Dr. Broadbent turns, surprise and confusion knitting his features ... Kate ceases playing the piano, her voice falling away as her head swivels toward me, eyes wide.
“Arabella. She’s ... it’s the killer. In the park. Come quickly!”
Realization dawns over Dr. Broadbent’s face. “My god,” he says, setting aside his drink. “Send a footman for a carriage, Mrs. McClintock. Hurry.”
As Dr. Broadbent rushes from the house and the remaining guests stream out onto the promenade, Kate appears at my side. Her fingers grip my arm like a vise. “What in heaven’s name are you doing here? We have to leave, Lil. Now.”
“But Arabella . . .”
“You little fool! They think it’s you, remember? The killer. You broke character. I don’t know whether anyone noticed but me, but you were decidedlynotMary Jones from Lanarkshire when you burst in here.”
I should worry. I should be afraid. But as Kate steers me out of the drawing room, hastily thanking Barbara Kincaid as we leave, all I can think about is poor, frightened Arabella, dying alone in the dark.
Confirmation of Arabella’s death comes to us two days later. The headlines blaze with gruesome proclamations. I can’t bring myself to read the details. I’ll never excise Arabella’s pleading look from my memory. Her fear. The horrific sight of that monster crouching over her. Though Kate is still angry at me for following her to the Kincaids’ party, she does her best to comfort me, but guilt chases me all the same. I should have tried harder to save Arabella. And why was she in the gardens alone without an escort? Who was that man ... or was he a man at all?
Later that afternoon, Ruby arrives, though I hardly have the wherewithal to teach her. I haven’t slept more than an hour since the Kincaid party, the shock of witnessing Arabella’s murder still fresh in my mind. Kate, dressed in her typical trousers, ushers Ruby into the parlor, falling seamlessly into her Alexander Mayhew persona. It still astounds me, how easily she does it. She accepts the brace of shining drum Rubyoffers and bids her to sit. “I’m afraid Miss Mary is indisposed today, Ruby. Perhaps after a few days, your lessons might resume.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” Ruby perches on the edge of a damask-covered chair, shyly folding her hands in her lap. I pour her tea, my hands shaking with tiredness, and she accepts it with a smile. “But I can’t keep up my lessons anyway. I came to tell you all it might be a while before I see you again,” she says. “The whole city’s in an uproar, and it’s spreading here. There are search parties out, looking for that killer, so Daddy says we’ll need to lay low, until this is over. The Gullah warned us to move deeper into the swamp with the other maroons. Look out for ourselves.”
“That’s certainly understandable,” I say.
“Daddy has a friend in town, a free man, who brings us provisions sometimes. He says he’s never seen anything like it. People hiding in their big houses, businesses closing early. We’re afraid, too. Not so much of the killer, but of what it’ll mean for us colored folk.”
With the murderer still on the loose and Arabella’s death, paranoia and suspicion have surely risen to a fervor. No one took much notice of Sally’s murder. But now that the killer is targeting wealthy, white debutantes, panic is spreading. Charleston’s elite care only when something affects their own.
“What have you heard, Ruby? About the killer?” Kate asks, leaning forward in her chair.
“Well, Daddy’s friend said theyweresaying it was a colored man. But they always blame our kind first. Now they’re saying it’s a woman, that she’s some kind of ... creature.” Ruby’s eyes flash to mine. “I don’t know much more than that, or what to believe.”
Out here in the marshes, Ruby must not have seen the papers. Must not have seen my image, plastered on wanted notices throughout town. And though her reading skills are improving with my tutelage, she wouldn’t have been able to read a full newspaper article even if she encountered one. “None of that is true,” I say, bristling. “It was a man. A white man. I saw him attacking Arabella.”
Ruby’s eyes widen.
“I couldn’t identify him—it was much too dark—but I’d swear it on my life.”
Kate clears her throat. “I’ll go across the river tonight. See what I can find out.”
“I’ll come with you,” I say.
“No, Mary,” Kate says, her voice firm. “I’ll go alone. It’s too dangerous for a woman to be out after dark.” I rankle at this, but do my best not to let it show. I dislike how patriarchal Kate becomes as Alex. “I’ve a friend with connections to the City Guard. I’ll find out what he has to say.”
Ruby looks from me to Kate. “I’d better go. Daddy’s waiting for me outside. We’ll bring you more fish later this week, though, before we leave.”
“Understood,” Kate says. “If there’s anything we can do to help, Ruby ...”
Ruby nods and rises, smoothing her calico skirts. “Thank you, Mr. Mayhew. Miss Mary.”
I walk her to the door, and before she goes, I press her hand in mine. “Thankyoufor everything you’ve done for me, Ruby. You saved my life, you know. Make sure you practice what I taught you. Someday soon, I hope we’ll read more ofSleepy Hollow.”
“I’d sure like that.” She smiles and ducks her head, squeezes my hand, and then she’s gone, disappearing into the marsh’s wild, unkept beauty.
That night, Kate leaves me alone again at Angel’s Rest. She’s dressed as Alex this time, handsome in a cutaway coat and high-waisted breeches, a crimson silk cravat knotted at her neck. As she prepares to leave, my anxieties gather. I’m frightened to be left alone, but I’m also worried about what might happen to Kate, in the city with a murderer stillat large. I think of that horrid figure, bending over Arabella. Her helpless cries.
And there’s still a part of me, a shameful part, that wonders whether she’s going to meet Barbara for some clandestine tryst. When Kate confronted me about why I followed her to the Kincaid party, I was too ashamed to admit my jealousy. I didn’t confess to finding the photograph or the letters from her father. Instead, I apologized profusely and weathered Kate’s scolding with contrition.
Now, as if sensing my worries, Kate brushes the back of her hand against my cheek. “Please don’t do anything foolish tonight, darling. Don’t follow me again. If anything were to happen to you ... well, I can’t think like that, can I?” She trails her hand down my neck, sending a tremor of longing through me. “I trust you, Lillian. Don’t do anything to make me regret that trust.” She gives me a rakish smile. “Now, be a good girl and stay put. I’ve stoked the fire in my room. It’s going to be a chilly night. I’d better find you in my bed when I return.”
I nearly swoon at the innuendo in her tone. A flush crawls up my neck, setting my ears afire. When she looks at me the way she’s looking at me now, my mind goes soft as pluff mud.
