Unseemly Ambition (44 page)

“
Stop!” Concordia shouted.
She called down to Capshaw. “Lieutenant! They’re getting away!”
Without waiting for a response, Concordia took off after the pair,
pushing her way through the crowd.

Capshaw, heart still
pounding from defusing two bombs, took in the astonishing sight of
two trouser-clad women, one slipper-shod, running through the
crowd
. What on earth?

Then he saw Flynn. Muttering an oath
under his breath, he got up and ran after them, leaving behind the
open-mouthed patrolman.

Concordia had always taken the utility
of sturdy shoes for granted, until today. Much was being asked of
her poor feet; while pursuing Lily and Flynn, they hobbled her at
last. She watched helplessly as the two got away. She bent over to
catch her breath as hot tears prickled her cheeks.

Concordia felt a hand on her shoulder
and turned around to see Chief Stiles frowning down at her. “Do you
ever stay put, Miss Wells? My men are chasing them down. Let’s get
you home.”

O monstrous
act!

Othello
, V.ii

Week 14, Instructor
Calendar

May 1898

Concordia returned to Willow Cottage
to find an unexpected visitor, waiting anxiously in the
parlor.

“
Mother!”

Mrs. Wells started at the sight of her
daughter in male attire, bruised, filthy, and weary. Nonetheless,
she ran over and embraced her. Concordia rested her head on her
mother’s shoulder and held her tightly.

“
How...when….” Concordia’s
muffled voice trailed off.

“
Dean Maynard sent for me,
dear.” Mrs. Wells
stroked Concordia’s hair.
“I’m so relieved you’re safe.”

Concordia wiped her eyes on Maynard’s
jacket sleeve. “You know what happened? Do you know
about…Flynn?”

Her mother nodded. “Mr. Maynard and
Miss Crandall explained it to me.”

“
I’m sorry he turned out to
be—”

“
Now, never mind about
him,” her mother interrupted briskly. “He’s not worth wasting
another thought on. I’ll be fine. I’m a little too old for falling
hopelessly in love, you know.”

Concordia searched her mother’s face.
While some of what she said might be a bluff to spare her worry,
Mother appeared composed rather than devastated.

Mrs. Wells looked her up and down. “I
believe it’s time for a bath, young lady.” She grinned. “And take
your time. I can wait.”

It was sheer bliss to soak in the tub.
Concordia took her mother’s advice and stayed in it even as the
water cooled. She wanted to forget the last fifteen
hours.

But how could she forget? Flynn was
without scruple or conscience. She shuddered to think what could
have happened in that root cellar.

If not for Randolph Maynard. The man
was a surprise, to say the least. He seemed to have softened toward
her. Perhaps.

At the thought of David,
however, her stomach tightened. After last night, all she had
wanted was comforting words from the gentle man who loved her.
Instead, she’d gotten shock and anger.
Mercy,
did he think she put on
trousers for amusement? Why couldn’t he see she’d been through a
terrible ordeal? She was lucky to have come through it
alive.

It surprised her how quickly he had
jumped to recriminations. A concern for propriety. Would her
married life be like that? Her life—normally—was respectable and
ordered, where she could easily behave in the decorous fashion
expected of her. To be fair, David had never wanted her to be a
shrinking violet. He respected her intellect too much for
that.

But could her conduct
forever remain a model of propriety, without deviation…the product
of a quiet, lady-like life? She wasn’t so sure. It seemed that,
time and again, she was drawn into other people’s problems,
dilemmas from which she could not simply walk away. She had to
help. She had to
act
. Would David, once he was her husband, forbid it?

She had no answers, except to be
grateful they weren’t getting married right away. There were
obviously more issues to sort out.

Concordia finished her bath, brushed
and pinned up her hair, and dressed in a simple white pleated
shirtwaist and lavender muslin skirt. How lovely to be wearing her
own clothes.

Once she was presentable, she hurried
back to the parlor.

Concordia found her mother chatting
with Charlotte Crandall and Miss Jenkins. The infirmarian summarily
pulled Concordia over to the sofa.

“
Sit,” that lady ordered.
“I want to look at your injuries.”

Charlotte joined Concordia on the
sofa, a smile tugging at her lips.

Miss Jenkins gently probed Concordia’s
bruised jaw. “Nothing fractured. Any teeth loose…no? Good.” She sat
back on her heels and gazed searchingly at Concordia. “I was told
it was Flynn who struck you. The man has much to answer
for.”

“
I punched him first,”
Concordia said.

Miss Jenkins’ mouth gaped. Mrs. Wells
regarded her daughter as if she’d grown a second head. But
Charlotte started to giggle, and soon they were all laughing and
wiping their eyes.

“
I’d better take a look at
your hand, then,” Miss Jenkins said, her lips still twitching in
amusement. She experimentally flexed the fingers. “Does this hurt?
How about this?” She pressed gently. Concordia winced.

“
The knuckles are a little
bruised and swollen, but that should subside soon,” Miss Jenkins
concluded. “So long as you don’t make fisticuffs a
habit.”

The women giggled again.

“
Where’s Barton Isley? Did
the dean tell you about him?” Concordia asked, as the infirmarian
continued her examination, now removing Concordia’s shoes and
stockings and frowning over her battered feet.

“
Eventually,” Miss Jenkins
said. “I thought my girls were talking gibberish when they told me
our bursar had been taken away by a policeman. Quite disruptive to
the routine, as you can imagine. But shortly before you got here
the president called a staff meeting and told us the whole
story.”

Concordia leaned back against the
cushions, relieved that she didn’t have to recount her experiences
of the night before.

She had just restored her stockings
and shoes when a knock at the door brought Randolph Maynard and
Lady Principal Pomeroy to the gathering.

“
We wanted to check on you,
dear, and see how you were faring,” Miss Pomeroy said, glancing at
the bruise blooming along Concordia’s jaw.

“
I’m feeling better than I
look, really,” Concordia said. She gave the dean a grateful look.
“Thanks to you, Mr. Maynard.”

Dean Maynard cleared his throat. “Glad
to be of help. But you seemed to have the situation well in hand
when I came on the scene.” He nodded in Miss Crandall’s direction.
“Along with a strong ally.”

Charlotte Crandall blushed. “Do you
know if they’ve caught Flynn? Or Lily Isley?”

“
No. But Capshaw just
called. He says he has news. He’s on his way.”

At that moment, Ruby stuck her head
in. “Do you mind fendin’ fer yourselves for a little bit? It’s time
to take the girls over to supper.”

“
Of course, Ruby,”
Concordia said. “We can manage.” No matter what events were going
on in the world at large, students still had to be fed. She smiled
at the normalcy of it. She’d missed that.

“
There’s a plate of
sandwiches on the kitchen table, and hot water in the kettle,” Ruby
added.

Charlotte Crandall got up and smoothed
her skirts. “I’ll get tea started.”

President Langdon and a somber-looking
Lieutenant Capshaw arrived at Willow Cottage just as Charlotte came
in with the tray. Although Capshaw looked ready to drop from
exhaustion, his glance swept across the room and its occupants as
usual, looking for that one clue he might have missed.

Additional chairs were brought in, and
soon everyone was settled. It was getting crowded in the small
parlor.

“
Did you find Flynn and
Lily Isley?” Concordia asked, trying to read Capshaw’s expression.
It didn’t look to be good news. His lips were pale, and a muscle in
his jaw twitched of its own accord. She pressed her hands tightly
together in her lap. The thought of the two escaping was
unbearable.

Capshaw sighed. “Yes. At Flynn’s
residence.”

Concordia closed her
eyes.
Thank heaven.

“
Do you have them in
custody now?” Maynard said, leaning forward eagerly.

“
They are both dead,”
Capshaw said.

This was met with shocked silence,
until Concordia asked the question for everyone in the room.
“How?”

“
Mrs. Isley shot Robert
Flynn, then took poison,” Capshaw said grimly. He got up and paced
as best he could within the confines of the room.

“
But that wasn’t the worst
of it,” he continued. “There
was
a third bomb, after all. Smaller than the ones we
found in the square, but still plenty destructive. Mrs. Isley
rigged it to go off when the front door was opened. Two of my men
are in the hospital.”

They all stared at him,
horrified.

“
Will they be all right,
Lieutenant?” Miss Jenkins asked.

“
They were fortunate. The
door caught on a rug, and didn’t open completely. So they were
partly protected from the blast. The doctor expects them to
recover.”

“
Lily had enough knowledge
to set up the device?” Concordia asked.

Capshaw nodded. “Hitchcock coached her
well.” He rummaged through a pocket and pulled out two folded
sheets of paper. “She left a note addressed to you.” He passed it
to Concordia.

With trembling fingers, she unfolded
the pages. Mrs. Wells unabashedly craned her neck to read over her
daughter’s shoulder.

My dear
Concordia,

So here we are, in the
final act of our little drama. How I wish I had known it would end
as a tragedy for me.

I was sorry to have to
tamper with your tea last night, because I do like you, even though
you are responsible for our plan falling apart. In fact, I’ve been
trying to protect you all this time. I coaxed Robert to consider
Miss Hamilton as the true danger to our plans and leave you
alone.

But you kept persisting,
even after I left the flowers and warning note in your office. I
never imagined a lady professor would concern herself with anything
other than her books and her students.

I’m sure you see me as
quite a scandalous woman, having a lover, plotting bold and violent
deeds with unscrupulous men. Think what you wish; I don’t care. You
cannot know the boredom of my life before I met Robert.

By now you know that I set
the bombs, disguised as a youth. You nearly caught me months
before, as I practiced going about in my costume. I was sorry to
lose my pin in the snow that night. As the only woman member of the
Circle, I cherished it.

I had you all duped,
didn’t I? Everyone underestimated me.

After we escaped the
police in the square today, we hurried back to Robert’s house to
get money and a few necessities to start a new life
together.

But then he pointed a gun
at me. He was going alone, he said, and didn’t want any loose ends
left behind.

Only then did I realize
what a fool I had been. He had never loved me. I was a tool to be
used and discarded when no longer needed. I was a “loose
end.”

But he underestimated me,
too.

It is all over now. Prison
is not for one such as I. The third bomb that I’d had no time to
place will yet serve a purpose. I am leaving this note away from
the blast. It will no doubt keep the stuffy society matrons
gossiping for a good long time.

In the meantime, I wait
for the tea—a different kind this time—to do its work. Good-bye
Concordia.

~Lily

Wordlessly, Concordia passed it back
to Capshaw. Her mind was a turmoil of conflicting emotions: shock,
anger at Lily’ betrayal and ruthlessness, sadness for the loss of
life and the waste of talent.

She shuddered, and her mother patted
her back reassuringly. “Be thankful that it’s over.”

I pray you, in your
letters,
When you shall these unlucky deeds relate,
Speak of me as I am.

Othello
, V.ii

Week 17, Instructor
Calendar

June 1898

“
Here, let me get that,”
Concordia said, reaching around Miss Hamilton to prop open the door
to Willow Cottage as they went in. “I’ll make us some tea. And
there may be some of Ruby’s scones left,” she added, leading the
way to the kitchen.