The Gold Miner's Wife: A Young Woman's Story of Romance, Passion and Murder (19 page)

             
“I agree.  The situation is far more urgent,” said Jack.  “I fear for her safety.  Besides, what can we do about it?   What can we do about a crime we are convinced has happened when the evidence is circumstantial and our culprits are conveniently living in a sovereign country?  If we inform the authorities the most we can hope for is that they
might
look into it.  Examining his finances only gives us more circumstantial evidence.”

             
Jack was right.  Cookson had no standing with the British authorities, nor did Jack.  By all accounts, Mansfield was a highly-regarded Englishman with credentials, a Cambridge man, no less.  If there were an investigation, it would involve diplomats at the highest levels.  There was no time to be wasted.  Ultimately, their greatest concern was what immediate plans Mansfield might have in store for Susannah.  Her personal fortune coupled with that of her late husband made her an irresistible target.  They both sensed she was in great danger.  Mansfield’s weapon was his own desperation.  The timing of Lady Alice’s unexplained illness caused them to speculate further that this event, which effectively called Susannah home, may have been no accident.  It was too convenient.  The situation was alarming.  They would have to take corrective measures on their own.

             
“I think we are of one mind then,” said Cookson.  “When do we leave?”

             
“First thing tomorrow,” was the reply.

             
“New Year’s Eve.  First thing tomorrow it is,” Cookson agreed.  “Send her a telegram.  Warn her she is in danger and that things are not as they appear to be.  Plant some seeds of doubt of your own into
her
mind for a change.”

             
“I will do it, but she will be unconvinced.  You don’t know Susannah.  It is not in her nature to be suspicious or distrustful, especially of someone she imagines is her friend.   I have to say Cookson, your idea, to check the telegraph office I mean, well, it was a stroke of genius,” said Jack appreciatively.  “It has turned the tide.”

             
“A lucky break,” said Cookson with a shrug.  “Mansfield thought he had it all figured out.  In this business there is no such thing as ‘the perfect crime’.  One overlooked detail can blow a case wide open.”

“You know the old saying, ‘give someone enough rope and he will very likely hang himself,’” said Jack.

“He is a smart one though, I’ll give him that, and not someone to be underestimated.  What we have learned about him might not matter if we don’t get there in time.”

             
Jack felt helpless, powerless.  Susannah was thousands of miles away – a journey of three weeks at least, with winter weather further slowing whatever travel plans they made.  The fates were working against them.  He remembered his time spent with the cowboys – they called this helpless feeling ‘ledged up’.  Driving cattle across the plains was a dicey business.  There was a constant need to supply the thirsty beasts with adequate water.  Sometimes the arroyos had walls too steep for the cattle to make it safely to the bottom to drink.  The cowboys could see the water, but had no way to guide the animals to it.  The resolution was clear, and yet frustratingly unattainable, they were
ledged up
– much like Jack was now.  He could see Susannah in his mind’s eye, could see and feel the dangerous situation she was in, but for the moment at least, there was not a damn thing he could do about it.

The morning light was dim.  The weather had taken an ominous turn.  Susannah stood at her bedroom window overlooking the back garden.  Another heavy and grey day pressed in on her from the other side of the cold glass.  She drew her wrap around her more securely.  She hadn’t slept, her mind too occupied with thoughts of Edward’s amorousness and its obvious implications.  His interest in her was unmistakable.  It was complicating their association.

              Christmas had been a grand affair.  The house was bedecked with mistletoe, holly and ivy and an evergreen tree, beautifully decorated, brightened the drawing room.  Each day, more Christmas cards arrived in the post.  Lady Alice was so much improved from her illness that she was persuaded to supervise some of the holiday preparations herself.  Susannah and Catori along with Edward Mansfield, Charlotte and Susannah’s former governess, Miss Parker and her betrothed, Mr. Griswold, all enjoyed a traditional roast beef Christmas dinner hosted by Lady Alice.  The meal included a delicious Christmas pudding made with beef, raisins and prunes; tasty mince pies were served at the last.  Later, the Christmas Crackers were opened with a ‘bang’ to reveal sweets, mottos, paper hats and trinkets all wrapped up in a twist of fancy paper.  The evening ended with parlor games and the singing of carols including ‘O Little Town of Bethlehem’ and ‘O Come All Ye Faithful’.   It was gratifying for Susannah to see her grandmother so well recovered and having such an enjoyable time.  It also seemed that Catori, although so very far from home, was taking great pleasure in the celebration, tasting new foods, learning new traditions and reacquainting herself with Miss Parker after a lapse of several years.      

With the encouragement of Lady Alice, the long-standing friendship between Edward and Susannah seemed to be evolving into something much more familiar.  At her grandmother’s urging, Susannah had agreed to attend this evening’s New Year’s Ball with Edward at the Mayfair Hotel in Stoke-on-Trent.  “Go and have fun,” was Lady Alice’s advice.  Was Edward falling in love with her?  Edward had always been a friend; why
now,
after so many years, was he interested in taking the relationship further?  What was the direction of
her
thoughts?     

Susannah found that she was gnawed by doubts; Jack was frequently on her mind.  If she had not been called away from Denver, their hungry lips would have found each other again, of that she was sure.  Perhaps it was a good thing that she was far away from him for now.  It allowed her an opportunity to analyze her feelings.  She was strongly attracted to him, knew him,
trusted him.  Susannah was not expecting the powerful frisson of pleasure she felt when Jack first kissed her.  It had been a moment that had swept her away.  Recalling that passionate scene aroused her, stirred her blood.  Sometimes he visited her in her dreams at night.

Edward called for her at seven o’clock.  Susannah had chosen a dark green silk gown for the occasion and dressed with extra care.  It was tastefully trimmed with white Belgium lace and had a slight train.  The bodice and waistline fit her form, complimented her figure.  She felt attractive.  She wore Edward’s very thoughtful Christmas gift: an exquisite pearl necklace with matching earrings.  Susannah was in the mood to celebrate.  In only a few hours it would be the beginning of a New Year – 1877; a time to look ahead to new possibilities and to the future.  She
was ready to leave behind her solitary existence.  She had experienced enough sadness.  It was time to be optimistic.  In the New Year she would regain her equilibrium.  She wanted her life to return to normal.

Edward assisted her into the carriage.  He thoughtfully provided heated bricks to keep her feet warm during the five-mile ride to Stoke-on-Trent.  They sat side by side.  He held her hand.

“You are beautiful, Susannah,” he told her.  “The other women will pale in your presence.”

“Edward, you will make me blush.”

“And you wore
my
pearls,” he noted, reaching to touch them.  His fingers lightly brushed the skin above her breast. 

“They are lovely, Edward, and I am very glad you have asked me to this ball,” she continued.  “I have not attended one since…since…,” but she looked away.

“Shh.  It’s alright,” he reassured her, squeezing her hand.  “You are to have fun this evening or I shall be cross with you,” he teased.  “New Year’s eve is a time of letting go of the past and looking toward the future.”

“Yes, you are right, of course,” she said regaining her composure. “I will enjoy the evening and may even drink more champagne than is prudent.  I think it is my weakness,” she told him playfully.

“You should never tell a gentleman your weakness, sweetheart,” he advised, while making a mental note of her revelation.

“But it is because you
are
a gentleman that I do tell you,” she countered.

“Now that I know your weakness I will redouble my efforts to keep you safe,” he said convincingly.  “Otherwise Lady Alice will no longer trust me.”  The carriage turned, then slowed.  “Ah, I think we have arrived.”

She pushed the curtain aside and looked out the window.  A long line of lamp lit carriages waited for their turn to pull up under the porte cochere and discharge their passengers.  Attendees dressed in evening finery were making their way up the marble steps into the gaily lit hotel.

Edward turned toward her, pulled her hand to his chest and leaned closer.  “Remember, the night is yours, Susannah.  You are to have fun, darling.  But first, please, you must let me kiss you.  I must taste your sweet lips again or go mad,” he said as his lips hovered near hers.  He kissed her tenderly.  It was a kiss that lingered, he pulled her closer, into a warm embrace.  She steadied herself, her hands went to his shoulders.  His blood stirred, he was winning her, he thought, breaking down her defenses, erasing all her memories of Thomas.  Without doubt, he would soon have this temptress in his bed and have control of her significant fortune.  They heard the driver step down, reluctantly he ended the kiss and let her go as the carriage door was opened. 

The glittering ballroom of the Mayfair Hotel was packed with New Year’s revelers.  The atmosphere was festive; everyone was in a good humor.  Guests were engaged in lively conversation and laughter as they waited for the music to begin.  The magnificent interior of the ballroom featured white and gold stucco decorations, tall crystal glass mirrors and ceiling frescoes of gilded floral designs.  Gaslights attached to the walls cast square pools of soft light throughout the hall.  Servers carrying silver trays laden with champagne and rum punch made their way through the crowd offering refreshments to everyone.  A buffet was set up in the adjoining salon where guests might help themselves to an assortment of other delicacies.   

Throughout the cheerful evening Edward attended to his prize with all the diligence of a favored suitor.  He strolled about the ballroom holding her hand on his sleeve and making polite conversation with various acquaintances.  He claimed the first dance, a waltz, holding her close to him as he swept her into the tight turns.  She could feel the friction of his powerful thighs as her gown brushed against his legs.  Following protocol, he dutifully stood by while Susannah took turns dancing with several other men.  He brought her champagne while she sat and chatted with Lady Pomeroy, an old friend.  He stood nearby, sipping his champagne, observing, and let their chatter flow around him.

She was thoroughly enjoying herself.  Her troubles were behind her now.  1876 would soon fade into the past, he thought. Getting to this moment, to be here, at this ball, with Susannah, had been a great deal of trouble for him.  But he had made it his life’s work to secure a wealthy wife and finally everything was falling into place.  There would be sunnier days ahead.  Edward took her hand and led her to the dance floor once again for another waltz.  He looked down at her radiant skin, her delicate lashes dusting rosy cheeks, his shimmering pearls resting on alabaster skin above the swell of her breasts.

“You are an exceptional dancer,” he flattered her.  “So very graceful.”

“Thank you, Edward,” she said politely.  “The musicians are very talented.”

“Yes.  The dance floor is certainly crowded,” he noted.  “Why don’t we pause and take some refreshment?” he suggested.  She nodded.  As the waltz ended, he maneuvered them to the edge of the ballroom, close to the atrium.  A server passed nearby, offering champagne.  Edward removed two glasses and passed one to Susannah.  “Thank you,” she said.

“Shall we stroll in the atrium?” he asked.  “I think we will find it a bit cooler there.”  He offered her his arm, opened the glass door and led her through into the quieter atrium.  There were only a few other couples about.  As they strolled their footfalls echoed on the marble floor of the large chamber.  In a secluded corner, a stone bench was situated near a large column and Edward motioned for her to be seated. 

“I wish to toast you, Susannah,” he said, sitting next to her.  He raised his glass.  “To your health and happiness and bright new beginnings in 1877.”

“To 1877,” she repeated, tipping her glass toward his.  She smiled and sipped her champagne, the bubbles tickling her nose and soothing her throat.  But she sipped her champagne warily, uneasy about the direction of Edward’s intentions concerning her person and even more troubled by what to do about it.

“I hope you are finding this event a pleasant way to begin the New Year,” he said.

“Oh yes!” she replied enthusiastically, taking another sip.  “It has been beyond my expectations.”

“That is what we like to hear, sweetheart,” he said.  They finished their last few sips together.  Then Edward retrieved her glass, placing them both on the marble floor beneath the bench. 

He took her hand, drew her closer as his arm came around her and then his lips were on hers again.  “To 1877, Susannah,” he whispered.  The kiss was urgent, intense, possessive.

“Edward,” she started to protest.  “I do not think…”

“Please, my darling,” he coaxed.  “You must not deny me this kiss.  You must know how I feel about you.  I adore you.”  His lips were on hers again.  Her left hand went to his shoulder as she sought to steady herself.  Then his tongue swept inside and plundered her mouth.  Her every sense tingled with awareness; it was the champagne.  She had to end this, but then, what was one kiss?  She was at war with her resolve.  Allowing one kiss would be giving him permission to take another.  Her muscles were taut with apprehension.  She did not have the stomach to declare an unambiguous rejection.  She could not bear to see the disappointment in his eyes after everything he had done.

“Edward,” she began again, “I cannot…”

But he ignored her.  “That fragrance, rosewater, it is intoxicating,” he said with a gravelly voice.  His lips trailed kisses along her cheek and down the column of her throat.  He continued his onslaught as he cupped her breast, kneaded, assessed.  Gauged her reaction, assessed her.

But she could not allow it.  She could not allow him to continue down this path unbidden.  She was a widow after all; he would understand as any gentleman would.  She pulled away.  “I am sorry, Edward,” she said softly.  “I have enjoyed this evening so very much and I have you to thank.  But I still mourn for Thomas, I am emotionally adrift.”

“Then let me be your anchor,” he suggested, placing a kiss on her shoulder.

“I am not ready to become romantically involved,” she answered.

He stilled.  His eyes bored into hers as he took her measure. “You do not wish to become romantically involved, or not involved with
me
, Susannah?” he asked crossly.  His gaze seemed to hold a certain menace, or maybe it was her imagination.

“I do not wish to become romantically involved at all, at least for now,” she lied, trying to be convincing.  “It is not you.  I am simply not ready.”

Stubborn little slut, he thought.  “Well then,” he said smoothly, taking it all in stride.  “I am at your service.  When you are ready, then,” he added.  “In the meantime, I will have to be more persuasive.  Are you of a mind to return to Larkspur now?” he asked. 

“Yes, Edward.  And please know that I had a lovely time this evening,” she told him reassuringly.  “You must know I wish all good things for you in 1877,” she added.  The carriage ride home passed quietly enough.  Susannah rested her head on Edward’s shoulder and feigned sleep.  To further rebuff Edward would thoroughly ruin the evening and she wanted to consider his feelings in this delicate matter.

When they arrived at Larkspur, he escorted her up the marble steps and followed her into the foyer.  The single oil lamp on the hallway table provided adequate illumination.  As he helped Susannah with her wrap, he noticed a telegram awaiting her attention on the silver salver.  He diverted her gaze away from the direction of the table, pinched the envelope and artfully slipped the message into his pocket.  Then he gallantly took Susannah’s gloved hand and bestowed a kiss as he once again wished her infinite happiness in the year ahead.  The parting was amicable; they were friends. 

Back inside his carriage, the lamplight was sufficient to allow him to read the contents of the purloined telegram.  It was fortuitous indeed that he glimpsed the telegram and had the presence of mind to appropriate it as he found the contents to be quite astonishing:

‘Cookson discovered person responsible for Thomas’ death.  Evidence shows Mansfield hired one John Brophy to set explosive.  We leave immediately for England.  Beware of Mansfield.’                                                        Jack