Deadlier Than the Pen Part 22

Shortly after Ben left the house with Maggie on Monday to take her to the depot to catch the Maine Central's morning train to Boston, Diana received a note from Jerusha Fildale.

This was exactly what she needed, Diana decided, and called for Annie. "Is there a pair of ice skates in the house?" she asked when the maid appeared. "This is an invitation to go skating on the river." She paused to glance out the window. The weather appeared to be warmer than it had been. It looked quite pleasant. "The Whig and Courier says the river is open below Orrington, but I don't know where Orrington is."

"To the south, mum. Some places downriver, the tidewaters keep the channel open all winter. But the ice should hold solid enough here. They wager on it, you see, and most folks are sayin' how it'll be weeks yet till ice out."

"And skates?" Jerusha had her own. She brought them with her on winter tours.

"Mrs. Northcote has a pair. Very fine they are, too, with ankle supports and shiny buckles and nickel-plated steel runners. I'll fetch them."

While she waited for Annie to return, Diana tapped the note against her chin. This outing would give her the chance to take Jerusha into her confidence. The actress might have noticed something useful about her colleagues' behavior. More than that, she might be able to see Diana's situation more clearly. Jerusha had never hesitated to offer romantic advice before. Diana doubted that she would this time. And if Jerusha thought Diana should get away from the Northcotes, she would help her do so.

When Diana set out a short time later she was not surprised to find the gates locked. Using the extra key Old Ernest had given her, she let herself through and set off at a brisk pace towards downtown Bangor. Before meeting Jerusha, she made one stop, at the new Western Union Telegraph Company office, located directly below the old one. By now the employees knew her on sight.

"Fine place, is it not, Mrs. Spaulding?" one of them greeted her from behind a gleaming walnut counter. It divided the business room, where completed telegram blanks were received from customers, from the operating room. In the latter, banks of instrument tables were loaded down with quadruplex repeaters, typewriters, and other equipment.

"Indeed it is, Henry."

s.p.a.cious and well lit, the office had sufficient staff to keep it humming twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. Each telegrapher worked in his or her own cubicle among the tables, separated by a foot-high, sound-deadening gla.s.s and wood part.i.tion. At the moment, only a few were busy. One woman who was not, worked at her knitting while she waited to send or receive Morse Code. George, the press operator, played solitaire.

"Any new messages for me?"

"Nothing yet today, Mrs. Spaulding. If something comes in we can send it out to Dr. Northcote's house. Save you coming into town."

Diana hesitated, but only for a moment. "An excellent idea, George. Thank you."

With a lighter heart, Diana continued on her way to the section of the river that citizens of Bangor used for skating. She had no difficulty locating it. Several wooden chairs had been set up on sh.o.r.e so ladies could sit comfortably while they clamped blades to boots. Convenient logs served the same purpose for gentlemen.

A cheerful fire burned on the bank to warm those who came as spectators as well as those who'd ventured out onto the ice. Diana noticed at once that most of the skaters wore ear protectors. The bright circles of cloth were held together by a metal band that slipped over the head and underneath a regular hat, a clever invention that went a long way towards preventing frostbitten ears.

Since it appeared she'd arrived ahead of Jerusha, Diana debated waiting to skate until her friend arrived, but the ice looked much too tempting. A few minutes later, she was wobbling her way around the circle, part of a large and congenial group of women and young children. Their older brothers and sisters were back in school after a two-weeks holiday.

It had been more than a year since Diana had put on a pair of ice skates, but once she got her balance back, she began to enjoy herself. When she'd first settled in New York she'd skated once or twice on the lake in Central Park, in the area at the north end that was reserved for ladies in order to spare them having to endure the more boisterous activities of men and boys. A red ball, she recalled, was hoisted at the bell tower on Vista Rock to signal when the ice was thick enough to be safe. She did not see any such indicator here.

Although Diana thoroughly enjoyed the skating, by the time half an hour pa.s.sed she began to feel uneasy about Jerusha's absence. For what seemed the hundredth time, she looked around for her friend. At first no one looked familiar. Then she thought she recognized Ben's dark mane above the caps and hats. Wishful thinking, she decided when the man came no nearer. After all, Ben's intention had been to go directly to his office after seeing Maggie off. Diana suppressed a sigh. She imagined that skating with Ben Northcote would be as romantic as dancing with him. She wondered if she would ever be privileged to do either.

She made one more circle of the skating area. This time, when she approached the gathering place on sh.o.r.e, Jerusha was there. So were half of Toddy's company -- Lavinia, Toddy himself, Patsy, Billy Sims, and Charles Underly. Jerusha and Toddy appeared to be arguing. Lavinia waved gaily at Diana, then headed for the chairs. Diana continued on towards the bonfire. She was warming her hands when Lavinia came up beside her.

"I read this morning's Whig and Courier," Lavinia said. "I am so glad Toddy could persuade you to see the error of your ways." She preened a bit.

Diana was not sure what to say to the woman. It hardly flattered Lavinia if the only way she could get a good review was to have her lover intervene with the critic.

"A week ago I was ready to spit in your face if I ever saw you again," Lavinia continued, "but Toddy says you've been here all along."

"I came to Bangor directly from New Haven," Diana a.s.sured her. "I had nothing to do with the columns printed in the Intelligencer in my absence. Blame them on the same man who blackened your name in print the last time. My editor likes scandal, Lavinia. I do not."

"Hmmm."

Several local residents, who were sharing the warmth of the fire with Lavinia and Diana, seemed to be taking an interest in their discussion. By mutual agreement the two women took to the ice before they continued the conversation.

"Toddy told us how grateful we must be to you. After all, you led him to Damon Bathory. I am quite looking forward to starring in an adaptation of one of those stories. I'm told they are very popular."

"What role has Toddy a.s.signed to you?"

"The greatest part since Lady Macbeth -- Hannah Sussep."

Diana bit back a groan. That explained why Toddy and Jerusha were at odds. At best, Lavinia would play Maggie's Indian witch as melodramatic and stagy. "I am sure you will be unforgettable in the role."

"A half-mad heroine out to take revenge on her enemies." Lavinia's eyes glittered. "I relish the challenge."

In other hands, Diana thought, Jerusha's perhaps, the part might become a character of heroic proportions. Lavinia would never reach that level. She'd equate shrieking and thrashing about with madness. Or incoherent babbling.

Just then Charles Underly skated past, calling out to Lavinia to come and be his partner. He sent Diana a fulminating look.

"Go," Diana urged, reminded that she wanted to ask Jerusha about Underly and Sims.

Jerusha was still with Toddy and neither of them was paying the least bit of attention to anyone else. Diana looked for Billy Sims but found no sign of him. Patsy was just putting on her skates.

Keeping one eye on Jerusha, so she'd know when the other woman was free to talk to her, Diana made a wide circle on the ice, grateful that her ankle had healed so quickly and so well. She kept her distance from Underly and, when she finally caught sight of him, Billy Sims as well.

Another ten minutes pa.s.sed and Diana had just begun another loop when she heard a cry of panic behind her. She turned in time to see Lavinia land ignominiously on her backside. Charles Underly reached her first and attempted to a.s.sist her to her feet, but her skates kept slipping out from under her and threatened to bring both of them down in a heap.

"Lend us a hand, Diana," Underly called.

Obligingly, Diana skated towards them, taking the most direct route. She had gone no more than a few feet when she heard an ominous cracking sound. Before she had time to react, the surface beneath her feet shifted, throwing her off balance. She landed hard on her right side and, horrified, felt herself slide out of control. Sheer momentum carried her farther from sh.o.r.e and directly towards a steadily widening crevice at mid-river. One foot, then the other, plunged into the frigid waters of the Pen.o.bscot.

Diana screamed, scrabbling at breaking ice in a futile attempt to halt her descent. She found a handhold in time to prevent total submersion, but it was not sufficient to save her from a thorough dunking. Cold water splashed into her nose and mouth, choking her, while the strong river current tugged at her nether limbs.

Frantic, Diana tried to tread water. More by luck than design, the full skirt of the gray traveling suit she'd worn as a skating costume aided her efforts to keep afloat. The ballooning fabric held trapped air beneath it, but Diana knew the garment would soon become waterlogged. Once that happened, the weight would be one more force dragging her down. Her limbs were already almost too numb to control.

Her only hope of survival was to crawl back out onto ice that was still solid, but every time she clutched at the edge of the fissure with any force, in an attempt to pull herself up and out, more bits broke away and more cold water sloshed over her, freezing on her face and drenching her hair.

"Grab hold!" someone shouted. A rope snaked across the surface of the river and slapped against her cheek.

Nearly too weak to obey the command, Diana reached for it, wrapping her frozen fingers around the lifeline. An instant later, she was jerked forward, until the upper half of her body flopped onto the ice like a landed fish. Strong hands grasped her wrists, drawing her the rest of the way out of the water.

Someone turned her over. She supposed she was lying flat on her back on the ice but she couldn't feel it beneath her. A terrible numbness had overtaken every part of her body. It took tremendous effort for Diana to open her eyes and stare up at a very blue sky. She thought it was the prettiest sight she'd ever seen.

"Bring her close to the fire."

Obeying Jerusha's order, someone lifted her and carried her at a run. Then more hands seized her and she was propped up next to the crackling blaze. She knew it must be hot, since other people were sweating, but she felt nothing but an icy cold. Then, slowly, warmth started to penetrate her soaked clothing, making it steam. The smell of wet wool rose with the vapor and Diana began to shiver uncontrollably.

Men and women alike milled around her, talking, maybe even shouting at her, but she could not understand a single thing they said through the buzzing in her head. Languid, her eyes drifted closed and she gave in to an overwhelming desire to go to sleep.

Charles Underly was holding Diana's limp body in his lap when Ben arrived on the scene. Ben shoved him aside and bent over the still, pale form. At least someone had shown the good sense to wrap a blanket around her.

Devastating fear had clawed at Ben from the moment a runner brought word to his office that Diana had fallen into the river. It eased slightly when he saw her chest rise and fall. Her breathing was shallow, but at least she did breathe.

"Was she unconscious when she was pulled out?"

"No," Jerusha told him. "She's not drowned, just cold. And this time she does not seem to have sprained or strained anything."

Ben shot her a quick, censorious glance, but the misplaced levity did not come from a lack of caring. She was as shaken as he by Diana's condition. "She'll be all right, Jerusha. She just needs warming up."

"Someone moved the warning sign," one of the local men said.

"The one that said THIN ICE?"

"Ayuh. My boy found it in the bushes on the far sh.o.r.e."

"Dangerous prank," another man opined.

"Or deliberate maliciousness," Ben said. He looked for Charles Underly, but the actor had already left the riverbank. Billy Sims, he noted, was still there, along with Nathan Todd, Patsy Jenkins, and Jerusha.

For the moment, getting Diana warm again was uppermost in his mind. He sent word ahead for Annie to heat water for a bath and carried Diana, well wrapped, to a waiting wagon. By the time they reached the Northcote house, a tub steamed in front of a blazing hearth in Diana's bedroom.

"Help me get her out of these wet clothes," he barked at Annie. Diana, now half awake, was too drowsy to undress herself but she was easier for him to manage than when she'd been unconscious and a dead weight.

The dull thud of something heavy hitting the carpet distracted Ben as he stripped off Diana's skirt. A key gleamed in the light streaming in through the bedroom window.

"Unlocks the front gate, sir," Annie said, glancing at it. "Old Ernest gave it to her." Then she gasped, for they were down to Diana's undergarments. Soaked, they clung to her like a second skin. "Ain't proper for you to be here, sir, you bein' a man and all."

"I'm a doctor, Annie." And at first looking after Diana's health kept his focus on that. But when she was in the water, its warmth turning her icy skin pink once more, he could no longer ignore the fact that he was also "a man and all."

He'd almost lost her. Ben's hands trembled as he balanced her while Annie quickly washed her hair, then bundled it into a thick towel to dry. The realization that she'd come close to death today left him feeling empty inside. When he'd contemplated sending her away, he'd consoled himself by thinking that he'd always know where she was, that he could visualize her, happy and content, even if it was somewhere else. Now he understood just how meaningless his own life would be if she was not part of it. He was no longer certain he could give her up, not even if doing so was best for her.

When she was warmed and dried and dressed in a clean nightgown, he tucked her into bed and sent Annie away. At first he sat on the bed, holding her hand in his, watching over her. But when she started to shiver again, he hesitated only a moment before throwing off his outer clothing and climbing under the covers with her. Body heat was the best thing for hypothermia, he told himself. He tucked her in close to his own warmth and wrapped his arms around her.

A long time later, Diana stirred. Her hand caressed the forearm crossed beneath her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. "Am I dreaming?" she murmured.

Gently, Ben disentangled himself. It was not fair to tempt them both when he still did not see how he could offer her a future. "A nightmare, perhaps," he said as he went to stir the embers.

He thought she'd fallen asleep again. Then her soft voice reached him over the crackle of the fire in the hearth. "Ben?"

"Here, Diana." He returned to her bedside and lit a candle. She was still pale, but her eyes were clear.

"What happened?" Almost as soon as the question was out, she gasped, remembering on her own. "I was skating. I fell through the ice."

"You were pulled out quickly, but it was a near thing." He tried to suppress the emotion in his voice but didn't think he succeeded.

"I should have been more careful. It was a foolish accident." She forced a smile. "Why, it could as easily have been Lavinia who fell through. She was headed towards the thin ice when she took a tumble."

Let her believe that, Ben decided. It might even be true. He intended to find out at his first opportunity.

"You need rest," he said aloud. And he needed to think. "Can you sleep some more?"

Diana considered his question for a moment. "I think I need food first."

"I'll fix you a tray."

In the kitchen, as he warmed leftover soup and sliced bread and ham, Ben attempted to think logically about the THIN ICE sign. It could be that some child, playing, had tipped it over and failed to put it upright again. Deliberately removing it seemed an unreliable way to kill someone. There had been a great many people around. Any one of them could have broken through that thin patch. Maybe what happened to Diana had been an accident after all.

Diana had propped herself up against the pillows by the time Ben brought her the tray. "Did you rescue me?" she asked.

"I arrived on the scene after you were already out of the water."

Diana blinked at him in confusion. "But I was sure I saw you in the crowd earlier. Few dark-haired men are so tall or tend to go about without a hat."

"Only one other I can think of." But why would Aaron harm Diana? And how could he have left the estate without Joseph or Old Ernest knowing?

Spoon poised over her soup, Diana studied his face. She had no difficulty guessing his thoughts. "It might have been Aaron, I suppose. There is a strong resemblance between you. It hardly matters."

Unless Aaron had moved that sign. Ben hid his concern from Diana, distracting her with anecdotes about his patients, but he could not stop his racing thoughts. Aaron might have moved it if his voices had told him to.

When Diana had polished off every item on the tray and drifted back into healing sleep, Ben woke Annie to sit with her. Then he made his way to the carriage house. His questions would not wait until morning.

One was answered at once. Joseph was deeply asleep. On the table by his bed was a gla.s.s. Ben sniffed the dregs and grimaced as he recognized a sleeping potion he'd concocted in his own laboratory. It was the draught he'd intended Aaron to take, harmless enough but powerful. Ben had no way of telling how long ago Joseph had been drugged, nor could he guess how much longer the fellow would sleep.

He found his brother in the studio with all the lights blazing. Aaron scowled when he caught sight of Ben. "I am working, Brother. Go away."

"Where were you earlier?"

"Where else should I be? Here. Working. Go away, I tell you." When Ben made a move to look at the work in progress, Aaron turned the easel away from him and hunched protectively over the canvas.

"Don't give any more of your medicine to Joseph," Ben warned him.

"Then don't try to foist that horrible tasting stuff off on me. I prefer brandy." Aaron resumed his painting. After a moment, he no longer seemed aware that Ben was still in the studio.

When Ben left, he locked the door behind him. He was about to pocket the key when he realized that it was a duplicate of the one for the padlock on the front gate ... and likely every other lock on the property.

He tested it on his laboratory and was not surprised to hear a click. No wonder Aaron got in and out of the gate at will. Ben pushed the door open and entered the long, narrow room, his thoughts still circling the central problem. Could Aaron have hurt Diana?

Even if Ben consigned what had happened on the river today to sheer bad luck, he knew he had no right to keep Diana here, no right to dream of a future for them. And yet she was everywhere he looked, even among the gla.s.s beakers and bottles and distilling equipment.

By the time Maggie returned, early on Tuesday afternoon, with the news that her publisher had reluctantly agreed to continue to publish Damon Bathory even though "his" ident.i.ty would no longer be a secret, Diana felt fully recovered from her ordeal in the cold water. She'd gotten dressed as soon as Ben had left for his office that morning.

"So, one matter settled," Maggie declared as she wrapped up her account.

"Now on to the second," Diana said. "The newspaper story on my discovery of a killer's ident.i.ty."

"I've had an idea about that," Maggie said. "I want to invite the entire theatrical troupe to supper here after Wednesday night's show. If you're right, one of them will be looking for an opportunity to act. What better place to catch him?"

"I may be wrong." Diana glanced at the flowers Charles Underly had sent. There were other bouquets, from Toddy, from Jerusha, but Underly's was the largest and most fragrant.

"So much the better," Maggie said. "If there is no killer among them, then I'll have had the chance to meet the actors who will be playing characters I created."

What she said made sense, and Diana still wanted an opportunity to talk to Jerusha. "Very well. I'll issue the invitation in person. The company is staying at the Windsor Hotel."