Almost Heaven
Page 129
- Background:
- Text Font:
- Text Size:
- Line Height:
- Line Break Height:
- Frame:
MARQUESS OF KENSINGTON CHARGED WITH
MURDERS OF WIFE AND BROTHER-IN-LAW.
HOUSE OF LORDS CONVENED TO HEAR TESTIMONY. CONVICTIONS EXPECTED FOR BOTH MURDERS.
A scream of hysteria and denial rose in her throat; she leapt to her feet, her gaze glued to the paper clutched in her fists. "No," she said, shaking her head in wild disbelief. "No," she said to the room. "No!" She read words, thousands of words, macabre words, grotesque lies, vicious innuendos-they swung past her gaze and made her senses reel. Then she read them again, because she couldn't comprehend them. It took three readings before Elizabeth could actually start to think, and even then she was panting like a cornered animal. In the next five minutes Elizabeth's emotions veered from hysterical panic to shaking rationality. With nervous swiftness she was weighing alternatives and trying to begin making choices. No matter what Ian had done to Robert, he had not murdered him, and he had not murdered her. According to the newspaper, evidence had been presented that Robert had twice tried to kill Ian, but at that moment none of that was truly registering on Elizabeth. All she knew was that the paper said the trial was to begin on the eighteenth-three days ago, and that there was every chance Ian would hang, and that the fastest way to London was by boat for the first leg of the journey, not by land.
Elizabeth dropped the paper, ran from her room, and dashed into the little parlor. "Mr. and Mrs. Hogan," she burst out, trying to remember they already thought she was a little unbalanced, "there is news in the paper-dire news that concerns me. I have to get back to London the quickest possible way."
"Now calm down, missus," Mr. Hogan said with gentle firmness. "You know you shouldn't have read that paper. Just like yer husband said, it got ye all upset."
"My husband is on trial for murder," Elizabeth argued desperately.
"Yer husband is down at the port, seein' ?bout a ship to take ye off explorin' the world."
"No, that is my brother." "He were yer husband this afternoon," Mr. Hogan reminded her.
"He was never my husband, he was always my brother," Elizabeth insisted. "My husband-my real husband is on trial for murdering me."
"Missus," he said gently, "you ain't dead." "Oh, my God!" Elizabeth said in a low, explosive voice as she raked her hair off her forehead, trying to think what to do, how to convince them to have Mr. Hogan take her down the coast. She turned to Mrs. Hogan, who was watching her intently while mending her little boy's shirt. "Mrs. Hogan?" Crouching down, she took the woman's busy hands in her own, making her look at her, and in a voice that was almost calm and very imploring, Elizabeth began to plead her own case. "Mrs. Hogan, I am not a madwoman, I am not demented, but I am in trouble, and I need to explain it to you. Have you not noticed that I haven't been happy here?"
"Yes, we have noticed, my dear." "Have you read the papers about Lady Thornton?" "Every word, though I'm a slow reader and I don't understand any of that legal gobbledygook."
"Mrs. Hogan, I am Lady Thornton. No-don't look at your husband, look at me. Look at my face. I am worried and frightened, but do I really look demented to you?"
"I-I don't know." "In all the time I've been here, have I ever done or said anything that would have made you think I was crazed? Or would you say I've merely seemed very unhappy and a little frightened?"
"I would not say you"-she hesitated, and in those moments there was an understanding, a communication that sometimes occurs when women reach out to one another for help-"I do not think you are crazed."
"Thank you," Elizabeth said feelingly, giving her hands a tight squeeze of gratitude as she continued speaking, half to herself. "Now that we've gotten this far, I need to find a way to prove to you who I am-who Robert and I are. In the paper," Elizabeth began, groping her way through the mire of explanations, mentally searching for the quickest, the easiest proof, and then any proof. "In the paper," she began hesitantly, "it said the Marquess of Kensington is believed to have killed his wife, Lady Elizabeth Thornton, and her brother, Robert Cameron, do you remember?"
Mrs. Hogan nodded. "But the names are commonplace," she protested. ,
"No, don't start thinking yet," Elizabeth said a little wildly. "I'll think of more proof in a minute. Wait, I have it Come with me!" She nearly dragged the poor woman out of her chair and into the tiny bed chamber with the two narrow cots that she and Robert slept in. With Mr. Hogan standing in the doorway to watch, Elizabeth reached beneath her pillow and pulled out her reticule, jerking it open. "Look how much money I have with me. It's a great deal more than ordinary people such as Robert and I-such as you think Robert and I are-would have, isn't it?"
"I don't rightly know." "No, of course you don't," Elizabeth said, realizing she was losing Mrs. Hogan's confidence. "Wait. I have it!" Elizabeth ran to the bed and pointed to the paper. "Read what it says they believe I was wearing when I left." "I don't need to read it. They said it was green-green trimmed in black. Or they thought maybe it could be a brown skirt with a cream jacket-" "Or," Elizabeth finished triumphantly as she opened the two valises that held what few articles of clothing she'd taken. "they thought it could be a gray traveling costume, didn't they?" Mrs. Hogan nodded, and Elizabeth dragged all the clothes out of the valises and dumped them on the bed in triumph. She knew from the woman's face that she believed Elizabeth. and that she would be able to make her husband believe her as well. Swinging around, Elizabeth began campaigning against a harassed Mr. Hogan. "I need to get back to London at once, and it would be much faster by boat. "
"There's a ship due in next week what goes ter-" "Mr. Hogan, I cannot wait. The trial began three days ago. For all I know, they've convicted my husband of murdering me, and they're planning to hang him."
"But," he cried irritably, "you ain't dead!" "Exactly. Which is why I have to go there and prove it to them. And I can't wait for ships to come into port. I will give you anything you ask if you'll take me to Tilbery in your boat. From there the roads are good, and I can hire a coach for the rest of the journey."
"I don't know, missus. I'd like ter help, but the fishin' has been goodes' now, an' . . ." He saw her look of fierce alarm and glanced helplessly at his wife, lifting his hands in a shrug. Mrs. Hogan hesitated, then she nodded. "You will take her, John."
MURDERS OF WIFE AND BROTHER-IN-LAW.
HOUSE OF LORDS CONVENED TO HEAR TESTIMONY. CONVICTIONS EXPECTED FOR BOTH MURDERS.
A scream of hysteria and denial rose in her throat; she leapt to her feet, her gaze glued to the paper clutched in her fists. "No," she said, shaking her head in wild disbelief. "No," she said to the room. "No!" She read words, thousands of words, macabre words, grotesque lies, vicious innuendos-they swung past her gaze and made her senses reel. Then she read them again, because she couldn't comprehend them. It took three readings before Elizabeth could actually start to think, and even then she was panting like a cornered animal. In the next five minutes Elizabeth's emotions veered from hysterical panic to shaking rationality. With nervous swiftness she was weighing alternatives and trying to begin making choices. No matter what Ian had done to Robert, he had not murdered him, and he had not murdered her. According to the newspaper, evidence had been presented that Robert had twice tried to kill Ian, but at that moment none of that was truly registering on Elizabeth. All she knew was that the paper said the trial was to begin on the eighteenth-three days ago, and that there was every chance Ian would hang, and that the fastest way to London was by boat for the first leg of the journey, not by land.
Elizabeth dropped the paper, ran from her room, and dashed into the little parlor. "Mr. and Mrs. Hogan," she burst out, trying to remember they already thought she was a little unbalanced, "there is news in the paper-dire news that concerns me. I have to get back to London the quickest possible way."
"Now calm down, missus," Mr. Hogan said with gentle firmness. "You know you shouldn't have read that paper. Just like yer husband said, it got ye all upset."
"My husband is on trial for murder," Elizabeth argued desperately.
"Yer husband is down at the port, seein' ?bout a ship to take ye off explorin' the world."
"No, that is my brother." "He were yer husband this afternoon," Mr. Hogan reminded her.
"He was never my husband, he was always my brother," Elizabeth insisted. "My husband-my real husband is on trial for murdering me."
"Missus," he said gently, "you ain't dead." "Oh, my God!" Elizabeth said in a low, explosive voice as she raked her hair off her forehead, trying to think what to do, how to convince them to have Mr. Hogan take her down the coast. She turned to Mrs. Hogan, who was watching her intently while mending her little boy's shirt. "Mrs. Hogan?" Crouching down, she took the woman's busy hands in her own, making her look at her, and in a voice that was almost calm and very imploring, Elizabeth began to plead her own case. "Mrs. Hogan, I am not a madwoman, I am not demented, but I am in trouble, and I need to explain it to you. Have you not noticed that I haven't been happy here?"
"Yes, we have noticed, my dear." "Have you read the papers about Lady Thornton?" "Every word, though I'm a slow reader and I don't understand any of that legal gobbledygook."
"Mrs. Hogan, I am Lady Thornton. No-don't look at your husband, look at me. Look at my face. I am worried and frightened, but do I really look demented to you?"
"I-I don't know." "In all the time I've been here, have I ever done or said anything that would have made you think I was crazed? Or would you say I've merely seemed very unhappy and a little frightened?"
"I would not say you"-she hesitated, and in those moments there was an understanding, a communication that sometimes occurs when women reach out to one another for help-"I do not think you are crazed."
"Thank you," Elizabeth said feelingly, giving her hands a tight squeeze of gratitude as she continued speaking, half to herself. "Now that we've gotten this far, I need to find a way to prove to you who I am-who Robert and I are. In the paper," Elizabeth began, groping her way through the mire of explanations, mentally searching for the quickest, the easiest proof, and then any proof. "In the paper," she began hesitantly, "it said the Marquess of Kensington is believed to have killed his wife, Lady Elizabeth Thornton, and her brother, Robert Cameron, do you remember?"
Mrs. Hogan nodded. "But the names are commonplace," she protested. ,
"No, don't start thinking yet," Elizabeth said a little wildly. "I'll think of more proof in a minute. Wait, I have it Come with me!" She nearly dragged the poor woman out of her chair and into the tiny bed chamber with the two narrow cots that she and Robert slept in. With Mr. Hogan standing in the doorway to watch, Elizabeth reached beneath her pillow and pulled out her reticule, jerking it open. "Look how much money I have with me. It's a great deal more than ordinary people such as Robert and I-such as you think Robert and I are-would have, isn't it?"
"I don't rightly know." "No, of course you don't," Elizabeth said, realizing she was losing Mrs. Hogan's confidence. "Wait. I have it!" Elizabeth ran to the bed and pointed to the paper. "Read what it says they believe I was wearing when I left." "I don't need to read it. They said it was green-green trimmed in black. Or they thought maybe it could be a brown skirt with a cream jacket-" "Or," Elizabeth finished triumphantly as she opened the two valises that held what few articles of clothing she'd taken. "they thought it could be a gray traveling costume, didn't they?" Mrs. Hogan nodded, and Elizabeth dragged all the clothes out of the valises and dumped them on the bed in triumph. She knew from the woman's face that she believed Elizabeth. and that she would be able to make her husband believe her as well. Swinging around, Elizabeth began campaigning against a harassed Mr. Hogan. "I need to get back to London at once, and it would be much faster by boat. "
"There's a ship due in next week what goes ter-" "Mr. Hogan, I cannot wait. The trial began three days ago. For all I know, they've convicted my husband of murdering me, and they're planning to hang him."
"But," he cried irritably, "you ain't dead!" "Exactly. Which is why I have to go there and prove it to them. And I can't wait for ships to come into port. I will give you anything you ask if you'll take me to Tilbery in your boat. From there the roads are good, and I can hire a coach for the rest of the journey."
"I don't know, missus. I'd like ter help, but the fishin' has been goodes' now, an' . . ." He saw her look of fierce alarm and glanced helplessly at his wife, lifting his hands in a shrug. Mrs. Hogan hesitated, then she nodded. "You will take her, John."
