“You do?”
“Of course—a woman killing the man who betrayed her like that?” she said. “There isn’t a woman in southeastern New Brunswick who hadn’t heard of that case. And half of them probably sympathized with her.”
“She didn’t do it,” Beau said. “But it happened so long ago, and it’s this Taylor’s word against hers.”
“I’ll talk to Sandra Tisdale. She’s Nelson’s cousin, and part of my ladies’ club,” she said. “She’s told me some absolutely horrible stories about that man. She might know something.”
It turned out that Mrs. Tisdale knew quite a bit about her cousin’s character and antics, and thanks to Dominic’s incredible detective work and Jessica’s connections, they’d uncovered enough evidence to cast a more than reasonable shadow of a doubt on Taylor’s story. Enough to send word to Miller that the story Nelson Taylor was telling might end up getting the Chronicle sued for libel. Dominic turned the evidence over to a detective he trusted on the Saint John police force, who was quite keen to learn that the last person to see Malcolm Ferguson alive was the same person accusing Madeline of the crime—Nelson Taylor.
Before he and Dominic boarded the train back to Halifax, he sent a second telegram to Aunt Veronica, and a third to Miss Everwell.
By the time the train had pulled into the station in Halifax the next day, it was mid-morning. Both he and Dominic had had a restless night of travel. Dominic was fuelled not only by solving two mysteries which would only boost his business prospects for even more higher profile cases, but by the desire to be reunited with his wife. It was the longest they’d been parted since he’d moved to Halifax from Boston two years ago, and one might have thought he’d been away for a year, rather than weeks. When they disembarked, she was indeed waiting on the platform, clad in a lovely blue dress and waving her hand to catch his attention. Beau had hoped to see Madeline there with her, which was ridiculous, of course. The disappointment at her absence created a hollow sensation in his gut. The only other person present was a gentleman he’d never met, in a brown tweed sack suit. He doffed his brown derby to Dominic, then went to fetch the luggage.
Dominic walked ahead, and Beau watched as Mrs. Ashe quite literally threw herself into her husband’s waiting arms. It was a charming display of affection, and the two didn’t seem particularly bothered by the stares of onlookers. Beau was tempted to look away and give the two a moment of privacy, when Dominic looked over his shoulder and waved him over.
“Mrs. Ashe,” Beau said, putting his hand to his hat in salutation. “I apologize for monopolizing your husband’s time.”
“For a good purpose, I hope,” she said.
Beau smiled. “I hope.”
Mrs. Ashe whispered something in her husband’s ear, and after a quick exchange and peck on the cheek, he went off to gather their luggage. Mrs. Ashe led him past the busy crowds to where the carriage was waiting.
“I just want to say, on behalf of all of us at Everwell who love her, that we appreciate what you are trying to do for Maddy.” She looked up at him, her manner soft, as if she knew she was treading on tender ground. “Everything.”
“I think very highly of her,” he said. “She bewitched me the moment I first met her.”
She looked him over, as if appraising his worth. He didn’t squirm. This was the one test he didn’t want to fail.
A sparkling black coach was waiting for them, where two porters had assisted the driver in loading their trunks. The driver nodded respectfully to the gentlemen.
“Good to see you back, Mr. Ashe, sir,” he said.
“Good to see you, Harold. I’ll have to thank Jeremy for the first-class transportation” he said, shaking the man’s hand before turning to Beau. “Beau da Silva, this is Harold Babcock, a friend of Everwell. He’ll be taking us there directly.”
“Your aunt is already enroute, Mr. da Silva,” he said, giving Beau a quick nod. “We shall meet everyone there.”
“Let’s go then,” he said, his fatigue leaving him. He had one last chance. One more idea. One more try at giving Madeline the dream she deserved. Maybe he wouldn’t be a part of it, and that would hurt like hell. But he couldn’t give up on her. Not yet.
They climbed inside the cab and made for Everwell.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Maddy stood at the window, Gemma and Rimple on either side of her. Lady Em and Tilda were having tea with Veronica Turnbull, who had arrived a few moments earlier. Phillipa had arranged for Dominic’s sister-in-law, Claire, who normally worked in his office, to take the students down to the Arm for a picnic and a swim, leaving the spinsters to the business at hand.
A telegram had arrived earlier that morning for Lady Em, and she wasted no time in sharing the good news, confirmed by Veronica Turnbull, that Nelson Taylor’s threats were exactly they belonged. In the past.
Rimple crossed her arms as she saw Jeremy’s carriage coming up the front park. “I can’t wait to take Dominic’s evidence and shove it straight up Mr. Miller’s?—"
“Language, Rimple,” Maddy said.
“I wasn’t going to say anything vulgar,” Rimple protested. “I know all the anatomically correct words.”
“They’re here,” Gemma said. “Come, let’s go join them.”
Maddy turned away as Dominic, then Elouise, beaming with the return of her husband, got out of the carriage. Something twisted in her chest then. It might have been envy. It might have been anger.
But she understood it was simply grief. Grief for something she might have had.
