Chapter Forty-One
Henry
Henry flexed his hand. He didn’t think any bones were broken, but he might have to punch the arsehole again. He wanted to be prepared. “Is everyone all right?” He looked from Lady Mary to the maid and back again.
Lady Mary patted her hair. It lay in a tangled mess about her shoulders. “Not to sound ungrateful, but what, in the name of all that is holy, are you doing here?”
“Mr. Smith saw Withers’s carriage turning about.” He toed the man’s body, but Withers remained unresponsive. “I realized he must have been the killer and rode as fast as I could back.”
“And crawled in through a window?” The maid pointed at the small table he had knocked over when he’d crawled inside the sitting room.
The back of his neck heated. “I didn’t want to rouse the whole house if I was wrong.
The casement doors were locked, and I know that window has a loose latch.
It seemed the thing to do.” When he’d heard the commotion and seen bits of the window above fall onto the terrace, he’d kicked himself for his caution.
He should have banged on the front door, gotten everyone out of bed.
And speaking of… “Can you wake the butler?” he asked Marie. “We need men to hold Withers until the constable can be called.”
She nodded and skirted around the unconscious form before disappearing down the hallway.
Henry drew Lady Mary to the window and examined her in the moonlight. “Are you certain you are all right?” His eyes narrowed. “I believe there is a bruise forming on your chin.”
The breath she loosed was a bit wobbly. “A few knocks about, but considering the alternative….”
Henry glared at Withers, wishing the man would awaken so he could plant him another facer.
Unfortunately, the butler and a contingent of strong young men arrived before he had the chance. Oil lamps and candles were lit. A length of rope was produced, and Withers was neatly bound and removed to the stables. Someone was sent to rouse the constable and get a message to the magistrate.
Tea, with a nip of something a bit stronger, was served.
Lady Mary held a saucer of milk up to Southey, who was resting on her lap. The dog eagerly tucked in. Aside from being somewhat subdued, he seemed no worse for wear.
“Marie.” Lady Mary dipped her chin to look at the girl. “When did you arrive back to this house, and why did you not come see me? You must know I was worried about you.”
Marie stretched her slippered toes out in front of her, the hem of her wrapper falling open. “I arrived late this evening. Yesterday evening now. You’d already gone to bed. I was still unpacking my things when I ’eard the crash.”
“Well, you were quite adept with my walking stick,” Lady Mary said. “I thank you for saving my life.”
Henry waited for his turn to be thanked. And waited. He grimaced. Saving two women from a crazed killer would have to be its own reward.
“I don’t understand,” Marie said. “Why did ’e do it?”
“Revenge.” Lady Mary ran her fingers over Southey’s ear.
“But for a crime that existed only in his mind. I believe Bertram was quite ill. With a disease that is often treated with mercury, which seems to do more harm than good. I should have realized when you found the calomel in Bertram’s room, Marie.
It’s a form of mercury used for digestive issues, as you thought, but it’s also used to treat something worse. ”
Henry sagged back into his chair. “His rumored infidelity to his wife. That was true?”
“He was quite the scoundrel in his younger days, though became a most attentive husband later on.” Lady Mary nodded. “Looking back, I believe he gave the disease to his wife and she died from it.”
“Gave it to his wife?” Marie’s face cleared. “Oh! Oh…. That kind of disease.”
“The symptoms were all there.” Lady Mary stared down at the dog. “If only I had paid attention enough to notice.”
“So he killed Perrin out of a misguided sense of justice. And Taylor?” Henry asked. “Taylor knew that Withers was the killer? Tried to extort money from him perhaps?”
Lady Mary tapped her finger on her nose. “You have it. Greed was Mr. Taylor’s downfall.”
Henry rubbed his jaw. “There was an evening, after dinner when the men were conversing. Taylor had said he thought of Katherine as a sister and that ‘a brother would do anything for a sister.’” He sighed.
“He obviously didn’t feel Katherine was like a sister.
His words must have been directed to Mr. Withers.
Another hint that Taylor knew Withers had taken revenge for Lady Perrin. I missed it at the time.”
“We all missed a lot.” Lady Mary stroked Southey’s back. “Though not one of those blasted herbalist books mentioned lily of the valley as a potential poison. I refuse to take responsibility for not discovering the source of what killed Perrin.”
“You were reading books pertaining to home remedies,” Henry said. “I believe some people have tried to use that plant to ease the symptoms of gout, but to no effect. Lily of the valley is commonly understood not to have any medicinal value. It wouldn’t have been in your books.”
Lady Mary sighed, her shoulders rounding. “I didn’t want to acknowledge that Bertram was sick. If I did, I would have had to take some action. It was easier to believe he was lonely and eccentric. And now two men are dead.”
Perrin’s loss would be hard on his sons, no doubt. Henry tried to muster up some sympathy for the secretary but fell short. Not only had the man been willing to allow a killer to roam loose, he’d attempted to coerce Katherine into marriage. No, he would cry no tears over Taylor’s death.
Katherine. A small smile tugged at his lips. “She’ll be so disheartened to find Miss Walker innocent.”
There was a rustle of skirts at the door. “She might not have killed Perrin, but I maintain that woman is far from innocent.”
*
The shock on Henry’s face did a little to lift Katherine’s spirits. As did seeing Lady Mary and the rest of them safe. A bit knocked about, perhaps, but relatively unharmed.
Henry jumped to his feet. “Katherine. What in heaven’s name are you doing here?”
“Why do you think?” Lady Mary rolled her eyes. “She came to the same conclusion as you.” The older woman tilted her head. “I hope you didn’t hare off on a horse like our Mr. Evans here.”
Her father stepped next to her. “Of course not. But I do believe we’ve cracked a wheel bouncing back here at the speed we did. We might have to spend another night at Perrin Manor while it’s repaired.”
Good. That would give her time to explain her foolishness to Henry. Time to beg him to take her back.
Henry strode up to her, gave one apologetic look to her father, then pulled her into his arms.
All right then. Perhaps she didn’t need much time at all. She rested her cheek against his chest and held on to the pockets of his jacket. “I’m sorry. My father told me what you negotiated for. Or more importantly what you didn’t. Can you forgive me?”
His hold tightened. “A man almost killed two women here tonight. Could have turned his madness on you at any time in the past weeks. Right now, I can forgive anything.”
Katherine burrowed deeper into his hold. She was almost grateful to Mr. Withers. If they hadn’t been investigating a murder together, she and Henry most likely never would have fallen in love. And without the threat he posed, Henry might not have accepted her back so readily.
“While I’m here, I’d say we’d best finalize the details of your nuptials.” Her father’s voice held a bit of warning.
Henry loosened his hold on her, but only a little. “Then it’s a good thing there’s an attorney in the house.”