Punish Me With Roses - a Victorian Historical Romance (21 page)

He pulled at his jacket collar with his hand. "Ah yes, that is another thing."

"So you saw I put the roses on their graves, then looked for the same kind to leave around for me to find... and that note? That was a cruel message, Alex. Very cruel." She looked down again.

"Roses? And what note?"

"Surely you remember."

"I would remember if I had actually done it."

They'd agreed upon being honest and she didn't believe he would lie to her at such a time. "Then who did?"

He shrugged. "Maybe if you tell me exactly what happened?"

"The first time, you were there. It was that first time you visited me at my uncle's house. There was a rose tucked under your saddle."

"Yes, yes. You got frightened and ran back into the house. I thought it was a strange reaction to a rose."

"You have to understand where I was coming from." She shuddered, remembering the second instance. "I'm sure you'll agree that the next rose was much worse. It happened the day you were talking to the tenant and I came home alone."

"I knew I shouldn't have let you go!"

"But it probably would have been there regardless. It was another rose, nailed to the front door along with a note."

"What did the note say?"

She shivered. "As red as the blood that you've spilled."

His eyes widened. "I can tell you immediately that I was not the culprit. Do you believe me?"

"Yes, of course."

He pounded the bed with his fist. "We must find out who was responsible for that. It might lead us to the real killer."

"Unless the real killer is me."

"But I told you, Victoria. Only one of the men was poisoned with arsenic. So there had to have been some additional foul play."

"What if they just didn't find arsenic in the other man's body?"

"Then we'll have to deal with that. But that's not what I expect to discover." He moved his hands in front of his chest in excitement. "Someone is trying to upset you with those roses. That means that someone knows exactly who you are
and
what happened in Blackmoore. They must have a reason for not revealing themselves outright...something to do with the murders, perhaps."

It was the feeling of uneasiness that had remained with her throughout the conversation that made her ask, "But answer me, Alex, what happens if your theory is wrong?"

"Then I'll find a new one."

But what worried Victoria was what would happen when all the theories were used up?

Alex made Victoria stay in bed until it was definite that she was completely healthy. Therefore, he was there, keeping her company, when she had a visitor.

"Mary!" she cried as soon as the woman walked in. "How wonderful it is to see you."

Alex just stared.

Mary didn't seem to know what to say or do either when she saw Alex sitting there. She licked her lips nervously and looked at Victoria. Finally, she asked, "What are you doing here, Alex?"

"Spending time with our mutual friend it seems."

Mary nodded, still with that "caught" look in her eyes.

He continued, "What I don't understand is how the two of you are friends."

Victoria cleared her throat. "I assume you know each other?" She laughed. "If that's not the biggest understatement of the century."

Alex smiled in spite of himself, in spite of the confused jumble of emotions that filled his head. "Mary is my sister."

"Your sister!" She sat upright in bed. "You told me she was dead."

The sad woman he'd once known fell into the nearest chair, dejection painted across her brow. "That's
wonderful
to hear."

"Mary, I didn't say you were dead." He approached her hesitatingly. "That's a simple misunderstanding. What I said was that I'd
lost
both you and my mother."

"But only one of us was by choice."

He looked at Victoria and she looked away. Her usual vocal personality was replaced by a courteous silence. Respectful, but also frightening. He was completely on his own. "It was not by choice."

"It was."

"Your choice perhaps."

She stood up and slammed her foot against the wood floor. "I only chose to follow my heart, albeit unwisely.
You
were the one who chose to disown me...just like father." She swayed precariously, her voice weak and pained. "Michael is the only one who has come to see me these past two years. Can you possibly understand how lonely I've been?"

"Yes, I--"

"No, you don't!" She sat down again, staring blankly ahead. "Do you think any single, young woman wants to be friends with an unwed mother? They want to marry an eligible bachelor, not turn out like
me
."

He nodded, feeling worse by the minute.

"I practically thanked Victoria on my knees when she became my friend, even though she knew what kind of a woman I was." She looked at her then, smiling through her tears. "I knew that no matter what she'd done, she couldn't be the conniving shrew Michael had made her out to be."

"You knew too?"

"Yes. That's part of the reason I came."

Alex could barely comprehend that he was finally with his sister, after they'd been apart so long.  He couldn't describe how he'd missed her...there'd been a hole in his heart only a sister could fill. So it was understandable--he thought--that he only caught half of what she was saying. But one sentiment stood out as confusing. Caught him as contradictory. "How did you meet Victoria, Mary? And how has Michael been able to visit you?"

"I live just around the corner, brother, practically in your backyard."

"That can't be!"

"Surprise, surprise."

Now he was angry. "How could it be? I was told that you were sent away...that you
wanted
to be as far from Coverack as you could get."

"All lies that your esteemed father has told you." She left the chair and approached the bed. "I think it's time to find out who we can trust."

"But, Mary," he said, sitting beside her on the large bed, "I'm so sorry."

She looked down at the mattress.

"I would have visited you too had I known."

Mary met his gaze with more strength than he could find in himself. "Would you really?" She shook her head. "You were just as upset with me as father was when it had happened. 'Jack is just a stable hand,' you'd constantly remind me, as though I'd forgotten it in some sort of springtime madness. I think it's wonderful that you would want to lead a moral life, but being human is about making mistakes. Even if you've been fortunate enough to live error free, please don't force that perfection onto everyone else. What happiness comes from never being able to forgive?"

He could no longer look into her eyes. "I've really made a mess of my life. What a fool I am!"

Victoria touched his knee. "But you've changed." She looked at his sister than back at him. "No friendship is beyond repair."

"And we're more than friends," he said. "We're family."

His sister looked away. "Let's speak about this crime you've been accused of..."

"You don't have to change the subject, Mary. I can see that you're uncomfortable."

"With good reason for it," she bickered. "I can't forgive two years' worth of injuries at a moment's notice."

"I don't expect you to. But will you promise to give me chance to resurrect our relationship?"

She put her head on one side, saying, "Words are cheap, promises cheaper."

But words were the only tool he had at his disposal at that time and her response harshly crushed his good intentions. "Fine then. What is it that you wanted to tell us?"

"Why? Did I say I wanted to tell you something?" Her tone was bitter and pointed. She looked back at Victoria. "I have some information that you might find of importance."

"Please, tell me."

"My father and brother, Michael that is, definitely have something to do with the murder."

"You mean what happened at Blackmoore?" Victoria shook her head. "I can assure you that I was the only one there."

"Which makes it hard to prove that the blame should fall on someone else." She looked away briefly and cleared her throat. "But much as I hate to admit it, my family has too much of an interest in the matter."

"I thought Mr. Freely was your cousin?"

"A cousin that we hardly knew! None of us could recognize him in a crowd of all the distant family members we claim. My father is extremely angry over the matter, as though his own son had been killed. It just doesn't add up."

"Maybe it was his son," he said. "I wouldn't put it past him."

Mary glowered at him. "I don't think that's the answer."

"How do you know all of this?" Victoria asked.

"I know this because Michael visits me, but I don't have any proof of what I believe to be true." She sighed. "My brother is smarter than he looks. While he's made a lot of curious statements on the subject, he's never confessed to anything."

Alex began to pace, not believing what he was hearing. What his heart almost knew, but didn't want to accept. "What kinds of things has he said?"

"He's made a lot of mention of roses tripping Victoria up and reminding her of her conscience. But as I said, he speaks of the instances, knowing full well that they happened, yet not claiming to be the culprit."

"What else?"

She thought, drawing circles on the bedspread with her index finger. "He knew that Hugh had left Mark the fortune. There's a motive for you."

Looking pensive and beautiful, Victoria asked, "But if the money was to go to Mr. Freely, isn't that just a motive for
him
?"

"Not necessarily." She nodded, as though agreeing with herself. "You don't know my father. If he knew someone related to him was to inherit a fortune, nothing could stop him from figuring out a way to make it his."

"I can't believe you're helping me like this," Victoria said, touching Mary's arm with tentative fingers. "I want you to know that I realize the difficulty of betraying a family member, no matter how strained the relationship. Thank you, Mary."

"It is really you who helped yourself. The moment you accepted me, you made an ally," she replied with a wide smile. "I hope I'll be a formidable one."

He wondered if everyone who'd ever encountered Victoria was eager to make a friend of her. He certainly had been, but he'd made her more than that. Looking at her slightly wan complexion, he felt the uncomfortable pang at the pit of his stomach again. If anything were to happen to her...

"We need to get everyone together, in the same room," he announced suddenly, realizing that he wouldn't allow anyone--especially not his family--to ruin the future of a good woman. "I'm going to bring everything out into the open. It might answer a lot of questions."

Victoria looked at him with her familiar scared doe expression, but Mary was cynical. "Do you really think our father is just going to
confess
to you?"

"Of course not! But he can try to explain why he is so intent on getting his revenge. Just let him try to lie to my face that he cared about a poor relation he'd met once!" He'd stopped pacing, wondering if he was grasping at straws or if he was really onto something. "And our dear father may not confess, but he
will
answer
every
one of my direct questions. Then I'll know if the bastard's lying to me."

"What makes you so sure?"

"Because I have to be." He looked at Victoria. "I have a lot more riding on this than you know." He ran out of the room.

It rained intermittently all night long, and in the morning the weather wasn't any better.

This time Victoria didn't venture outside. By the time it became dark though, she was thoroughly bored of her own company. There were only so many times that the game of patience could be played before one entirely lost hers.

Eventually, she wandered outside to where she could watch the rain fall without getting wet. Alex was strongly on her mind. There was something quite satisfying about standing on the covered porch overlooking the garden because the messy weed pile that was once a place of beauty seemed to be significant to her life.

For a moment, it was too quiet. Then everything changed.

Her uncle came riding up with three of his men, all moving as though the devil were on their tails. She had to jump out of the way to let them pass, very nearly getting run over. She followed her uncle into the house. "Is everything okay?"

John threw open the cellar door. "There's a ship in distress out in the cove."

"Can you save it?"

"Not a chance, I'm afraid. But we can save its men. God willing." He ran down into the cellar and starting throwing supplies up to the men waiting.

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Stay out of the way." He came out of the cellar and they were on the move again. "That should do it. Keep your pistols handy."

"You're taking guns?" She couldn't contain her shock.

"I'm sorry, Victoria, but I don't have time to talk." And with that, he was out the door, swiftly mounting the horse and galloping down the forest path.

After shutting the door behind him, Victoria looked about the empty house. The tension in the air was palpable. If only she had a better understanding of her uncle. Could the things Alexander seemed to imply about her uncle be true? It was bad enough that she couldn't hold herself above reproach. Was her entire family a bunch of crooks?

Granted, the first thing he'd said concerned saving the shipwrecked sailors, so perhaps she ought to take him at his word. A game of solitaire was on the table where she'd left it. She gazed at it, forlorn, feeling a little left out of the excitement.

She was still standing there a minute later when she was startled by a pounding at the front door. They must have forgotten something in their haste.

Victoria opened the door only to see a rain drenched Rafe on the porch, looking quite sure of himself.

Rafe pushed his way into the house, Victoria's attempt to hold the door against him fruitless. "Are we alone?"