The Anatomist's Wife (8 page)

CHAPTER EIGHT

I
managed to make it down the terrace steps and out of the earshot of anyone listening
from the castle before rounding on Mr. Gage.

“What ungodly whim possessed you to tell my sister about my head injury?”

He threw up his hands in defense and paced a step away, his midnight-blue frock coat
bunching at the shoulders. “She overheard me telling her husband,” he defended, nodding
at Philip.

My brother-in-law was frowning at the ground, his shoulders slouched forward, and
I wondered again how fierce the argument between he and my sister had been that morning
over the issue of the Westlocks.

“Well now, it wasn’t very intelligent of you to hold such a conversation where Alana
might overhear it,” I scolded Gage, irritated that his carelessness had not only caused
my sister distress but also stirred up a fight between her and her husband.

“How was I to know Lady Cromarty had permission to enter his lordship’s study despite
the fact that the door was closed?” he remarked dryly.

I glanced at Philip out of the corner of my eye in time to see the tick on one side
of his jaw. So the Westlocks’ continued presence at Gairloch was not the only dispute
they had quarreled over this morning. Under the circumstances, I was impressed by
my brother-in-law’s discretion. Had the situation been reversed, I was certain Alana
would have embarrassed Philip by retorting that he, in fact, did
not
have permission to enter her study at all times, as I knew she did not have consent
to do so in this instance. However, Philip kept his mouth clamped tightly in a line
and his gaze on the wet grass at our feet.

At barely nine in the morning, the Highland sun had not yet burned away the dew and
lingering dampness of the night. I was grateful for the snug wrapping of my new walking
boots. My slippers would have been soaked through a mere ten steps from the stone
terrace.

Philip guided me across the stretch of lawn lying between the maze and the gardens
proper. It was there that his wolfhounds liked to run and play with him and his seven-year-old
son, Malcolm. Alana and I enjoyed watching their antics from the terrace, allowing
them to mistakenly believe their laughter and voices did not carry so far. But laughter
did not ring here today, only heavy silence. Even the birds seemed to have quieted
their songs.

Tension coursed through Philip’s body and into the stiff arm pressed against my own.
Though I could do nothing about his unease over our current task, I could relieve
him on one point. I squeezed his arm with my own. “She won’t do anything foolish,”
I murmured when he glanced down at me.

The tightness around his brown eyes eased a fraction, even if the tautness of his
mouth did not. He nodded once, telling me he understood what I was referring to. Alana
wouldn’t do anything rash. At least for the moment.

The entrance to the maze suddenly loomed before us, sending an unexpected quiver down
my spine. I took a steadying breath as Philip addressed the footman he had stationed
at the entrance to prevent anyone from entering. I wondered if he and Gage felt the
same sick swirling in their stomachs at the prospect of revisiting the site of such
a gruesome crime. Gage in particular seemed remarkably calm and unruffled. However,
I suspected he was just better at hiding his emotions. Philip pulled my arm in tighter
to his side and stepped inside the labyrinth. Gage followed close behind.

The maze was tucked into a corner of the wide cleared lawn on the eastern side of
the castle. Forest bordered the maze on two sides, its tall trees stretching their
long limbs over the hedges. In spring and summer, when the trees were lush and in
bloom, they spread a canopy over the outermost path. I normally found the covering
serene and charming, as sunlight filtered through the leaves and dappled the trail
in front of me. But today the overhang of vegetation seemed more ominous, more menacing.
I somehow doubted I would ever view the leafy bower in such a quaint and harmless
manner ever again.

I wrapped my shawl tighter around my shoulders as we made our way deeper into the
maze. Most of the path was cast in shadows, as the sun had yet to reach its pinnacle,
and the chill of morning still clung to the land. My heart pounded faster with each
step we took closer to the alcove where Lady Godwin’s body had lain. So much so that
by the time we approached the last turn, it was beating so hard I thought for certain
Philip and Gage could hear it knocking inside my chest.

Philip paused just before we could see into the alcove and looked down at me. I could
see the battle raging behind his eyes. He clearly wanted to protect me from further
distress, but he also knew I would never have accompanied them on this errand if I
did not think it was important. His faith in my good sense won out. He sighed rather
gustily, as if he was giving in against his own better judgment, but he did not try
to send me back to the castle. I squeezed his arm in gentle scolding, as well as reassurance.

Gage waited patiently behind us through this exchange. Only the shuffling of his feet
told me how anxious he was to continue. Philip grimaced and stepped forward so that
we could see into the niche.

As far as I could tell, the scene before me had remained undisturbed since the men
removed Lady Godwin’s body the night before. The pale cream stone bench was tacky
with dried blood softened by the morning dew. The cool, damp air of night had blown
away any lingering fumes of death, but I suspected I would still be able to smell
the sharp stench of blood once I moved closer. Which, unfortunately, I needed to do
to get on with this investigation, no matter how much I would rather keep my feet
planted where they were.

Taking a deep breath, I released my grip on Philip’s arm and followed Mr. Gage into
the alcove. “Did you find anything last night when you moved the body?” I asked them,
trying to go about this in as systematic a manner as possible.

“Nothing,” Gage replied, kneeling next to the bench on the end where Lady Godwin’s
head had lain. “Although, we did remove her jewelry before placing her in the chapel
cellar. Lord Cromarty has the items locked in his safe.”

“What pieces was she wearing?”

Philip’s voice softened as if thinking back. “A few rings, one with a rather large
diamond, a sapphire-and-diamond necklace, and sapphire earbobs.”

My eyes widened. Clearly the motive for her attack had not been theft. “What about
a reticule? Was she carrying anything?”

“No. At least none that we found.” Gage pointed at the corner of the stone seat. “What
do you make of that?”

I knelt down next to him, careful not to touch the bench or the ground. Much of the
blood that had covered the earth the night before had soaked into the dirt or been
washed away by the dew, but I still felt squeamish about placing my skin against it.
I suddenly wished I had worn gloves this morning instead of dismissing them so readily
when Lucy offered them to me.

The blood on this end of the stone had left a predictable pattern. Crimson streaked
the limestone where Lady Godwin’s neck had lain, almost forming a complete stripe
of color across the surface. A few droplets decorated the stone in irregular patterns
from when she was moved. However, at the corner where Gage pointed there was a short
strip of red, as well as a smudge of black. The leg of the bench below was sprayed
with blood.

Wrinkling my nose at the blood’s faint metallic scent, I leaned in closer to examine
the inky black substance. “Have Beowulf and Grendel been kept away from this?” I asked
Philip, wondering if perhaps his wolfhounds had found their way inside and disturbed
the scene.

“They’ve been locked up in the stables since the incident,” Philip replied, moving
to stand behind me and Gage.

I racked my brain for potential substances that could match the stain. It was too
dark to be mud or shoe polish. It could be ink, but it looked more like charcoal.
I was about to give up and assume the marking had been left there prior to Lady Godwin’s
murder when I suddenly realized exactly what it was.

“It’s kohl,” I declared, turning toward Gage. “Lady Godwin blackened her lashes and
eyebrows.
This
must be how she received that bruise.”

Gage rubbed his chin and nodded.

“Her neck must have already been cut,” I continued excitedly. “It would explain the
spray pattern on the stone here.” I pointed at the leg and then rose to my feet. “Which
means her throat was likely sliced right around here.” I backed up a step, examining
the grass and hedges around me for confirmation. “See. Look here.” I slid closer to
the alcove wall, indicating the crimson droplets scattered across several of the leaves.
“When the murderer sliced her across the neck,” I mimicked the gesture, “cutting her
jugular, blood sprayed across the area. The murderer must have lost his grip on her,
either accidentally or on purpose, and she fell forward, striking the corner of the
bench.”

I looked up to find Gage and Philip watching me with a bit of trepidation, and I realized,
with a slight tremor of horror, that my voice had risen in enthusiasm and the corners
of my mouth had worked themselves up into a smile. “I’m sorry,” I stammered. “I guess
I got a little carried away. I just . . .” I glanced back and forth between the men.
“It was rather like fitting together a puzzle.”

Philip was the first to recover and reached out to touch my arm in reassurance. “It’s
all right, Kiera.”

I nodded and lowered my eyes, feeling hot shame burn my face. This wasn’t a game.
Lady Godwin had been murdered, and I had just described the killer’s methods as if
I were playing charades. I could hardly blame Gage for suspecting me of committing
the crime after such a display.

I peeked up at him through my lashes to see he had turned away and was frowning at
the hedge walls. That was not a good sign. Pressing a hand to my now-cramping stomach,
I moved away to study the other end of the bench. The sooner I finished what I came
to do, the sooner I could leave this place, and Mr. Gage.

I took a deep breath of the clearer air and allowed my eyes to slide over the stone,
and the grass and hedges around it. As far as I could tell, the blood pattern fit
what I would have expected, or at least what Sir Anthony had dictated should be expected
when I took notes about blood flow during his dissections.

“Have you noticed anything else out of the ordinary?” Gage asked from just over my
shoulder.

I nearly jumped. I had been so wrapped up in my thoughts, I hadn’t heard him move
closer. “No. Everything else appears as it should, considering the injuries that were
inflicted.”

He nodded, his gaze focused on the bench before us.

“What about you?” I ventured, and he glanced up at me. “Have you noticed anything
else out of the ordinary?”

His pale blue eyes bore intensely into me, and I wondered for a second if I should
have kept my mouth shut. Perhaps he thought I was fishing for information. If I were
in fact the killer, wouldn’t I want to know whether he had uncovered any evidence
against me?

I turned away, too tired and disturbed to continue staring him down. I began to move
away, back toward the entrance, when he finally replied.

“Nothing,” he murmured with a sigh. His pale eyes had lightened, and his lips were
pressed together in a gesture of momentary defeat.

I realized then that he had been hoping to find some kind of lead, some clue as to
which direction to take the investigation. He was disappointed, and perhaps a bit
irritated.

“Something will turn up,” I declared, carefully avoiding his eyes. I wasn’t certain
why I felt the need to offer him such encouragement, but I didn’t like seeing him
so frustrated.

He shifted his feet but did not reply.

“Are you ready to return to the castle?” Philip asked behind us.

Gage sighed again. “Yes. I don’t think there’s anything else to find here.”

“Then if you have no objection, I’ll also have the alcove cleaned and remove my footmen
from guarding the entrance to the maze.”

Gage nodded and fell into step beside Philip. However, I paused and stared at the
turn that would take us farther into the maze. Something had caught my eye, something
shiny, but I wasn’t certain I had actually seen anything other than the reflection
of light off a dewdrop.

“Kiera?”

I glanced distractedly at my brother-in-law. “Did you search deeper into the maze?”
I asked, feeling some trepidation about moving in that direction now.

“Yes. Last night.” Philip retraced his steps toward me. “What is it?”

I took a deep breath and forced myself to move my feet toward the far hedge wall.
Either there was something there or there wasn’t. I couldn’t leave without investigating.
If I asked one of the men to look and it turned out to be nothing more than a bit
of water, I would feel ridiculous.

My nerves clanged as I approached, and I realized this definitely wasn’t just a drop
of dew. Tucked beneath the hedges, so far inside that the leaves almost completely
concealed it from our view, lay an object made of some type of metal. It looked as
if it had been dipped in red paint. However, I did not need my artist’s eye to realize
the crimson liquid was nothing so innocuous.

CHAPTER NINE

G
age knelt down beside me as I peered into the hedge trying to figure out exactly what
the blood-coated object was. It wasn’t a knife or a letter opener, but it definitely
had a sharp point—two of them if my eyes did not deceive me.

Gage pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and used it to reach underneath the hedge.
He carefully extracted the object and held it up between two fingers for us to examine.

“It’s . . . a pair of embroidery scissors,” I murmured in shock.

The shears were six to seven inches long and engraved with a finely wrought pattern
of vines and flowers. The steel tips were smeared with blood, as well as the round
finger holes. It was shocking to see the delicate, woman’s instrument splattered with
so much gore, and even more shocking to think of it being used for such a brutal purpose.
It seemed impossible.

“Well done,” Gage told me. He held the object up higher so that Philip could see it
over our shoulders.

“Does this mean a woman committed the crime?” Philip seemed aghast. Clearly such a
possibility had never crossed his mind.

“Not necessarily.” With careful fingers, Gage closed the scissors and wrapped them
several times in his handkerchief. “A man could have grabbed them from a sewing basket
just as easily as a woman. But it does present some interesting possibilities. I would
like to know whose scissors these are, and whether they realize they are missing.”
A look of grim determination crossed his features. He reached out his free hand to
cup my elbow to help me rise.

Philip frowned. “I shall ask my wife for a list of all known scissors on the premises
of Gairloch. That will tell us whether these were brought with a guest or taken from
somewhere in the castle.”

“Gentlemen, these are embroidery scissors,” I pointed out. They stared blankly back
at me. “That narrows our search considerably, especially when you consider that only
a lady would own a pair with such exquisite engraving,” I explained. “And I can tell
you right now that Alana’s embroidery scissors have figural bird handles, and I do
not own a pair. So it is likely that this pair belongs to one of the guests. But that
is not our only problem.”

Gage’s brow puckered in confusion. “What do you mean?”

I sighed, knowing he was not going to like the information I had to share. “There
is no way that those scissors were used to slice open Lady Godwin’s throat. The cut
was much too clean. Only a very sharp knife could have managed such a task. The scissors
are either a secondary weapon or . . .” I paused. “Or they were placed here for us
to find.”

Gage and Philip looked at each other.

“You’re certain the scissors couldn’t have sliced her neck?” Gage asked me. “They
look quite sharp to me.”

“As positive as I can be, given the circumstances.”

“Then we definitely have a problem.” He turned away and lifted his free hand to rake
it through his golden locks. All the while his eyes stared at the bloody scissors
inside his handkerchief.

I looked at Philip to find him studying me. He smiled tightly, and I wondered what
he was thinking. Philip had defended me fiercely, alongside my brother, when the accusations
of unnatural tendencies and desecrating the dead had been leveled against me in London,
but I don’t know that he ever actually contemplated what exactly I had endured in
my late husband’s private examination rooms. Knowing that a person spent time with
sliced-open dead bodies is entirely different than being presented with the evidence
of such experience.

“Could the scissors have made the incisions in Lady Godwin’s abdomen?” Gage asked.

I closed my eyes, thinking back to my examination of the wounds in the cellar last
night. “I . . . I believe so. It would have taken considerable effort, but the cuts
were ragged, so it seems possible.” I looked at Philip, still addressing Gage. “Does
he know about . . .”

“The baby?” Philip finished, answering my question. “Yes.”

“Does Alana?” I asked him.

His brown eyes were troubled. “No. And I would prefer she not,” he added softly.

I nodded.

“What do you suppose the killer did with it?” Gage contemplated, pulling my gaze from
Philip. “The baby?” he clarified in response to my confused stare.

I had wondered the very same thing. “Buried it?” I suggested. “Threw it in the loch?”
It seemed wrong to discuss the young child’s fate so callously, and to call the baby
it
, but we had no way of knowing whether it had been a boy or girl, and somehow I didn’t
want to. It would make it all that much more personal.

“If the baby was buried, do you think your wolfhounds could find it?”

“Yes,” Philip replied. “If a wild animal hasn’t already.”

I squeezed my eyes shut tight, not wanting to contemplate such a gruesome occurrence.

“I’ll take them out to search the grounds immediately,” Philip declared. “Perhaps
another murder weapon will also turn up, or a jacket or shirt, something that might
give us a clue as to the killer’s identity.”

Gage nodded. “That would be nice. But so far I haven’t seen any indication that our
murderer is going to make it so easy.”

•   •   •

P
hilip hurried off toward the stables while I struggled to keep up with Gage’s long
strides as he crossed the lawn toward the castle. His hands tucked into the pockets
of his light brown trousers and his head bowed toward the ground, he seemed lost in
thought and completely oblivious to my difficulties.

“What are
you
going to do now?” I huffed and lifted my skirts to move faster. I wondered why he
wasn’t accompanying my brother-in-law.

Gage slowed and allowed me to catch up. “
We
are going to interview Lady Lydia Perkins and Mr. Tuthill.” My face must have reflected
my extreme surprise, for he laughed. “Come now, Lady Darby. Thus far you’ve proven
yourself to be an invaluable assistant. After all, you discovered not only that Lady
Godwin was enceinte but also the manner in which she received the bruise to her face,
as well as a potential murder weapon.”

“You found the black smudge.” I felt it necessary to point out.

“True enough. But you were far quicker than I in connecting it to Lady Godwin’s bruise.”
His voice was tinged with disgruntlement, and I wondered if he begrudged me this achievement
as he’d seemed to do when I discovered that Lady Godwin had been expecting.

“What about the letter? Did you tell my sister and brother-in-law about it?” I was
reluctant to ask, worried such a reminder would change his mind again about my involvement
in the investigation, but I needed to know how much Alana and Philip knew.

“No. I would have told Cromarty, but your sister interrupted us.”

I nodded and cleared my throat. “I would prefer it if they both remained ignorant
for the time being. There’s no need to worry them unnecessarily,” I explained, staring
down at the hem of my skirts as they sliced through the grass.

Gage glanced sideways at me, studying me for several heartbeats before shrugging.
“That’s your decision. In any case, neither Lady Lydia nor Mr. Tuthill, nor our murderer,
for that matter, will think twice about your presence while I question them, since
you arrived on the scene soon after.” His head tilted to the side. “How were you able
to get there so swiftly, by the way?”

“I was just over the hedge inside the maze,” I answered honestly, irritated by his
suspicious tone. “I actually didn’t realize anyone was so close until Lady Lydia screamed.”
I peered at Gage out of the corner of my eye and decided turnabout was fair play.
“And what about you?” He turned to me curiously. “Why did it take you so
long
to arrive on the scene? You were nearly the last to appear.”

He pressed his lips tightly together. “I was otherwise engaged.”

“In the gardens?” I queried innocently. “Were you picking flowers or attempting to
climb the split-trunked yew tree? Perhaps to impress some fair lady?”

His mouth compressed into such a thin line that his lips almost disappeared. He watched
me warily, as if uncertain how to respond to such questioning from a genteel female.

I let him squirm a moment longer before allowing my lips to curl into a satisfied
smile, amused by his discomfort. His eyes flared wide in shock before narrowing. I
thought he might scold me, but then he surprised me by breaking into a wide, boyish
grin. The beauty of that flash of white did more to stifle my mirth than any reprimand
ever could have.

“I suppose I deserved that. I must remember that you are not some shy, retiring maiden,”
he jested right back at me. “But a widow who has seen far more than her fair share
of the world, and men’s anatomy, than most women of your breeding.”

I colored at his crude reference to the lower extremities of my husband’s dissection
subjects. “I hardly viewed them in such a lewd manner,” I replied crossly.

“Then how
did
you view them?” he asked.

His impertinent grin made me want to stick my tongue out at him like a five-year-old.
However, the genuine interest that rang in his voice made me consider my next words
carefully. He waited patiently as I sorted through my thoughts and impressions of
that difficult time.

“I . . . I thought of them as subjects of a portrait.”

Gage turned to me with a look I couldn’t quite decipher.

“It was easier, you see, to think of them as living—just lying there . . . very, very
still . . . or asleep,” I tried to explain. “Especially those first few times.” I
stared down at my feet as we walked. “Under those circumstances, it wasn’t difficult
to find the beauty in the angle of their cheekbones, or the carmine shade of their
hearts, or the intricate stretch of the tendons connecting their muscles. They were
just showing me more of themselves than my normal clientele. The light and passion
and desires that swim in the eyes of the living were gone, but the rest of them was
open to me.”

Gage was very quiet, and I wondered if I had inadvertently just proven myself as crazy
as most people thought I was by admitting such a thing. I frowned, angry at myself
for sharing something so intimate with a virtual stranger—one who was conducting an
investigation in which I was quite possibly considered a suspect.

We had nearly reached the terrace before he finally spoke, and when he did, it was
to make a rather insightful but unexpected statement. “Is that ‘light’ you see in
others’ eyes the reason your portraits are so special?” he murmured softly. It was
phrased as a question, but I was rather certain I was not supposed to answer. I’m
not sure I could have in any case.

Gage offered me his arm as we approached the terrace steps to the castle, and at first
I thought the tingling along my hairline came from his touch. But as a tendril of
unease crawled down my spine, I realized that was not the case at all. I hesitantly
lifted my eyes to the castle facade, allowing my gaze to sweep over the numerous windows
winking in the morning light. A shadow among the drapes on the third floor of the
deserted western block made my heart stutter in my chest. My footsteps faltered, and
Gage glanced down at me in question.

“Lady Darby?”

I blinked up at him. “Did you see that?” My voice sounded breathless.

“See what?” he asked, following my gaze back up to the window. The shadow was now
gone.

I pressed a hand to my forehead, wondering if I was seeing things. I could have sworn
someone had been watching us from that window just a moment ago. Did they notice my
interest and step back behind the drapes, or was my lack of sleep, and the strange
events of the night and morning, simply getting to me?

“Lady Darby?” Gage pressed. Lines of worry radiated from his eyes.

“Oh, nothing,” I replied with false confidence. “Just a trick of the light.” I offered
him a reassuring smile, hoping he wouldn’t press further. The last thing I needed
to admit to Gage was that I was either imagining things or someone was following our
movements. Both would see me removed from this investigation, and I had no intention
of stepping aside. Not with so much at stake.

•   •   •

I
n short order, Mr. Gage, Lady Lydia, Mr. Tuthill, and I were ensconced in a parlor
in the family wing sipping tea. It was a small chamber decorated in comfortably worn
furniture the shades of new leaves and lemon yellow. On gloomy days, I often read
there, for it was bright and cheerful even in the dreariest weather.

Lady Lydia perched at the edge of a green damask settee admiring Gage out of the corner
of her eye. She seemed to believe she was doing this surreptitiously, but each time
she snuck a glance, she managed to somehow set the caramel-brown curls surrounding
her face to bouncing. It was an annoying little gesture that set my teeth on edge.
I would have liked nothing more than to inform her of it, but even I knew such a comment
would be terribly impolite.

Mr. Tuthill, for his part, was also not oblivious to Lady Lydia’s interest in Gage,
but he seemed resigned to it. He drank his tea and avoided looking at all of us. I
felt a bit sorry for the man. As the second son of a baron, with a moderate income
and moderate good looks, he was easy to overlook, and he clearly had developed an
interest in the Earl of Yeomouth’s youngest sister. One that I thought Lady Lydia
returned, even if she
was
currently distracted by a bigger and far more attractive fish. However, Mr. Tuthill
seemed sensitive to the fact that Gage would never pursue the girl, and so if he could
just tolerate this interview, he would likely never have to endure another one.

“Well,” Gage declared, leaning forward to set his teacup and saucer on the table before
him. “I’m certain you all understand the reason I have summoned you here.”

I wanted to raise my eyebrows at his use of the word “all,” but refrained, knowing
he expected me to play my part—which included not allowing Lady Lydia and Mr. Tuthill
to know I was assisting Gage with his investigation.