A memory of Lydia’s vexation gnawed at Justine
.
You can stay at home and play the cripple all you want, but I refuse to sit here helplessly. I won’t come back ‘til I find Phillip.
Curse her sister for her ignorant criticism
! Lydia had never suffered the indignity of pity, the humiliation of hearing her parents speak so brightly of her siblings’ futures, never mentioning her own. If Justine chose to keep to her home and family, it was because only there could she escape the endless speculation of other females her age about whom they would wed. The realization that she would remain a spinster in her family home made those giddy conversations too painful to bear. Besides, though Lydia’s friends often treated her with kindness, Justine saw their eyes following her ungainly movements, could almost hear them thinking,
Thank God it’s not me.
Justine glanced about herself for something she might do to pass the time
. Her gaze came to rest on the book she couldn’t concentrate on reading, even though she usually so enjoyed Mr. Dickens’s novels. Beneath it lay Lydia’s latest issue of
Harper’s Bazaar
. Picking it up, she flipped idly through its pages, but no fashions, no matter how enticing, could distract her from her guilt.
She stood and limped toward the window to look out, then sighed to find it shuttered
. Irritated, she walked out onto the front porch and stood behind the railing. She peered into the moonlit darkness. A warm breeze lifted the scent of Mother’s roses to her nose.
“They’ll come soon.” Mrs. Kelso’s voice surprised her from the shadows near the door.
Justine barely managed to stifle a cry. She jerked her head toward the stout woman, then realized Louise was weeping.
“They have to come back soon,” Mrs. Kelso repeated, wiping at her eyes.
Justine touched the older woman’s arm. “Of course they will. You look exhausted. Why don’t you go on to bed? I’ll be all right alone.”
“I’ll make some tea,” she offered, ever mindful of her duty.
“Don’t bother. I wouldn’t drink it anyway. Go on, please. You should rest in case we need you later.”
“Will you wake me when they come?”
“I promise,” Justine told her.
Mrs. Kelso embraced her warmly and then disappeared inside.
Justine remained out on the broad porch. She leaned her hips against the rail.
“Why are you doing this?” she accused the shadows, as if her twin might hear her words
. “Why won’t you come home?”
The only answer was the breeze, which gently tousled nearby foliage
. The scents that reached her smelled lush and tropical.
She gazed upward toward the heavens, which were sprinkled with bright stars
. The servants had been wrong about the storm.
Perhaps, then, she should go and look for Lydia and Phillip
. Perhaps she should rouse Adam and make him take her out to search. Perhaps . . .
Justine’s gaze was drawn into deep shadows, shadows which might so easily conceal a man armed with a gun
. She imagined herself alone, on foot, trying desperately to run. Struggling painfully, like Shae’s broken-winged finch when Phillip first brought it home. The shadow figure laughed, then coiled back into the realm of nightmares.
She shuddered with a sudden chill and shook her head against her impulse
. She couldn’t leave here. Couldn’t. If either her brother or her sister came back, or the two of them, what then? They might need help at home. Besides, if the police couldn’t find them, of what use would a crippled girl be in the dark?
She would stay here, then, and wait for them
. She’d stay at home where she belonged.
*
Phillip awakened with a start, and realized he’d delayed too long already. Hours had passed since the attack, and by now his family would be frantic, yet here he’d remained, jealously guarding his time alone with Shae.
Despite his self-recrimination, he didn’t relish the thought of walking home
. His woun
d
and poor Cure’s deat
h
reminded him too much of his vulnerability. And if he took Shae with him, she would be as much at risk as he.
But clearly, he couldn’t leave her here
. Not when he’d seen such fear, such loneliness in her expression. Not after what they had shared together. Though it seemed that his life had lately dissolved into chaos, his love for her was the only thing that he felt confident was right. For their love’s sake, he was almost glad of Ethan and Rachel’s treachery, almost glad about his scrape with death today.
Thinking of Shae, he remembered that she had accused a man of murder
. Even though he was her father, King had struck her, she’d told him. In light of that, in light of all of her suspicions, what was to prevent King Rowan from killing Shae, too, in some insane fury?
As it had before, protectiveness rushed over him
. He reached out to pull Shae close to where he lay.
And found the space beside him empty, the sheets cool, as if she’d left him long before
. Fear jolted him upright, and the sudden motion made his shoulder throb. Ignoring it, he rose and called Shae’s name.
No answer
. He pulled on his discarded pants and walked through parlor and kitchen. Nothing. He poked his head into the second bedroom. A wardrobe’s door hung open. Nearby, lying open on the bed, a box held women’s jewelry: gold necklaces and bracelets, brooches, even rings. He read the neat printing on the box’s side and frowned.
The cameo, he remembered
. It must have come from here. This jewelry must have been Shae’s mother’s.
His fear sharpened into terror, thinking what it all must mean
. Finding this, had Shae gone to confront King Rowan alone? Good Lord, if so, he had to find her first!
He tried to pull on his jacket, but both his injury and the blood-crusted shirt made the action uncomfortable
. Perhaps, as Shae had said earlier, a new shirt was in order. He hurried to the wardrobe to see if Lucius had owned something that might do. Reaching in, he slid dresses aside. Shae’s face stared back at him in portrait, and his heart pounded in his chest. He looked more closely. Could this be her mother instead? If so, their resemblance was uncanny.
Hurry
, he told himself, worrying that his delay might cause Shae to share this woman’s fate.
The white shirt he pulled from the wardrobe was impossibly small
. He’d have to forget about changing. As he turned to leave the room to retrieve it, a medicine bottle on the night table caught his eye.
Thinking of Shae’s questions about Lucius, he forced himself to take a few moments to inspect it
. He picked up the bottle and read the label. Digitalis. The old man must have had heart problems after all. And if he’d taken too large a dose, the liquid itself could have proven fatal. It seemed likely that King had told Shae the truth regarding how the old man died. But now that fact, though important, paled beside the discovery of Shae’s mother’s jewelry.
Hurriedly, he finished dressing, then started toward the front door
. Jasper, who’d been sleeping in the parlor, lifted his head and whined.
“You stay here, fellow
. I’ll bring her back,” Phillip knew his promise had been meant to reassure himself more than the dog.
As he stepped onto the front porch, he cursed the cruel bastard who had shot his horse
. He had to find Shae and find her quickly.
He wondered how long ago she’d left and if he could catch up with her
. Somehow he had to find a way. For if she reached her father on her own, how in God’s name could he hope to save her?
And how in God’s name could he survive it if he failed?
After thudding over several ruts hidden by the darkness, Shae steered her velocipede to the middle of the deserted street
. As solid rubber tires jostled her over crunching shells, she thought that the machine’s nickname, Bone Shaker, had never been more apt. Nevertheless, she pedaled faster, faster, her fury increasing with each revolution and spinning past the inky, silhouetted houses that seemed to hem her in.
Jumbled images flashed through her mind, jagged as the fragments of a shattered mirror
. Mother. King. Alberta. Lucius. The cameo. The portrait. The hidden box inside the dusky wardrobe.
She hurtled through the moonlit night, then skidded around a corner, thinking only of her goal
. She had to find her father. She had to make him understand he couldn’t lie to her anymore.
She couldn’t think beyond that necessity
. Could barely conceive of anything past a compulsion for more speed. As if after six years, six more minutes mattered. As if she sensed that time was running out.
Shae sped around another corner, then looked up to see a white horse thundering directly toward her
. The animal trailed some sort of buggy, but Shae noticed little besides the fact that the huge beast was about to run her down.
With a screech of terror, she hit the brakes and turned sharply, desperate to avoid a collision
. As the velocipede slid out from under Shae, the white horse lurched in the opposite direction and then stumbled on loose shell. The gig behind tilted on one wheel, then jerked suddenly upright.
Shae landed on her left side, then rolled onto her back
. Her hip ached where she had fallen, and her palm and knee both burned. She was beginning to feel like nothing so much as a mass of layered bruises. Gingerly, she tested arms and legs and was relieved to find them functioning.
She heard the approach of horses’ hoof beats.
“Damn, Ross.” A man’s voice came from the other side of the gig. “You see her fly outta that buggy? She ain’t movin’ neither. What if we gone and killed her? We only wanted Payton, not his sister. Mr. Lowell will piss vinegar when he hears.”
Darkness flowed inside Shae like an overturned inkpot
. Could her own recklessness have helped to cause the death of Phillip’s sister?
Then a second realization made her breath catch
. These must be the men who had shot Phillip! She forced herself to freeze in the hope they wouldn’t see her.
“Shut up, you idiot.” A different voice this time, even rougher than the first
. “Someone’ll be along, with all the racket. Be best if we skedaddled.”
“Wait
. Look at this. Horse musta hit this two-wheel contraption. Awful late out for a ride on one o’ these outfits.”
A horse moved closer
. Shae’s heart thudded even harder. She didn’t think she’d been hurt much by the fall. Should she try to run, to hide in shadow, or should she continue to feign unconsciousness?
She heard a creak of leather and then a man’s footsteps
. “Damn, it’s another girl, Sal. What th
e
? Why, I think it’s the same one as was with the nigger-lover when we shot him.”
The voice loomed just above her, and she smelled old sweat, not quite masked by the strong scent of bay rum
. Shae wondered if he saw her shaking.
“She’d know where he was then
. See if she’s bad hurt.”
She should lie still
. She knew it. But something in her jerked to life at the thought of them demandin
g
even forcin
g
her to tell them Phillip’s location. Before the thought formed fully, she leapt to her feet and tried to run.
Her skirt tangled in the velocipede’s pedal and tripped her
. She hadn’t gone two steps when a hand clamped on her upper arm. With her free hand, Shae swung wildl
y
and connected with the man’s jaw.
“Christ!” he swore loudly
. His hands flew to his face.
Shae ran toward the street’s edge, to an area shaded by a tangle of trees and an overgrown mass of oleanders.
“I’ll shoot!” one of the men threatened.
Shae didn’t slow her pace a bit
. If they caught her, they’d likely kill her anyway after what she’d witnessed.
Down the street, a door banged shut. “What the devil’s all that ruckus?” a man demanded.
“Go back to bed, old man!” Ross yelled.
“See how smart you talk when I put a minié ball in you, Mister
! Now you get away from her before I get back with that gun!” the man in the doorway shouted. The door creaked again and then banged shut.
Shae threaded her way through thick foliage, then cut between two houses
. Her breath came in ragged gulps, and perspiration soon dampened her hair. She’d never run so much in all her life as she had since this afternoon. Yet she dared not stop. The two men could be anywher
e
behind her, looping around the block. They might have easily split up.
She thought of running back toward Lucius’s house to warn Phillip, but decided it would be the worst thing she could do
. If she were followed, she might cost him his life.
So instead she wended her way through alleys and alongside houses and breathed a silent prayer that the young woman lying so still in the street had not been Phillip’s sister.
*
Phillip ran toward the sounds of shouting
. A man’s voice cut through the moonlit night.
“Now you get away from her!”
He arrived in time to see two horses receding into darkness. But the one that stood in harness soon captured his attention. White Wing, his father’s gelding!
The horse stood nearby, blowing hard and trembling
. But it was the empty gig behind the animal that alarmed Phillip most of all. Running toward it, he came upon a young woman’s sprawled figur
e
a young woman who had to be one of his sisters. Her dark hair massed around her, he couldn’t tell whether it was Lydia or Justine.
“My God!” he shouted, dropping to his knees beside her
. If she were dead because of hi
m
he couldn’t bear to complete the chilling thought.
Quickly, he examined her and found that she was breathing
. A familiar watch pinned above her breast solved another mystery. It was Lydia, as he’d thought most likely. Only foolish, impulsive Lydia would drive about alone at night. Alone to search for him. Why hadn’t he tried harder to get some message to his sisters, so she wouldn’t have felt she had to risk her safety?
He looked up at the sound of fast-approaching footsteps
. An old man in a nightshirt stopped several feet away. He clutched a rifle tightly in both hands, but he pointed it away from Phillip.
“She dead?” he asked
. His shock of gray hair stood like a cock’s comb, ruffled as with sleep.
Phillip shook his head
. “She’s breathing. But I’ll need to get her to the infirmary, and quickly. Could you help me get her in the gig? She’s my sister.”
“Yessir, but what I’m wondering is where’d those other fellas go
? Up to no good, I would swear it. I run ‘em off, but they went after that other gal. I’ll send my boy for the police.”
“Othe
r
there was a second girl?” Phillip asked. Only then did he see the fallen velocipede. It lay on its side, its metal frame gleaming with the moonlight. Shae’s velocipede, he was certain.
Dear God
. What had happened here, to involve both Shae and Lydia? Were the men who’d shot at him earlier to blame? His heart sank as he thought of what they might do to Shae to hurt him. He wished he had a gun and a swift horse to give chase.
But he had neither, only Lydia, who lay unconscious beside him
. Her breathing and her pulse were strong, but if she’d hit her head, she might still be gravely injured. He had to get her to the infirmary immediately.
Carefully, he and the old man moved her to the gig
. She groaned once, but nothing roused her. Phillip used one arm to keep her propped upright.
“Tell the police, when they arrive, that a woman’s been abducted
. Her name is Shae Rowan. She’
s
she’s my fiancée.” He struggled with the newness of his declaration and with the thought of how quickly, how horribly his relationship with Shae might end. Could saving Lydia cost him the woman he knew that he loved? The Devil himself couldn’t devise a more painful quandary!
Phillip took up the reins with his free hand
. He gave the man his name and thanked him for his assistance. “I’ll be seeing my sister to St. Michael’s. If you could do me another kindness, I’d be greatly obliged.”
“Be glad to help you, Mister
. The name’s Duncan,” the old man offered.
“Could you send your son to my other sister, Justine
? Tell her what’s happened, and ask her to have my foreman, Frindly, meet me at the infirmary.” He gave the man his address on Lee Boulevard.
The man repeated the directions
. “Be sure to. Hope your sister and the other gal are all right.”
“Thank you, Mr. Duncan.” Phillip flipped the reins and urged the nearly spent old horse to do his best.
*
“Why don’t you let me have a look at that?” Dr. Hiram Tuttle reached toward Phillip’s shoulder.
Phillip pushed his hand away. “Not now. Please, tell me about my sister.”
Dr. Tuttle gestured toward chairs in the waiting area
. A tall man, his red hair was now silvered with its first few strands of white. Three years before, he had been Phillip’s mentor, and his friend.
Phillip shook his head
. He couldn’t sit down, couldn’t do anything but think about his siste
r
and Shae Rowan. He’d spoken with the police, who said an officer would soon “begin an investigation of the matter.” But what good would that do, Phillip wondered, if by then the complaint changed from kidnapping to murder?
He cursed himself for getting Shae involved with his troubles
. Someone was trying to kill him. What business did he have dragging her into this mess? Already, his sister lay unconscious because of his naïve foray into racial justice.
Tuttle laid a reassuring hand on Phillip’s arm
. “I’m certain that your sister will recover. She’s awakened, though she’s still quite groggy. There are no indications of debilitating trauma to either brain or body, though the left knee is quite swollen.”
“May I see her?”
“Of course. If you weren’t her brother, I should have been happy to have you assist earlier. I’ve told you before, many times, that medicine is what you’re made for. You were a fine doctor, Phillip. Has this incident convinced you I was right?”
“Thank you for seeing to Lydia so quickly.” That was all that he could offer now
. Hiram had no right to ask for more, and the last thing Phillip needed was another reminder of his failings.
He found the private room Tuttle had arranged for his sister and went inside
.
The instant Lydia looked at him, her eyes filled with tears
. She reached for him, and in an instant, Phillip met her embrace.
“Oh, Phillip!” Her voice sounded ragged in his ear
. “I was so frightened you were dea
d
like Father. I didn’t know what else to d
o
”
He released her, and his relief gave way to an unexpected flare of anger
.
“
So you had to scare me half to death by going off all on your own? Lydia, you could have been killed out there.”
“Don’t lecture me about risk-taking
. I understand you’ve been ignoring threats for quite some time.” Lydia’s thin brows drew toward an angry V.
“Frindly told you.”
“He was worried when he heard your horse was killed. He thought you might b
e
” Her gaze flicked to the bloodstain on his shirt, and her brown eyes widened. “What happened? Have you been shot?”
“Just cut
. I’m fine. And I’m sorry that I frightened you. How are you feeling now? You gave me quite a turn myself, to find you lying in the street.”
“My head feels like it’s been on the wrong end of one of those heathenish prizefights Father was so fond of
. Did the police catch those men yet?”
“Tell me about them,” Phillip whispered, praying silently she could offer some clue to lead him to Shae quickly.
Instead, she shook her head. “It was dark, but I could hear their voices. They were the same ones who went after you. White men with coarse talk. They were chasing me when something spooked the horse.”
Disappointed, Phillip kissed her on the forehead
. “Rest now, dear. I’m going to see to it they’re punished.”
“Wait
. I do remember something. After I fell, I heard some voices. There was a name, I think.”