Thursday's Child (Out of Time #5) (17 page)

Her dress had been torn at the neckline, probably from scavenging animals. A thin chain from a necklace of some sort glimmered in between the gaps of torn fabric. He continued to study the body as best he could and that's when he noticed a small hole in her skull just above the temple. The hair obscured some of it, but it was clear that the bone had been cracked, and a small piece dislodged. It was possible it had happened post-mortem, but somehow Simon knew that wasn't the case. This woman had been murdered.

“She's not going anywhere,” Gaughran said, waving him over to where he and Harper stood waiting.

Simon glared at him and nearly lectured him on having a little respect. Instead, he looked down at the poor woman again and made his second promise to the dead. He would find out who did this and justice would be served.

The three waited in relative silence until Eli returned with several slaves and a wagon, should the police need it to transport the body. As it would be several hours before the police could arrive, a few slaves lit torches around the perimeter of the area and were left to the grim task of waiting for help to arrive.

When Simon returned to the house, he found Elizabeth in their room preparing for the party, which, shamefully, had not been cancelled. As they changed into fresh clothes, Simon told what little he'd seen.

“She'd been there a few weeks?” she mused aloud as she laid out her dress.

“Possibly.”

Elizabeth stopped fussing her clothes. “How long ago did Mary's mother leave?”

Simon paused. “Mrs. Nolan said it had been about a month since Mary had been brought to the orphanage. So just before that I would assume.”

“The timing fits.” Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. “And why would she suddenly leave Mary after almost eight years?”

Simon considered that. “I don't know. We know so little about their life together. It's possible something changed.”

“Or she was…” Elizabeth said, not wanting to say the word.

“Murdered.”

Elizabeth sighed and nodded. “That would certainly explain why Mary's so upset. Maybe she wants us to solve her mother's murder?”

Simon nodded, although he sensed there was more to it than that.

Elizabeth returned to smoothing out her dress. “Whatever's going on, a body was found at River Run. Not a coincidence.”

“No,” Simon agreed.

He turned to look into the mirror to adjust his tie and watched Elizabeth in the reflection. “About earlier…”

Elizabeth stopped working on her dress and turned to him. Her expression was compassionate, but also a little exasperated. She joined him by the mirror and turned him so she could work on his tie for him. “Did you really think he was attacking me?”

“I heard you scream. It…I can't say I was thinking very clearly after that.”

She sighed and nodded. “I guess it did look bad. But, he's not a bad guy, Simon. He's actually—”

“Accusing me of beating you?” The memory of it sparked a fresh wave of anger.

Elizabeth's face fell and she patted his now finished tie. “From his perspective,” she said as she shrugged off her robe. “It kind of makes sense.”

A deep blue and purple bruise had blossomed on her upper arm where the man had held her at the race. It made his stomach roil. It also, however, was the penny drop that made him realize what Eli must have been thinking.

“He saw us arguing at the race,” she said as she slipped on her corset and turned for Simon to pull the laces. “Or at least what looked like arguing. You grabbed me. I winced.”

Simon tied the laces and then ran a hand gently over her shoulder. The idea that anyone could see him as the sort of man who could hurt a woman, much less hurt Elizabeth made him angry and sick to his stomach.

Elizabeth turned around to face him. “He's trying to protect me.”

“From me,” Simon said, the whole of it clear to him. He sighed and tried to ignore his growing sense of shame. He picked up one of her petticoats. “What were you doing there in the first place?”

“I went for a walk.”

“Naked?”

“No,” Elizabeth said as she motioned for him to hold out the petticoat so she could step into it. “That came later.”

Simon narrowed his eyes at her.

“What? It was hot. You try wearing all this for a day,” she said as she picked up another petticoat.

Simon helped her into it and then stood and faced her. While he was sorry it had happened at all, and he had reacted badly, he didn't really regret it. Considering the circumstances and Elizabeth's penchant for finding herself in dangerous situations, he'd do the same thing again. Trouble wasn't just attracted to his wife; it absolutely stalked her.

“I'm sorry,” he said, hoping she wouldn't ask just what for.

Elizabeth smiled and tiptoed up to kiss his cheek. “Apology accepted.”

He looped his arms around her waist and pulled her body against him. “I'm really
very
sorry.”

She narrowed her eyes, but played along and arched an eyebrow. “Very?”

He nodded solemnly and she leaned up to kiss him again. He held her close and deepened the kiss. “I'm repentant,” he whispered and kissed along her neck. “Remorseful.” He added another kiss. “Contrite.” And another.

Elizabeth purred under his kisses. “You should apologize more often.”

“Yes.” He scooped her up into his arms. “I'm sorry we're going to be late to the party.”

Elizabeth's laughter filled the room and they were indeed late.

~~~

The party was, unsurprisingly, subdued, and talk of the discovery dominated conversation. Theories ranged from the romantic, a tragic end to a love triangle, to the dubious, the secret start of a slave revolt. Simon found a quiet spot away from the nattering and kept his own theory to himself. If the woman was Alice Stewart, why was she here at River Run? To which of the Harpers was she connected? And how?

At first blush, Alice Stewart's previous life as a prostitute implicated Elijah. He was clearly familiar enough with them to know that Simon had visited one. It was hardly a stretch to think he himself had been a customer on occasion. James appeared fully dedicated to his wife and child, but there was a strain in his relationship with Rose that was becoming more evident. Had he sought comfort in the arms of another woman? From Alice Stewart? If so, had Rose found out?

Simon shook his head. It was all idle speculation and no more helpful than any other supposition. They'd have to wait until the woman was identified. If she could be.

He felt his mood darken at that thought until he sensed Elizabeth arrive at his side.

“Some party, huh?” she said before she took a sip of punch.

Simon grunted, but turned to look at her. Right now, he needed the affirmation of life she provided. She smiled up at him and he felt his heart lighten.

The housemaid Rose had sent up had worked her hair into some semblance of order, but like Elizabeth herself, it refused to fully cooperate and loose curls escaped to touch her cheek. It was a departure from the severe styles of the day, Elizabeth had explained away as “the latest in Paris fashion.” Her dress showed her slender shoulders and just enough décolletage to make him wish the night was over and they could be alone again. “I realize this is undoubtedly a wildly inappropriate thing to say considering the circumstances,” Simon said, “but dear God you are beautiful.”

Her cheeks flushed, but not from embarrassment. She'd long gotten over her surprise at being found attractive. Simon had made sure of that. The blush that stole down her neck was a reflection of his desire returned to him. He was just about to lean down and suggest they find an excuse to leave when Rose approached them.

“Hello,” she said with a sad, discomfited smile. “I'm sorry the party is, well…”

She shook her head and looked back at her sullen, silent guests. The dark mood inside mirrored the weather outside where a storm had broken. Rain pelted against the window glass and the occasional thunder and lightning pulsed.

Simon felt for her. She seemed a kind and gentle woman. “Perhaps some entertainment?” he suggested.

Rose brightened at the idea and turned to Elizabeth. “Do you play?” she asked indicating the piano. “I'm afraid I'm no good at all.”

Women of the upper classes of the time were expected to be proficient in everything from literature to music, all the better hostesses to make. Elizabeth looked up at him in a panic. Other than singing, loudly and rather badly, in the shower, Elizabeth did not have a musical bone in her body.

“May I?” Simon asked.

Rose's face lit with pleasure. “Of course!”

She shared a quick, impressed smile with Elizabeth before ushering him over to the grand piano in the corner of the large salon. He leafed through the sheet music, finding several pieces of Chopin and Beethoven with which he was well-acquainted. He did not consider himself skilled enough to play them as they deserved, but he doubted the guests would notice. It wasn't as if they listened to them every night. Perhaps at concerts in town on rare occasion, but in a still somewhat rural setting such as Natchez, music was more of a rarity than a regularity. Even the first phonograph was still twenty-five years away.

Simon stretched his fingers; thankful he'd taken up the piano again after he and Elizabeth had returned from 1929 New York. He hadn't enjoyed playing as a child, but as a man, he found it quite relaxing. Of course, he realized as a small crowd gathered, that had been in the privacy of his home with only Elizabeth as his audience. Not that he had stage fright, he simply preferred the intimacy of playing only for her. However, duty called.

Rose looked on hopefully and he let out a calming breath and began. The crowd listened attentively as he played “Für Elise”, offering a more than polite round of applause when he finished. He followed with one of Chopin's preludes before begging off and encouraging someone else to take a turn. It had had the desired effect, and while the party was not, nor should it have been, a light affair, the oppressive pall that had settled over the guests lifted somewhat.

Simon searched for Elizabeth as he relinquished his role as the night's entertainment, but was caught by Rose, Eli at her side.

“Thank you,” she said with sincere gratitude. “I would have rather canceled the party, but James was insistent. And now, I'm glad he was. Otherwise, I would never have had a chance to hear you play so beautifully.”

“It was my pleasure,” Simon said with a slight bow. “Have you seen my wife? I seem to have misplaced her.”

Rose smiled, but Eli did not. In fact, he did not try in the least to conceal his disgust.

“I think I saw her—” Rose said, and then someone caught her attention. “I'm sorry, will you excuse me for a moment?”

“Of course,” both men said in unison.

Rose disappeared into the crowd leaving Simon and Eli alone together.

Simon loathed being indebted to any man, but Elizabeth had told him the whole story of her ill-fated swim and regardless of his personal feelings toward Eli, the man had saved her life.

Simon's honor provoked an acknowledgement of the debt and he turned to face Eli. “I want to apologize for earlier today,” Simon said, the words grinding out of him like grain between millstones. “I leapt to a hasty and erroneous assumption.”

Eli's expression did not change.

“It also seems,” Simon continued. “That I owe you a debt for saving Elizabeth's life. It is one I don't take lightly.”

“Pretty words,” Eli said. “But your actions toward your wife speak far louder.”

Simon gritted his teeth. That again. “Now, it is you who have made an assumption.”

Eli's lip curled in disgust. His gaze traveled across the room and Simon turned to see him looking at Elizabeth who was talking to Rose and James.

“She deserves better,” Eli said almost to himself.

“No doubt,” Simon said. “Regardless of what you may think of me,” Simon continued, knowing that he could not explain away his visit to the brothel, “I love my wife and would never hurt her or any woman.”

Eli arched an eyebrow. “And the bruises?”

“I can only say that I was not the cause.”

Eli folded his arms across his chest. “And why are you telling me this now? I hardly think a man like you cares what I think of him.”

Simon glanced at Eli before finding Elizabeth in the crowd. “I don't. But I do care what you think of Elizabeth. She is no one's pawn, least of all mine. She deserves far greater respect than that.”

Across the room, Elizabeth must have felt their eyes upon her. She smiled at them, and excused herself from her conversation to join them.

She grinned charmingly as she approached. “And what are you two up to?” she asked as she slipped her arm around Simon's, leaning slightly into his side.

“Your husband was just singing your praises. And,” Eli said with a quick glance at Simon, “they are well-deserved. Cross.” He bowed and slipped off into the crowd.

“What was that all about?” Elizabeth asked.

“The beginnings of détente, I hope.”

“How to Make Friends and Influence People by Simon Cross? Who'd a thunk it?”

Simon chuckled. “Who indeed.”

~~~

Most of the guests had left by the time the constable arrived. He was a tall, gangly man in a dark blue wool uniform. He shook freshly fallen rain from his cap and followed James into his study. A few minutes later, both men emerged, but there was little news to be had or at least, Simon thought, little news James was willing to share.

The last guests left and eventually Simon and Elizabeth made their way up to their room. As they undressed and prepared for bed, they shared their observations of the evening.

“So Eli no longer thinks I'm under your thrall?” Elizabeth asked as she slipped under the covers.

A fresh storm had come and rain pelted the glass of the window. “I don't think so. If you had been, you would not have wandered off alone nor stripped naked during a fox hunt.” Simon closed the window sash and unhooked the drapes to let them fall in front of it.

“I thought you rode in the other direction.”

Simon eyed her through the dim lamplight. “Fox hunts don't work like that.”