Parting the Veil by Paulette Kennedy
CHAPTER 25
Someone was screaming.
Eliza tossed her book aside and ran from the library, her heart racing. Another scream cut through the echoing vestibule. It was a man, his pained cries coming from the south wing. Malcolm was no longer at his post in the doorway. Fear funneled through her. Was he hurt?
She burst into the south wing, the fragrance of freshly sawn wood all around her. Despite the repairs, the evidence of the fire was everywhere, from the smoke-streaked plasterwork to the singed curtains still hanging from the windows. Up ahead, the workers huddled together below a two-story section of scaffolding. She lifted her hem out of the sawdust and hurriedly made her way toward them.
It was Freddie. He lay crumpled at the foot of the scaffolding, his leg oozing blood. A thick shard of wood pierced his dungarees. Eliza pushed the workers out of the way and knelt at the young man’s side, taking his hand. His eyes rolled in his head as he groaned and arched his back. Eliza flinched at the fresh spurt of blood that came streaming from his thigh. “Freddie! Please do try to be still, darling. I’ll fetch Dr. Fawcett.”
“Your husband’s already gone for the doctor, mum,” the foreman said, a grizzled man named Hicks. He held his cap to his chest. “He was here when it happened.”
“What happened?”
Hicks looked down, his moustache twitching. “Freddie fell, m’lady. That’s all.”
“’Tain’t right to lie, Mr. Hicks! He were thrown!” The young man who’d just spoken was tall and as thin as a water reed, his eyes wide with fright. “And it weren’t no human what did it.”
Eliza gasped. “Where was he when he fell?”
He pointed with a knobby finger. “All the way up there, mum.”
Eliza followed his gaze to where the scaffolding butted up against the curved walls and newly framed ceiling. In what was once the attic, an empty section of lath stood out from the soot-stained wall. Below it lay a pile of ragged boards and chunks of plaster tinged with Freddie’s blood. If the shard of lath now lodged in his leg had pierced him somewhere vital, he’d surely be dead.
“He was up against that wall, scraping, and something grabbed hold of his shirt and yanked him over the edge. I saw it with mine own eyes!”
“He lost his balance and fell, Cecil!” Hicks roared. “That’s enough, I say.”
Freddie cried out again, and Eliza squeezed his hand. “Please, gentlemen. Try to stay calm. We’ll get to the bottom of things, but first we need to think of Freddie.”
Cecil knelt at her side, lowering his voice. “See, mum, my mate here’s sure-footed as a cat. He’s been climbing on roofs since he could walk. He were thrown. And your ghost was the one what did it.”
Clarence and Lydia came out of the surgery room, Lydia nearly unrecognizable in her starched pinafore and buckram cap. Clarence’s once-white apron now resembled a butcher’s bib. “The young man is stable,” he said, taking off his spectacles and wiping his face on his gartered sleeve. “Breathing steadily and sleeping.”
“Will he live?” Eliza asked, rising.
“So long as infection doesn’t set in, I’d say he has a fighting chance. He has a broken femur and that splinter nearly pierced his femoral artery. Had that happened, I’d now be dealing with a corpse.”
The door to the clinic swung open, and Malcolm strode in, his hat in his hands and a grim expression etched across his face. Lydia’s eyes narrowed at the sight of him. “It wasn’t an accident, Liza,” she whispered. “You know that.” She offered Malcolm a stiff curtsy and turned on her heel to go back into the ward.
“Ah, Lord Havenwood. I was just telling her ladyship the young man should recover,” Clarence said. “Lydia’s put him on a morphine cycle for sedation and pain. I’ve notified his family via telegram, but as they’re in Dublin, he’s not likely to receive visitors.”
“Well, we must make sure he has visitors while he’s confined,” Eliza said. “I’ll check in, and perhaps Sarah and Polly can drop by as a charity. It’s dreadfully sorry not to have the comfort of family while undergoing such a trial.”
“Very good, my lady. My lord.” Clarence gave a crisp nod to Malcolm and went back to his surgery.
“Don’t go to any trouble, darling,” Malcolm said. “I’ll see to it that he’s compensated for his troubles. It’s enough.”
“We should at least look into what happened. What if one of the other workers becomes injured? Perhaps there’s an instability in the scaffolding that needs to be addressed.”
“That won’t be necessary, Eliza,” he replied, his lips tightening over his teeth. “There are no other workers.”
“What?”
“After they’d loaded your carpenter onto the ambulance, the men packed up their tools and presented a bill for their final day of work. It wasn’t the foreman’s wish, but he couldn’t keep his crew there against their will.”
Eliza’s shoulders slumped. “How unfortunate.”
“Indeed.”
“They said you were there when it happened. What did you see?”
“I saw a young man stumble and lose his balance.”
“One of the workers said it looked as if he’d been pulled or pushed by unseen hands. What do you make of that?”
“I’m quite sure of what I saw, darling.” Malcolm’s jaw clenched. Tension swelled between them. “At any rate, it’s pleasant to have a conversation with you, despite the unfortunate circumstances. I have sorely missed your company.” His eyes remained fixed on a spot on the far wall, his voice hollow. “Won’t you join me for dinner tonight?”
Eliza worried the buttons on her gloves. “I suppose I’d better.”
Malcolm laughed, a harsh sound in the cavernous room. “You make it sound like a trip to the gallows. Am I truly that monstrous?”
“Sometimes.”
“Look. I am wretched over what happened between us, Eliza. I saw the shadow of my father in the way I behaved that day in my study. I hated myself for it.”
Eliza’s heart caught at his earnestness. She reached out and took his hand. “I shall join you for dinner, on one condition.”
He lifted her hand to his lips. “Anything.”
“Promise me you’ll allow me fully into your world and your heart. You’re still hiding so much from me, Malcolm—ever pulling out of my reach when I only long to be close to you. If we’re to have a happy marriage, you must learn to trust me. With everything.”
He smiled sadly. “I’ll admit it’s not in my nature to be free with my feelings, but I will at least endeavor to be less of a prig, darling.” He pressed a kiss to her brow. “I’m going to head back to the manor to close up the south wing. Will you come with me, or would you rather stay on to visit with your sister?”
“I believe I’ve lost Lydia to the wonders of modern medicine. She’s much too busy with her patients for a chat. I think I’ll walk home. I’ve been needing some exercise, and it’s such a fine day, at least as far as weather.”
They parted at the curb, Malcolm folding her into a stiff embrace before he climbed back into the carriage. Eliza turned to the west—choosing the long way home, through the pastures, where their tenants were threshing the last of the summer wheat. The air was crisp as a harvest apple, giving clarity to her mood and thoughts.
Malcolm had promised better days, but Eliza was no less troubled than she’d been hours before. Their marriage seemed to be unraveling almost as quickly as it had begun, and no matter how desperately she grasped at the threads of their affection, her weaving was proving to be an exercise in frustration. For every kiss he lavished upon her, there soon followed a harsh word. For each night spent in passion, there was a day spent in awkward silence. It brought back painful memories of her parents’ unhappy marriage and the chilly indifference they’d eventually shown to one another. Chasing Malcolm’s affections was like trying to hold water in a sieve.
She was lost in her thoughts when a motorcar came rattling past her, then pulled to a stop along the verge. Sarah leaned out, her face beaming beneath the brim of her hat. “Ho there, if it isn’t my long-lost Lady Havenwood!”
Eliza jogged to catch up. “How fortunate! I was just thinking about you.”
“And I think about you far too often for my own good,” Sarah teased. “I’ve just attended my first suffragist meeting in Basingstoke. Lots of womanly shouting and high passions. I daresay it won’t be my last. What news from town?”
“I’ve just come from the hospital.”
“Oh? Is everything all right?”
“There’s an Irish boy named Freddie there. He was injured at our place today. I thought you and I, and perhaps Polly, could pay him a visit soon. His family is in Dublin and your kind of merriment is just what he needs.”
“Goodness! I hope he’ll be all right.”
“Clarence seems to think he’ll come through it.”
“If anyone can bring him back to health, it’s our fastidious young doctor. Say, when are you going to have a party and invite us to that fresh new home of yours? I’ve been watching the work being done. What a fine slate roof you’ve got! I told Dickie we should scallop our roof just the same. In different colors, of course.”
Eliza squinted up at Sarah. “The roof is about the only thing done, I’m afraid. All of our workers have quit. It seems they think this boy’s fall was no accident.”
“How curious,” Sarah said. “But I’m sure you can find more men. Perhaps in Dorset. Heaven knows there’s nothing to do down that way when the watercress goes dormant. Or Essex.” Sarah stuck out the pink tip of her tongue and shook her head. “Dreadfully boring and wet, Essex. That’s where Dickie’s from. Full of doddering aunties asking when we’re going to set a baby loose.”
Eliza grinned. She’d certainly missed Sarah’s merry wit. “I’m not sure Malcolm will want to be doing anything with winter coming on so soon, but at least the weather will be kept out with a proper roof on. He’s been so glum lately. It has me in a state.”
“He was born glum! Hop in,” Sarah said, patting the seat next to her. “You look like you could do with some cheering yourself, and I’d love to have your company on such a fine afternoon. But do hang on, because I like to go fast.”
While “fast” was relative concerning automobiles, most of which any farm nag could outpace, Sarah made true on her word. No sooner had Eliza settled into the leather seat than they were off, the Duryea’s narrow tires flying over the rutted lane. Eliza gripped the edge of the seat with one hand and held her hat to her head with the other. Once they were out over the moors, the way became smoother and Sarah slowed to a puttering idle.
“My, that was just what my spirits needed,” Eliza said.
“I’m chuffed, then! Have you really been so low?”
Eliza paused for a moment. “My marriage isn’t quite what I anticipated. That’s all.”
“Oh?” Sarah asked, her round brown eyes searching Eliza’s face. “How do you mean?”
“Malcolm is often moody and talks to me as if I’m an idiot child. And then, just as quickly, he’ll turn the other way, and be as charming as he was during our courtship. I just don’t understand it. I don’t understand him. It was intriguing at first, but now it’s a source of frustration. I’m afraid I know very little about my husband, and all my efforts to learn more have led to a game of hide-and-seek I’m not keen on continuing.”
Sarah pulled the car over to the side of the road and turned to Eliza. “I’ve known Malcolm since I was a child, and his brother was my very best friend. I spent a good deal of time at Havenwood Manor when I was young. I saw a lot. Ask me anything, and I promise I’ll be honest with you.”
“Anything you’d care to tell me is welcome. Was their father as awful as everyone says?”
Sarah nodded. “When it came to the boys, the expectations he had were ridiculous. He had Malcolm rise every morning at six, and if he wasn’t up by then, he’d drag him out of bed by the ear, calling him a lazy brat. He beat him to ‘toughen’ him up. I saw it once. It was so bad I’m surprised your husband made it to adulthood as comely as he is.”
“Merde,” Eliza said. “I didn’t know the beatings were such a regular occurrence.”
“Yes. And to many, it seemed as if he favored Gabriel, but that’s pure rubbish. The only reason Havenwood stopped beating Gabriel was that once he was old enough, he’d hit back even harder. The old bastard could mold Malcolm, bend him to his will. With Gabe, he had to be more subtle. Havenwood gave him two choices: become a vicar or choose a military career. I can tell you—my Gabriel wasn’t suited to a priest’s collar.” At this, Sarah smiled sadly. “I miss him so. Everyone thought we’d marry—my father would have loved that—but my marriage with Dickie suits me perfectly. He lets me be myself.”
“That’s what anyone should hope for in a marriage.” Eliza sighed. “I wish I knew more about what happened to their mother. She’s an enigma. I’ve found her diary, but the entries are a bit of a riddle. The puzzling thing is, she didn’t seem to have any true enemies who’d want to see her dead, apart from that housekeeper . . .”
“Yes. Mrs. Galbraith. Hideous woman. Face and manner like an axe. She was certainly awful and there was talk she had designs on old Lord Havenwood, but she died in the fire as well. It couldn’t have been her. We’ll likely never know what happened in that house, fully. And Ada was a mystery to most who knew her. She and I had many things in common, but even still, she would only let me get so close before pulling away.” Sarah looked out over the moors. “I only hope she’s happy, wherever she is.”
“You don’t think she’s dead?”
“Not for a minute, darling.”