Once the coroner had given his verdict of murder, set a trial date and banged his gavel, the hall exploded in noisy debate as everyone filedoutside.
Nathaniel escorted Laura to the waiting carriage. “I have to speak to the constable. If you don’t want to wait, I’ll send the carriage home.”
“Of course I’ll wait. I’d like to come with you.”
“Perhaps you should hear this.” He took her arm and walked toward the policestation.
She smiled, pleased to see the strain gone from his face. “Do you think this will be the end of it?”
“Lord, I hope so.”
She listened as Nathaniel discussed the findings with the constable. Mallory had been involved in the first smuggling operation up to his neck. He’d signed his death warrant when he came back to Wolfram and tried to muscle his way into this one. And he’d intended to blackmail Nathaniel, spread it about that Amanda’s baby was his. He’d boasted about it when drunk in the tavern two days before hisdeath.
“By then no one believed Mallory’s lies,” the constable said. “Roe at The Sail and Anchor threatened to beat Mallory to a pulp if he said another word about it. Threw him out on his ear.”
Laura was shocked into silence. She placed a protective hand on her stomach. The constable was right: Mallory had been revealed for the scoundrel he was. His word meant nothing. But what did Nathanielbelieve?
Laura glanced up at him as they walked back to the carriage, his big hand clasping hers. Surely now they could get on with their lives. The thought warmed her. The nausea she had suffered a month ago was gone, and she felt amazingly well. Once the doctor confirmed her pregnancy, she could confidently tell Nathaniel her news. A baby would bring them closer and help to banish the sadness that had clung to Wolfram like a dark cloud. But even as she thought it, a shiver raced down her spine. Would they ever know how and why Amanda died?
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Something woke Laura. Finding Nathaniel gone from the bed, she propped herself up on her elbows. The last few days, he’d remained with her until morning. Moonlight swept through the gap in the curtains and cast a silvery glow into the far corner of the room. She watched, transfixed, as the light appeared to take shape. Did she imagine the force that seemed to gather in the room? Strange that she wasn’tafraid.
“What do you want?” The shape shifted and formed the vague outline of a woman. “Is it you, Amanda?” Laurawhispered.
Silence.
Laura gripped the bedcover, unable to move, fighting to penetrate the gloom. A breeze stirred the curtains, and the ray of moonlight shifted. This was ridiculous. She found the matches, and with trembling fingers, lit a candle. The bedroom looked the same as it always did. Her imagination was getting the better of her. She raised the candle to check the time on the mantel clock. It was almost two. Nathaniel had no reason to search the grounds now that the smugglers were gone. Where was he? Surely he hadn’t returned to his cold, lonely bed in the chamber next door. Was he working in his study? Really, he needed hissleep.
Perhaps he was just restless and didn’t wish to disturb her. She had to believe he would welcome her company. She slipped from her bed and donned her dressing gown and slippers. The open panel revealed an empty room, the bed smoothlymade.
Disheartened, she stepped out into the hall. A light flickered beneath Amanda’s bedroom door. Laura almost gasped aloud. So, he was there. The muscles of her legs seemed rigid as she forced herself to walk to the door, determined to confront him. Her fear of facing his obsession with his first wife almost choked her. Rudge had had Amanda’s bedchamber emptied of all possessions; what drew Nathaniel to the room? Did Amanda still have hisheart?
Gearing herself up for an awful scene, Laura slowly opened thedoor.
Apart from the furniture, the room was bare of its showy paraphernalia. A candle stub burned low on the mantel, its feeble glow a small circle of light. A man in dark clothes bent over in the shadows, his back to her. She heard a strangledsob.
Was it Nathaniel? Distressed, Laura slammed the door shut, and with quick steps, somehow made it back to her room. She collapsed on the bed in tears. As she wiped her eyes, she thought about what she’d seen. His sobs seemed wrong. Had she jumped to a hasty conclusion? She ignored the urging of her rational mind to remain in bed until morning and snatched up a candle, determined to face whoever was in thatroom.
This time, when she turned the doorknob with trembling fingers, only the acrid tang and trail of smoke from the extinguished candle wafted about the empty space. She retreated to the corridor where the huge tapestry stirred in a cold draft and rubbed at the goosebumps on her arms. He must have heard her shut Amanda’s door. She peeked into Nathaniel’s bedchamber to make sure he hadn’t returned.Empty.
Her fierce need for the truth roiled in her stomach, washing away any sense of fear. She gave up an attempt at stealth. After opening all the doors along the corridor to empty rooms, she descended the staircase. Through the long window, moonlight threw shifting shadows over the great hall below. The massive fluted stone columns were wide enough to hide a man. Laura feared an intruder would reach out and grab her as she hurried past. It was irrational. No one could break into Wolfram at night; Nathaniel had assured her everything was always locked up. Her throat turned ash-dry, which no amount of swallowing could moisten. It was deathly still and cold as she hurried along thecorridor.
Nathaniel’s study was empty. On closer inspection, the whole floor lay in darkness and was silent as a tomb. Only the whoosh of the waves beating endlessly against the seawall and the screech of a barn owl broke thesilence.
Her candle sputtering, Laura continued down to the kitchen, praying to find Nathaniel enjoying a second helping of Mrs. Madge’s apricot tart. But that room too was empty, the stove unlit. Gleaming copper pots and pans hung from their hooks above the scrubbed table. A lingering smell of lemon oil and coal mixed with something sweet and freshly baked filled the air. The scullery and the servants’ hall beyond were so dark as to seem impenetrable.
Laura’s knees threatened to fail her as she faced the fact that Nathaniel was not in the house. Her mind skittered, failing to find a viable reason. There was no squall, no lightning nor thunder to draw him outside. And nosmugglers.
She was about to return to the main floor when a creak made her pause. A cool draft caressed her cheek like a ghostly hand. She knew from whence it came: the cellar stairs. Would Nathaniel be down there? Aware of the precious life she believed she carried, Laura negotiated the stone steps with care, passing the entrance to the wine cellar. The chill breeze grew stronger, encircling her. She shivered and clutched the banister with stiff, coldfingers.
Trying to control her noisy breath, she continued down past shadowy doorways, which led into the cavernous storerooms that had once been part of the vaulted cloisters of the abbey. The stone ceiling pressed down, and a drip of water echoed like the steady beat of a drum. Her candle fluttered alarmingly in the damp current of air. Why hadn’t she stopped to light a lantern? Gripping the rail, she prayed her candle would stay alight. She couldn’t face the thought of climbing back up in thedark.
At the bottom, the outer door stood open, framing an expanse of clear, star-studded sky. Laura hurried forward and emerged into the stiff sea breeze. She was a few steps from the water’s edge, where the moon danced over the water. To the right of her, tall shrubs formed alarming shapes, blacker than the sky. The sloop rocked gently at the wharf. Nathaniel was not out on the water. How foolish to think he wouldbe.
Laura’s skin crawled and the hair on the back of her neck shivered. She should not have come! As she retreated to the doorway, a dark figure exploded out of the bushes and ran at her. Laura had no time to evade the forceful shove, strengthened by the momentum of their mad dash. Hands struck at her, punching her in the chest. Losing her breath, she careened backwards. The candle sailed off into the darkness as she fought to gain her balance. Her heels hit the seawall and over she went, arms flailing. The icy water sucked her under, her body rigid with shock. In her heart-stopping panic, she sank into the dark depths of thesea.
She had never learned to swim. Now for her baby’s sake, she fought to live. Using her bare feet, her slippers gone, she kicked her way to the surface and burst into the air with a cry, swallowing salt water. With a desperate cough, she spat out briny water and took quick breaths to fill her lungs before she sank again. When her thrashing arms and feet brought her up once more, she gasped as she bobbed around. She cried out, but her voice was lost in the ocean’s roar.
