Shattered Moments (22 page)

The world seemed to still around them, the evening breeze wrapping them in a gentle caress as it dried their damp skin.  Distant stars were just appearing in the darkening sky, winking at Genevieve as if they knew her little secret, and possibly approved.  Somewhere at the back of her mind, she knew she might be missed, and it was only a matter of time before someone thought to look for her, but she couldn’t force herself to stir from the reassuring comfort of Cameron’s arms.  His wet hair was spread on the grass, the blades mingling with the strands of deep red, the color of a fox’s pelt in the waning light of the evening. 

His eyes were open wide, staring at the heavens as if the answers to all his questions would just be handed down like a judgment from a benevolent God,
but
God wasn’t benevolent, was he?
thought Genevieve, feeling the surge of resentment that had become a constant companion since she found out what happened to her mother all those years ago at the convent of Loudon.  Her poor mother, who only wanted to dedicate her life to God, had been raped, left pregnant, and then murdered; her death made to look like a suicide, so even the comfort of Heaven and a burial in consecrated ground had been denied her for over twenty years.  No, God wasn’t benevolent; he was cruel, and at times probably very bored, for what other reason would there be to cause such suffering and grief if not for entertainment?  Genevieve thought of a verse from Exodus,

“You shall not make for yourself an idol,
      or any likeness of what is in Heaven above or on the earth beneath or in the water under the earth. Y
ou shall not worship them or serve them; for I, the LORD your God, am a jealous God, visiting the iniquity of the fathers on the children, on the third and the fourth generations of those who hate Me,
but showing loving-kindness to thousands, to those who love Me and keep My commandments…”

It wasn’t just other gods that God was jealous of, but happiness and joy.  Well, she would snatch her happiness and hold onto it for dear life, and he wouldn’t take it away
from her
—
ever. 

A few years ago
, she might have been shocked by such blasphemous thoughts, but that was before she went out into the world and learned something of life.  She still believed in God with all her heart, but in her mind, he was no longer the benevolent, loving entity, who rewarded piety, honesty, and hard work.  He was someone to be feared, for sometimes he punished even those who’d been his faithful servants, and tore them apart for no reason, as he had Cameron and the poor girl he’d loved
—
and her own mother. 

Genevieve forced herself to concentrate on the steady beating of Cameron’s heart to soothe herself.  She was allowing her fears
and anger to get the best of her, and she wouldn’t go down that path; she would just take it day by day and hope that her love and determination would set things right, and that her and Cameron could find a way to be together.  Maybe she could talk to Uncle Alec when he came back and find a way to get justice for Cameron.  Uncle Alec would listen; he had to. 

Louisa eagerly ran to the window, happy to see Mr. Brooks cantering down the lane to Rosewood Manor.  He’d promised to come as soon as he had anything to tell her, and she was hoping and praying that he was able to find something out.  Sir George had been right in recommending him.  The man clearly knew the law, and his intelligent brown eyes held a hint of reassurance as he promised to take the case on and do his utmost to help Kit.  Her intention to represent Kit herself had been a moment of insanity, one she was ashamed of.  What had she been thinking, that watching a few legal dramas on TV qualified her to defend a man accused of murder?  She supposed she was being too hard on herself considering all that had happened over the past few weeks.  She was normally a calm and rational person, but with Valerie and Alec missing, revelations about Kit and Buckingham coming to light and Kit now accused of murder, she was allowed a little insanity. 

Louisa
threw a grateful look at Genevieve as she herded the children out the door and into the morning sunshine, knowing that Louisa needed to have a private meeting with the solicitor and having a bit of quiet was essential.  What a lovely girl Genevieve was, Louisa thought as she watched her scoop up Tom and carry him to the stables where he would get a much-anticipated pony ride.  The rest of the children clustered around Genevieve, laughing and talking all at once.  Normally, Genevieve was very reserved and quiet, but today she was practically sparkling; her cheeks flushed, and her face wreathed in a smile that spread from ear to ear as she twirled with Tom in her arms and made him giggle.  Louisa was glad to see her happy.  Her own problems had nothing to do with Genevieve.  The girl had suffered enough, and deserved whatever happiness she could carve out for herself in this wretched world. 

Louisa was distracted from her morbid thoughts by the arrival of Minnie, who sank into a curtsy, making Louisa smile.  She’d asked everyone repeatedly to call her Louisa and not stand
on ceremony, but this was a class-conscious society, where her title was like a stone wall that separated her from the rest of the women in the household, except for Valerie.  Genevieve, Minnie, and Cook all called her, “Lady Sheridan,” and practically fell over themselves curtsying, which was just ridiculous given their living situation, which was pretty much devoid of privacy.

“Minnie, please bring some refreshments into the parlor,” Louisa
asked, eager to make a good impression on Mr. Brooks.  She knew it made no difference if she offered him oat cakes and a cup of cider, but somehow it made her feel as if she had a modicum of control over the situation. 

Louisa
paced the room until Mr. Brooks finally appeared on the threshold.  He looked hot and dusty, his forehead glistening with sweat.  Louisa motioned him to a chair, her hand trembling with nerves as she poured him a cup of cider and wordlessly handed it to him.  Mr. Brooks nodded gratefully and drained the cup before taking a seat across her, his hat on his knees.

“What have you been able to find out?” she asked eagerly.

“Lady Sheridan, I must be honest with you in order not to raise your hopes.  I spent the last two days questioning everyone I could think of who might have any connection to the case.  I spoke with Mrs. Deverell, the crew of the
Charlotte
, which Mr. Deverell made the crossing on, dock workers, and shopkeepers.  No one could shed any light on what happened.  According to Mrs. Deverell, her husband didn’t have any enemies to speak of, and no one can recall any disagreements or quarrels involving Mr. Deverell.  The crew of the
Charlotte
swear that he was a perfectly agreeable gentleman.”

Mr. Brooks took a deep breath and looked up at Louisa.  “I’ve also spoken to your husband.  He says he spent the night drunk in the barn.  There are no witnesses to this claim, and he refuses to tell me why he never came home that night
, or what prompted the heated exchange with Mr. Deverell.  Can you shed any light on the subject, your ladyship?”

Louisa sighed, wondering if she should tell Mr. Brooks the truth, but quickly dismissed the idea.  If she told Brooks of
Deverell’s threats, the case against Kit would be watertight.  The less Brooks knew of that particular problem, the better.  She looked up, smiling at the lawyer sadly.  “Mr. Brooks, I’m very embarrassed, but my husband and I had a marital spat.  It was entirely my fault, but Kit took it very much to heart and wound up having too much to drink, out of self-pity no doubt.  It’s happened once or twice before.”  Louisa averted her eyes in an effort to look ashamed and hoped that Brooks was buying the performance.

“I see, but that doesn’t explain what the two men argued about.”

“I don’t know that they did.  Mrs. Annabel Whitfield seems to be the only one who heard them arguing.  Perhaps she’s mistaken.”  Louisa gave Mr. Brooks an imploring look.  “How can they accuse a man based on one instance of circumstantial evidence?”  Brook’s eyebrows nearly disappeared into his hairline as he stared at Louisa. 

“Do you know something of the law, Lady Sheridan?” he asked, curiosity overtaking his
businesslike manner.  No, Louisa thought, but I watched a lot of courtroom dramas in the twenty-first century.

“Ah, no, Mr. Brooks.  I must have heard the term somewhere.”  She pushed the plate of
cakes toward him to smooth over the awkward silence that fell between them.  Mr. Brooks shook his head in refusal and rose to his feet.

“Lady Sheridan, I will do everything in my power to prove that Lord Sheridan didn’t do this terrible thing, but until I find someone who saw or heard something, the task proves to be very difficult.  Good day to you.  I will call back
if I have any news.” 

Louisa slumped back onto the settee, her
arms around her middle as she doubled over with misery.  This wasn’t twenty-first century law; this was Jamestown, and if there was no proof of guilt, suspicion was enough to convict.  She wiped away a tear with the back of her hand as Fred Taylor poked his head into the room, his face a mask of sympathy.

“Louisa, dear, may I have a word?” he asked, inching
further into the room and closing the door behind him. 

“I couldn’t help b
ut overhear the last bit of the conversation with Mr. Brooks.  Now, I know that this is not the legal system we are used to, but I believe I might be able to help.”  Louisa’s head shot up, her eyes fixed on Fred Taylor.  He was a surprising man, full of useful knowledge and shrewd ideas.  If he had a plan, she would definitely listen.

Jane Deverell stared listlessly out the window, her black gown making her appear even more sallow and thin than she had before.  Her skin looked waxy in the gentle sunshine illuminating her face, and her graying hair strayed from the confines of her cap, giving her the appearance of a wasted hag.  She turned at the sound of Louisa’s footsteps, her eyes taking a moment to focus before she reached out her hand and stretched her lips in something meant to be a smile of welcome. 

Louisa was relieved that she hadn’t refused to see her,
considering the circumstances.  Mr. Brooks had mentioned that he got nowhere with Mrs. Deverell, but Louisa felt it was imperative to speak with her all the same.  No one knew a husband’s secrets like a wife, she thought, before reminding herself that she’d known nothing of her own husband’s darkest sins.  Louisa forced herself to put Kit’s transgressions aside, for the moment, and concentrate on offering succor to the widow. 

“Jane, I’m so very sorry for your loss.  Is there anything at all I can do to help you during this difficult time?” 
I sound so false
, she thought to herself as she took a seat across from Mrs. Deverell, feeling uncomfortable under her intense gaze. 

“Thank you, dear Louisa, but I’m afraid there’s nothing anyone can do.  Sir George has taken it upon himself to arrange the funeral, and I’m most grateful.”  She turned her head to the window again, her eyes half-closed against the brilliance of the sun. 

“Jane, Kit didn’t kill your husband; he couldn’t have.  I know he never left the plantation that night, although I can’t prove it.  Is there anyone you can think of who might have wanted to harm him?” Louisa asked gently, hoping that Jane might find it in her heart to feel some sympathy for her.

Jane Deverell turned to Louisa, her eyes suddenly burning with something
akin to hatred, and spots of crimson appearing in her cheeks and making her look fevered.

“Louisa, I don’t care who killed him;
I’m just happy he’s dead.  I’ve prayed to the good Lord to rid me of that monster for nearly two decades, and he’s finally seen fit to answer my prayer.”  She suddenly stilled, ashamed of her outburst, her hands clasped in her lap and her eyes averted from Louisa.  She was silent for a few moments before her head snapped up defiantly, daring Louisa to judge her.  “It’s wrong to speak ill of the dead, I know, but Aloysius was a terrible man, a cruel and heartless man, who’s finally got his comeuppance.  I know you must think I’m a wicked woman, but as God is my witness, I’m telling the truth.”

“I don’t think you’re wicked, Jane.  Your husband must have treated you most cruelly for you to feel this way, so you have my condolences for that as well.  What had he done?” Louisa asked carefully.  Jane was in a hysterical state, and although Louisa hated to take advantage of that, Jane was ripe for the picking, eager to get her grievances off her chest.

“I can’t speak of it,” Jane moaned, a tear sliding down her cheek.  “I just can’t speak of it.  But, he did have enemies, more than you might imagine.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know specific names; he never told me, but we had to leave England, you see.  He was afraid for his life.”  Jane was staring at her hands as if she’d seen them for the very first time, her rings sparkling against the pale skin.

“Why did he have so many enemies?”  Louisa
thought she already knew, but she wanted to hear it from Jane.

“Aloysius had a few cronies at Court who fed him tidbits of useful information. Thomas Gaines was one of them
; I believe you were acquainted with him,” she said flatly before resuming her narrative.  “Once Aloysius had suspicions about a particular person, he made it his business to ferret out the rest.  He’d send out our stable boy to spy on them, making sure he had some proof before approaching his victim and demanding payment for his continued silence.  He made quite a good living off his hobby as it happens.  He kept me in style, that I can tell you.” 

Jane looked up at Louisa, her gaze full of shame.  “Oh, I hated him, Louisa.  He was an evil, wicked man.  Once he found out
someone’s secret, he bled them dry, and then he bled them some more.  He didn’t need the money; he just enjoyed the power, you see.  It made him feel God-like, he said.  Does your husband have a secret?” she suddenly asked, her eyes boring into Louisa.

“Not that I know of, Jane, but even if he does, he’s not a murderer.  He didn’t kill your husband, but someone did, and we need to find out who
did.”

“I don’t care who,” Jane spat out, her eyes blazing again.  “To the world I must appear as the grieving widow of a good man.  I will not speak ill of him in public or testify on your husband’s behalf.
”  Jane suddenly jumped to her feet and pulled a rolled-up document from an intricately carved wooden box sitting atop the mantel.  “Here, I will give you this, and you can do with it as you see fit.  It states that if anything should happen to Aloysius, Lord Sheridan is to be held responsible.  That’s all I can do for you.”

Louisa snatched the document and unrolled it, scanning the contents.  She had no idea there
even was a document, but Jane just laughed without mirth, amused by her naiveté.  “Oh, there are several like it, naming various people, but I won’t surrender any of them to the law.  No one deserves to be blamed for trying to save their skin, so I will just consign these to the flames, as I am sure you will as soon as you get home.”

Jane’s face suddenly fell as if she realized how bitter she sounded.  She reached out and put her cold hand over Louisa’s, her eyes pleading for understanding. “
I’m sorry, Louisa, but my dignity is all I have left, and I intend to preserve it.  I will complete my year of mourning, then take my well-deserved freedom, go back to England where I belong, and try to enjoy what’s left of my life.  I wish you much luck in proving your husband’s innocence, but it won’t be with my help.  Now, I must wish you good day, dear.  I’m suddenly rather tired.” 

Jane rose to her feet and floated out of the room, leaving a stunned Louisa to seethe with frustrated fury. 
She could try pleading with Jane Deverell, but she could sense that her mind was made up, and truthfully, she didn’t blame her.  If what she said was true, she’d suffered enough, and Aloysius Deverell left her well-enough provided for that she could enjoy the rest of her life without needing to involve herself in anything she didn’t wish to.  After all, she had absolutely no incentive to testify on Kit’s behalf, and every reason to remain silent.  Louisa needed a new angle.