Love's Justice (Entangled Scandalous) (13 page)

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Emily’s household was still in an uproar. The doctor had arrived. Everyone spoke in hushed, but hurried, tones. Victoria wanted to run upstairs and see for herself what was happening, but Emily’s mother was with her and she didn’t want to intrude.

There were no sounds from above and it struck Victoria as ominous. What had Emily said? How far along was she?

It really didn’t matter. She was not far enough along for the child to live if she miscarried.

How long would it take Hugh to find Edward? They were only making an educated guess that he was in one of the many gaming houses London had to offer. It was possible he was at the country manor.

The next time Mrs. Pell crossed her path, Victoria stopped her.

“Has word been sent to the manor house?”

“No, miss.”

“Don’t you think it would be prudent to do so?”

The women stood silently for a moment, each taking the other’s measure. Victoria realized the housekeeper had a good command of the situation and suspected, as she and Hugh did, that the more likely option was he was in town gambling.

“I can do that, miss.”

“I think you should on the remote possibility that he is where he said he would be.” She didn’t have to say more.

“Yes, miss. I’ll send someone immediately.”

Victoria sat back down, feeling she had at least accomplished something, even if it hadn’t procured Edward. Every sound, every carriage outside gave her pause. Once or twice she actually rose and went to the window. But there was no sign of Hugh, with or without Edward.

Emily’s maid descended to get more hot water from the kitchen. Victoria didn’t have the heart to ask the timid girl what was happening.

Finally, Emily’s mother came downstairs. “Victoria, how kind of you to come.”

“I had just stopped by for a visit when I heard. How is she?”

“She hasn’t lost the child. At least not yet. She needs rest and calm. Her maid is helping her wash herself. Perhaps when she is done you could go up for a visit. I know Emily would want to see you.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Sherman. I would very much like to see her as well.”

Victoria looked at the exhausted woman who settled herself onto the sofa beside her. Mrs. Sherman was the closest thing Victoria had to a mother, so when she spoke, Victoria listened attentively.

“Ah, my dear, it seems life isn’t something that’s planned. Often it’s simply what occurs. And more importantly, how we deal with those things. Emily is resilient. She has you and her father and me. I think she will recover from any setbacks that might occur. We will see to that, won’t we?”

It was the very reassurance Victoria had sought but it sounded hollow to her. There had been no mention of Edward. Perhaps Mrs. Sherman had learned of his gambling.

Even if Emily recovered, nothing would ever be the same. Surviving something did not give you the peace of mind you had before the problem. It only made you aware of how many problems there were and that someday you might find one that was insurmountable.

She was just beginning to realize that, and it saddened her. She was afraid Emily was about to lose the most endearing quality she had: an absolute belief that everyone was good and that every setback occurred for a good reason.

“She’s done, ma’am.” The housemaid stopped and curtsied even as she carried the basin of bloodied water to dispose of it.

Mrs. Sherman squeezed Victoria’s hand. “Why don’t you go up to her? I think she has had plenty of my company for the day.”

Victoria struggled up the stairs. What could she tell Emily? More importantly, what should she? She opened the door into the darkened room. She was afraid Emily was sleeping. She walked quietly to the bedside.

Emily opened her eyes. “Victoria, I’m so glad you are here. Sit with me for a few minutes.”

Victoria pulled a chair closer to the bed and sat down. “How are you feeling, my dear friend?”

Emily simply shook her head from side to side.

“The doctor has said you have not lost the baby. You must simply rest and try not to upset yourself.”

“It’s not the baby.” Emily’s eyes filled with tears.

“What is it? Can I help?” Victoria’s pulse began to beat with anxiety.

“Have they found Edward?” Emily studied her as if she wanted to assess whether she was being told the truth.

“I have someone out looking for him.” Victoria took Emily’s pale hand. It was deathly cold.

Emily paused for a moment and then said, “He’s not at the manor house, you know.”

Victoria was a little startled by the comment. “Surely he is where he said he would be. But even if he weren’t”—she thought for a moment, trying to put the possibility in best light—“but even if he weren’t, it would be a good thing. If he were here in London, he would be here all the more quickly.” She squeezed Emily’s hand in encouragement.

“You don’t need to protect me. I know where he spends his days and nights. He’s told me everything.”

“What has he told you, Emily? What has upset you so?” Victoria needed to be sure of what exactly Emily knew. She didn’t want to share any news that would cause her further hurt.

“He told me before he left yesterday. Oh, Victoria. We are near penniless. Everything is gone! He has lost it all gambling.”

“Perhaps it is not all gone. Perhaps there is a way to restore your fortune and reclaim your life. You must not worry. You must let me worry for you. Think of your child. A child is more precious than any fortune. I envy you that, Emily.” She forced a smile while she cried inside.

The front door of the house opened and shut. Voices rose up the stairwell. “Rest now. If that is Edward, I will see he comes up to you straightaway.”

“Thank you.” Emily’s voice was barely above a whisper. “I will have my child. You are right.” Emily moved her hand to cover her abdomen.

Victoria descended the stairs to see Hugh and Emily’s father in agitated conversation.

“What’s happened? Did you find Edward?”

Hugh stopped the conversation and turned to her. “Yes, I found him. He’s gone to the library for a moment to calm himself before he goes up to see Emily.”

“Where was he?” Victoria asked sadly.

“Does it matter?” Hugh responded.

Victoria shook her head slowly.

She sat down on the sofa, letting herself sink into it, exhausted beyond belief. She looked at one man and then the other.

“She knows.” She didn’t have to explain.

Neither man spoke.

The atmosphere in the room was despondent.

So quiet she could hear only her own breathing.

Then the quiet was shattered by the sound of a gunshot from the library.

Chapter Thirty

Emily’s father looked over the ugly scene before him and cursed. “Damn him to hell!”

Victoria was shaking. Edward had sought out the gun he kept in the library and, finding it, had placed the gun to his head and fired. He had fallen forward over his desk. His blood still oozed out of the hole at his temple. The red liquid was quickly absorbed by the heavy blotter on the desktop.

It was over so quickly and completely with little fuss and little muss. How ironic. Hugh stepped forward and checked the man’s pulse. He nodded toward Mr. Sherman, who cursed once more. Victoria couldn’t bear to look at the body any longer. She quickly left the room.

Both men returned to the sitting room where Victoria sat in shock, staring at her hands. Mrs. Pell, Emily’s housekeeper, had joined her. The older woman wanted no part of the library and its dead occupant.

“We’ll have to notify the Metropolitan Police. Is there anyone who could go and fetch them?” Hugh said.

“I’ll go.” It was Mrs. Pell who spoke. Her face was pale and drawn. It didn’t appear to surprise her all that much. Perhaps she had even more knowledge than they did about Edward’s gambling.

Mr. Sherman was very red and very angry. “Has the man no sense of obligation? What was he thinking?”

At that moment, Mrs. Sherman appeared. “What happened?”

When no one answered her, she hurried over to the library door before anyone could stop her. “Oh, oh, oh.” Her eyes teared up and her hand shook as she raised it to cover her mouth. “Should we call someone? A doctor perhaps?” Her words came in short gasps.

“There is no need. The man is clearly dead,” her husband responded rather coldly.

“I must go to Emily. Poor Emily.” Mrs. Sherman spoke more to herself than to anyone in the room before she rushed back up the stairs.

“My daughter needs to know what a coward he was. What a thief and a liar he was. There is no excuse for this kind of behavior. No excuse at all. A man must take his responsibility to his wife seriously. Even in the worst of times. This is inexcusable.”

“Please,” Victoria interrupted him. “Think about Emily. Think about her child, your grandchild. If you upset her now, she may well lose the baby.”

“That man’s child.” He nodded toward the library. “It would be little loss.”

“I beg of you.” Victoria rose and went to Emily’s father. Someone had to stop him.

Hugh also stepped forward. “She’s right. It would be cruel to your daughter to put this burden on her right now.”

“If you love her, you can’t tell her. Not now. Not today,” Victoria pleaded.

“This is none of your business. Either of you. This is my family and my decision.” He pushed by them both.

“Oh, please, no!” Victoria trailed after him as far as the foot of the steps but he was too fast and he would not listen to reason. She was numb. The sitting room was a blur.

And then she was in Hugh’s arms. He had approached her and simply enfolded her. She laid her head against his chest.

A wail from above rent the quiet. Victoria recognized Emily’s scream of despair.

“How could he? How could he? Poor Emily,” she said. “Emily didn’t deserve this. Any of this. Men! When will you understand everything is not about you and your possessions—your women, whom you see as mere accessories to your lives. We are not slaves. We are not household servants put here for your pleasure. We think, we feel, we hurt. We have pride as well. Why can’t you see that?”

The sound of the front door opening separated them. Hugh offered her no answer, only his handkerchief.

Mrs. Pell returned with a sergeant from the Metropolitan Police. His black coat and hat seemed appropriate for a wake.

“He’s in there. In the library,” Hugh said. Then he led Victoria to the sofa and made her sit. Mrs. Pell remained just inside the door.

“If you could have some tea brought, I think it would help,” Hugh said to the housekeeper, who was still very pale.

“Yes, my lord. Right away.” She bobbed a curtsy and left for the kitchen.

The sergeant reappeared at the door. “If I might have a word or two, your lordship.”

Hugh disappeared into the library. Victoria could hear their subdued voices as they talked.

Guilt lay heavily on her. She had a part in today’s tragic outcome. Perhaps if she had known sooner or told Emily sooner of her husband’s flaw. If she hadn’t allowed Emily to be so utterly naive.

Then she reprimanded herself. Emily had known, but she was a believer. To strip her of this wonderful trait would leave her raw and open to all the evil in the world. She couldn’t have done that.

A horrific cry came again from above stairs. “Oh, God. Please, God. Don’t take the baby away from me, too!”

Heavy footsteps trod the stairs and Emily’s father appeared at the door to the sitting room.

“I have to get the doctor.” The man needed no further rebuke from Victoria. He was rightly chastened by what was happening. He might lose his daughter, for all his haughtiness. He said nothing more but hurried out the door.

Hugh was still with the police sergeant. She was alone for the moment. Emily’s sobs grew louder. She could hear Mrs. Sherman’s voice as she tried to calm her daughter. Victoria made a decision.

She hurried up the stairs.

Emily was as white as her nightgown. The fresh sheets were equally pure except for the red stain that formed and spread. Mrs. Sherman looked up, her eyes pleading for some kind of intercession.

“Emily, it’s Victoria.” She hurried to the side of the bed opposite Emily’s mother. “Listen to me. You must quiet yourself. Calm yourself, please.” She took her friend’s hand in her own, rubbing it to try and restore its color.

“You must think of your baby. Edward would want you to bear his child and love it for him.”

Emily sobbed, this time more quietly.

“You have to be brave. You can survive this. You will survive this.” Victoria brushed loose hair back from Emily’s forehead.

She leaned in close, whispering so only her friend could hear. “You cannot let him do this to you. It is wrong. Wrong in so many ways. You cannot let this defeat you. You cannot let them win.” Victoria did not need to elaborate. Her friend knew very well what she meant.

Emily grew quiet. Only a soft sob escaped her lips, and then she relaxed.

Victoria kissed her friend’s forehead. “You will get better. You will have a future where anything is possible.”

A conversation below told her Emily’s father had returned with the doctor. She rose and nodded to Mrs. Sherman before leaving the room.

She passed the doctor and Mr. Sherman on the stairs. Emily had grown quiet. Victoria hoped that was a good sign.

She wandered back into the sitting room. It sounded like Hugh and the sergeant were finishing up. Soon, the sergeant nodded toward Victoria and left the house.

Hugh approached Victoria. “How are you?”

The thoughtful question caused her to become emotional once more. “I’m afraid she is going to die. I don’t know if she has the will to live any longer.”

He stepped forward and took her into his arms. “She’s young and strong. You have to believe she will recover.” He pulled her tighter to him and pressed a long kiss into her hair.

But death had settled on the house and despair seemed to have become its new occupant.

Chapter Thirty-One

It was dark before all the arrangements could be made. Whitney’s body was taken to a mortuary.

Hugh helped Victoria into the carriage before he joined her for the ride back to her home. He was concerned about her. She was listless and dispirited.

“What did the doctor say?” he coaxed.

“Emily has lost the baby.” She paused. “Perhaps it is for the best.”

“What about Lady Whitney herself?” Hugh needed to keep her talking, afraid if she stopped, he would lose her to a dark place once again.

“She has lost a great deal of blood. They think she will survive, but the next few days will be very telling. What will they do with his body?”

“He will be buried in his family plot. It’s best done quickly. There will be no service. None of the clergy will preside over a suicide.”

She nodded. “What will become of the estate? What of all the money Lord Whitney received when he married Emily?”

He hesitated. He didn’t want to upset her any further. “Since Lord Whitney died without an heir, whatever is left of the estate will go to his younger brother. I believe he is a naval officer.”

“And that will be the end of it? All legal and nicely settled then.”

He didn’t answer her.

“But what of Emily? What will become of her? She has nothing left to rely on, only the goodness of her parents, whom I’m sure will take her in. But is this English justice?” She was becoming impassioned once again.

Hugh needed to reason with her. “Primogeniture, inheritance of the eldest and no others, and the inability of women to hold property in their own right are some of the longest held values in this country. They cannot be changed overnight. There is movement in these areas toward a more just society for women. Things will change. You will see. We
are
trying, Victoria.”

“Yes, yes. I know. But will it be soon enough for Emily, for me?”

He lowered his eyes, unable to meet her gaze.

“That I don’t know.” He looked up again. “But without challenging the laws, without fighting for what we think is right, there will be no change. That is our obligation. That is the trust given to us by all those whom the laws have unjustly stripped of property and possessions.” He wanted to give her hope.

She shook her head. “We women are in a sad state, indeed, when we don’t even have the means to change our own position. We cannot even choose those who command our destiny. Universal suffrage cannot be denied much longer. You realize that, don’t you?”

A slow smile crossed Hugh’s face. “You would have me betray my own feelings and make myself vulnerable to your arguments?”

She smiled sadly. “I don’t think I could convince you of anything you didn’t already believe.”

He did not answer her.

They continued their ride in silence.

The carriage stopped, and Hugh stepped down. He offered a hand to Victoria. It reminded her of that first night, not so long ago, when she had slipped and he had kissed her.

She descended the carriage, and he dismissed the driver.

“Aren’t you taking the carriage home?” she asked.

“I believe I would like to walk tonight.”

She took a deep breath of the chilly winter air. Fog still filled the night sky. She reached out to touch him. “But it is so cold out.”

He brushed a dark lock from her forehead. “You are a remarkable woman. Do you know that?”

She searched his eyes. What did he mean?

“You are intelligent and passionate. You dare to expose yourself to criticism without a care for anyone’s opinion. You fight for justice in the face of injustice. I don’t think I’ve ever known anyone as committed.”

She smiled softly. “I think that is perhaps the nicest complement I have ever gotten. More so because the word ‘beautiful’ never entered into it.”

He leaned forward and whispered in her ear. “You are beyond beautiful.”

His breath and his words sent a chill down her and she shivered. Too many times she’d been told how beautiful she was. She wanted…needed to hear more. And here was a man who offered more.

It was heartbreaking so many things still stood between them. Lord Stanford chief among them.

“Where have you gone?” he asked.

She laid her head against his chest. “I’m afraid.”

“Afraid of what?”

“Afraid of all the things that may come between us. Perhaps of all the things that should come between us.” She lifted her head and looked at him. “Do you realize how unwise this is? I could be using you. I could be using my feminine charms to sway your opinion and win my case.” She had voiced the thing that worried her most. The thing she couldn’t bear him to think.

He laughed then. “You couldn’t use a man, or anyone for that matter. You are far too opinionated, far too dedicated to your causes to put your passions aside for anything or anyone. You lack the guile and wiles of most of the women of my acquaintance.”

She pouted slightly. “That does not make me sound at all feminine or attractive.”

“That makes you all the more precious to the right man.” He released her. “I should go. Try and get some rest.” He headed toward the far side of the square and home.

She did not move. She was no longer cold. No longer discouraged. Perhaps, for the first time in her life, no longer alone.