One More Kiss

CHAPTER Thirty-seven





BEATRICE HURRIED TO answer the tap at the door. Darwell had gone to the village with Callan on her half day, which suited Beatrice perfectly. She was doing her best to honor her father’s demand that she stay in her rooms, but without Cecilia to talk to it was a challenge.

She tried to settle with a book but kept staring out the window instead. The only movement in the drive marked the comings and goings of the other guests. Michael and Olivia Garrett were out walking. Her sister and the marquis were riding, and Mrs. Wilson was sitting on a bench near the gate finding as little interest in her book as Beatrice did in hers.

Of Jess there was no sign. Could he have left? That would be so ungallant, so unkind, that she could not believe it possible. When the tap at the door came it was not imperative enough to be Jess, but she hurried to answer nonetheless.

Nora Kendrick stood there with Finch tucked under her arm. Today he was wearing a miniature cravat that matched the ribbons on his mistress’s elegant green gown.

Nora gave a nod of greeting, her usual smiling demeanor absent. Finch gave a cheerful “woof” which was at odds with his mistress’s serious expression.

“Beatrice,” she began, “Miss Wilson has asked to speak to both of us.”

“Of course,” Beatrice said, giving only a moment’s thought to her promise. Surely Papa would make an exception for a request of this type. Miss Wilson was grieving, after all, and Beatrice doubted her mother was much comfort.

“Do you know why she wishes to see us?” Beatrice asked as they walked the short distance to Katherine’s bedchamber.

“I can guess, but only because Nicky mentioned the possibility.”

Nicky? Of course, Nora was referring to the Earl of Belmont.

“It’s very gratifying that I can help him in his inquiry,” Nora said, with a small smile that quickly disappeared. “And very small of me to find pleasure in someone else’s misery.”

Beatrice was not sure how to respond to that. She opted for direct. “This is a difficult time for anyone connected to Lord Crenshaw, but you are not the only one entertained by the investigation. You cannot doubt that for all his solemnity the earl is having as much fun as I would have if I discovered a previously unknown Rembrandt drawing.”

“Thank you, Beatrice. That is very kind of you. And observant,” she added with an appreciative smile.

“So, you think this invitation has something to do with Lord Crenshaw’s death?”

“Nicky insisted that I come without any sort of opinion,” she replied demurely.

Beatrice nodded, intrigued by the mystery. Her intrigue changed to distress when they turned the corner and saw Jess lounging against the wall outside of Katherine’s room.

“What is he doing here?” she hissed.

“Miss Wilson asked for him to attend as well.” Nora stopped walking. “Is that a problem? I realize that you and Jess have a somewhat undecided relationship at the moment, but I was hoping you could rise above your concerns. Was I wrong?”

“No, no.” She thought about explaining her father’s insistence that she stay in her room and have nothing to do with Jess, but she was not sure it was something a woman as independent as Nora would understand. “I was just surprised to see him, that’s all.” The insane beating of her heart made that a gross understatement.

He looked as wonderful as he ever did. No circles under his eyes from a sleepless night. No blotchy complexion from crying. The thought of him crying into his pillow made her smile a little. He must have quite misinterpreted that because he smiled back, not that devilish I’m-looking-for-trouble-and-here-she-is smile that would always be her undoing, but a cynical I’ve-seen-it-all twist of the lips that made her feel they could never be friends again.

Oh, how she wished that they could be friends, more than friends. She closed her eyes against the force of his presence and made herself face the truth and not what she wished was the truth. Their interlude had been a moment of weakness on her part, on both their parts, probably. It was not true love but lust, a word that sounded no prettier than what it meant. She kept the word in mind as she opened her eyes and curtsied to him.

He bowed in return, then the three took a moment to compose themselves before Jess knocked on the door.

Katherine herself opened it, holding it back so they could enter. Her room was not a suite like the one Cecilia and Beatrice shared, but it was a generous space with some lovely paintings and a large sitting area around the fireplace. There was a small fire burning gently on the grate, despite the overall warmth of the day.

Beatrice and Nora sat at Katherine’s invitation. Jess remained standing a little away from the rest of them. He nodded to Nora, and the understanding that she would be in charge of the discussion passed between them.

Apparently prompted by the earl’s behavior in other parts of the investigation, Nora waited for Katherine Wilson to speak. In the little while that took, Beatrice noticed Katherine’s red-rimmed eyes and red-tipped nose. She was no prettier than any other woman who had been crying her heart out.

Beatrice never would have guessed that Katherine’s heart had become involved so quickly. Yet it was possible, as she had seen with Cecilia and the marquis. If she was being totally honest, she would admit that she would cry her heart out, too, if it had been Jess who had fallen to his death.

Did that mean she was in love with him? She straightened a little. What else would you call this feeling of loss, of incompleteness? But love was such an important word, so significant, and it would hurt too much if it was one-sided.

No, yes, no. She had been thinking in circles since yesterday. It did not help at all that this was the first time she had seen him today. Should she try to talk to him about what he intended to do? Her father had made her swear she would not. Oh, it was so hard to be a dutiful daughter when your life, your future hung in the balance.

Beatrice turned to look at him and found him staring at her, at her back to be more precise.

His expression was intense, as though he could read something in her posture that was an answer to a question he had been considering for hours, days, years even. Then Jess shook his head, looking like he’d decided she was not, after all, the answer for which he’d been searching.

Stung, she showed him her back and tried to give Katherine her complete attention.

Katherine opened her mouth, but before she could speak, she was overcome with sobs. Finch jumped out of Nora’s arms and leaned against the girl’s leg, offering the canine version of comfort.

Beatrice moved to sit next to her on the small sofa. “Do stop crying, Katherine. You will make yourself sick.”

“It’s what I deserve. It’s what I deserve,” she said over and over again. Finally she explained. “I killed Lord Crenshaw.”

A stunned silence filled the room.

“That’s not possible, Katherine,” Beatrice said after a quick look at Nora, who looked more puzzled than shocked. “You are too gently bred to hurt anything or anyone. The other day you saw a mouse and would not hear of calling the housekeeper.”

As Beatrice spoke she stroked a hand down Katherine’s back and could not help but notice how tense she was. “If you do not stop crying, you will not be able to give us the true account of what happened. Clearly it weighs on you and we want to help.”

Nora leaned forward and took the girl’s other hand. “Tell us what happened, Katherine.”

Katherine sniffed, finally calmed by Nora’s gentle voice.

Jess had moved over to stand closer to the fireplace, his expression one of casual interest. Beatrice could tell by the way he held his fist tight by his side that his composure was all an act. She could almost hear him thinking, Here is one more life that Crenshaw has damaged.

“Lord Crenshaw sent me a note asking me to meet him at the banqueting platform in order to watch Cecilia and Lord Destry’s race. I thought it rather unusual and asked Mama what I should do. It was she who decided it was all right for me to go without a chaperone. That we would be out in public with others near enough. She was very anxious to promote our acquaintance.”

Her mother was anxious, Beatrice thought. It did not sound like the girl had been as interested.

“Lord Crenshaw and I waited and waited for the race to come our way, but it was taking the longest time and he grew annoyed as he tended to do when time failed to march to his plan.” Katherine paused and dabbed at the last of the tears running down her cheeks. “Then he asked me to marry him.”

Beatrice and Nora exchanged startled glances. That was not what they expected.

“I was surprised. It was so soon. I was flattered, of course, and told him so, but asked if I could think about it awhile.”

That was sensible. Beatrice leaned a little closer, and Finch dashed back to Nora. Even Jess straightened and focused more fully on Katherine, who began to twist her handkerchief.

“You see, I’d had a conversation with Lord Jess, and it gave me pause.” She looked up at Jess. “If you will forgive me, my lord. Mama said that you could only be expected to speak ill of him, but when I spoke to Mr. Garrett after our conversation he assured me that you were telling the truth when you said that Lord Crenshaw was not always kind where ladies were concerned.”

Not always kind? Beatrice was amazed at his choice of words. Crenshaw had used and abused his wife to the point of death.

Instead of being offended by this part of her story, Jess bowed a little. “How wise of you to find someone as sensible as Mr. Garrett with whom to speak.”

She shrugged off his words and went on. “I wanted some time to make sure that even considering a courtship, much less agreeing to marry Lord Crenshaw, was the right decision.”

She never would have counted sensibleness as one of Katherine’s virtues. Beatrice was impressed.

Finally Katherine turned from Jess to look at Beatrice, then Nora Kendrick. “When I asked for time to consider, Lord Crenshaw changed before my eyes. He was furious with me. His anger was out of all proportion to my request. I did not reject him,” she said urgently. “I may be inexperienced, but I do understand a man’s pride is at stake in a situation like this. But it was too soon.” She almost wailed the last.

“Of course, you handled a difficult situation very well,” Nora said, though Beatrice wondered how she could know that when they had not heard the end of the story yet.

“He grabbed me and began shouting, insisting he would shake some sense into me. I was afraid that he was going to hit me and I pulled myself from his grip, backing away until I was leaning against the railing of the platform. I had no place to go.” She stopped and drew a breath to fortify herself.

Beatrice was desperate to know what had happened and was annoyed that Katherine had to stop to breathe.

“Crenshaw lunged for me, and I stepped out of his reach. He fell against the railing where I had been standing, and it gave way. Lord Crenshaw tumbled to the ground before I could do anything to save him.”

Beatrice was about to point out that if Katherine had reached for him, she would have fallen also, quite possibly to her death as well. But before she could say anything Nora asked, “What did you do then?”

“I ran down the steps, and saw by the way his head was bent that his neck was broken. His eyes were open, but staring without anger or any other emotion. I knew he was dead.” Tears poured from her eyes, but she was unaware of them. “I was afraid I would be ruined if I was found with the body, so I ran back to the house.”

“Have you told anyone else?” Nora asked.

Her mother, Beatrice thought.

“No,” she said firmly. “When I came back, I managed to stay calm and told Mama that I’d decided not to go to the platform, and that if Lord Crenshaw wanted to spend time with me he could do it someplace more conventional. She was annoyed, but at that point there was nothing she could do.”

She dropped her head. It was sad to see all the happiness drained from her. Katherine was a shadow of the young woman whose company she and her sister had enjoyed over the last two weeks.

“I could not live with it anymore,” she admitted. “I had to tell someone. I thought of the two of you,” she glanced at Nora and Beatrice, “since you both have been so kind to me. And Lord Jess is here because he can verify our previous conversation.”

Did she think she was going to be accused of pushing Lord Crenshaw over the edge of the platform? Beatrice supposed it could have happened that way, but it was, as she had observed at the beginning of this conversation, not at all in Katherine’s nature.

She herself might do it, Beatrice thought, to save her life or her sister’s. Nora Kendrick might, but still only to save someone else. Or to save Finch, who was clearly as important to her as any human being. Even Mrs. Wilson could probably bring herself to do it, if it meant her life or possibly her daughter’s, but Katherine herself would hesitate a moment too long.

Nora drew Beatrice’s attention, and they changed seats. The older woman took Katherine’s hands in hers, compelling Katherine to look her in the eye.

“I must tell Belmont your story, which is what I assume you intended when you invited me to hear it.”

Katherine nodded, looking relieved that she would not have to recount it again.

“I can tell you now that it will make no difference to his inquiry. You were a witness and a completely innocent party.”

“Thank you.” Katherine breathed the phrase as if finally releasing a burden that was growing increasingly difficult to bear.

“What do you want to happen now, Katherine?”

Beatrice loved the way Nora phrased that question and looked at Jess for his reaction. There was a gentle smile on his face which Beatrice read as compassion. It made her appreciate, not love, him all the more.

“Please, I beg of you. Do not tell Mama.”

“Of course not,” Nora said.

“You may rest assured that we will keep this story in confidence,” Jess said. It was the first time he had spoken, and Katherine accepted his male voice as law.

“When this is all settled, I want to go home. I want to see my old governess. She is still caring for my sisters who are not yet out. She will understand.”

They talked for a few more minutes, making plans that might not survive the hour, but Katherine was all the better for it. When the three of them left the girl, her maid had returned with tea. She had a caring air that reassured Beatrice that Katherine was in good hands.

When they were in the passage, Beatrice turned to go back to her room when Nora stopped her.

“Please. Both of you, come with me. Belmont may have some questions and your insights might prove helpful.”

Once again, Beatrice did not hesitate. But for the love of God, let her father be somewhere else on the property. He might not have Lord Crenshaw’s temper, but she did not want to make life more difficult for any of her family.