Death in Salem (32 page)

Rees had been told Peggy quarreled with her father when he began giving her jobs to William. Had Jacob taken that step when he discovered Peggy's secret?

Perhaps Peggy was smuggling? No, Rees didn't want to even consider that, and he cast around for an alternative explanation for the house at Hulls Cove. She must have required some place to store her cargo. She couldn't use her father's warehouses, especially not since William's arrival home. He would have noticed and asked inconvenient questions, as he had done when he noticed valuables missing from the cellar. And maybe some of those items belonged to Peggy. Until William's arrival, no one had looked at them or paid them any attention. She would have transported them via the tunnels. Rees sighed. This looked bad for her.

And how could it be that no one noticed the oddities in Peggy's behavior? She must have given herself away every day. Well, her siblings were blind to her; that was true. But surely Xenobia must have seen something. Of course she had. That explained the secret she wouldn't tell.

None of this meant Peggy was the murderer. He liked her and didn't want to believe that. But as he recalled the grief she'd displayed in the tunnel, he now saw it could be guilt. The woman the street boy had seen in front of Georgianne's house before the fire—that could have been Peggy. But what about the black sailor who'd been stabbed and dropped in the harbor? Although Rees could easily imagine a motive for murdering him—perhaps the mate had recognized John Hull as a woman and tried a spot of blackmail—Rees couldn't imagine Peggy killing him. She might have approached her father and Isabella without causing suspicion, but surely the sailor would have been wary of anyone carrying a sword. And Peggy would not have had the strength to run the blade through either man. It was not possible. Rees must assume she had the help of Benoit. Three people would be even more likely. Perhaps the dead sailor was the third man, murdered when his usefulness was done. Rees nodded. That hung together. Peggy would have wanted to warn Rees away. When he didn't listen, he'd been attacked in the tunnel.

But Peggy could have killed Rees and didn't. Knocked unconscious, he would have been easy prey. Instead, they had carried him to a junction in the tunnels where he would surely be found.

He rolled into Mrs. Baldwin's yard just after dinnertime, his thoughts still running in circles. Lydia appeared almost instantly at the back door, and Rees knew she'd been watching for him. Oh, he was glad to see her. She looked astonishingly pregnant and very beautiful. He hurried forward to put his arms around her. She returned his hug but looked over his shoulder. “Peggy?”

“Have I story for you,” he said. “Let me put away Amos and the buggy. Or come into the stables and I'll tell you as I unhitch him.” He did not want to be parted from her so soon, even for a few seconds.

She nodded, a crease forming in her forehead. “I have news for you as well.”

“I wonder what you'll think about this,” Rees said, drawing her toward Amos. She made herself comfortable on the bench by the yard wall. As Rees unhitched the gelding, he told her about his arrival on the beach of Hulls Cove and the boat speeding away toward the
India Princess.
She inhaled sharply when he described Peggy but did not display great surprise. “Did you guess that Peggy was John Hull?” he asked her.

“I wondered.” She shook her head. “She acted for her father for such a long time. And she didn't like the constraints put upon her by William. But it seemed so incredible.” Lydia looked up at Rees, adding with a frown, “I refuse to believe she had anything to do with her father's death. Of all Jacob's children, Peggy was the closest to him, despite the quarrels. I think you're not seeing something.”

“Oh, how I've missed you,” Rees said with a grin. “You'll never allow me to take the easy way, will you?”

She offered him a slight smile. “No. And I'm glad you realize it.”

In two steps, Rees reached the bench upon which she was sitting. He pulled her into his arms. “I'll always travel. But you should know that I carry you with me wherever I go. I carry you in my mind. You are always a part of me, like—like my legs.”

Uttering a soft laugh, she returned his embrace. But then she pulled herself free. “Legs, indeed. What will Mrs. Baldwin think?” But she regarded him with shining eyes as she carefully lowered herself to the bench once again.

Rees returned to Amos and pulled the bridle free. “Perhaps Benoit served as Peggy's accomplice, not just because of the
India Princess,
but because Jacob Boothe objected to the marriage of his youngest daughter to a Frenchman.” Lydia ran her forefinger down her nose, staring over Rees's head for a few seconds. When he began to pull Amos toward the stable, she rose and followed him. “Perhaps. But, from your description, I'm inclined to believe Benoit did not realize that John Hull was a woman. Or was connected to the Boothe family in any way. Peggy took a big risk when she ran away to meet him. She couldn't know when she revealed herself whether he'd even be interested in her.” She sat upon a haycock, compressed by the weight of other bodies into a misshapen seat.

Rees nodded. “She has courage, I'll grant her that.”

“Indeed. Running a merchant company in the guise of a man.” Lydia shook her head in mingled incredulity and admiration. “And no one knew.”

“Maybe someone did,” Rees said. They exchanged glances.

“Xenobia,” Lydia said.

Rees backed Amos into the stall next to Bessie. When he turned around, he saw that Lydia, still seated on the hay, was pleating her skirt with nervous fingers. He watched her twitching fingers for a moment.

“All right,” he said. To his own ears, he sounded resigned. “What happened?”

Lydia's eyes slid rightward. “Annie is upstairs.”

“Annie? Annie who?”

“Annie, the girl who found you in the tunnels.” Lydia shook her head at him.

“The little girl?”

“Not so little, apparently. One of the customers of the Black Cat expressed interest in her and One-Eye Mary said yes.” Lydia's voice faded away and she looked up at Rees with angry tears filling her eyes. “Annie ran away. Of course, I took her in.”

“She must have been glad of that,” Rees said, his thoughts flying to Billy. Now their meetings would be easier. And then, “Where will we put her?” Rees's thoughts turned to their little house in Maine.

“I know. But Annie wants to join the Shakers.”

“She does?”

“Why not?” Lydia nodded in satisfaction. “I told her we could bring her to Zion. We have to visit anyway, to sell the farm.” Lydia had inherited a farm from her first husband, a property that had been the cause of several deaths. Considering it cursed, she had wanted to rid herself of it ever since she'd discovered her husband had left it to her. When Rees did not immediately speak, she filled the uncomfortable silence. “I couldn't leave her there, in that horrible place, where anything might happen to her.” Her restless hands came together in a tight clasp that left her knuckles white.

Rees considered the profession Annie had escaped.

“Of course, you did the right thing,” he said and was gratified to see those anxious hands relax. “But you should know I saw her with Billy.”

“Saw her how?” Lydia asked in quick concern.

“They were together in the barn.” He looked at the haycock. “Probably right where you're sitting.”

Lydia paled and looked up to meet Rees's eyes. “Then we will have to speak with them both,” she said. “And soon.”

Mrs. Baldwin gaped in surprise to find Rees and Lydia outside her kitchen door asking to speak with her and Billy. And the boy's expression took on a guilty look when Lydia announced she would fetch Annie from upstairs. Mrs. Baldwin motioned Rees to a seat at the table, her eyes never leaving her son. Rees sat down. Billy, who'd been eating his stew with a good appetite, pushed away his bowl. Mrs. Baldwin offered Rees a plate but he shook his head. He did not think Mrs. Baldwin was going to like his news.

Lydia and Annie could be heard descending the stairs and in a few moments they appeared at the door. Mrs. Baldwin's gaze fastened upon the girl, who flushed under the older woman's regard. Rising to his feet, Rees gestured Lydia into his vacated seat and dragged over one of the chairs by the wall for himself.

Everyone looked at him. “I saw you two together,” he said, staring at Billy and Annie in turn. “A few days ago, in the barn.”

“We didn't do nothing,” Billy cried, a tide of red sweeping into his cheeks. “Just talked.” Rees looked at Annie.

“That's true,” she said, meeting his eyes. Her mouth was trembling and her eyes shone with tears but she sounded determined. “We only talked.”

“How long has this been going on?” Mrs. Baldwin cried. “In my barn.” Words failed her.

“We've only met a few times,” her son replied.

“Is that why you ran away from that—that house?” Mrs. Baldwin demanded angrily. “To be closer to my son?”

“No, I told the truth.” Annie turned a beseeching look upon Lydia. “I was afraid that Miss Mary would turn me over.”

“You can't stay here,” Mrs. Baldwin said. She looked at Lydia. “She can't stay here.”

“But that's why I ran away,” Annie cried, her tears beginning to fall. “I don't want people to think I … that I'm … and I don't want to be.”

“What do you want?” Lydia asked, her voice low and quiet.

“I want to marry Billy.”

Rees's eyes involuntarily twitched toward Billy. The boy's mouth dropped open but no sound came out.

“I know he wants to go to sea,” Annie said. “I thought I could live with the Shakers in Maine until he returned…” Her voice trailed away.

“That was our plan,” Billy said. “I'd go to sea and make my fortune, and then I'd collect her from them and we'd marry and return to Salem.”

Rees, who suspected Annie's dream was as much a surprise to Billy as it was to the adults, shot an approving glance at the boy. He'd quickly recovered from his astonishment and spoken up in support of Annie.

“You're both too young,” Mrs. Baldwin said.

“I think it is a good plan,” Lydia said.

“What?” Mrs. Baldwin said.

“Annie will be safe with the Shakers,” Lydia said. “And Billy will be free to pursue his dream, whatever it is.” She stared at Mrs. Baldwin, trying to communicate some message with her intent gaze.

Rees understood. “In a few years, when they're older, if they still feel the same, they can marry.”

Mrs. Baldwin's mouth puckered. Although she did not speak, she clearly did not approve of Annie as a wife for her son.

“You will not spend any time alone together,” Lydia went on. “Not without one of us,” she gestured at the adults, “with you.” Annie nodded with relief.

“I'm not a child,” Billy argued.

“Of course—” Mrs. Baldwin began. But Lydia talked over her.

“Of course not. That's the point, isn't it? If you were a child, we could comfortably leave the two of you alone together without worry.” As the meaning of her words penetrated, Billy jumped to his feet. He glared at Lydia but didn't dare blurt out his angry thoughts. “I have to go back to work,” he said and fled the kitchen. Annie, her face and neck scarlet, began to cry. Rees couldn't tell if she wept from rage or humiliation—probably both.

“Go to the room,” Lydia said gently. Annie stumbled to her feet and, sobbing wildly, she ran up the stairs.

 

Chapter Thirty

Most of the afternoon still remained, enough time to speak with Xenobia once again. But first, Rees required a good dinner. So, although he was a little nervous about meeting either the deputy or one of his tavern rat lackeys, he and Lydia walked over to the Moon and Stars. Walking into the tavern felt like coming home.

He ate quickly. Although he didn't anticipate questioning Xenobia again with any pleasure, he was eager to see the end of this investigation. He wanted to go home. He missed his children and he couldn't help wondering how David was faring. Lydia wrapped some bits of cheese, some bread, and a corner of her pie in her napkin for Annie. “Mrs. Baldwin is helping feed her,” she said. “Or was. She might not want to now. But Annie is afraid to leave the room, and I know she must be hungry.”

And Rees, who knew how famished Lydia had been lately and how much it cost her to give away some of her dinner, patted her hand. “You are a kind and generous woman, Mrs. Rees,” he told her.

They brought the food back to Mrs. Baldwin's house, and Lydia brought it up the stairs. Rees waited on the bench in the yard, pondering his questions for Xenobia. Since he didn't look forward to visiting the Boothes, and possibly running into William or Betsy—what was he was going to say to them?—he decided to walk up to Twig's, on the chance that Xenobia would be there.

As soon as Lydia came downstairs, they set off. It was a pleasant day. The stiff breeze off the water kept the air from growing too hot. But Rees noticed that Lydia began to pant after a few minutes of brisk walking. He slowed his long-legged stride. Lydia offered him an apologetic smile. “Sorry,” she said. Rees smiled and took her arm, slowing even further. He should have taken the buggy, but his thoughts were so full of this case that he hadn't even thought of it. The memory of his first wife's pregnancy with David was blurred after fifteen years.

Twenty minutes later, they reached Twig's little house and knocked upon the door. After a long pause, it opened a crack. Xenobia peered through the narrow opening. “Come in, come in,” she whispered.

Wondering at this secrecy, Rees followed Lydia into the bare front room. Xenobia led the way to the kitchen at the back. She pressed Lydia into a seat, throwing Rees a look in which he read accusation.