The Daughter of Highland Hall (40 page)

Lydia took the notes and then clutched Kate’s hand. “Thank you, miss. I’m ever so grateful.”

Kate pulled Lydia in for a quick embrace.

Lydia slipped away and rushed out the door.

Kate closed her eyes.
Father, please go with Lydia. Help her find Jon, and guide them quickly back to the Pittsfords’. And please watch over Helen and keep her and the baby safe until they arrive
.

Kate lifted her head, and an unsettled feeling washed over her. She crossed to the nightstand, picked up the conference program, and scanned the schedule. Today’s morning session at St. Paul’s in Knightsbridge concluded at twelve. She glanced at the clock, and pulled in a sharp breath.

The meeting had ended forty minutes ago. She scanned the rest of the schedule: there was a break for luncheon and then three more sessions that afternoon, starting at one o’clock, one at All Saints’ and the other two at St. Matthew’s.

Where was Jon? How would Lydia ever find him?

Kate sank down on the bed and stared across the room.

Who would help Helen now?

Jon shifted in the pew and glanced at his watch. The early afternoon hours were a difficult time to listen to a speaker, especially a soft-spoken one who seemed to be droning on and on. If he didn’t get up and take a break, he would probably fall asleep and embarrass himself and his parents.

He leaned toward his mother. “I’m going to slip out for a bit.”

“Is everything all right?”

“Yes. I just need to stretch my legs.” He excused himself past the two elderly women at the end of the pew and walked out of the sanctuary. With a sigh of relief, he pushed open the back door and stepped outside.

A woman rushed up the steps. She lifted her head, looked up at him, and her eyes widened. “Mr. Foster!”

“Lydia, what are you doing here?”

“I need your help.”

Alarm shot through him. “Is it Miss Katherine?”

“No, it’s Helen.” Lydia poured out the story in frightening detail. “Does Dr. Pittsford know?”

Lydia shook her head, looking dazed. “I should’ve gone there first, but I went back to Ramsey House to find you. Then Miss Katherine told me to go to St. Paul’s. I couldn’t find you there, but a kind priest saw me crying and sent me here.” Lydia gulped in a breath.

Jon laid his hand on her shoulder. “It’s all right. I’ll go with you. We’ll make sure Helen is safe.”

Lydia sniffed. “Thank you, sir.”

He slipped back inside and told his parents he needed to leave and would explain later, then he guided Lydia down the steps and into the waiting cab.

Kate clenched her hands in her lap as the cab turned the corner and started down Conover Street. “It’s just a few houses down, on the right.”

The gray-haired driver glanced in the rearview mirror.

She leaned forward. “There it is—number 322.”

The cab rolled to a stop in front of Dr. Pittsford’s home. The elderly driver climbed out, circled the cab, and opened Kate’s door.

Kate stepped up to the curb. “Please wait for me. I should only be a few minutes.”

“All right, miss.” He touched his black cap and closed the door.

Kate looked down the street. Two little girls squatted in front of the house next door, petting a gray-striped cat. A few houses down on the left, an old man sat on his front step smoking a pipe. But there was no sign of Charlie Gibbons.

Kate lifted her skirt and climbed the front steps. The curtains were all closed, and the house stood silent. She knocked on the front door and waited, but no one answered. She knocked again, harder. “Helen, it’s Katherine Ramsey.”

Two seconds passed. She heard the chain slide and the lock turn. The door opened a few inches, and Helen peeked out, her eyes wide.

“May I come in?” Kate kept her voice calm, hoping to ease Helen’s fears.

Helen’s gaze darted around, then she opened the door a little wider. Kate slipped through. Helen quickly closed the door and slid the chain lock back in place.

“Where’s Lydia?” Helen whispered.

“She went to find Mr. Foster, but I’m afraid I gave her the wrong address.”

Helen bit her lip, a frantic look filling her eyes. “What are we going do?”

Kate laid her hand on Helen’s arm. “Everything’s going to be all right. I have a cab waiting right outside the door. The driver will take us to Ramsey House.”

Tears flooded Helen’s eyes. “Oh, miss, are you sure? What about your family?”

“I’m sure they’ll agree this is the best plan.”

Helen nodded. “All right. Thank you.”

“Let’s pack your things, and we can be on our way.”

Helen motioned toward the satchel and small suitcase by the door. “Lydia told me to get ready to go.” She started to reach for them.

Kate held out her hand. “I’ll take them.”

“Thank you, miss.” She glanced around the parlor. “I wish I could thank the doctor and his wife. They’ve been kind.”

“We can send them a note when you’re settled at Ramsey House. I’m sure they’ll understand why you needed to leave.”

Helen unlocked the door and stepped outside. She shot a wary glance around before she lumbered down the steps, one hand lifting her skirt and
the other resting over the babe within. Kate followed her down, carrying the bags.

The cab driver opened his door and stepped out. “Can I take those bags for you, miss?”

“Yes, thank you.” Before the driver was halfway there, a man strode around the back of the cab. Kate looked up and pulled in a sharp breath.

Charlie lunged for Helen and grabbed her arm. “Where do you think you’re goin’?”

Helen cried out.

“Hey, now!” The cab driver spun toward Helen.

Charlie tugged Helen out of the driver’s reach.

“No, Charlie, please! You’re hurting me!”

“Let
go
of her!” Kate dropped the suitcase and swung the satchel at Charlie, smashing it into his arm.

He growled and released Helen, then turned on Kate, curses flying from his mouth. He ripped the satchel from her hand and threw it aside.

Fear clawed at Kate’s throat, stealing her breath. Charlie’s face contorted. He lunged and grabbed her by both shoulders. Kate gasped and tried to pull away, but he tightened his grip, and slid one hand toward her neck.

His fingers closed around her throat.

God! Save me!

TWENTY-ONE
 

Jon leaned forward in the back seat of the cab. “Can you hurry, please?” The driver looked over his shoulder. “We’re almost there, sir.”

Lydia glanced out her window as they rounded the corner at Conover Street, her expression taut.

The driver slowed. “What’s the number again?”

“Three twenty-two.” Jon scanned the street. Up ahead, Dr. Pittsford and two men stood in front of the building they planned to open as the children’s center. Jon gripped the door handle. “Stop the car! We’ll get out here.”

Lydia looked at Jon. “Why are we stopping?”

“We may need Dr. Pittsford’s help.” Jon thrust some money at the driver and hopped out of the cab. Lydia slid out behind him.

Dr. Pittsford lifted his hand and smiled. “Jon, you’re just in time to meet Mr. Yardley and Mr. Pennington. They’re writing an article for the
Daily Mail
about our fund-raising program for the children’s center.”

Jon glanced at the two men. One man carried a camera attached to a wooden tripod, and the other held a small pad and pencil, apparently taking notes for the article. “I’m sorry to interrupt, Doctor, but something has happened. You’re needed at home.”

Dr. Pittsford straightened. “What is it?”

A scream pierced the air.

Jon’s heart jerked, and he spun around.

Down the street, in front of the Pittsfords’ house, Charlie Gibbons grabbed Helen. Another woman swung a satchel at Charlie, knocking his hand away from Helen—

It was Kate!

Energy surged through Jon, and he took off running toward them.

Charlie lunged for Kate. Helen screamed and tugged on his coat. A
whistle pierced the air. Across the street, two policemen ran toward the scene.

Charlie’s head jerked up, his eyes wide. He shoved Kate hard. She crashed on the steps in a crumpled heap.

The shrill whistle blasted again. Charlie dashed away. The policemen crossed the street, one chasing Charlie and the other heading toward the Pittsfords’.

Jon ran toward Kate. Charlie passed him, running in the opposite direction, with the policeman close behind. Footsteps pounded the pavement behind Jon, but he didn’t look back to see who followed.

He dropped to the ground next to Kate. She lay still, her eyes closed, her face deathly pale. Icy panic pulsed through him. “Kate!” His voice came out a raspy whisper.

She didn’t move.

Dr. Pittsford rushed toward them and knelt next to Jon. He leaned over Kate, reached for her hand, and began assessing her condition.

Helen’s hysterical cries filled the air, making it difficult for Jon to focus or hear the doctor.

Lydia hurried to Helen’s side. “It’s all right. He’s gone now. He won’t hurt you.”

“But he hurt Miss Katherine.” Heaving sobs shook Helen as she turned into her sister’s embrace. Lydia wrapped her arms around Helen and held her close.

“What happened here? Who is she?” The panting journalist squatted on the other side of Jon, his pencil poised above his pad.

“Not now!” Jon leaned toward Dr. Pittsford, trying to block the journalist’s view of Kate.

Dr. Pittsford lifted Kate’s eyelids. “The blow to her head has knocked her unconscious.”

Jon swallowed and stared at Kate. He should do something to help, but he could barely pull in the next breath.

The doctor looked up. “Let’s take her inside.”

Jon bent and carefully slipped his hand under her head. A warm, sticky
substance slicked across his fingers. He gulped in a breath and pulled out his hand. Kate’s blood smeared his palm.

Dr. Pittsford’s gaze riveted Jon. “We’ve got to stop the bleeding. Pick her up carefully.”

Jon scooped Kate up as gently as he could and moved toward the steps.

A light flashed, and a small puff of smoke rose in the air.

Jon scowled at the photographer. “That’s enough!”

The man raised his head from behind his camera and averted his eyes.

Jon clenched his jaw and turned away. If he hadn’t been carrying Kate, he would’ve knocked that scoundrel to the ground and sent his camera flying after him.

“What’s your name, sir, and the young lady’s?” The journalist stepped in front of Jon, blocking his path.

“Get out of my way!” Jon shouldered past the journalist and carried Kate up the steps and into the Pittsfords’ house. He carefully laid Kate on the couch.

Kate stirred and looked up at him. “Jon …”

Relief poured through him, and he took her hand. “Yes.”

Confusion filled her eyes. “What happened?”

Dr. Pittsford knelt next to her. “You’ve fallen and hit your head.” He looked up at Jon. “Let’s help her turn on her side.” They positioned Kate so they could see the wound. “Get my bag by the door.”

Jon hustled over and returned with the bag.

Dr. Pittsford laid his hand on Kate’s shoulder. “There’s a cut on the back of your head we must attend to.” He pressed a clean bandage to the wound. “Hold this here, Jon.”