?
Also odd was the fact that he hadn’t encountered any of the servants.
Had they been killed? Was Caroline walking into a trap?
Pushing the thought away, he continued his mission.
In that moment, he trusted her to defend herself, for he’d seen her in action…
but he also knew she was vulnerable, as evidenced by what had happened to her outside her own family’s house.
Then he reached the drawing room. One of the doors was closed but one was partially open, so he crept cautiously forward until he could peer within the crack.
The scene beyond chilled his blood and was a weird juxtaposition from the joy inherent in the Christmastide decorations as well as holiday greenery that had been put up around the room.
Lady Withington lay on the floor, and it was clear she was already in the throes of labor.
Had it been brought on by the anxiety of her husband being murdered or the betrayal of the maid?
He supposed there wasn’t a clear answer.
From what he could tell, the only other person in the room with the widow was the maid, Betsy, who stood over Lady Withington with a knife in her hand.
Despite the chilling implications, if that were true, he could easily overpower her, and this whole wretched evening could be over without incident.
Feeling confident, Felix opened the door further and slipped inside.
As of yet, Betsy hadn’t spied him, and as he moved quietly into the room, a sofa and other furniture blocked the lady’s view of him.
That was when he saw how horrible the evening had gone.
At the other side of the room near another grouping of furniture, the other maid they’d interviewed lay on the floor, bleeding from an obvious stab wound to her left side.
Though she held her hand over it, that little effort hadn’t done anything to staunch the flow of blood.
Shit, shit, shit.
Removing his greatcoat, Felix moved over to her and folded the garment. “Anita? Hold this to the wound. Tightly, now, and turn onto that side so it will help. I’ll come back to you,” he whispered as he held her gaze. “All will be well.”
He hoped.
When he stood, he was immediately confronted with Betsy the maid, and she was very clearly not pregnant.
The pungent scent of pine boughs and candle wax met his nose.
“Why couldn’t you stay away, Major? Why couldn’t you have heeded our warnings?
” she asked as she prowled the floor toward him with the knife clutched tightly in her hand. “None of this concerns you.”
“It does because you’ve stabbed one of the maids. Where is your husband?” He risked a glance about the room, but as of now, he was alone with Betsy and Lady Withington.
“He has other tasks just now.”
“Where is the butler?”
“My husband took care of him.”
Did that mean he’d been killed or merely temporarily taken out?
“Put down the knife, Betsy. You don’t need to do this. No more lives need to be lost.”
A snort escaped her. “You know nothing about it.” She gestured with the knife. “Go over there by Lady Withington.”
As soon as the widow spotted him, she uttered a pain-filled cry. “Major! Thank God. Please help me. Betsy has gone mad.”
“So I can see.” Slowly, and still facing the maid, Felix moved over the floor with his hands up in a non-threatening manner.
No matter the cost, he needed to remain ready and flexible as he waited for an opening.
“Do you seriously believe you will be able to get away unscathed after stealing an infant?”
“That is the plan, but my lady isn’t doing her part.” Heavy sarcasm surrounded the title. The maid glared at the woman on the floor with her skirting rucked up about her knees. “I think she’s intentionally delaying the labor.”
“As if I have a choice in what my body wishes to do!” Pain etched across Lady Withington’s face. “Babies come when they are ready, not when we are.”
“Liar!” The maid darted over Lydia and slashed out with the knife. A thin line of blood welled on the widow’s right arm. “If you don’t birth this babe in the next ten minutes, I will be forced to cut it out of you. We are running out of time.”
Yes, they all were, but before Felix could make a move, Betsy had the blade of the knife pointed back at him.
“What the hell do you mean to do, keeping me hostage with a woman clearly in labor and needing assistance?” A quick glance around the immediate area showed there were no rags, towels, blankets, or even bowls of hot water or other implements that might assist in helping a woman with childbirth. “We need help and supplies.”
“No.” The maid shook her head. She gestured with her blade. “You were in the military, Major. You can make do with what is available in this room. The second the babe is born, I’ll take it and be gone from this house.”
“Don’t let her take my baby,” Lady Withington implored him before another cry escaped her, for a contraction gripped her. “It’s the only good thing to come out of my wretched marriage with Withington.”
“I’ll do my level best.” At the very least, he’d need that blade.
Though he didn’t know much about delivering babies, he knew there was an umbilical cord that connected mother and child, and it would need to be cut.
However, the threat of the maid’s husband being somewhere in the house doing God knew what bothered him more than it should.
“You won’t,” Betsy said. “Because if you try anything, I’ll kill the widow. The only thing I want from tonight is the baby.” Her chin trembled. “It’s the only thing I’ve ever wanted.” She gestured with the blade. “Now get to work. Encourage her to deliver the child quicker.”
“Ha. You’re completely insane.” But he sank to his knees near Lady Withington.
Oddly, there was a ball of mistletoe hanging from the ceiling between where he was now and the nearest sofa.
Clearly, Lady Withington had wished to usher in the holidays before her baby came.
“But I can’t work with you hovering holding a weapon. Go tend to the other maid.”
“No.” Betsy shook her head. “I want that baby. No one else matters.”
And therein lay the issue. This situation had the potential to become a bloodbath more than it already had. He would need to tread carefully, but it would prove difficult while the widow was in active labor.
Oddly, he welcomed the challenge, and he hoped Caroline fared a bit better.