3 Service for Two (20 page)

It could mean the end of all this abominable tension and danger. No more harrowing meetings with the scum of the earth in order to enjoy the life style to which he’d become so undeniably attached. This one sale could set him up for life. He would never have to take another risk as long as he lived.

Damn, it was worth one more risk tonight. And then this would be his last. He took another step closer to the pond, then another, his blurry gaze raking the trees on either side for a sign of movement.

He reached the very edge of the water. He could smell the putrid stink of it now, rotting weeds and rancid slime. The moon bathed the water in a haze of pale light, and a bubble
popped suddenly in the middle of the pond. He didn’t want to think about what had caused it.

His hand wandered to his sword for reassurance, and at that moment he heard a soft sound from directly behind him.

His shoulders braced, he swung around, and cold, stark shock hit him in the chest.

Standing just a few feet away was a shadowy figure, clothed in some kind of filmy, flowing material that seemed to glow with an ethereal light. To his horror the figure actually
floated
toward him.

Holding his hands in front of him to shield himself from this dreadful apparition, he began babbling in terror. Words tumbled from him in disjointed sentences as he begged, threatened, and pleaded with whatever it was to leave him alone.

Then his words froze as the thing opened its mouth, and a dreadful moaning filled the night air like the cry of a thousand demons. Closer it came. And closer.

Even as his mind tried to grapple with this new horror, words formed in the midst of the terrible sound. “Reginald Chickering,” the voice wailed, “prepare to descend to the depths of hell.”

Something snapped in his brain. The sword. It was his only defense. He dropped his hand to the hilt and tried to grasp it. It seemed slippery in his fingers, and no matter how desperately he heaved, he couldn’t release the blade from its sheath.

The voice spoke again, and the words chilled him as nothing yet had done. “You can only kill me once, Chickering. A dead man cannot die.”

Now he knew who it was. Panic gripped him with tentacles of ice. “No,” he screamed, “I didn’t mean to kill you. I swear I didn’t. I have never killed anyone before. It was an accident. I only wanted to teach you a lesson, to frighten you, to warn the others. The sword slipped. I swear on my life … it was an accident. …”

The apparition appeared not to hear. It kept moving toward him, it wouldn’t stop … “Please,” he sobbed, “I tried to arrange a proper Christian burial for you … I tried … I put you in a coffin so that you wouldn’t come back and haunt
me …” His mind became a whirling, swirling mist of black … He took a step back, and then another….

Several yards away, hiding behind a thicket of holly trees, Cecily let out her breath in a shuddering sigh. It had worked. She looked up at Baxter standing at her side and gave him a smile of triumph. “Madeline has outdone herself this time,” she whispered. “I am quite sure the inspector must have heard that confession—”

She broke off as a shrill scream interrupted her, followed by a loud splash. Peering through the trees, Cecily’s heart seemed to stop. She heard Baxter mutter something, but her attention was on the scene in front of her. Shouts echoed across the water as the dark shapes of men dashed toward the pond.

Of Lord Chickering there was no sign. He had vanished.

CHAPTER
20

“It would appear he plunged into the water,” Baxter said. “I’d better go and see if I can be of help.”

“But where’s Madeline?” Cecily stepped out from the trees to take a better look. “She was there a second ago.”

“Here I am,” a quiet voice said behind them.

Startled, Cecily swung around, then stared in amazement. Madeline stood there in the moonlight, fully clothed in a warm dress and coat.

“Where did you come from?” Cecily demanded. “I would have seen you had you come through the trees. And how did you manage to get dressed so quickly?”

Madeline shrugged. “Heaven only knows,” she said softly, then smiled, and with a wave of her hand began walking swiftly away through the woods.

Slowly Cecily looked up at Baxter, who stared back with a
baffled expression on his face. Neither of them said a word. Then after a moment Baxter turned and hurried over to the pond.

Cecily waited only long enough to learn that Lord Chickering’s body had been recovered from the water. Then, cold and very tired, she returned with Baxter to the hotel.

“I have very mixed feelings about this affair,” she told him when they were sharing a much appreciated mug of hot cocoa in the kitchen. “I feel responsible for his death, yet I find it difficult to feel sympathy for him after what he did.”

“You have no need to feel responsible, madam,” Baxter said, holding both hands around his mug to warm his hands. “Had you not intervened, he might well have escaped justice. It was a fitting death.”

Cecily shivered. “I think I would have preferred he be arrested. I do not like to think of him drowning in that dreadful water because of my scheming. Though I certainly did not intend it to result in such a dramatic conclusion.”

“He would have died on the gallows in any case, madam. His confession would certainly have been enough to condemn him.”

“I suppose you are right.”

“Though I must admit, I am at a loss as to how you could be so certain he would make that confession.”

Cecily drew circles with her mug, watching the frothy liquid swirl around inside. “I was not certain at all. Madeline had commented many times on his superstitious beliefs, and I had to presume they were genuine and strong enough to unnerve him. I was aware when I informed the inspector of my plan that it might not work.”

“In which case you would have had a great deal of explaining to do.”

She looked up at him, feeling unutterably weary. “I had no choice, Baxter. I had to take the chance. Not only the hotel, and my livelihood, but the future of all the people who work here was at risk. My family, Baxter, in so many ways. I could not let them down.”

His smile warmed her. “Even so, madam, you had no guarantee that Lord Chickering would not have confessed to
everything and told the inspector about the jewel robbers and where he had his headquarters.”

“Madeline was supposed to warn him that if he spoke one word of it and betrayed his fellow gang members, the spirits of hell would torment him for all eternity. In his state of mind, he would have believed her.”

Baxter lifted his mug and drank from it. “If I might say so, madam, anyone facing that strange apparition in the woods tonight would have believed every word she said.”

Cecily smiled. “Madeline was wonderful.”

“Quite a performance, I agree. Though I would like to know how she achieved that change of attire in such a remarkably short space of time.”

Cecily’s smile faded. “So would I, Baxter. But I don’t think I want to dwell on it. I am just thankful that the plan worked and the case is now closed. When Inspector Cranshaw came to see me this afternoon, he was determined to get answers to his inquiries. It was only by promising to deliver the murderer to him tonight that I evaded his inquisition.”

“How fortunate that he agreed to your plan. You must have worked hard to convince him.”

“I did.” She shook her head at the memory. “The worst part of it, Baxter, was that I wasn’t entirely sure myself that Lord Chickering was the murderer until he actually made his confession. I can’t tell you what a relief that was.”

“You did indeed take a chance, madam.” Baxter drained his mug.

“Yes, well, now that Chickering is dead, I can breathe much easier. It is doubtful now if the police will ever discover that the Pennyfoot was involved in the robberies. With their ringleader gone, I would imagine that the thieves will disband and go their separate ways.”

“Pardon me for saying so, madam, but you have been more than fortunate. I do trust that this will be a lesson to you, and that you will heed my warnings in future. One never knows who one can trust in these changing times. As I have said before, progress can create some unwelcome elements, along with the favorable.”

Too tired to argue with him, Cecily rose, hiding her yawn
behind her hand. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I am more than ready for bed. We have a wedding and a ball to take care of tomorrow, and I want everyone to enjoy it. Though I’m afraid that poor Phoebe is going to be devastated by this news.”

Baxter carried the mugs over to the sink and placed them on the drain board. “She was fond of Lord Chickering? I was aware she was acquainted with him, but …”

Cecily laughed. “I doubt that Phoebe will lose any sleep over his death. She will, however, be in a quandary wondering how to replace him on the entertainment bill tomorrow night. If you remember, he was supposed to give us a display of fencing.”

“Ah, yes. No doubt she will produce an adequate replacement. She does have rather a knack for that.”

“As long as she doesn’t suggest that Algie read one of his dreadful poems,” Cecily said, pulling a face.

“Oh, I don’t know, madam. It might be rather amusing at that.”

She was delighted to hear his rare chuckle as he followed her down the hallway to the stairs.

The morning of the wedding dawned clear and bright, with just a hint of the cold wind that had plagued the coast for the past week. Gertie awoke early and lay snuggled under the blankets, trying to still the banging of her heart.

This would be the last morning she would wake up as a separate person. After today she’d be joined with Ian, as his wife. Forever.

Panic swept over her as she envisioned the years ahead. She didn’t know him that well, she thought, gripping the eiderdown with both hands. How could she promise to love, honor, and obey a man she didn’t even know? And how was she going to undress in front of him that night?

True, they’d kissed and cuddled a lot, and once or twice he’d put his hand where he shouldn’t, but they’d never done it the way the book said it was done. She wasn’t even sure she wanted to do it. With anyone. Not even Ian.

A light tap on her door turned her head, and she called out, “Come in.”

Mrs. Chubb stuck her face around the door, full of smiles. “Here,” she said, pushing the door open to reveal the steaming jug she held. “I brought you some hot water for your wash this morning, seeing as how it’s a special day. And you’d better look sharp. It’s going to take hours to get you dressed.”

Gertie sat up, shivering with excitement and apprehension. “Did you finish Ethel’s frock?” she asked, her gaze shifting to her white satin gown hanging from the picture rail on the wall.

She still couldn’t believe she was going to wear such a beautiful thing. Not her, Gertie Brown, what never wore anything like that in her entire life.

“Of course, I did.” Mrs. Chubb poured the water into the basin. “There you are, my girl, have your wash, then I’ll be back with your breakfast.”

Gertie looked at her in astonishment. “I get me breakfast in me room?”

“Just this once, you do. So don’t go getting used to it.” Mrs. Chubb reached the door and looked back with a wink. “Can’t take the chance of Ian seeing you before the wedding, can we, duck?”

The door closed behind her, and Gertie stared at it, fighting the urge to cry. She always looked horrible when she cried. But everyone was being so kind … Mrs. Chubb, Michel, madam, and everyone. Like her family, they were. She was a lucky girl.

For just a moment she let her mind dwell on her father, then pushed the thought away. She wasn’t going to let anything spoil this day. She wanted to remember it for the rest of her life. And it was going to be a beautiful day.

Feeling a lot better, she leapt out of bed and hurried to the washstand. Today, for once in her life, Gertie Brown was going to look bleeding beautiful.

Word of Lord Chickering’s death had spread fast, and whispers of it were exchanged among the congregation as they waited for the bride to appear.

Phoebe was in a state of agitation and murmured to Cecily that perhaps they should ask Algie to read some poetry in place of the canceled fencing display. She could also ask Lydia Willoughby to play the piano and perhaps to sing as well, she added hopefully.

Cecily shuddered. Seated in the front pew, she had been subjected to Lydia’s renditions for the past fifteen minutes, and her nerves had been jarred quite enough by the experience.

“Thank you, Phoebe,” she murmured, “I do appreciate your suggestions, and I’m sure that Algie would be quite fascinating, but Madeline had already offered to dance for us, and I have accepted.”

Phoebe sniffed loudly but settled back without raising an objection. That matter settled, Cecily leaned forward to peer at the side of the church beyond the pews. Almost hidden behind one of the white stone pillars, she could see the outline of a short, thickset man.

Satisfied, she relaxed. Everything was going according to plan. She looked across at Ian, who sat stiffly next to Samuel, both of them nearly unrecognizable with their hair slicked down and stiff white collars under their chins.

Casting a glance around, Cecily caught the eye of Dr. Prestwick, who was seated across the aisle. His teeth gleamed as he smiled at her, and he raised his hand in a polite salute.

She inclined her head in an answering nod and turned back to face the altar. It was quite ridiculous how her pulse fluttered whenever the dratted man smiled at her.

At that moment Cecily’s attention was caught by a stirring in the back of the church that indicated the bride’s imminent arrival. Excitement rippled through the congregation, and Cecily felt her own heart beat faster.

She had always loved weddings. She and James had looked forward to seeing their sons married one day. Neither one of them had taken a bride yet, and James had died without having that pleasure.

Cecily’s gaze blurred for a moment, and she blinked, concentrating on the fresh flowers that crowded the altar.
Madeline had managed the incredible, as always, and the fragrance of spring flowers filled the church.

Lydia suddenly blasted out the striking chords that announced the bride. Algie, resplendent in his white cassock and gold sash, appeared through the vestry door and walked to the head of the steps. With the Bible clasped in his hands, he waited, nervously blinking behind his spectacles.

Ian and Samuel got quickly to their feet, and the onlookers rose, craning their heads to catch a first sight of the bride. Cecily turned her head, her heart aching when she saw Gertie in a cloud of white satin and tulle, moving gracefully down the aisle on the arm of a very tense-looking Baxter.

Gertie must have practiced for days, Cecily thought, smiling through the tears as she watched the radiant girl move confidently toward her future husband.

Ian stood transfixed, as if he could hardly believe this vision was the girl he’d asked to be his wife.

Lydia, outdoing herself, crashed to the end of the piece, and merciful silence settled over the assembly as Gertie reached Ian’s side. She smiled up at him, then turned to hand her bouquet to Ethel, who looked quite beautiful in her pink gown.

Baxter stepped back and slipped quietly into the pew next to Cecily. At the same moment the thickset man behind the pillar stepped forward and edged his way toward her.

Algie began speaking. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today in the sight of God …”

The man reached Cecily’s side and edged past her, then stepped past Baxter to the end of the pew.

As he did so, Algie asked, “Who gives the hand of this woman in holy matrimony?”

The man stepped out into the aisle, then moved forward and took Gertie’s hand. “I do,” he said firmly.

When Cecily saw the look on Gertie’s face as she stared in surprise and delight at her father, Cecily knew she had been right in arranging for him to be there. All the problems in getting him there had been well worth the trouble.

The service went without a hitch, except for one awkward moment when the happy couple turned to face the assembly.
They started forward, only to be pulled up short by Algie’s foot anchoring Gertie’s train to the carpet.

It was a minor mishap indeed, Cecily thought happily, as she watched the newly married pair walk arm in arm down the aisle, their smiles reflecting their joy.

Following behind Ethel and Samuel, with Baxter at her side, Cecily caught sight of Michel near the back of the church. He was smiling down at a very pretty buxom young woman who gazed up at him with adoring eyes.

Romance must be contagious, Cecily thought, smiling herself. No wonder Michel had been acting strangely of late. He was also in love. She tried not to feel envious. She’d had her turn. Now it was theirs. Love was for the young. Her time to love was over.

At her side Baxter missed his step and almost stumbled. Cecily sent a startled glance up at him and saw him staring at Michel and his ladyfriend. Intrigued, Cecily saw a dark red flush stain her manager’s face.

She nudged his arm. “Do you know the lady who is with Michel?” she whispered.

Baxter jerked his glance away and looked down at her, a glazed expression in his eyes. “No, madam. For a moment I thought I recognized her. Must have been a trick of the light.”

He stretched his neck and eased his collar while Cecily stared at him in puzzled amusement. Another of Baxter’s secrets she would never know, no doubt.

The sun beamed down at them from a pale blue sky as the wedding group allowed themselves to be arranged for the photographs. Standing aside with Baxter as the bride and groom posed, Cecily said with quiet satisfaction, “It was a lovely service.”