Part 26 (1/2)
Diana shouted for all she was worth and did not stop until her throat was raw and her voice raspy.
Nothing! Frustration turned to anger. If she did not survive this ordeal, at the least she must find a way to implicate Lavinia in her death. Picking up the lantern, she studied the vaulted chamber. It was all but bare, since the Northcotes sealed up their deceased kinfolk. Lacking any other source of inspiration, Diana began to read inscriptions.
Abraham Northcote, Ben and Aaron's father, had died eight years earlier. To his right was a s.p.a.ce for Maggie. ”Magda Bathory Northcote, Beloved Wife of Abraham Northcote,” the bra.s.s plate said. It gave her birth date -- 1837 -- but left the s.p.a.ce for date of death blank.
To the left of Abraham Northcote was another bra.s.s plate. Diana leaned closer, expecting to find the name of a sister, or perhaps some member of the previous generation. Instead, like Maggie's inscription, the plaque said ”Beloved Wife of Abraham Northcote.”
Miriam Graham, Beloved Wife of Abraham Northcote, 1830-1856.
Ben's father had married twice. His first wife had died thirty-two years ago. Diana chewed thoughtfully on her lower lip, wondering how old Ben was. She'd never been any good at guessing ages.
Aaron, she mused, had inherited his mother's eyes.
Had Ben?
The lantern sputtered. Before it could go out, Diana lit a second one, glad she'd had the presence of mind to plan ahead. The conclusion she'd just drawn cheered her considerably but she still had no idea how to go about leaving a clue.
Underly's questioning went on for some time. He repeatedly claimed he was innocent of any wrongdoing. ”I was sound asleep in the parlor car the night Diana fell,” he insisted. ”And I never had any intention of seducing Lavinia Ross.”
Ben frowned. A sudden, clear memory surfaced -- Underly snoring as Ben was attempting to doze off. It must have been about the time Diana left the parlor car. Underly had an annoying, distinctive snore. The racket had continued, uninterrupted, right up until Jerusha noticed Diana in the s...o...b..nk and screamed for help.
Leaving Underly in custody -- it was still possible that he was the killer, and that Diana had fallen by accident -- Ben made his way to the Windsor Hotel. The night clerk knew him on sight and gave him no trouble about room numbers. He even provided a master key.
A few minutes later, Ben knocked politely at Lavinia Ross's door. The woman had lied about Underly being in the drawing-room car. He wanted to know why.
When he got no answer, Ben pounded on the wooden panels. There was no response from Lavinia but the noise brought Patsy, rubbing sleep out of her eyes, to the door of the adjacent room. Ben spared her only a glance before he let himself into Lavinia's room. ”Empty!”
”Try Toddy's,” Patsy suggested. But Lavinia was not there either. Nor was Nathan Todd.
Under overcast skies, Ben drove home at a fast clip, only to discover that Diana was also missing.
Diana had no idea how much time pa.s.sed while she waited, huddled on the landing in the crypt, trying in vain to contain her almost constant trembling. Did the moon still light the sky outside? Or was it day already? She fought tiredness, knowing that if she slept she'd have no warning at all when Lavinia returned for her.
She'd sacrificed her gown to leave a clue. Fumbling beneath the warm cloak, reluctant to remove it if she didn't have to, she'd torn at the frills of lace on her shoulders. They'd come off more easily than she'd expected. In a corner of the vault, out of easy sight of the door, she'd arranged bits of fabric on the flagstones to form Lavinia Ross's initials. As final messages went, it wasn't much, but she felt better for knowing Lavinia would not get away with her crimes.
Even though she'd been expecting it, the sudden sound of the door opening startled Diana. She scrambled awkwardly to her feet, hastily removing her cloak and bracing herself to throw it over Lavinia's head. She froze as the lantern she'd set on the floor caught the ominous glint of metal. Lavinia held an unsheathed blade in one hand and her gun in the other.
Diana risked a moment of exposure to toss the heavy fabric and rush out after it. She pushed Lavinia aside as she bolted through the door, shouting for help and praying someone would hear.
Lavinia let out an infuriated shriek. ”I'll kill you!” she shouted. One corner of the cloak slipped, allowing her to wrench a hand free. She dropped the knife as she lunged at Diana but she caught hold of the back of her skirt with enough force to throw them both off balance.
As she fell, Diana rolled towards the protective shelter of the trees and away from the lantern's beams. Murky clouds filled the sky and low-lying ground fog eddied around her. There was a chance she could hide herself.
Lavinia wrenched free of the cloak. She still had possession of the gun. Lifting it, she took aim.
Diana squeezed her eyes shut.
She opened them again at the sound of a grunt. A man had tackled Lavinia. Together they writhed in a tangle of limbs on the frozen ground, now visible, now concealed by the swirling mist.
”You'll not harm her!” Diana's rescuer declared.
”Ben?” The voice was m.u.f.fled and all she could see of him was dark hair and broad shoulders beneath a white s.h.i.+rt that reflected the lantern light ... and the gun caught between the combatants, primed and ready to fire.
Diana stumbled to her feet.
A single shot exploded, drowning out her cries for help. The man's heavier body carried the woman's to the ground and pinned it. Then both figures lay ominously still.
Feeling as if her heart had just been rent in two, Diana tried to run to them. Her legs refused to cooperate. She collapsed, tears veiling the terrible sight of a dark stain spreading across the white fabric of the s.h.i.+rt.
A cras.h.i.+ng sounded in the shrubbery. Suddenly the small clearing was filled with sound and confusion.
”Too late,” Diana moaned, covering her face with her hands. He was dead. Dead trying to save her.
”Diana? Are you hurt?” Strong arms seized her, hauling her unceremoniously into an embrace.
”Ben?” His dear face was close to her own. There was no mistake. ”I thought it was you -- ”
He followed the direction of her gaze and froze. His breath hitched. ”Aaron.”
Leaving Diana's side, Ben knelt next to his brother's motionless form. As he pulled Aaron off Lavinia, the actress tried to crawl away.
Aaron. Not Ben. Still numb with shock and horror, Diana watched two men wearing badges take Lavinia into custody. She did not go without a struggle. She was still shrieking curses when they dragged her away.
Ignoring the commotion, Ben gently lifted his brother and carried him towards the carriage house. ”He's alive,” he said as he pa.s.sed Diana. ”but just barely.”
Diana struggled to her feet, meaning to follow, but someone stepped in front of her, blocking the way. She blinked, at first unable to believe her eyes. The cigar clamped between his teeth bobbled as Horatio Foxe scowled at her.
”Been busy stirring up trouble again, I see.”
Less than an hour later, sitting across from Foxe in the breakfast room, Diana sipped coffee and attempted to sort out what he'd just told her. She only picked at the food on her plate, her appet.i.te dulled by her concern for Ben and his brother.
Foxe, who had no trouble putting away a hearty breakfast, had arrived on the 5:30 AM train from the west. By that time, Ben had returned home, gone to Diana's room, and discovered she was missing. Meanwhile, Charles Underly had been released for lack of evidence.
”Where did Underly go when they set him free?” Diana asked, remembering Lavinia's plan to convince him to flee.
”He'd just turned up in the lobby of the Windsor when Dr. Northcote returned there after finding you gone. It seems Underly thought better of following advice from the very person whose accusations had made him seem guilty.”
”Where was Toddy? Didn't he notice Lavinia's wanderings?”
”Gone back to Miss Fildale. Dr. Northcote rousted them out of her hotel room and called in the local constabulary. He recruited every able-bodied man he could find to search for you.” Foxe dragged on his cigar and rubbed his hands in glee. ”What a story! What a scandal! You'll have to write it up from your own perspective, but I was here at the end. I can add my bit.”
”Why did you come?” Diana asked, sipping more coffee. It didn't seem to help. Her mind remained wrapped in fuzz and she still felt half frozen.
She glanced up in time to see Horatio Foxe turn an interesting shade of red. ”Well, er ... confound it, Diana! What would I tell m'sister, eh, if anything happened to you?”
They sat in silence for a few minutes before another question occurred to Diana. ”How did Ben guess I'd be in the crypt?”
”It was that young actor, Billy Sims. He told Northcote how Lavinia Ross had gone on and on about Mrs. Northcote's story of locking you in that place once before. Northcote's got good instincts. Guessed right away that Lavinia might stash you there. Then, of course, the minute we set foot on the property we heard you screaming.”
Her heart went cold at the thought of how close Ben had come to being the first man on the scene. Then she immediately felt guilty. Aaron had been horribly wounded saving her. For all Diana knew, he was even now at death's door. Ben hadn't let anyone into the carriage house but Maggie and neither of them had come out again.