Chapter 7 #2
“Your vigil has already ceased?” Titus Fitzgerald’s baritone came out of nowhere and caused Waverly to straighten with a yelp and a wave of the trimming shears in her hand.
Titus reached forward and pushed down the shears with his hand.
“Do lower your weapon, Miss Pembrooke. I’ve no intention of violence. ”
“You have as much if not the most motivation for violence, Mr. Fitzgerald.” Waverly raised the shears again.
“And how do you come to that conclusion?” he challenged, his blue eyes flashing.
“You make a good living by the deaths of others, yes? Perhaps there’s been a shortage of late, and you need more bodies to invest in your services? Are you eating well, Mr. Fitzgerald, or perhaps needing money with which to pay your mortgage?”
His lips thinned at her sassy retort. “Unlike most in Newton Creek, I am not beholden to your uncle’s bank for my property.
And yes, I dined quite well on pheasant last night, thank you for asking.
As for committing murder in order to gain corpses to tend as my career requires, perhaps if I were terribly bored, I might consider it.
But as it stands, no, I did not, nor have I ever, committed a heinous crime to fill my time or coffers. ”
Waverly set the shears on an iron bench nearby. “Well, someone did. Murder my uncle and aunt, that is, and I’d like to find out who is responsible.”
The undertaker glanced between her, the bench, then back to her. “As I recommended last night, getting yourself to a safer place would be more prudent—”
Waverly held up a hand to stop him. “Is visiting the home of your deceased clients on a daily and nightly basis typical?”
“When they have a flibbertigibbet for a niece, then I do consider it an added service, yes.”
Her question hadn’t fazed him in the slightest. Waverly pursed her lips.
A tiny smile played at the corner of Titus’s mouth.
Waverly looked away.
“Now, Miss Pembrooke, or may I call you Waverly and be done with the pretense? It’s not as if we’ve not known each other for months now and not run in similar circles.”
Waverly gave him a curt nod. He had invited her to call him by his first name last night, while she had cavorted through the halls in her nightgown in search of a glass of milk. Truth be told, it was all terribly indecent of her.
“And what of your uncle and aunt? Who is watching them now?” Titus’s inquiry made Waverly recoil. He needn’t act as if he were a schoolteacher and she a delinquent student.
“I am quite aware I should be keeping vigil, but I am also aware that certain things must be seen to. I have Aveline covering the mirrors and such, and I offered to cut boxwood for a wreath.” She didn’t mention that she was also engaged in seeing if there were any footprints beneath the windows.
How had the murderer entered Traeger Hall?
If he had broken in, then it might be a nefarious business deal gone wrong with someone sent to kill her uncle.
If, however, the killer had been invited inside through the front entrance, that brought with it a far more intimate motive, did it not?
Titus responded, “I shall not tell Mr. Grossman of your lack of attentiveness. Between last night and now today, it must be kept secret between us.” He dared a wink that was more patronizing than flirtatious.
“If your uncle and aunt should see fit to break from the coma they fear and they return to the land of the living, I daresay we’d hear them if we were a mile away from Traeger Hall. ”
Waverly couldn’t argue with that. If for whatever reason the copious stab wounds were not enough to end their lives, neither Uncle Leopold nor Aunt Cornelia would be subtle in their coming to.
She could hear them now. The boorish and mean bellow from Uncle Leopold, couched in words that were unrepeatable and delivered with such condemnation that whoever had dared to stab him to death would probably suffer a stroke for fear of him.
Aunt Cornelia would instantly begin to complain that her dress had been ruined, and who would be so emboldened as to shove a knife through silk, let alone her abdomen?
“Miss Pembrooke.”
Waverly blinked, returning to the present. She stared at Titus Fitzgerald and then made her decision. “Please, I gave you permission. Call me Waverly. The Miss Pembrooke formalities are more tiresome than sitting for hours on the chair in the parlor.”
“You know you could ask for a more comfortable chair.”
“I could, but it would be asking the air because only Aveline has returned to work, and she’s as light as a feather.
I doubt she could move a chair any more than a mouse could.
I will retrieve one myself, if I see fit.
” Waverly brushed aside Titus’s interference.
“And you really didn’t answer my question.
Why are you here again?” She should bite her tongue, but the silence she’d endured today—aside from her interlude with Aveline—had become painful.
Titus held his hat in his hand, and the breeze ruffled his dark hair, giving him a boyish appearance.
Tight curls at the nape of his neck indicated he needed a trim, and the shadow of whiskers along his chin and cheeks was evidence he was not fond of bothering with the etiquette of shaving daily.
But then who was he to impress? Dead people?
“Have you taken my advice into consideration?” Titus ignored Waverly’s question regarding his appearance at Traeger Hall and posed his own.
She snatched up the shears from the bench and turned her back to him.
He was unsettling. If she was being honest, he made her lose her nerve.
She wanted to be in control of the situation at Traeger Hall to prove she could manage things herself and maybe prove to Mr. Grossman that they needed to contest her uncle’s will and allow her to remain at the Hall instead of sealing it up like a vault.
Not to mention she wanted to find her uncle’s killer and be assured she was no longer in any danger.
It was easier not to look at Titus while she talked.
She positioned the shears around a branch of boxwood and snipped it.
“I will not leave Traeger Hall.”
Snip.
“And you believe you’re safe here alone at night?” Titus inquired.
“Of course,” she lied, “so long as you don’t intrude under the guise of doing your duty, since you refuse to give me an honest answer for your repeated visits.”
Snip. Another branch fell.
“And if the killer returns?”
“I shall be waiting with an ax.” Waverly responded more haughtily than she felt.
Snip.
“Might I suggest the trimming shears instead?”
Waverly paused and looked over her shoulder at the exhausting man. “I think an ax would be more effective.”
“And yet you wield those shears so well.” Titus pointed at the pile of branches on the ground. “You’ve enough boxwood there to make five wreaths, and I’m assuming only one is needed?”
Waverly looked at the pile and did everything in her power to squelch the heat that rose in her cheeks.
She nudged the branches with her toe. “Since I have extra, I thought I might offer them to you. You could sell them as an added accessory with your services. Other dead people need wreaths for their front doors, don’t they? ”
“You’re quite exasperating.” Titus stated his truth, and in no way did Waverly feel as though she won the back-and-forth conversation. In fact, the way he said it made her feel as though she were naive, foolish, and quite missing the point that she was, in fact, not safe at Traeger Hall.
“My uncle always said as much about me,” Waverly quipped, turning to face the undertaker, her nemesis. His black suit was badly wrinkled. The man had no shame.
“Waverly.”
Her name on his tongue stilled her completely.
Little bumps rose on her skin, and unwelcome tickles in her stomach betrayed her.
Oh, she’d had them before where the undertaker was concerned.
Last month she remembered the precise moment they had been in church and their eyes had met.
So disconcerting and in church no less! She had felt embarrassed at her reaction then, just as she did now. Her cheeks warmed.
“Yes?” Waverly gripped the shears as though Titus himself were the murderer, returned to finish the job.
Titus drew his brows inward, annoyance marking his expression.
“The police have not yet uncovered who broke into Traeger Hall and inflicted such violence upon your aunt and uncle. Your uncle feared such a thing would take place, though most people don’t assume their death will be at the hands of a murderer. ”
Waverly swallowed, apprehension overtaking the attraction she’d sensed earlier. What kind of woman was attracted to an undertaker?
Titus took a step toward her as if to emphasize his point. “You know that your uncle predicted he was going to be murdered. It’s no secret that there was a dangerous incident before the night your aunt rang the bell in the tower.”
He referenced a night not long before the murders. Everyone in Newton Creek had heard of it. Waverly had pushed it from her mind. The gunshot, the broken window, the lack of attempt to ring the bell.
Waverly lifted her eyes to the bell tower that her uncle had built a few years prior to his marriage to her aunt.
He’d insisted the bell tower was needed, its purpose to ring for help in the event of an emergency.
All of Newton Creek knew that if the bell tolled, they were to rush to Leopold Traeger’s aid.
And it had finally tolled, two nights ago, and they had come . . . only they came too late.
She shut her eyes against the memory of racing back to Traeger Hall.
Where she had been and why she had been there was nobody’s business.
Least of all Titus the undertaker’s. Waverly would never forget the shame and guilt she felt upon stumbling into the bell tower to see her aunt lying there with her eyes open in a death stare, a pool of crimson beneath her.
If she had been at Traeger Hall when the murders occurred, she very well might have stopped them—or been a victim herself.
“Will this be the last of it?” Titus voiced the question the authorities had raised to Waverly the morning after the murders.
“I don’t know.” Waverly bounced the shears against her leg.
It didn’t matter if they soiled her dress.
It was a black mourning bombazine, and she hated it.
“I don’t know if I am safe. I don’t know who did it.
I don’t know what is to become of any of this.
I am merely trying to cut boxwood branches, Mr. Fitzgerald, and have a moment of peace amidst the sorrow.
I’d rather not be hounded by questions I cannot possibly answer!
” Tears stung her eyes. Waverly swiped at them and continued, “I have five days left here at Traeger Hall, if you must know, and then I’ve nowhere to go.
I have that to consider as much as my own personal welfare. ”
“If you could stay at Traeger Hall, would you?” Titus’s eyebrow winged upward.
Waverly sucked in a breath in an effort to regain her emotional balance. “Once more, I don’t know.”
Much to Waverly’s surprise, Titus’s eyes softened, and his voice gentled. “Don’t you think that knowing something for certain would be far better? And if you want to take control of your future, you have your uncle’s entire estate at your fingertips.”
“For the next five days only.”
“And what happens after five days?” Titus asked.
“Traeger Hall is to be closed up. Nothing sold, nothing brought to storage or moved with me. I can take with me only what I came to Traeger Hall with. I’m afraid three hats, six dresses, and a few other personal items will not go far in providing for me.”
Titus crossed his arms over his chest and eyed her.
“Then take it upon yourself to make sure you’re still alive in five days.
Assume this was no random slaying, that there was a purpose behind it, and maybe, if you refuse to take refuge elsewhere, at least take ownership of the time you’ve been given to find out why your guardians were murdered.
Don’t you wonder why your uncle would make such irrational demands in his will?
Whose purpose does it serve if he is dead?
Perhaps if you can learn the why and the who behind the killing, you might be able to figure out the answer as to your future. ”
Waverly opted to ask Titus outright. “Why do you, of all people, care so much anyway?”
“Because these circumstances are not normal, Waverly. Your uncle and aunt were brutally slain. Your uncle predicted as much would happen and made no secret of this. It indicates this was no accident, no impulsive act. It’s no secret your uncle’s holdings are vast and extend beyond Newton Creek and his sawmill enterprise.
Who knows what all is at stake here? So you are evicted from Traeger Hall, but what of your uncle’s holdings?
Are there large sums you’re to inherit that Mr. Grossman is not informing you about?
You’re acquiescing, taking the lawyer at his word?
Maybe instead you should fight back, take control of your future, and investigate for yourself what happened.
The authorities aren’t as motivated as you are.
They have little to lose, whereas you have everything to lose. ”
Waverly’s legs became as wobbly as a molded Christmas jelly. She fumbled for the iron bench and sank onto it, staring up at the undertaker. What he said made sense. His words mirrored where her befuddled thoughts had been circling but had been unable to put into order.
She lifted her eyes to the man who stood over her. “You believe I should try to solve my uncle’s murder?”
Titus’s brilliant blue eyes locked on hers with confidence.
It was as though he had looked into death’s future, seen it, and not even the prospect of it seemed to rattle him.
“I believe you should try to find out why someone wanted him dead. Knowing the answer to that could very well change your future.”
“It could also kill me,” Waverly countered.
“Either way,” said Titus, “I will be available should you need me.”
She gave a sigh. It was not a comforting promise coming from an undertaker.