Spinning the Moon (68 page)

He took a sip. “Do you have proof of John's involvement in either death?”

“Two nights before, when John returned to Whispering Oaks, I thought I saw lights out by the pond. And then John appeared inside, and he was wet, as if he had been outside in the rain.”

The judge spoke gently. “But if he had just returned from his trip, he would have been traveling in the elements. It would not be inconceivable that he would be wet from the rain.”

I nodded. “But he also lied to me. He told me that when he found Elizabeth's body, his glove and an evil gris-gris were next to her. He removed them, telling me that Elizabeth had placed them there to implicate him. He never mentioned her traveling bag, but Rebecca saw him bringing it into the house after she disappeared, and I remember seeing her personal items reappear on her dressing table after her death.”

I told the judge about John's pipe in the attic and the buried letterbox with the missing letters and the scent of earth on John's jacket. The old man nodded silently while I talked, his fingers steepled under his chin.

I pressed my cold hands against the cup, trying to draw the warmth. “I know that most of my suspicions can be construed as purely coincidental, which is why I cannot go to the authorities. I only have suspicions and doubts—and Rebecca's recollection. It would appear that Elizabeth was intent on leaving John when she was killed.” I looked the judge squarely in the eye. “I do not know a great many people who are contemplating suicide who pack a traveling bag.”

He nodded. “And the words of a four-year-old would never be accepted in a court of law.”

“Nor would I subject Rebecca to the torment. I need to take her far away from here, away from him.” I choked back a sob.

“You love him.”

I stood, nearly knocking over the tea table. “I cannot help myself.
There is so much goodness in him, but to know that he is also capable of such violence . . .” I took a deep breath before facing the judge again. “Which is why I need to take Rebecca away. It will kill him to lose her, but I have to think of what is best for her.”

Judge Patterson stood next to me, and I put a hand on his arm. “And I also wanted to tell another person of my suspicions. My sister is dead, and no matter how she might have provoked him, justice should be served. I will tell you everything I know so that in future, perhaps you might stand in a court of law and see John McMahon pay for his crimes.”

My voice had descended into a whisper, my agony ripping the strength from me. He helped me sit again and handed me back my cup. After I had calmed down, I reached for my reticule. Slowly and deliberately, I pulled out the pearl necklace that John had given me as a wedding gift.

“I want you to sell this for me. I will need cash for my journey, and this should give me a bit left over, too. I will be going to my mother-in-law's home in Brunswick, Georgia, not far from Saint Simons. I eventually will want to return to my home, but John will look for us there first. Robert's mother has not spoken to me since his funeral, but I have nowhere else to go. Bringing her funds and an extra pair of hands to help should be welcome. Since Robert's death, she has been all alone.”

I swallowed at the thick cloud of despair that threatened to settle over me. My mother-in-law had become a shriveled, unhappy woman over the course of the war in which she had lost not only her husband, but also her three sons. I was sure she blamed me for Robert's suicide, and the loss of the one child who had had the skill and luck to survive the war but not the strength of spirit to survive the anguish of coming home.

He clasped my hands in his. “When will you need the money?”

“I plan to leave at Christmas—in less than three weeks' time. Dr. Lewiston said Rebecca would be well enough to travel by then.”

The judge looked at me in surprise. “Does he know, then?”

“No. He is John's friend and I will not jeopardize that.” I thought back on the day when the terrible knowledge came to me concerning Rebecca's father.

“Will you need to stay at Gracehaven until you leave?”

I shook my head. “That would only alert John's suspicions. Besides, he will be gone for two of those weeks on business in New Orleans. For the remaining week I will be very watchful. And I do not intend to be alone for a single moment.”

“Surely the child you carry will keep you safe.”

I looked down at the ground, my face heating. “John does not think it is his.”

The judge had the good grace not to appear shocked. “He has never truly recovered from Elizabeth's infidelities. Perhaps it has driven him mad.” He patted my hand. “I will call frequently to check in on you. How is that?”

Impulsively, I kissed his cheek. “I would welcome that under any circumstances. Thank you.”

“I do not want you to worry about anything. I will see that everything is arranged for you.”

I found Rebecca in the kitchen, eating a helping of corn bread heaped with butter, and my heart softened at the sight. She was too thin from her illness, and to see her with an appetite again filled me with joy.

The judge tucked a blanket around us in the buggy, warding off the chill December air, and stood waving goodbye until we rounded a bend and he disappeared from sight.

T
he first week after my visit to Judge Patterson left my nerves on edge and my mind fractured like a war-worn battlefield. John had been aloof yet watchful. He asked me to accompany him to New Orleans, suggesting that while he was conducting business I could use the opportunity to select fabrics and furnishings for the nursery we would soon be needing.

I had looked away, afraid that my lack of preparations in this area had alerted John to my plans. I had declined, stating my unwillingness to leave Rebecca before her complete recovery. John seemed to accept my answer, but at times I would find him watching me closely, his eyes narrowed and his expression blank, making me feel like a corpse under the measuring gaze of the undertaker.

I continued the pretense of calm serenity, outwardly going about my duties as mistress of Whispering Oaks, while in my head I marked the days until my departure. I had not yet told Rebecca. Not only was I afraid that she would be unable to keep the confidence, but I was also afraid that she would not leave her father.

I grieved for her, knowing the depth of her loss and knowing that I could never tell her the real reason of why we had to go. I would bear the weight for her and free her innocent soul from the torment of knowing the truth.

Rebecca bristled with excitement over the coming holidays, and I pretended to join in her enthusiasm. The traditional bonfires were to be lit on Christmas Eve, and I would use the noise and confusion of the festivities to disappear under cover of darkness.

Two days before Christmas, while John was still in New Orleans, Daniel called at the house to check on Rebecca. I had just put her down for a nap, so I brought him up the stairs to her room.

By the time we arrived, she had already settled into a heavy slumber. I watched Daniel carefully as he studied the child. He stood by the side of her bed for a long moment, watching her sleep. Reaching out a hand, he tenderly pushed her gold hair from her face.

“She is so much like her mother,” he said.

I stepped closer to the foot of the bed. “But not anything like her father.” I watched his face carefully.

To my surprise, he showed no reaction to my words. Instead he turned to me. “I used to think that Elizabeth was the most intoxicating woman ever born.” He stared at me intently. “Until I met you. But your beauty is deeper than your arresting face. Something Elizabeth could never claim.”

Embarrassed, I felt heat color my cheeks. “Really, Daniel. I do not think you should be speaking to me in this way.”

He set down his black bag and approached me. “But surely you have guessed my feelings for you.”

I looked away from the intensity of his gaze. “We are friends, Daniel. Nothing more. Nor are we free to pursue a deeper relationship, even if that were something I desired.”

He reached for my hand but I pulled away. “Catherine, my feelings for you have grown far beyond friendship. I know it is wrong, but I cannot seem to help myself. I want to be with you. Always. And I know you are not happy with John. I have sensed a restlessness in you this last month. He made Elizabeth's life miserable and now I see he has done the same to you.”

I stepped back. “Daniel, I want you to stop this now. Please do not destroy the high regard I have for you. I am not my sister, easily seduced.”

He shook his head and approached me again. “No, you are not Elizabeth. You are much too good and too beautiful. I suppose it was too much to hope for that you might feel the same affection for me.”

“Daniel, you have been a good friend. I am sorry if any of my actions or anything I have said might have led you to believe that my feelings went further than friendship. I am flattered, certainly, that a man such as you would hold me in such high regard. But you are married, as am I, and I am only in need of your friendship now.”

He took a deep breath and regarded me with soft gray eyes. “I apologize if I have offended you. I am afraid that I have spoken out of turn. It was wrong of me to confess my feelings, knowing that your honor would never allow you to feel the same way about me.”

I saw the way his golden hair shimmered in the bright light of the afternoon sun streaming in from the windows. “I am not my sister,” I said again.

“No, you are not, and I have been wrong to think otherwise.” He started to turn away but stopped, his expression that of a man intent on finding the absolution of confession. “Remember when I told you that I married Clara because it was love at first sight? I lied. I had seen Elizabeth on my visit with John and I could not leave. So I married Clara to be near your sister. I am so ashamed. My only hope is that you can find it in your generous heart to forgive me.”

“Why are you telling me all this now?”

“Because I have been carrying the burden of my secret around for so long. And your forgiveness would be a balm to my soul.”

I looked at him wearily. “It is not from me you need to beg forgiveness, but your wife. She loves you so. And from John.”

A flash of anger momentarily crossed his fine features. “I owe nothing to John.”

I looked down at the sleeping child, her spun-gold hair shimmering against the whiteness of her pillow. “I beg to differ.”

His gaze followed mine, but his expression remained blank. “I did not steal his wife's affections, if that is to what you are referring. She kept those all to herself.”

I swallowed, as if digesting his words. “So you are telling me that she never returned your feelings?”

A slow breath escaped him, like the last sigh of a dying man. “No.”

I felt relief for a moment in the knowledge that Daniel's infatuation with Elizabeth had remained chaste. Rebecca stirred, and we watched her in silence for a moment.
Then who is your father, sweet child? Was it somebody your mother truly loved?
In my heart of hearts, I wished for it to be true. The thought of a cold and indifferent Elizabeth finding death without it was too hard to bear.

I lifted my eyes to find Daniel watching me intently. I did not look
away. “But you did betray your friendship with John, if only with your feelings for his wife.”

His lips curled into a grimace. “It was his own fault. He could not make Elizabeth happy, and he gave up trying. He drove her to take her own life. And I see how John has already dimmed your spirit and I fear for you, too.”

I turned away, not wanting him to read the secret in my eyes.

“If you are unhappy, let me take you away from here. As your friend, let me help you.”

I looked back at him to refuse, but he must have seen something in my face, for he stopped suddenly. “You have already made plans to leave, have you not?”

I started to shake my head, to deny it, but the weight of my secret longed to be lightened. “It is not what you think, Daniel. I am not going with another man. I simply need . . . to get away.”

His face colored. “Has he hurt you in any way?”

I turned away to face the window. “No. But I have reason to believe that he is a dangerous man.”

“Because of Philip?”

I nodded. “And Elizabeth. Did you know she was leaving John when she died? I think she might have been going with Philip, and now he is dead, too.”

He looked ashen but kept his gaze steadily on me. “Why do you think it was Philip?”

I closed my eyes tightly for a moment, trying to erase the picture of Philip floating facedown in the pond. “I do not think either one of them tried to keep their affair secret. John certainly knew.”

His voice was almost a whisper. “And then she was found dead.” He shook his head. “I had no doubts when John said it was suicide. Her mental health had always been frail at best, although she kept it hidden from most. I thought I could save her from her inner torment, but my love was never enough for her. Nothing ever was.” Defeat and desolation crowded his words, but I could feel little sympathy for him. “And now you are telling me that John . . .”

I rested my hand on his arm. “I have nothing but suspicion. But I do not feel safe here.”

Solemn gray eyes bored into mine. “Let me do the right thing for a change. Let me help you. I will fight to bring John to justice, but first I need to see you safe.”

“How can I trust you, Daniel? You have deceived your wife and your closest friend. How could I be sure that you would not betray me?”

His shoulders slumped in an attitude of defeat. “I need to redeem my soul and this is my last chance. I could never hope for forgiveness from Clara, and it is already too late for Elizabeth. You are my last chance to save me from this dark hell that chases me night and day.”

My resolve weakened as I stared at this man whom my sister had destroyed. I did believe I could trust him, but I still had other doubts. “Judge Patterson has already offered his help.”

He took a step forward. “But the judge is old and feeble. What if John finds out and pursues you? Do you really think the judge is strong enough to protect you and Rebecca from John's fury?”

I looked at Rebecca again, sleeping peacefully with her doll securely tucked under her arm. Daniel was right. The judge would be no match against John, and I would not put an innocent man in the path of John's wrath. Daniel was eager and willing to do so and, perhaps, find his own forgiveness. Pressing back golden hair from Rebecca's face, I rationalized that she might not be as frightened on our journey if she had the doctor with her in the beginning.

Slowly, I nodded. “You must swear you will not tell anyone.”

He agreed and I knew I could trust him.

“In two days' time, when they light the bonfires out on the levee, I will need a carriage to take me to New Orleans. I was planning to take one of John's but if he finds it missing, it will be easier for him to search for us.”

“Us?”

“Yes. I am taking Rebecca with me.”

His features tightened for a brief moment but he said nothing.

“She is not safe here.” I reached for his hand and squeezed it. “I was hoping you could tell me that she would be well enough to travel now.”

“Yes. She is almost completely recovered.”

“Good. If you can get us to New Orleans, I have enough funds to
hire a coach to take me to Brunswick. Could you do that without arousing suspicion?”

A dreaded calm seemed to settle on him. “Yes. I will find a way.”

“And if John finds out that you helped me?”

With a determined shift of his head, he said, “He has more to fear from me. From what you have told me, I now have information that implicates him in Elizabeth's death.”

He stopped to pick up his bag, and I grabbed his arm. “Please tell me that John was not always like that. I still see so much good in him.” I choked on a sob.

“Elizabeth changed him—she changed us both. It was for her I betrayed both my best friend and my wife, and I doubt I will ever find forgiveness from either, regardless of who John has become.” His eyes were looking inside himself, into the deepest reaches of his heart, and what he saw there saddened me. “But being with Elizabeth, nothing else seemed to matter.”

With shoulders stooped with defeat, he faced me. “I will send a message to you as to when and where to meet me. Have everything ready before the bonfire so we will not be delayed.”

“Thank you, Daniel. I will be ready.”

He nodded and placed his hat on his head, then left the room.

I sat on the side of Rebecca's bed and watched her sleep. Besides the hair, I saw little else to remind me of Daniel, and I was relieved that at least John had not suspected as much.

The back of my neck prickled and I sat up. A slight scratching sounded from what I thought was the wall, as if a fingernail were being slid along the plaster. I bounded off the bed and ran to the deserted corridor.

“Mary? Delphine? Is anybody there?”

There was no answer.

I sped down the stairs to the empty foyer and called out again.

As I stood listening to the deserted house around me, I looked into the old mirror, noting again the irregularities in the glass. I moved to stand in front of it, noticing how distorted my reflection appeared. With a sad grimace, I turned away, thinking how accurate the mirror's portrayal of me was.

*   *   *

John returned from New Orleans on Christmas Eve, in time for the festivities. I was in the library, reading, when I heard the carriage, but I did not go into the foyer to greet him.

I heard Delphine tell him where I was, and he soon joined me, his presence filling the room and drawing me to him before I even looked up from the pages of my book. Having him so near still affected me in ways I could not control, regardless of what I knew of him.

Several parcels tottered in his outstretched arms and he knelt on the floor beside me, letting the packages slide to the ground. A boyish grin lit his face, making my mouth go dry, and I had to look away.