The Anatomist's Wife (7 page)

I nodded.

“Lock your door.”

I shivered and moved forward to turn the key. After testing the door was secure, I
stepped back to sit on the edge of my bed, trying to decipher the cryptic look I had
seen in Gage’s eyes at the last.

I had hoped that he was beginning to believe in my innocence, even after the comments
relayed by Lord Westlock, but maybe I was wrong. Maybe he believed quite the opposite—after
all, I had also discovered Lady Godwin had been expecting—and hoped I would slip up
and incriminate myself.

I sighed and pressed my hand to my forehead, too tired to puzzle out such matters
at this hour of night. The sun would be rising in less than four hours, and I needed
to get some rest before I met Philip and Gage to examine the maze.

Besides, it didn’t matter what Gage believed. I knew that I was innocent, and so did
my sister and brother-in-law. All I could do was focus on what I had set out to do
in the first place—protect my sister and her family by finding the real killer—and
in the process, prove my innocence, perhaps once and for all.

CHAPTER SEVEN

I
awoke the next morning to find Alana hovering over me, a frown pleating her brow.

“Oh, thank goodness,” she exclaimed. “You’re awake.”

I hadn’t been, but I suspected my sister had been standing there for quite some time
and very well knew that.

“How are you feeling, dear?” She reached out to place her hand on my forehead, but
then hesitated as if the touch might cause me pain. “Does your head ache?”

I scowled, wishing she would go away. It might be difficult for me to fall asleep,
but once I did, I slumbered quite soundly. I was also rather cross upon waking, even
in the best of circumstances. And especially when someone took it upon herself to
wake me.

I swatted away her hands and pushed myself up carefully on the pillows stacked behind
me.

“Here, let me help you with that,” Alana insisted, fluffing and adjusting the bolsters.

I submitted to her ministrations for about half a minute before protesting. “They’re
plump enough, Alana.”

She clasped her hands over her abdomen, as if she couldn’t stop them from fussing
over me any other way, and stared down at me in worry.

I sighed, knowing my sister meant well, even if her mothering this early in the morning
was more than I could stand. “I’m fine. Just a little tender.” I reached back to tentatively
probe the lump on the back of my head.

“Mr. Gage said I should check on you,” she admitted, sitting cautiously on the edge
of the bed.

I closed my eyes and silently cursed the man. I should have known. Who else would
have relayed the news about my injury? I highly doubted Lord Westlock had confessed
to bashing me over the head to my sister.

“He shouldn’t have told you,” I snapped, angry that my sister now had something else
to fret about.

“Of course he should have,” she protested, her own considerable temper sparking. “You
should have awakened me last night and sent for the physician. You could have been
seriously injured.”

“I’m fine,” I reiterated sharply. “Waking you would have served no purpose beyond
robbing you of sleep. Mr. Gage made certain the wound was not severe. Besides, you
know the village physician is useless. He probably would have tried to bleed me.”

“You still should have woken me.” Alana shifted higher on the bed. Her bright blue
eyes had darkened almost to violet against the deep purple of her gown. I suspected
she had chosen the gown because it would be fitting for a state of half mourning.
Lady Godwin was not a relative or royalty, but given the terrible circumstances of
her death, and at my sister’s residence of all places, Alana likely felt she should
dress in half mourning out of respect for the deceased. I knew I would be expected
to follow suit.

Which reminded me how much easier it was to allow my sister to believe she’d gotten
her way, whether or not that was true. If I were ever bashed over the head in the
middle of the night again, I still didn’t plan on waking her, but she didn’t need
to know that.

I crossed my arms over my chest and glanced at the table next to my bed. “Have you
brought me something to eat?” My stomach gurgled and asserted itself, reminding me
how I had cast up my accounts all over the floor of the cellar while Mr. Gage looked
on. I felt a blush heat my cheeks at the memory.

Alana picked up the tray and settled it over my lap. I could smell the chocolate even
before I lifted the lid of the pot. It was accompanied by toast and a crock of sweet
strawberry jam, my normal morning repast. I quickly slathered the bread with jam and
took a bite.

My sister watched me with a small smile curling her lips. She waited until I had swallowed
several bites before saying anything else. “I’m grateful to Mr. Gage for taking care
of you,” she said, smoothing out a wrinkle on the skirt of her gown.

I hesitated in taking my next bite, waiting for her to elaborate, for I knew she had
more to say.

Her gaze lifted to meet mine. “We’ve underestimated him, haven’t we?”

I studied the deep red of the strawberry preserves. “Perhaps,” I replied with a shrug.
Popping the last bite of the first piece of toast into my mouth, I poured the warm
chocolate into my cup to avoid my sister’s eyes. I still held my doubts about Gage’s
motives, but I didn’t feel it necessary to share them with Alana.

“Philip is acquainted with him, you know.”

I looked up at her in question.

“Apparently, they attended school together. They were in the same class at Cambridge.
Though Philip says for the first year and a half Mr. Gage had special permission to
live off university grounds.”

I was instantly curious as to why, but I kept my interest to myself. “Is that how
he came to be invited to your house party?”

Alana shook her head. “No, Mrs. Cline asked me to include him on the guest list.”

I wanted to roll my eyes, and just barely resisted, taking another drink of my rich
chocolate. “So Philip didn’t ask Mr. Gage to conduct an investigation just on the
basis of his father’s reputation. He actually knows Mr. Gage.”

“And seems to trust him.” She pressed her lips together and watched me take another
sip. “Kiera, if Philip trusts him, then I think perhaps we should as well.”

I lowered my cup slowly and nodded. It did speak in Gage’s favor that my brother-in-law
had confidence in him. However, I still reserved my judgment. People changed, often
for the worse. Just because Gage had been a good man a decade or more ago, it did
not mean he was today. Besides, his belief in my innocence was not necessarily tied
to how honorable a person he was. He could easily decide I’d duped my sister and brother-in-law
into thinking I wasn’t guilty and set out to save them from me. He wouldn’t be the
first to set upon such a course.

“What time is it?” I asked, glancing toward the clock on the mantel.

“Half past eight.”

I pushed the tray forward and tentatively sat up all the way. My head still throbbed
dully, but nothing like it had the night before.

“Should you be getting up?” Alana asked uncertainly.

“Why shouldn’t I?” I countered. “Ring Lucy and ask her to bring a headache powder.
I need to get dressed.” I swung my legs over the side of the bed and paused to make
sure my skull would not protest if I tried to stand.

My sister touched my arm to stop me. “There’s no need to dress. I’m certain no one
would mind if you kept to your rooms for the day and rested.”

“I told Mr. Gage I would search the gardens with him and Philip. I assume they haven’t
already done so if Mr. Gage sent you to wake me.” I rose to my feet and felt a slight
pulse in my head from the change in posture, but otherwise it troubled me no more
than it had when I was sitting down.

Alana stood with me. “Mr. Gage didn’t send me to wake you,” she protested.

I lifted my eyebrows at her. “Why else do you think he sent you to check on me?”

“Because he was worried about your health.”

I moved across the room toward my wardrobe. “Maybe. But I have a feeling it was his
way of expressing impatience to be at it without being so rude as to order you directly
to wake me.”

Alana frowned and crossed her arms over her chest. I could tell she wasn’t pleased
with the idea that Mr. Gage had manipulated her. I turned away to hide my smile and
began flipping through my gowns, looking for something suitable for both half mourning
and traipsing through the garden. I had left off wearing mourning garments for my
husband far earlier than was socially acceptable, but since I lived in the Highlands,
where no one saw me, I had been able to get away with it. Fortunately, I had kept
a few gowns made up from my half-mourning period. A sturdy gray walking dress with
black embroidery on the skirts and collar, and a black belt, seemed appropriate with
my kid-leather ankle boots. I pulled the gown from the closet and moved to lay it
across the bed.

My sister now stood by the bellpull, and I assumed she had followed my instructions
and rang for Lucy. Her brow was furrowed, and I could tell she was puzzling over something.
Trusting Alana would speak when she was ready, I poured water from the pitcher into
the washbasin and began to scrub my face and neck clean, careful not to move my head
too abruptly.

I heard my sister instruct Lucy to bring a headache powder when she appeared, and
then Alana closed the door and moved back toward the bed to help me dress. She finally
spoke when my back was to her as she loosely laced my corset, knowing how much I hated
to be restrained too tightly during the day, especially when I was painting.

“Philip has informed me that I cannot throw Lord and Lady Westlock out of our home,
despite their actions toward you,” she stated in a voice tight with anger.

I’d wondered if she knew exactly how I received the bump on my head, and was impressed
she waited this long to mention it.

“If I had my way, they would already be banished from the grounds of Gairloch Castle.”
She tugged too hard on the laces, and I wriggled, letting her know to loosen the last
loop. “I know I’m supposed to obey my husband in all things, particularly when I’ve
been give a direct order, but in this I find I cannot.”

She tied off my corset and turned me to face her, allowing me to see the rage I had
only guessed at until that moment blazing in her jewel-bright eyes. Alana was absolutely
furious.

“If you want me to, I will send them away this very minute, regardless of Philip’s
orders.” She nearly spat the word, clearly displeased with her husband’s command.
“It is an insult to share a roof with them after the way they treated you. For you,
I will get rid of them. If you want me to?” She pressed her lips together, likely
to stop herself from saying more, and waited for me to reply.

I was touched by my sister’s concern and, if truth be told, a little startled by her
vehemence. I almost pitied the Westlocks, for Alana was certain to make the remainder
of their stay quite uncomfortable. But they did deserve it, after all. Under any other
circumstances, such behavior would have seen my brother-in-law flinging them from
his home himself. Only the murder investigation saved them from his wrath.

And that being the case, I couldn’t ask my sister to do such a thing for me, especially
when it would get her in trouble with her husband. Philip possessed just as ferocious
a temper as Alana when provoked, and disobeying a direct order would certainly provoke
it. I had heard them argue enough times in the last sixteen months to know I did not
want to be the cause of such a quarrel. Besides, Philip happened to be right. Lord
and Lady Westlock could not leave the castle until after the procurator fiscal arrived
to clear them of suspicion.

I lifted my hand and touched my older sister’s arm. “It’s all right,” I assured her.
“I know they have to stay.”

Her shoulders sagged a bit, and I suspected that despite all her protestations to
the contrary, she had not been looking forward to defying her husband in this. Her
pride was bruised from being forced to provide accommodations to someone who had so
blatantly harmed a member of her family, but I wondered if she was taking out some
of her anger at the unnamed murderer on the Westlocks. It disturbed her, and rightfully
so, that someone she had trusted enough to invite into her home would commit such
a horrific act. It troubled me just to know I had dined with, and likely spoken to,
such a person.

The fierce light in her eyes remained even as my sister nodded in acceptance of my
decision. “All right, Kiera. They can stay, for now. But should you change your mind . . .”

I squeezed her arm. “I’ll let you know.”

She studied my face before her gaze rose to my head and the unruly morning waves of
my hair. “Are you sure you feel well enough to assist Philip and Mr. Gage?” she asked,
as lines of concern wrinkled her brow.

“Yes.” I reached for my dress. “Besides, I don’t think they know what to look for,”
I replied vaguely, not comfortable sharing the discovery I’d made about the state
of Lady Godwin’s health.

Alana did not question my unclear statement, and I supposed it was because she did
not want to know. As strong and courageous as my sister was, that strength and courage
did not carry over to matters of the internal workings of the human body. She had
once asked me about the things I had seen during the years I was forced to assist
my husband, and later confessed she had nightmares for a week afterward just from
imaging the few things I told her. Telling her to think of the body as a work of art
did not seem to console her as it did me.

She helped me guide the gray gown over my head, careful not to touch the sensitive
spot on the back of my head. Styling my hair was going to be tricky.

“To be honest, with as much trouble as he gave us yesterday over the matter, I’m surprised
to hear Mr. Gage is allowing you to help him today,” Alana said as she fastened the
buttons up the back of my dress.

“So am I,” I admitted.

“You must be pleased that he seems to be taking you seriously?”

Lucy strolled through the door at that moment, brandishing my headache powder and
cooing over my injury. I was relieved not to have to answer Alana’s question. To me,
the real quandary was not whether I was being taken seriously, but whether I was being
taken seriously as an assistant, or as a suspect.