“Well, mum, I s’pose he’s goin’ to be questionin’ the lot o’ us an’ then yer Mr. Wingate an’ his crew. Mary an’ the coachman were sweet on each other, so Henry might be the one to really catch it. He seems like such a nice man, though.”
Lenore’s knees turned to jelly as invading impressions sought to push their horror upon her. The vision of the man being beaten by a poker was now familiar to her, but in a momentary glimpse she saw the darkly cloaked form of the murderer begin to whirl upon her with the iron still clasped in his hand. A cold sweat made her skin clammy as the illusion faded, but it was a full moment before she could clear her mind of the haunting fear and return her thoughts to the present moment. She took several deep breaths to slow her racing heart and made a belated observation: “The murderer doesn’t have to be any of the men around here, Meghan. If Mary was working in Biloxi before she came here, she could have attracted someone from town.”
Meghan wiped at the wetness on her cheeks. “Mary didn’t know too much about this area, mum, so if she was here before the master hired her, it wasn’t for very long. Seems like she was born around Natchez or one of the neighboring towns there.”
“Natchez?” Lenore’s attention perked up. “That’s where Mr. Wingate is from. Perhaps he might have known her.”
“Ye can bet the sheriff will be askin’ him that, mum, an’ I s’pose we’ll just have to wait to see what he finds out.” The maid gave a nod toward the men who were now approaching the house. “They’re comin’ to begin their inquiries.”
Suddenly reminded of her dishabille, Lenore drew the collar of her dressing gown close about her neck. “I’d better make myself presentable.”
“I’ll fetch some water for ye,” Meghan said with a wavering sigh. “It’ll do me good to be about me duties an’ get me mind off Mary.”
A half hour’s progress in the toilette saw Lenore gowned in a pale blue gown and the maid smoothing the auburn tresses into a sedate chignon. Lenore had been expecting Malcolm to bring her news of the girl’s demise, and she was not surprised when a light rapping sounded on her door. Admitted by the maid, he strolled across the room to the dressing table and casually leaned a shoulder against the wall where he reflected on the beauty of the one who sat before the silvered glass. She seemed cool and serene, like the snow queen he had come to think of her as. There were times when he was tempted to break through that thin barrier of ice and have his will with her, but the uncertainty of how she would react made him subdue those lustful urgings. One day in the near future he fully expected to reap the rewards of his caution and patience.
“I guess Meghan has told you about Mary.” He posed the statement with a brow raised in question and waited for the affirmative nod before he continued. “The incident has us all in shock. First, it was your kidnapping and now this has happened. I don’t really think the two are related, but for the sake of caution, it would be best if you didn’t venture out alone. Especially while that steamer is out there.”
“Malcolm…” Lenore braced her hands on the edge of the dressing table as she prepared herself for delivering the truth. “I know you’re going to be angry, but I went out to the River Witch during the night….”
“You what!” Malcolm barked, startling Meghan, who dropped the brush. “You went out there behind my back! To that debaucher! To your sister’s murderer! You gave yourself to him, when there’s no telling what he might have done to Mary?”
Lenore came to her feet with green sparks of rage flashing in her eyes. Before she released the full tide of her anger, she glanced toward Meghan, who was wringing her hands in consternation and gestured her from the room. “Leave us, Meghan. I have something to discuss with”-she formed the words with reluctance-“my husband.”
Meghan hesitated out of concern for her mistress, but the slender hand waved again, giving her no choice in the matter. Stepping from the room, the maid closed the door behind her, and though she was not one to eavesdrop, she stayed near, just in case there should be a need. Though she had never married, she knew how men could be about their wives, especially with one so beautiful, and Meghan was fearful that the clash between the two would prove harmful to the lady.
“How dare you say those things to me in front of a servant!” Lenore stormed. “For your information I did not give myself to Ashton. I only went out there to ask him to leave.” Hot and seething, she turned and flounced across the room as she poured out her fury. “Since I have been in this house, I have heard his name defamed at every turn, and neither you nor my father knows anything about him.”
“Ah, but you do,” Malcolm flung back at her, equally incensed. He had no idea what there was about the other man that so intrigued her, but she had loved him once. He was sure of it, or she would never have married him. “You rebuke us, but all the while you’re wanting him. Tell me it isn’t so!”
Lenore bit back the retort that would have confirmed his accusation. She wanted to admit her love, but she also knew the folly of doing so. “I came to respect Ashton while I was at Belle Chêne….”
Malcolm slammed his fist down on the dressing table as he shouted, “I say it’s more than respect you feel!”
Her chin lifted in a lofty manner. “I resent the fact that you’re trying to put words in my mouth, words that I have no intention of saying,” she declared. “Since the accident with Ashton’s carriage, my memory has been closed up in a dark box within my head, and I have no way to open it. I remembered nothing about you, but Ashton was kind to me, and while I was at Belle Chêne, I truly believed I was his wife. It seemed natural….”
“But it’s not natural for you to think of me as your husband,” he interjected accusingly. “Isn’t that what you’re trying to say?”
“You keep jumping ahead of me and reconstructing my statements without hearing me out,” she protested. “I wasn’t going to say that at all.”
“You’ve said it before,” he retorted. “Maybe not in the same exact way, but the words all mean the same.”
Lenore closed her eyes and rubbed her temples where a dull ache had begun to throb. Her tension was mounting, and confusing visions began to assail her. Through a long, dark tunnel she saw Ashton leaning against the railing of his steamer, and then gnarled hands stretching forth to seize her and snatching her by her long hair. Laughing faces pressed down upon her, while thick fingers tore at her clothing. She could almost taste the threat of rape, and in her mind she screamed. Then, quite clearly, she saw Malcolm above her, tossing the men aside. Almost gently he reached down to lift her in his arms.
A light frown touched her brow as she peered at him in bewilderment. Was it a memory of him she had glimpsed, or something she had conjured in her imagination? He had never spoken of a time when he had rescued her.
“Listen to me, Lenore. Hear me out,” he demanded. “Whether you remember me or not, I’m still your husband, and I will not tolerate you sneaking out to see that man again!”
“With all your threats of killing, what was I to do?” she cried. “Stay in my room and watch you murder him? Never!”
“Lower your voice,” Malcolm cautioned curtly. “The sheriff is still in the house, and you might give him ideas.”
“Good!” She was becoming reckless, but she was too fired up to care. Her eyes glittered with ill-suppressed ire as they met his challenging glower. “Perhaps he’ll decide to lend Ashton some protection after hearing how you’ve threatened him.”
“Shush, woman. We’ll talk about this later.” He cut the conversation short with an angry slash of his hand.