Deadlier Than the Pen Part 26

Diana shouted for all she was worth and did not stop until her throat was raw and her voice raspy.

Nothing! Frustration turned to anger. If she did not survive this ordeal, at the least she must find a way to implicate Lavinia in her death. Picking up the lantern, she studied the vaulted chamber. It was all but bare, since the Northcotes sealed up their deceased kinfolk. Lacking any other source of inspiration, Diana began to read inscriptions.

Abraham Northcote, Ben and Aaron's father, had died eight years earlier. To his right was a s.p.a.ce for Maggie. "Magda Bathory Northcote, Beloved Wife of Abraham Northcote," the bra.s.s plate said. It gave her birth date -- 1837 -- but left the s.p.a.ce for date of death blank.

To the left of Abraham Northcote was another bra.s.s plate. Diana leaned closer, expecting to find the name of a sister, or perhaps some member of the previous generation. Instead, like Maggie's inscription, the plaque said "Beloved Wife of Abraham Northcote."

Miriam Graham, Beloved Wife of Abraham Northcote, 1830-1856.

Ben's father had married twice. His first wife had died thirty-two years ago. Diana chewed thoughtfully on her lower lip, wondering how old Ben was. She'd never been any good at guessing ages.

Aaron, she mused, had inherited his mother's eyes.

Had Ben?

The lantern sputtered. Before it could go out, Diana lit a second one, glad she'd had the presence of mind to plan ahead. The conclusion she'd just drawn cheered her considerably but she still had no idea how to go about leaving a clue.

Underly's questioning went on for some time. He repeatedly claimed he was innocent of any wrongdoing. "I was sound asleep in the parlor car the night Diana fell," he insisted. "And I never had any intention of seducing Lavinia Ross."

Ben frowned. A sudden, clear memory surfaced -- Underly snoring as Ben was attempting to doze off. It must have been about the time Diana left the parlor car. Underly had an annoying, distinctive snore. The racket had continued, uninterrupted, right up until Jerusha noticed Diana in the s...o...b..nk and screamed for help.

Leaving Underly in custody -- it was still possible that he was the killer, and that Diana had fallen by accident -- Ben made his way to the Windsor Hotel. The night clerk knew him on sight and gave him no trouble about room numbers. He even provided a master key.

A few minutes later, Ben knocked politely at Lavinia Ross's door. The woman had lied about Underly being in the drawing-room car. He wanted to know why.

When he got no answer, Ben pounded on the wooden panels. There was no response from Lavinia but the noise brought Patsy, rubbing sleep out of her eyes, to the door of the adjacent room. Ben spared her only a glance before he let himself into Lavinia's room. "Empty!"

"Try Toddy's," Patsy suggested. But Lavinia was not there either. Nor was Nathan Todd.

Under overcast skies, Ben drove home at a fast clip, only to discover that Diana was also missing.

Diana had no idea how much time pa.s.sed while she waited, huddled on the landing in the crypt, trying in vain to contain her almost constant trembling. Did the moon still light the sky outside? Or was it day already? She fought tiredness, knowing that if she slept she'd have no warning at all when Lavinia returned for her.

She'd sacrificed her gown to leave a clue. Fumbling beneath the warm cloak, reluctant to remove it if she didn't have to, she'd torn at the frills of lace on her shoulders. They'd come off more easily than she'd expected. In a corner of the vault, out of easy sight of the door, she'd arranged bits of fabric on the flagstones to form Lavinia Ross's initials. As final messages went, it wasn't much, but she felt better for knowing Lavinia would not get away with her crimes.

Even though she'd been expecting it, the sudden sound of the door opening startled Diana. She scrambled awkwardly to her feet, hastily removing her cloak and bracing herself to throw it over Lavinia's head. She froze as the lantern she'd set on the floor caught the ominous glint of metal. Lavinia held an unsheathed blade in one hand and her gun in the other.

Diana risked a moment of exposure to toss the heavy fabric and rush out after it. She pushed Lavinia aside as she bolted through the door, shouting for help and praying someone would hear.

Lavinia let out an infuriated shriek. "I'll kill you!" she shouted. One corner of the cloak slipped, allowing her to wrench a hand free. She dropped the knife as she lunged at Diana but she caught hold of the back of her skirt with enough force to throw them both off balance.

As she fell, Diana rolled towards the protective shelter of the trees and away from the lantern's beams. Murky clouds filled the sky and low-lying ground fog eddied around her. There was a chance she could hide herself.

Lavinia wrenched free of the cloak. She still had possession of the gun. Lifting it, she took aim.

Diana squeezed her eyes shut.

She opened them again at the sound of a grunt. A man had tackled Lavinia. Together they writhed in a tangle of limbs on the frozen ground, now visible, now concealed by the swirling mist.

"You'll not harm her!" Diana's rescuer declared.

"Ben?" The voice was m.u.f.fled and all she could see of him was dark hair and broad shoulders beneath a white shirt that reflected the lantern light ... and the gun caught between the combatants, primed and ready to fire.

Diana stumbled to her feet.

A single shot exploded, drowning out her cries for help. The man's heavier body carried the woman's to the ground and pinned it. Then both figures lay ominously still.

Feeling as if her heart had just been rent in two, Diana tried to run to them. Her legs refused to cooperate. She collapsed, tears veiling the terrible sight of a dark stain spreading across the white fabric of the shirt.

A crashing sounded in the shrubbery. Suddenly the small clearing was filled with sound and confusion.

"Too late," Diana moaned, covering her face with her hands. He was dead. Dead trying to save her.

"Diana? Are you hurt?" Strong arms seized her, hauling her unceremoniously into an embrace.

"Ben?" His dear face was close to her own. There was no mistake. "I thought it was you -- "

He followed the direction of her gaze and froze. His breath hitched. "Aaron."

Leaving Diana's side, Ben knelt next to his brother's motionless form. As he pulled Aaron off Lavinia, the actress tried to crawl away.

Aaron. Not Ben. Still numb with shock and horror, Diana watched two men wearing badges take Lavinia into custody. She did not go without a struggle. She was still shrieking curses when they dragged her away.

Ignoring the commotion, Ben gently lifted his brother and carried him towards the carriage house. "He's alive," he said as he pa.s.sed Diana. "but just barely."

Diana struggled to her feet, meaning to follow, but someone stepped in front of her, blocking the way. She blinked, at first unable to believe her eyes. The cigar clamped between his teeth bobbled as Horatio Foxe scowled at her.

"Been busy stirring up trouble again, I see."

Less than an hour later, sitting across from Foxe in the breakfast room, Diana sipped coffee and attempted to sort out what he'd just told her. She only picked at the food on her plate, her appet.i.te dulled by her concern for Ben and his brother.

Foxe, who had no trouble putting away a hearty breakfast, had arrived on the 5:30 AM train from the west. By that time, Ben had returned home, gone to Diana's room, and discovered she was missing. Meanwhile, Charles Underly had been released for lack of evidence.

"Where did Underly go when they set him free?" Diana asked, remembering Lavinia's plan to convince him to flee.

"He'd just turned up in the lobby of the Windsor when Dr. Northcote returned there after finding you gone. It seems Underly thought better of following advice from the very person whose accusations had made him seem guilty."

"Where was Toddy? Didn't he notice Lavinia's wanderings?"

"Gone back to Miss Fildale. Dr. Northcote rousted them out of her hotel room and called in the local constabulary. He recruited every able-bodied man he could find to search for you." Foxe dragged on his cigar and rubbed his hands in glee. "What a story! What a scandal! You'll have to write it up from your own perspective, but I was here at the end. I can add my bit."

"Why did you come?" Diana asked, sipping more coffee. It didn't seem to help. Her mind remained wrapped in fuzz and she still felt half frozen.

She glanced up in time to see Horatio Foxe turn an interesting shade of red. "Well, er ... confound it, Diana! What would I tell m'sister, eh, if anything happened to you?"

They sat in silence for a few minutes before another question occurred to Diana. "How did Ben guess I'd be in the crypt?"

"It was that young actor, Billy Sims. He told Northcote how Lavinia Ross had gone on and on about Mrs. Northcote's story of locking you in that place once before. Northcote's got good instincts. Guessed right away that Lavinia might stash you there. Then, of course, the minute we set foot on the property we heard you screaming."

Her heart went cold at the thought of how close Ben had come to being the first man on the scene. Then she immediately felt guilty. Aaron had been horribly wounded saving her. For all Diana knew, he was even now at death's door. Ben hadn't let anyone into the carriage house but Maggie and neither of them had come out again.

"Well, Diana," said Foxe, finishing off the last of the sausages. "How soon can you be ready for the trip back to New York?" He took out his pocket watch and contemplated its face. "It's too late for the 7:15 for Boston but if you hurry up and pack we can catch the Flying Yankee."

"I can't leave now!"

"Of course you can. Nothing to hold you here. Is there?"

When she didn't answer, he looked alarmed.

"Well, now. I guess that means you want me to sweeten the pot." He cleared his throat. "Meant to, anyway. M' sister has been saying for months that I don't make the best use of your talents. How does the police beat sound? No more scandal. Just murders and other juicy crimes."

Not very long ago, reporting the news had been Diana's fondest dream. She told herself she'd be a fool to turn down Foxe's offer. And yet she hesitated.

"Confound it, Diana! What's the matter with you?"

"Maybe she doesn't like the way you do business, Foxe." From the doorway, Ben fixed the editor with a hard, cold stare. "You hired an out-of-work actor to attack Mrs. Spaulding, just to persuade her that I was a viable suspect in two murders that had nothing to do with me."

"They were connected." Foxe puffed himself up and glared back.

"If not for you, Diana would never have been mixed up in this and my brother wouldn't be fighting for his life."

"He's still alive?" Tears of relief sprang into Diana's eyes.

"For now. The bullet struck near the heart and he's lost a lot of blood."

"How can I help? You said once that I'd make a good nurse."

Horatio Foxe bounced up and down in agitation. "You work for me, Diana."

Both Diana and Ben ignored him. "That's not necessary, Diana," Ben said. "I have Mother's help. And Joseph's."

Foxe sputtered indignantly and went so far as to employ the word "raise."

"Do you want to go back to New York?" Ben asked.

"I do have to earn a living."

"Stay here and write for the Whig and Courier." The heat of his gaze was so intense that if she'd been a candle she'd have melted into a puddle of wax.

"If not for me, Aaron would never have risked his life," Diana whispered.

"What happened to Aaron wasn't your fault. In fact, having seen his paintings, I'd say he acted to save his muse -- an idealized concept, not a flesh and blood woman. Because of you, even if he doesn't pull through, he'll have left a legacy in those portraits and seascapes."

"Nevertheless, I should leave." She didn't want to go, but so much was unsettled here. Her presence would only add to the turmoil. "You need to focus on helping Aaron recover. You don't need the added burden of -- "

"I need you."

"Do you want a wife, or just a shoulder to cry on?" Foxe interrupted.

His bluntness grated on Diana, but Ben didn't seem to mind the plain speaking.

"I want a wife," he said.

Those were words she'd longed to hear, and because she wanted so badly to believe he meant them, she knew she must be sensible. "Aaron -- "

"If it's the fear of inherited madness that what's holding you back, it need not concern you. Father married Maggie when I was two. I don't remember my real mother and have always called Maggie by that name, but I'm not descended from the Bathorys." He kept his gaze on Diana. "Only Aaron was."

Remembering the inscription in the crypt, she nodded. He'd just confirmed what she'd already worked out for herself.

He drew in a deep breath. "I know Maggie isn't the easiest person to live with. My mother -- stepmother -- is -- "

"Eccentric," she finished for him.

"To say the least. Can you accept her as she is?"

The question was not asked lightly and Diana took the time to consider. She was no longer afraid of Maggie, but would Aaron's mother want her around if Aaron failed to recover from his wound? Would she hold Diana responsible for his death?

Puffing on his cigar, Foxe looked from one to the other. "Even if she were to marry you at once, she'd still need to return to New York to put her affairs in order."

"That shouldn't take more than a week." Ben crossed the room to go down on one knee beside her chair. When he took both her hands in his, Horatio Foxe slipped past them and left the room, for once respectful of someone else's privacy.

"Ben -- "

"Marry me, Diana."

But she shook her head. "We did not even know each other a month ago."

"What difference does that make?"

"I married in haste once, Ben. I don't want to make the same mistake again." A flood of memories from her life with Evan streamed into her mind, none of them happy. And she remembered how Rowena had tried to talk her out of eloping. She hadn't listened to Foxe's sister and she'd lived to regret it.

Ben rose and took a step away from her. For one chilling moment, Diana thought he was about to give in and tell her she should go back to New York with Horatio Foxe.

His hands curled into fists at his sides. "I don't want to live without you. When I thought I'd lost you forever, thought I might never see you again, it was almost more than I could bear."

Diana could read that remembered torment in his eyes, but she had also seen how he'd reacted when he thought his brother was dead. "Evan -- "

"I'm not Evan!" His temper flared quickly and was gone again in an instant. He spread his arms wide, inviting her to take a good look at him. "Am I anything like your late husband?"

She shook her head. "But that changes nothing. You need to look after Aaron. I need to be sure what I feel for you is real. We both need time apart. If we rush into marriage, we might be making a terrible mistake, one that could ruin the rest of our lives."

"I won't change my mind about wanting to marry you, Diana, but I understand that you have to be sure how you feel about me. And about Mother and Aaron. I'll give you another month, the same amount of time we've known each other. If you haven't returned to Bangor by the end of April, I'll come to you and we'll settle this." He returned to her side and bent to kiss her lips, sealing the bargain, then left the room before she could voice any more objections.

The abrupt departure left her reeling.

Cedric appeared in the empty doorway a moment later. The black cat padded across the carpet, leapt into Diana's lap, and curled himself into a ball. Without thinking, Diana dropped her hand to his back and began to stroke his soft fur. The steady rhythm of the movement and the deep, throaty purr it elicited from the cat soothed her troubled thoughts.

By her silence, she had given tacit agreement to Ben's proposal. Mesmerism? Sorcery? Or love? To her own surprise, Diana realized she was smiling.