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Chapter 17 B
Mary arrived not an hour after that with Hugh McConnaugh in tow. Simmons received the pair and took them directly to the room where the injured woman lay resting, tended to by Arabella and Seth.
In an effort to soothe some of the young woman's pain, Arabella had done her best to clean up the woman's injuries and had managed to dress her in a clean nightgown with the assistance of Constance. Seth had held the girl's hand and spoke quietly to her as Arabella worked.
Arabella, completely drained by the experience, went to find her husband as soon as she was dismissed from the room. She located him in his study, waiting with Mr. Scoggins.
"'Ow is she?" the man petitioned her, jumping up from his seat as she entered the room. He looked at her with such raw feeling that Arabella knew instantly the truth of their relationship. This was not just any poor woman upon whom Mr. Scoggins took pity; he actually cared for this girl.
"She's being seen by a very skillful physician," Arabella encouraged him softly, "I'm sure that she'll recover after some rest."
Tim Scoggins nearly sighed in relief. "Thank you fer yer assistance, ma'am, I'm not sure wot I would've done 'ad you not been..."
"You were right to come here, Tim," John agreed, looking over at Arabella, seeming to sense that this was what she would want him to say. And he seemed to be able to see that there was something else that Arabella needed as well. "Tim, would you mind excusing Mrs. Barrow and myself?"
Arabella could have kissed her husband for such perception. John always seemed to know when she needed to speak with him privately. "I'm sure that Cook will find you something to eat Mr. Scoggins," Arabella said to the man, opening up the door and asking Simmons to take him to the kitchen.
"Thank you again, ma'am," Scoggins said as he exited.
Arabella attempted a smile and shut the door behind him, breathing out audibly as she did so.
"Bella?" John was next to her in an instant, "Are you all right?"
Arabella nodded weakly, but it was a gesture that communicated little assurance to it.
"What has upset you?" he went further, looking at with a large measure of concern. "How is Bette? Is Mary still with her?"
Arabella nodded again. "Dr. McConnaugh and Seth are with her as well," she explained.
"I was wondering where Seth went," John said, shaking his head somewhat at the picture of those three particular individuals crowded around Bette's bed. "The three of them in the same room together? I wonder why Seth chose to stay."
"Bette asked for him to stay," Arabella revealed.
"Really?" John seemed surprised by that.
"He was very helpful, very kind, very comforting," Arabella explained. "He seemed to know exactly what she needed to hear."
"Which was?"
"Oh," Arabella tried to recall it all well enough to do it justice, but found herself failing miserably. She had been quite distracted at the time and had only caught snippets of their conversation. "He told her things that I suppose you wouldn't necessarily expect a clergyman to say; there was nothing about sin or having fallen from grace. He told her that what happened to her was not her fault, that she did not bring it upon herself." Arabella breathed inwardly before she went on, "He told her that she was beloved and never so far hidden from the Lord that she couldn't be found..." Arabella heard her voice break and she had to stop. John waited, arms wrapped tightly around her. Eventually, she was able to go on. "He was very good to her." She said.
"You sound surprised," John commented.
"I know that I shouldn't be," Arabella responded. "He's a good man."
"But that's not what's troubling you, is it?" John probed.
Arabella shook her head.
"Tell me."
Arabella took another breath and continued. "Did Mr. Scoggins tell you how she came to be in this situation?"
"A little," John admitted, "Her parents were in service, but she chose to work in a shop until..."
"Until she was seduced by a gentleman with more time on his hands than scruples," Arabella spat out bitterly.
"And that she lost her job when she became pregnant," John shook his head sadly, "And then she lost the baby."
"And wound up on the street," Arabella whispered, heart heavy for the girl who had lived such a life. And for herself who had managed to escape the same fate. "That could have happened to me."
"No," John negatived strongly. "It could have never happened to you."
"No?" Arabella questioned. "Why not? I worked in a shop. I foolishly fell in love with a man who only wanted one thing from me and, after taking it, disappeared without a trace."
"But your parents..." John began.
"She had parents as well!" Arabella exclaimed. "Parents who I'm sure loved her just as much as my mother and father did me."
John remained silent. He seemed to know that Arabella would brook no further attempts to explain just how she was different from the girl lying upstairs on the bed.
"I just happened to be lucky, that's all." Arabella said softly, knowing just how different things could have been had fate not been in her favor. She looked up at her own loving husband, holding her tightly as they stood together in their beautiful home and thought of their darling little son sleeping peacefully upstairs. This was all hers. This all belonged to her. This was her world.
She didn't deserve it, did she? She looked away from her husband in shame.
"Bella," John murmured, kissing her softly on the cheek. "Don't do this to yourself. You need not think about what might have been."
"I want to help her, John," Arabella quietly insisted.
"We will help her," he replied, continuing to comfort, stroking the side of her face with his hand. "We will. Just as soon as she's well again, we'll find something for her to do."
"I don't think that she'd like to go back to being a maid," Arabella shook her head. She didn't seem like the type of girl that would trade her independence for the security of service.
"Then, perhaps we could get her a job at Smith's?" John suggested, referring to her late father's place of business. A cousin had purchased the shop after her father's death and had chosen to keep the name of the store.
"Perhaps," Arabella nodded in agreement. "She might like that. I did."
"You liked to be helpful to your father," John recalled.
"I liked being out in the world," Arabella remembered. "I liked it so much more than sitting upstairs with Mamma and watching people from the window."
John smiled at her encouragingly.
"Perhaps," Arabella continued, imagining a better fate for the girl than the one she seemed destined for at that moment. "She might even meet with a upstanding gentleman who wishes to improve his knowledge of gloves." Arabella could tell that this was a comment that made John want to laugh out loud, but he checked it. It was too soon for merriment.
"Perhaps she's already met such a gentleman," he commented.
"You mean Tim Scoggins?" Arabella wanted to be sure. "He does seem to love her, but..." Mr. Scoggins did not strike her as a very reliable sort of man.
"Yes...Tim," John said, "He might just surprise us all one day."
It had taken Mary the better part of a minute to quiet her own breathing before she could begin to assess the situation in the second guest room of the Barrow's home. She knew that she should move quickly to assist the injured girl that lay on the bed, but she found that she was momentarily without the ability to reason. All she could think about was Seth and the fact that he appeared to be unharmed.
That had been her first thought when Daniel Kitwell met her in the Darcys' hallway and relayed the message from John that begged her immediate assistance. Based on the fact that Daniel had been staying with her friend at the parsonage for the last few weeks, she was sure that Seth was the one that must have been hurt. But with Hugh standing behind her, Mary found that she couldn't ask the question without betraying herself. She had felt as if she might break into sobs simply by uttering his name. And then Daniel had run back to the Barrows to inform them of her willingness to attend them, leaving her no opportunity to ask the boy for clarification on the nature of the emergency or the name of the patient that awaited her.
The drive over to the Barrows had been completely torturous, made even more insufferable by the length of time it took to harness the Darcys' carriage and the jam of traffic that the coachman had to navigate. To add to the misery, Hugh had gallantly chosen to accompany her. Mary had found herself keeping her face to the window for the entire trip, afraid of looking at Hugh and allowing her face to betray emotions that she didn't want to admit to herself, much less her fiancé. There was no time to confront Hugh about the necessity of her having a dowry or about his plans for another arctic expedition while images of Seth kept forming in her mind: his body lying cold and still, his mind forever unreachable, his spirit irreparably severed from herself.
If her skirts would have allowed it, she would have taken the steps two at a time once they had arrived at the Barrow house and been met at the door by Simmons. She was so sure that they had arrived too late to save him.
Seth had turned around when she had entered the room, but had quickly glanced away as soon as she caught his eye. He must have seen the expression of overwhelming relief that had shone through her face when she saw that he was safe and attributed it to the right cause. In that moment, Mary's feelings for him must have been completely exposed. He must have seen just how much she loved him and it appeared as if he considered such feelings to be utterly repulsive. Mary had blushed and felt like a fool.
In an attempt to hide her own emotions, Mary had launched into the situation with a characteristic businesslike efficiency. The actual patient was a young girl who lay on the bed, regarding her warily. She appeared to have been beaten by a savage. Mary had found it hard to believe that a human being could have done such damage to another person. Mary had walked closer to her, noting the attempt that had been made to clean the cuts on the girl's face. Looking over, she had seen that Arabella was still bent over the young woman, wet rag and basin of water still in her hands. She looked completely exhausted.
"Arabella," she had addressed herself to her friend, "You look quite spent. You can leave matters to us now."
Arabella hadn't needed to be told twice. She had nodded mutely and had placed the basin of water on the stand next to the bed. With a final pat of the girl's shoulder, she had moved towards the door. Mary had expected that Seth would follow.
But he hadn't followed. Mary had looked over at Seth and realized that the girl was holding onto his hand quite desperately. She looked at him pleadingly. "Don't leave," she pleaded, "I'm afraid!"
"There's nothing to be afraid of," he said softly. "And I won't leave you."
Trust Seth not to shirk from the difficult. Mary looked over at Seth and realized that he appeared to be feeling quite uncomfortable in the presence of herself and Hugh and that he was only remaining in the room for the sake of the girl.
"How was she hurt?" Hugh asked of Seth, coming to stand behind Mary. He was carrying Mary's bag of instruments for her. Mary was quite glad that Seth had suggested that she take them with her on the day that she had last visited the parsonage. Hugh placed her kit next to the basin on the stand.
"Someone who considers himself a gentleman..." he began angrily, but wasn't able to say anything more.
"Monstrous," Mary whispered, wishing that she could shut her eyes to it. But Seth was already beginning to tell the girl that she was in good hands and that he had known Miss Bennet for quite some time and that she was the best-trained physician that he knew. She couldn't back away from the girl now.
Slowly, and with a considerable amount of care, Mary tended to the girl. One of her ribs had been broken and threatened to puncture a lung if her chest wasn't effectively wrapped. And the cut under her right eye that looked as if it were made by a sharp ring on a hard fist would scar horribly if she weren't very careful about how she closed it. Seth continued to speak quietly to the girl, calming her as Mary worked. They had often partnered each other in this way in the past, and Mary felt herself deriving almost as much comfort from the familiarity of it as the girl seemed to be. Being a loving and generous presence when someone was in need of comfort was something that Seth always did very well.
Finally Mary realized that she had done all that she could do for the unfortunate girl. Time and rest was what she would need now. Mary touched the girl on the shoulder and began to return her instruments and supplies to the kit. "Shall I leave something with you to help you sleep?" she asked.
The girl's eyes were half closed already. "No," she negatived. "I'll be able to on my own."
Mary watched as Seth squeezed the girl's hand one last time and pulled himself up from his chair by her bed. The girl continued to hang onto it. "Is Tim still 'ere?" she petitioned him.
"I believe so," Seth nodded. "Should I send him up?"
The girl told him that she would be very grateful if he would. "I'd like to thank 'im too."
Seth left one candle in her room, but took the larger lamp with him as he exited. He looked up as he closed the door softly behind him. Mary and Hugh had chosen to wait for him on the landing so that they could make their way downstairs together, but Seth appeared to be rather reluctant to join them. Mary watched as he bit his lip apprehensively and ran a hand through one side of his hair. She couldn't understand his reticence. Why did he appear to be afraid of her now?
Then she remembered their last conversation and how angry she had been when he questioned the suitability of her new friendships. They had parted on very bitter terms. And her most recent behavior towards him must have been equally confusing. The raw emotion that she couldn't keep from showing on her face must have troubled him even further. Ever since she had left the parsonage, she had become a mass of contradictions -- an old friend and a new acquaintance, both honest and deceitful, and at turns cheerful, bitter, hopeful, and furious. It was no wonder that he no longer knew how to approach her.
But Seth was a brave soul and eventually did. "I hear that congratulations are in order," he began, attempting to sound pleased, but failing miserably. The smile on his face was there, but it was half-hearted and didn't begin to lighten his eyes as she knew his truer expressions always did. He had heard her news. "I hope that you shall both be very happy together."
"Thank you sir," Mary heard Hugh reply as he held out his hand for Seth to take. Eventually Seth did take it, but with little enthusiasm. Mary thought that she understood this last as well. Of course it would make Seth uncomfortable to shake the hand of the fiancé -- the man she was marrying while she was still in love with another. Seth would have hated to feel complicit in her deception. But an hour ago it hadn't been a lie. She had woken up and accepted Hugh this morning with a heart that she believed to be free and inclined towards him. Mary thought that she had left her love for her old friend behind. But her fear for Seth had made a mockery of what she had professed just that morning to Hugh.
"But how did you know?" Hugh asked Seth pleasantly, "It was only just decided between ourselves this morning."
Seth nodded to that and looked over at Mary. "Arabella and John provided me with the news."
Mary was half grateful to them for telling him and half sorry that she had not been the one to do so. She knew what was due to her friend; she should have told him herself.
But it was very opportune for them to have done so, and Mary wondered how Seth had come to be with the Barrows on that day. She knew that Seth had not brought the girl to them. Mary would have recognized her if she were a parishioner. "You didn't find the girl, did you Seth?" Mary asked.
Seth shook his head. "She's an acquaintance of Tim Scoggins'. I only met her just now when she was brought in by him."
"But what are you doing here, then?" Mary was confused.
The blandly agreeable expression that Seth had been attempting to keep on his face fell away in an instant. He looked away quickly, but not before Mary caught a glimpse of the hurt and frustration that he seemed to be experiencing. "The Barrows have invited me to stay with them while I look for other lodging," he admitted, voice sounding strained.
"Why do you have to find other lodging?" Mary asked, chilling instantly and fearing the worst.
"The bishop didn't care for how I handled the problem with the resurrectionists," Seth whispered, continuing to look down.
"But that was ages ago!"
"It happened again last night," he grimaced.
"No," Mary breathed in disbelief.
"I'm afraid so," Seth affirmed and, because there didn't seem to be anything else to say, he started to walk back downstairs.
Mary and Hugh followed him quickly, with Mary attempting to think of something else to say. So much had happened in the last day, things of which she was not at all aware! Had the resurrectionists actually struck the church again? And what exactly did the bishop expect Seth to have done differently? How could he have taken Seth's church away from him?
"I quite sympathize with your poor friend," Hugh whispered as he walked down the stairs behind her. "I've heard people say that these resurrectionists are the scourge of London! To think that people are not even safe after they are dead!"
"Do we, in the medical profession, have any room to criticize?" Mary responded absently, still thinking of Seth. She had never been bothered to learn the provenance of the cadavers that she had dissected while at school.
"Perhaps someone should pass a law," Hugh began, but dropped it quickly. They were coming to the front hall again. John and Arabella waited there, obviously hoping to hear a report of the health of their other house guest.
"How is she?" Arabella questioned the three.
Seth looked over at Mary, waiting for her to answer.
"She'll need to rest a great deal in the next few weeks," Mary began and promised to come see the girl again tomorrow and give Arabella and Constance further instructions for her care.
"She was hoping that Mr. Scoggins would come up to see her," Seth added when Mary finished.
"I don't think that we'd be able to stop him from going up, even if she didn't want to see him," Arabella reflected wryly. She appeared to have recovered most of her humor and a good deal of her spirit. Mary attributed this to John's comforting presence. She looked to be a different woman than the one that she had dismissed from the girl's room earlier. "I'll go tell him that he's been summoned," Arabella said, excusing herself from the group.
"Dearest, we should take our leave," Hugh said to Mary, taking hold of her hand. He would have propelled her towards the door had she not stood her ground. She did not want to leave rudely, but she also did not want to stay any longer. It was highly uncomfortable being in Seth's presence. She turned back towards the two men.
"Thank you for coming so quickly, Mary," John said. Then Mary watched as he looked over at Hugh with a small degree of confusion.
"Oh!" Mary realized that John had not yet been introduced to Hugh. "You haven't met my fiancé yet, have you John?"
"I'm not quite sure," John said, still looking somewhat perplexed. "Have we met, sir?"
"I don't believe so," Hugh said quickly, extending his hand. "Mr. -- Barrow, I presume?"
John nodded mutely in affirmation and Mary made the introductions quickly. The two men shook hands affably enough, but Mary thought that she could detect a certain degree of wariness in both of the men. It confused her even more.
"I should be getting Miss Bennet back to her sister's now," Hugh said, already leading Mary towards the door. "before it gets any later."
"Of course," John agreed, walking along behind them. "Until tomorrow, Mary."
Mary nodded to that. Then, seeing that Seth was still regarding her carefully, looked quickly away. Simmons held open her wrap for her and she allowed him to put it around her. Bruno held the door open and Hugh led her through and down the stairs to the carriage.
Chapter 17 C
With a larger degree of trepidation than he believed he had ever before experienced, Tim Scoggins opened the door to Bette's room. She was still awake and sitting up in bed. "'Ello," she said softly.
"'Lo, Bette," he returned, voice a husky whisper. "'Ow ya doin'?"
"Better than when ya last saw me, I think." She tried to grin at him, but it was an expression that was half obscured by the large bandage that was wrapped around her head. "I must look a sight!"
"No," Tim said, coming closer and finding the chair that had been placed next to the bed. "You're still my Bette." And he forced himself to return her smile with one that he hoped would deliver some degree of assurance to her and hide any of his less confident notions.
"Who's 'ouse is this, Tim? Who are these people?" Bette asked. "Are they friends of yours?"
"In a matter of speakin'," Tim shrugged. "It's the guv'nor's 'ouse. The one wot I works fer."
"And that was 'is wife, th' one with th' red hair?"
"Mrs. Barrow, yeah," Tim confirmed.
"An' the minister an' the doctors?"
"Friends."
"That physician was a lady!" Bette's voice filled with awe, causing Tim to smile in response. "She was so good to me," she looked down and fingered the nightgown that Mrs. Barrow had lent her, admiringly touching the lace on the cuffs.
"Well, ya deserve it," Tim said, his mind turning to what she had endured last night at the hands of some faceless, vindictive man. Tim's thoughts darkened. "Who was it, Bette?" He asked quietly.
"No one that you know," Bette whispered back. "No one that you need to know."
"I do need to know," Tim said, significantly. "Give me the name, Bette,"
"I won't, Tim," she shook her head.
"Yes, Bette." Tim insisted.
"No!" she hissed tersely, "I won't!"
"Why not?" Tim could feel his level of anger rise. Why wouldn't she tell him?
"Because," she said, emotion coloring her voice, "because I know wot you'll do when you find 'im, and I don't want that!"
"You're protecting 'im!" Tim said incredulously, rising to his feet.
"No! I'm protecting you!" she shouted in return.
Tim was startled by that and sat back down.
Bette went on, calmer. "I'm afraid fer you. If you were to do wot I know that you're capable of doing, and you were caught doing it..." she hesitated for a moment, "If you were caught, I might lose you!"
"I wouldn't get caught..." Tim began.
"I don't want to take that chance!" she retorted. "Don't you understand, Tim?"
Tim wasn't quite sure that he did.
Bette looked down. "I know that you've never made any promises to me, an' I've never made any promises to you, but I find myself lookin' forward to your visits with..." she stopped again, seemingly unsure of how to explain what she felt.
Tim waited.
"You make me feel normal, Tim," she said in a voice that was barely audible, even in the quietness of the room, "I'm not just the 'Bette' that some man picks up and discards th' next moment and doesn't even recall when 'e meets 'er a week later. You always know who I am. You come to see only me."
Tim swallowed. He had no idea that his presence meant so much to her.
Bette seemed to take his silence as a sign that he was uncomfortable with her admission. Her head stayed down and her eyes were hidden from him, but Tim could still tell that she had started to silently weep. She thought that he was rejecting her. He reached up and touched the side of her face not obscured by the bandage. "Bette, sweet'eart," he began.
"S'okay, Tim," Bette tried to push his hand away. "I'll be all right. You don't have to pretend."
"I'm not pretending," Tim protested quickly. "Look!" He fished the box with the hat-pin out of her pocket. "I even bought ya a gift awhile back." He held it out to her.
Bette looked up. She glanced at the gift then back at him in confusion.
"I was jus' waitin' fer the right time to give it to ya," he attempted an excuse, proffering the box again.
Tentatively, she reached out her hand for it. He placed it in her palm.
"I shoulda given it to ya weeks ago," he mumbled.
Bette pulled at the piece of ribbon that he had found to secure the lid to the box. It fell away easily.
"Open it," he encouraged.
Slowly, she reached for the lid and gently lifted it off. The bloodstone hat-pin was nestled inside.
"It's a 'at-pin, Bette," Scoggins explained. "You can wear it with yer bonnets when ya take yer walks." But Bette seemed to know what it was and its purpose. "You could have also fended orff yer attacker," he added regretfully.
Bette smiled a little at that and picked it up from the box, touching the sharp point with the pad of a finger. Then she examined the bead at the other end.
"It's a bloodstone," Tim named. "They're very rare."
"Really?" Bette appeared to be intrigued by that.
"I'll bet ya never saw one of those before!" he said somewhat proudly.
"Well," Bette began, appearing not to want to offend him. "I've only seen one other. My friend had a brooch with a stone like this. Th' one wot used to live down th' 'all from me."
"Yer friend does?" Tim was slightly put off by that. Here he thought he was giving Bette a completely original and precious gift, only to discover that the girl down the hall had one as well.
"Yeah," Bette fingered the stone, "At least she used to. She died awhile back. "Hers 'ad a circle of wot looked to be diamonds around it." Bette shook her head, "I don't suppose that they were, though, probably just paste."
"A circle of 'em?" Tim asked, the hair on the back of his head beginning to stand on end. "Ya mean they went all th' way 'round it?"
"Yeah," Bette looked over at him curiously. "Why?"
Tim tried to recall the description and illustration of the bloodstone brooch that had so enchanted him in the paper that morning. "Could there 'ave been about twenty-two of 'em?"
"I 'ave no idea," Bette said, mystified. "I never saw it long enough ta count. She usually kept it hidden away from view." Bette shook her head as she thought back on it. "Funny 'ow she never pawned it. Sure coulda used th' money it woulda brought. It was a lovely little article, even if it weren't real. I'm sure she coulda gotten a fair price fer it."
"Could it 'ave been real?" Tim asked, beginning to wonder if Bette's friend's brooch and the one in the paper could have been one in the same.
"I suppose," Bette appeared to be quite concerned now. "But it wouldn't make sense fer a 'working girl' from Edinburgh to 'ave such a jewel."
"She was from Edinburgh?" Tim was on his feet again. The brooch that he had read about in the newspaper was last seen in Edinburgh.
"Yeah!" Bette replied, brow furrowing. "Didn't I tell ya that?"
"I don't think I ever met 'er," Tim reminded quickly. "Wot was 'er name?"
"Mairie," Bette intoned. "Mairie Sutherland."
"Mairie Sutherland?" Tim shouted. But that was the name of the woman who's body was unearthed by the resurrectionists! The resurrectionists that he was employed to find were connected to Bette's friend Mairie? Tim had absolutely no idea what that meant. "Bette, I've gotta go talk to th' guv'nor!" Tim said, rushing to the door.
Seth watched Mary walk out the door and knew that she was gone. He felt his shoulders go slack and he realized just how carefully he must have been controlling himself while she was there. The muscles of his neck felt used and spent from the inner battle he had been waging ever since she had walked into Bette's room and looked directly at him. He remembered glancing away in an effort to keep from rushing over to her and telling her everything that he had been planning to say to her that morning. It would have frightened her away, though. He did not wish to alienate her even further by revealing his own feelings to her or his opinion of the man that she was about to marry.
In retrospect, though, Seth wondered why he even bothered to rein in his stronger emotions. It wasn't as if he had anything more to lose, did he? Another would soon be tending to his own parish and this Hugh McConnaugh would soon be married to his own dear Miss Bennet. Seth might as well be just as belligerent as he wanted to be. He wouldn't be risking anything.
But there was nothing to be gained either. Had he only discovered his true feelings a day earlier, he might have been able to convince her to give him a chance to prove himself worthy. But he hadn't been a day earlier; he had only discovered what she meant to him last night.
But he wasn't given much time to brood about that. John was turning back from the front door, moving past him in a direct line to the door of his study. "Bring that lamp in here, Seth!" He ordered as he passed by.
Seth didn't hesitate. Half concerned, half intrigued, he walked into John's study and over to the desk. John was already jerking open drawers and pulling out sheaves of paper. Seth set the lamp down on the desk, illuminating it further.
"Looking for something?" Seth asked in confusion.
John continued to spill papers out of the desk drawers, beginning to haphazardly thumb through them. "What is that name?" he muttered to himself through teeth tightly closed.
"Is there anything I can do?" Seth asked again, trying to reclaim his friend's attention. "What has upset you?"
John sat down and pulled one batch of the papers into his lap so that he could leaf through them quickly. "Dr. McConnaugh and I have met before," he revealed looking up for a moment.
"You have?" Seth sank into one of the chairs as well.
"Although perhaps he doesn't recall that fact, because I did not introduce myself at the time as John Barrow."
"But as 'John Blevins'?" Seth filled in. "Was he a client?"
"Yes," John admitted. "About six months ago, Dr. McConnaugh came to see me. He needed me to look for someone... a woman. He said that it was his sister and that he had lost all contact with her since she moved south to London and he accepted a position as a naval surgeon. Since it was a simple case of locating a missing person, I gave the job to Willie Barton. He reported back to me, of course."
"Was Mr. Barton successful?" Seth asked.
"Not exactly," John shook his head, still rifling through the papers "Willie discovered that the woman died a few years ago."
"So, you took that bit of information back to Dr. McConnaugh?"
John nodded, "He appeared to be quite devastated by the news." He looked up then and went on more pointedly. "I recall that he wanted to know where her body was buried so that he could go visit the grave."
Seth swallowed and didn't wish to believe the conclusion that he was sure John had already reached. "He did?"
"He did." John confirmed grimly.
"And where was she buried?" Seth went on.
"I don't remember that!" John said in frustration, fingers moving through the stack of papers, eyes regarding each page in turn before dismissing it and going on to the next. "That's the problem with not doing all of the work myself," he breathed out in exasperation. "It's easy to forget the details of each case. I'm looking for the report that Willie must have written at the end of it."
"Which should confirm..." Seth began.
"...what we're both beginning to suspect," John finished. "That Hugh McConnaugh, in an effort to find his missing sister, may have dug up a few of the bodies in your churchyard."
"Which is a rather extreme way of visiting a grave," Seth added darkly.
"Very extreme," John agreed, taking the stack of papers that he had just finished and throwing it back into a drawer before tackling the next one. "Which leads me to believe that the woman is not necessarily his sister and that there must be another reason why he needs to get his hands on the body."
Seth had no idea what that could be, though, and waiting while John found the right report was getting the better of him, especially when it began to dawn on him that they both had allowed this potential criminal to escort Mary back to her sister's house. Seth stood up, feeling agitated. He needed to be doing something! "Could I help you with that, John?"
"No need!" John nearly shouted, "Here it is." He held a page aloft.
"Well, what does it say?" Seth placed both hands on the surface of the desk and leaned in towards Barrow.
John bent his head down and began to scan the document. Suddenly, there was a disturbance on the other side of the door. Seth looked up just in time to see Tim Scoggins burst through the door with Simmons not far behind. "Look 'ere!" He was shouting back at the butler. "I've found out summin' out that Mr. Barrow will want ta know!"
Chapter 18
John Barrow had little appetite for his breakfast the next morning and sent most of it back uneaten, drinking only from his cup of strong tea while he mulled over last night's revelations. He was not yet satisfied with what they had learned last night, nor did he have a strong idea of how to proceed further. From Willie's report they had learned that the woman whom Dr. McConnaugh was seeking was named Mairie Sutherland. From Tim Scoggins they had learned that not only did Bette once know the same Mairie Sutherland, but that she had actually seen that woman with a bloodstone brooch resembling the one that had been stolen from Lady McRae. John had made the only sensible deduction considering all the facts: Hugh McConnaugh must have been behind the excavations that had occurred in the churchyard and that he was most probably looking for a stolen brooch that appeared to have been buried with Mairie Sutherland. Unfortunately for Dr. McConnaugh, however, he seemed to have employed men who were either poor spellers or simply could not read tombstones in the dark. It appeared that McConnaugh's hirelings had managed to dig up the bodies of two completely unconnected women just because of a similarity in name.
And was the body of Mairie Sutherland, the resurrectionist's real target to be found in that particular church yard? Willie's report didn't specify Mairie's final resting place, and Seth believed that her body was there, but he could not be at all certain. He had officiated at the internment of a great many people since arriving in London and had difficulty recalling specific names, especially ones buried during a wider outbreak of sickness as Mairie's must have been. Unfortunately, Seth would not be able to confirm that the body of Mairie Sutherland was resident in the cemetery of his former church, because he no longer had access to the parish records. Someone would have to be sent to the yard to walk the length of it in an effort to find her grave. And if they did manage to find her grave in the yard, John would need to post a guard there to keep it from being defiled.
It was going to be a very time-consuming project, and John didn't look forward to assigning it to anyone! He would prefer to eradicate the problem by dealing with the source of it, but John didn't feel as if he knew enough to actually confront Hugh with his suspicions. He could not yet prove anything, nor did he know why Hugh had been driven to commit such a crime or what he planned to do with the bloodstone brooch once he had found it. He did not know anything about the man's financial situation, but had to assume that it was relatively sound. The man was an educated physician, well capable of earning a good living. John supposed that he could look into Dr. McConnaugh's income and debts, but that would take even more time than posting a guard at the grave site would!
John knew very well that any confrontation with Hugh McConnaugh would put that gentleman on his guard against him and might very well encourage him to flee from the city! There would be nothing that John could do about him then. He simply had to be able to prove that Hugh was behind the defilement of the graves before he could act! He needed more time.
But Mary's involvement in the situation called for a greater degree of urgency. He was quite concerned for her safety and -- if it were possible -- Seth Shackleford appeared to be even more so. In fact, Seth had been so worried about her last night that he would not retire for the evening until John had sent Daniel over to the Darcy townhouse with a fabricated question about Bette's care, just so they could make sure that she had returned for the evening. It had taken a great deal of persuasion to keep Seth from running over there himself, so great was that man's anxiety over her safety. John shook his head in sympathy as he recalled his poor friend's agitated demeanor last night. John believed that Seth's dislike of Hugh and fear for Mary might even have led him to suspect Dr. McConnaugh of being Bette's attacker if it were not for the fact that he had been present while Mary examined Bette. If McConnaugh had been responsible for Bette's injuries, John was sure that the girl wouldn't have stood for Hugh remaining in the same room.
Barrow knew that whatever was to be done about McConnaugh needed to be initiated on that day, but he wasn't yet sure just what that should be. He also knew that Mary would have to be apprised of the situation once they had decided upon a course of action. John did not look forward to that either. He was very much aware of the fact that this would be the third time that he had warned her out of a friendship with a man and -- while he felt as if he had been justified in all of the situations -- he was sure that his continuing interference in her personal life was quite unwelcome.
John was deliberating on how to quickly discover something useful and substantive about Hugh McConnaugh before his meeting with Mary when Seth Shackleford walked downstairs and found him in the dining room. The appearance of his clothes suggested that he had slept in them, but the reddened state of his eyes belied the idea that he had managed to sleep at all.
"Would you like some tea?" John checked the pot and saw that he would need to order a fresher one from the kitchen. Seth nodded gratefully as he sat down in the chair next to Barrow, slumping into it with exhaustion. John rang the bell and ordered more tea.
"You'll need to tell Mary about Hugh when she comes to visit today, won't you?" Seth began.
"Yes," sighed John loudly.
"I can see that you're dreading the confrontation."
"I fear that she will ask questions for which I have no answers," John replied uncomfortably. "I can't expect to attack her fiancé's reputation and credibility without provoking her to demand more information than I have at present as well as definite proof!"
"But you have the report written by Willie," Seth began.
"That report only states that Hugh McConnaugh was once looking for a woman named Mairie Sutherland, and that she died in London and was buried at an undisclosed location."
"That's pretty damning," Seth reasoned.
"But still circumstantial. And it doesn't connect him to the resurrectionists."
"But given that information, Mary's own doubts will lead her to question him about it!"
"And let us hope that he can't easily explain it all away," John added gruffly. "But I would feel much better about confronting her with this if I understood the reason behind his actions."
"You can't expect to understand what motivates a scoundrel like that," Seth shot back, "He's quite simply depraved!"
John knew that Seth's own opinions would greatly differ from Mary's. She would begin by assuming Hugh's innocence and wouldn't be easily convinced of his guilt. It would be difficult to make her go against a natural inclination to defend her fiancé. "We have to be more careful about this, Seth."
"I don't see how we can be more careful, John!" Seth leaned forward in his chair and John thought that he was actually making ready to pound a fist on the table for emphasis. "Mary is in a great deal of danger. We can't afford to hesitate!"
"Nor can we afford to lose her by handling this badly," John retorted tersely. Seth seemed ready to protest that, but John cut him off. "What you have not allowed yourself to understand is that we are attacking the man that she loves," John knew that this must be causing his friend a great deal of pain, but it couldn't be helped. Seth had to look at this from Mary's point of view. "This is the man with which she has chosen to spend the rest of her life! In exposing him as a thief, we are setting her up for a disappointment more profound than any she has ever experienced."
That seemed to have an effect on Seth. He shut his mouth and looked contrite. This inclined John to feel more sympathetic towards him. "I understand just how difficult this must be for you," he softened, knowing that he was moving into uncharted waters. He had never spoken so candidly to Seth about his love for Mary, but felt as if it were warranted. "I know that your feelings for her have changed a great deal in the last few weeks."
Seth looked up in surprise, "Has it been that apparent?" His face reddened.
"To those who know you well, it has," John admitted.
"It can't be good to be so easily read," Seth mumbled, shaking his head sadly. After a moment, he looked up and went on. "I can hardly believe the change that has come over me as well. It's been such a slow process...I didn't even realize that I was in love until that wretched night with the resurrectionists." Seth's mouth twisted with anger, "When I overheard them speak about what they had done to her," he began, "it overwhelmed me! I couldn't stay silent, I had to do something."
Seth looked directly at John who nodded a sympathetic response.
That seemed to encourage Seth to explain himself further. "I can't stop myself from believing that she needs to be protected," he said. "And that I'm the one who should be doing it!" Seth's hands remained on the arm rests of the chair, but John could sense a degree of restless energy about him. He wanted to be able to act. Sitting about waiting for a solution to present itself was draining away all of Seth's self control.
"You aren't alone in wanting to protect her, Seth," John said. "She has many friends in London now."
Seth sighed loudly and John watched as the corners of his mouth began to twitch. "I realize that she has friends and family who love and care for her," he began. "But I can't help wishing that it was I alone who was responsible for keeping her safe."
John smiled and believed that he understood that motivation. He had experienced it himself with Arabella. There was something quite powerful about being married -- about having that degree of trust placed in you.
"I would never be able to forgive myself if something happened to her," Seth said.
"Nor I," John stated.
The door opened to the dining room and Arabella walked in. She was carrying a covered breakfast try. "Good morning," she greeted both gentlemen. "Simmons said that he had the kippers placed on the side board," she walked over to that side of the room and found a chafing dish filled with them. "I thought that Bette might enjoy some this morning," she said as she took off the lid of both plates and began to transfer the kippers to the tray. "Someone should enjoy them at least," she added wryly, looking over at both John and Seth. "Did neither of you feel much like breakfast this morning?"
John shook his head and Seth merely looked sheepish.
"Have you had breakfast yet, my dear?" Asked John.
"No," Arabella shook her head and replaced the lid back on the tray. "I shall after I keep Bette company while she eats her own."
"Why don't you let me do that?" Seth rose from his chair and went over to take the tray out of her hands. "You should have your breakfast with your husband."
Arabella appeared to be surprised but was not unwilling to relinquish the tray. He gathered it up and left the room as Arabella took the seat that he vacated. She looked over at her husband curiously. "He wasn't hungry either," John admitted, finding a cup and pouring her some tea.
"I'm not surprised," Arabella shook her head. "Last night's events were tumultuous enough to unsettle anyone's stomach." She took a sip of tea and placed the cup back on the saucer, looking at her husband carefully. "Have you decided what you are going to do about Mary?"
John sighed again. "Seth thinks that I should tell her about Hugh today, without waiting for more information."
Arabella bit her lip, "And you don't think that you should?"
"I just know that she is going to need more answers than I can give her."
"She probably will," Arabella agreed.
"And we can't expect her to join us in finding the answers as she did with Mr. Perry and Lord Rodale, this is her fiancé! Helping us to investigate him is probably the last thing that she would be willing to do," John said.
"You're right," Arabella conceded. "You can't expect her to provide you with any information." She bit her lip while thinking and then went further. "But she does deserve to be given the right information herself. Regardless of how upsetting the news, she must know it. We owe her that much."
John thought about that for a moment. "But she's suffered so much already," he said.
"And it's only made her stronger," Arabella insisted, raising her eyebrows. "Give her credit for that at least. She'll be able to weather this."
Mary found herself doing little more than toying with the food on her plate the next morning at breakfast, and hardly attending to the conversation at all. The events of last night had unsettled her completely. Not even an evening spent attempting to sleep had been enough to restore her spirits. The extent of the girl's injuries and her quiet suffering had left an indelible mark on her thoughts. She found images of the girl assailing her mind throughout the late night and early morning. And it wasn't that she harbored any fear for the girl; now that she was under the protection of John and Arabella, Mary was sure that all would be well. She would recover from her wounds and they would help her find a new way of earning a living.
But would they be able to help Seth in the same way? His problem was much more complex. It was difficult to find a good church situation in London, especially when one didn't have a patron. Seth had been lucky to find any position in London, much less as vicar to one of the city's bishops. He wouldn't find another lucrative place any time soon and had little chance of securing it without a good reference from the bishop.
Mary wondered if Seth would be forced into using his inheritance again.
And what of her own inheritance? Last night, she had been surprised to learn that not only could she expect the dowry left from her family, but that it had been greatly augmented by her brother-in-law Fitzwilliam. Mary was still not sure of the necessity of it. She hadn't expected Hugh to ask for such an endowment and did question his motives for doing so. She hadn't found an opportunity for asking him about it, however. They had remained in company with Darcys until Daniel had come with her message and, by that time, Mary had become too distracted to remember to broach the subject.
She had hoped to speak with him that morning, before they were met by either Elizabeth or Fitzwilliam, but had arrived downstairs too late; Hugh was already at breakfast with the couple. The man was fast becoming an additional member of the household! Elizabeth didn't appear as if she thought that there was anything wrong with that, though, and Mary thought back to the days right before Jane and Elizabeth's wedding, when their respective fiancés would arrive at Longbourn before breakfast and hardly ever leave until the family was ready to turn in for the evening. Judging from the first two days of her own engagement, Mary assumed that she could expect the same schedule.
The continual presence of her fiancé would have been a wonderful situation had Mary not begun to doubt her own feelings for Hugh. If she had still been as infatuated with him as ever, she was quite sure that she would enjoy every opportunity to be with him. Last night's moment of fear over Seth, however, had woken her up to the fact that she was not freely giving her heart to Hugh.
And it had woken Mary up to something else as well. She couldn't help but notice the strange glances that were exchanged between John Barrow when he was first introduced to Hugh. It was almost as if they had met once before.
But she had no time to think further on the man that she had promised to marry or her changing attitude towards him, the door to the breakfast parlor slid open. The children's nurse walked in and begged Elizabeth's pardon.
"She's run away again," said Nanny baldly and Mary knew instantly of whom she was speaking. Little Marianna Darcy was now notorious for running away in an attempt to escape from her lessons.
"Again?" Elizabeth sounded exasperated.
"And this time she took the atlas with her," the woman elaborated helplessly. "I had it all ready for our geography lesson."
Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam stood up, preparing to go look for their oldest child. "I assume that you've already looked in the kitchen?" she asked the nurse. The woman nodded. "I shall check the attic, if you'll go look around outside?" she suggested to her husband.
"I'll go look in the bedrooms," Mary pushed back her chair as well.
"That leaves the main rooms for me," Hugh noted, rising from the table as well.
The four abandoned their breakfast and all went in different directions. Mary climbed the stairs up to the bedrooms and began searching in every chamber and in every space where a little girl could hide. She called for her a few times, hoping that the girl would choose to reveal herself, but knowing all the while that Marianna was probably somewhere enjoying her little bit of fun too much to volunteer her location. Eventually, Mary had to give up and walked back downstairs, hoping to hear that someone else had found her. Neither Elizabeth or Fitzwilliam had returned, so Mary went in search of Hugh. She looked into the large dining room and spied him there just as he was finding Marianna. The girl had drawn several of the chairs over to the large front window and had arranged them in a tight circle. She had flung a curtain over one side of the chairs. Mary knew about her little niece's ready imagination and wondered what the girl was playing.
But Hugh appeared to know exactly what was going through Marianna's mind. Mary watched from the doorway to the dining room as he walked over to the girl and stopped in front of her. "Permission to come aboard," Hugh's voice whispered quietly.
"You may," Marianna's voice returned with an imperiousness that was still considered adorable in a young girl of six. "But don't step on my chart!"
"I won't," Hugh promised, and Mary watched as he very gently lowered himself into the chair that appeared to serve as the stern in her boat made of chairs. "Shall we set sail, cap'n?" he asked once he had seated himself there.
"Yes," Marianna agreed and began to move the curtain that she had thrown over the chairs, treating it as she would a sail. Hugh very gamely played along.
"Have you set a course?"
"Oh yes," Marianna stated, as if that fact were quite obvious to any observer. "Here!" She pointed to a place in the atlas that Mary noticed was opened in the middle of the 'ship'.
"Ah," Hugh agreed. "A grand choice. I've always wanted to see the Great Wall, although it is a very long way off. It will take us quite some time to get there. We'll have to sail all the way around Africa and Arabia and India." He made a path on the map with his finger.
"I won't mind if it takes us all day!" Marianna exclaimed and then she thought further about what he had said. "What's the Great Wall?" she asked.
Hugh proceeded to tell her about the stone structure that was in the North of China, describing it in detail and talking about the reason why it was built. It all sounded very exciting to the young girl, who then declared that she would make a careful study of it just as soon as her 'ship' landed in China.
Hugh spoke approvingly of such a plan and took the opportunity of gently reminding her of her own studies. "I understand that your nanny is waiting for you upstairs, waiting to start your geography lesson."
"Oh," Marianna said petulantly. "But I don't want to study that kind of geography. All she ever lets me see is the map of England and makes me point to boring places. I know where London and Lambton are already!" She flung a leaf of manuscript paper over the side of her ship, presumably a list of places that her Nanny wished for her to locate. "I don't need to find them on the map!"
Mary listened as Hugh held back a good-natured chuckle. He must have sensed that Marianna would not appreciate being laughed at.
"And I don't care that Uncle Charles and Aunt Jane bought a house in Yorkshire and that Grandmamma is in Edinburgh with Aunt Kitty and Uncle Robert," she went on.
"Oh but Edinburgh is such an interesting town," Hugh protested. "It might not have a Great Wall, but it does have a castle!"
"It does?" said the young girl who had been raised in a house that resembled a castle in the opinions of many, but always thought of it as her home and never as a place where lords and ladies and knights would have lived. The fact that Edinburgh had a castle raised the city in her estimation.
"Yes indeed," Hugh affirmed and went on to tell her all about it. Again, Marianna seemed to hang on his every word, which was hardly surprising considering the degree of pride that Mary could hear in Hugh's voice. Edinburgh obviously held a special place in Hugh's heart.
"Did you live in the castle?" Marianna asked when he was finished.
Hugh chuckled out loud this time, "No Marianna," he admitted. "I lived in a house very much like this one. And, just like you, my auntie lived with me."
"She did?"
"Yes, I lived with my Auntie Una."
"That's silly name," Marianna giggled at it.
"It's a very old Scottish name!" Hugh pretended to be offended for the girl's benefit. "There are Unas all over the countryside," he appeared to gesture back to the atlas. "From Hadrian's Wall to the Shetland Islands."
"There are Unas all the way up there?" Marianna asked, seeming to notice that the Shetland Islands were a very long way.
Hugh nodded to that. Mary watched as Marianna bent her little frame over the atlas and appeared to study it closely. "Nanny says that the world is like a ball, but I don't see how that can be. There's nothing at the top!"
"Oh! But of course there's something at the top," Hugh protested. "There's this big piece of ice at the top."
"There is?" Marianna was impressed by that as well. "Do they eat only ices up there? I love ices!"
"No," Hugh shook his head. "They don't like to eat ices because it's very cold up there," and he proceeded to tell her all about how the Esquimeaux -- the people of the North -- live, elaborating on all the clothes that they wear to stay warm and the animals that they kill so that they can eat.
"But why isn't it on the map if there are people who live there?" Marianna protested.
"That's because there haven't been many mapmakers that have visited the North," Hugh explained reasonably. "But I have."
"You have?" Marianna exclaimed. "Then you can draw the rest of the map!"
"Well," Hugh hedged, "I can't draw all of it. I haven't seen all of it." And he proceeded to point to all the places that he had been, explaining about Greenland and telling her that it didn't exactly live up to its name, and how there were plenty of whales to be found near Newfoundland on the coast of Canada. When Marianna couldn't remember what a whale looked like, Hugh took it upon himself to retrieve the piece of paper that had fallen on the floor and sketch one for her, reminding her of the fact that the oil lamps that her parents burnt at night were filled with whale oil. Then, because he seemed to have a nearly empty piece of paper to fill, decided to draw a more complete arctic map for her.
"Baffin Island is right next to Greenland," he said as he drew. "It's quite long and has many inlets. This one right here," he pointed to an indentation, "is called Frobisher Inlet. It was named after Sir Martin Frobisher. He wanted to go to China as well, although it was called Cathay at the time. Queen Elizabeth had commanded him to sail Northwest in an in an attempt to find a better way to get to China. They found this inlet going west and decided to go up it."
"Did he find China?" Marianna asked excitedly.
"No," Hugh said, "He found gold instead. At least he thought that it was gold at the time. So, instead of trying to find a passage to China, he chose to dig up all the gold that his ship could carry and return to England. But it wasn't gold that he had found, it was just pyrite."
Mary was pretty certain that six-year-old Marianna had never heard of such a metal and was surprised that Hugh was able to keep the girl's attention for so long. "So did he try to go to China after that?" Marianna asked.
"No," Hugh admitted. "But other people have tried since then," and he began to add more places to the map, drawing not from memory this time, but on what he had been told by others. He told Marianna all about the group of islands that had been found in the very North and how there appeared to be little straits of clear water that ran between them. "If we could just find the right pathway through the islands," Hugh said wistfully, "then we could all sail to China just as quickly as we would like."
"Why can't someone find the right way?" Marianna asked indignantly, probably thinking from Hugh's description that it sounded like a very simple task.
"Well," Hugh said somewhat defensively, "That's because the paths are full of ice bergs and -- when it gets really cold -- the waterways freeze over entirely."
"But what if the ship is in the water when it freezes?" Marianna sounded horrified.
"Then the ship gets stuck," Hugh admitted, "and it stays stuck until the ice starts to melt again. Sometimes a ship will have to stay embedded in the ice all winter!"
"All winter?"
"All winter. Then the crew has to melt ice for drinking water and hunt the animals that roam around the snow -- which is hard to do because it stays dark for days on end."
"It's dark all the time?" Marianna sounded horrified. "Where does the sun go?"
Hugh laughed and tried to explain to her how the Earth tilted the north away from the sun during the winters and that the southern part of the world experienced long days of light. Marianna appeared to have some difficulty grasping that concept and said that she felt very bad for the animals and the people who lived up north. "It's not so bad, Marianna," Hugh said and then fell silent for a moment as he thought of wintering in the arctic. "The hardest part is finding ways of staying warm when it's dark and you have nothing to do. Then you do begin to get lonely as you think of home."
From her hidden vantage behind the door, Mary felt herself shiver. She could not imagine why anyone would risk their comfort for a chance to see the uncharted places of the arctic, but not only did it appear as if Hugh could imagine such a thing, it seemed as if he had already done so. She knew hardly anything about his trips to the arctic! Mary realized then just how little she knew about her fiancé. A small, cold lump settled in her stomach as she recognized that she had decided to marry him because he knew her shocking secret and had accepted it without any qualms.
She didn't know him nearly as well as he knew her.
"I don't think that I'd want to go sailing there," Marianna resumed the conversation shaking her head vigorously.
"Even if there was a chance that you would be the first to find the quick way to the other side of the world?" Hugh asked. "Then you could see the Great Wall for yourself."
Marianna appeared to think about that for awhile.
"And there are many other wonderful things about China," Hugh furthered and whispered a few of them to the young girl, his tone confidential. It was during this secret conversation that Elizabeth walked up behind Mary.
Mary didn't want to see Hugh's conversation with Marianna be interrupted. She was learning so much about him just by eavesdropping that she turned and held a finger to her mouth, quieting her sister. "Hugh found her," she pointed towards the dining room. Intrigued, Elizabeth poked her head around the door as well.
"Oh," Elizabeth cooed as her eyes took in the scene before her. "Hugh has been so good with Marianna," she commented to Mary. "He'll make a wonderful father someday."
Mary wanted to agree with that, but could not be sure.
"But I fear that he'll be just like Fitzwilliam in allowing his children to ignore their studies in favor of play," Elizabeth shook her head and attempted to look stern. "Marianna has played the truant long enough. May I retrieve her now?"
Mary agreed to that, "I have to check on the Barrow's houseguest anyway," she said, walking into the room after her and wondering if Hugh would wish to accompany her again.
"Mamma!" Marianna exclaimed, seeing her mother coming.
"Run along upstairs, Miss Marianna," Elizabeth scolded her daughter with a shake of her head, "You've neglected Nanny long enough."
Marianna abandoned her boat of chairs, a pouting expression etched on her face. Hugh extricated himself as well, closing up the atlas as he climbed out of the arrangement of chairs and handing it over to the girl. "But Dr. Hugh was teaching me geography," she attempted half-heartedly as she took the ungainly atlas and tried to tuck it under her arm.
"Dr. Hugh and your aunt are wanted over at Little Charlie's house," Elizabeth explained, taking her daughter by the arm and escorting her out of the door, "He doesn't have time to give you a geography lesson."
Hugh turned to Mary once they were alone in the room. "I'm afraid that I can't accompany you to the Barrows' this morning, my dear," he said, voice full of regret. "I'm afraid that I have business that cannot be delayed."
"Oh!" Mary was surprised by the news. Hugh hardly ever had business that he could not put off until later. She was hoping to use the drive to learn more of his plans. She especially wished to ask him why he felt as if her dowry was necessary to their future. "Well then, can I drop you off anywhere? Elizabeth has given me use of the carriage today."
"No," Hugh negatived quickly. "It is an easy distance from here. I should like to walk there."
"A walk?" Mary looked out the window. It looked rather cold out today, and she could tell that the wind was much stronger than it had been yesterday.
"Yes, a walk," he smiled confidently, taking hold of her hand and walking her back into the hall. "But I shall see you again tonight, won't I?"
With that, he took his leave, gathering up his coat, hat, and gloves from the footman. And because the footman remained in the hall so that he could open the door, Hugh was only able to kiss her hand as a farewell. He was out of the door in an instant, striding purposefully down the street.
From the entrance to the house, Mary watched him go, the same strange, unsettled feeling dampening her spirits. How was she ever to learn more about him? Or would she need to resign herself to the fact that she would never truly know her husband?
"Shall I call the carriage for you, Miss Bennet?" The footman asked, standing near her elbow.
"Yes, please," she said, eyes still watching Hugh. He turned the corner and Mary went back inside the house so that she could retrieve her cloak and kit bag.
She was at the Barrows' house not an hour later. She was pleased to note that Bette, the unfortunate girl, was greatly improved. Her strength appeared to be slowly returning and, with it, her color. Mary only needed to check her bandages and the closures that she had placed on her more severe cuts before she could pronounce Bette on the mend.
Mary found it interesting that Seth was nowhere to be seen during her visit. She wanted to ask Arabella about his whereabouts, but couldn't think of any way to do it without appearing awkward. Arabella attended her throughout her stay and John had come out of his study long enough to welcome her and ask if he could speak with her after she finished with Bette.
Mary did wonder what it was that John wished to speak with her about and mulled over the possibilities as she examined Bette. She wondered if it had anything to do with Hugh. She recalled the hidden look of recognition that had passed between the two men. The only other possibility was that he wished to consult about Seth.
Whatever it was, it appeared as if John was not looking forward to their exchange. The cast of his face was quite grim as she entered his study. "Please sit down, Mary," he came from behind his desk and gestured to a seat. She sat down and he attempted to make himself comfortable in the closest one to her.
His unease did nothing to settle her spirits, "Is this about Seth?" she began for him.
John looked surprised at the speculation. "No, indeed," he admitted, shaking his head. "Although I am quite concerned for that gentleman, he is not to be the subject of our conversation." He looked over at her, gaze unwavering. "I'm afraid that I wish to speak to you about your fiancé."
"Hugh," Mary intoned dully, beginning to fear what might be said next. It was upsetting to her that John seemed to know more about him than she herself did. She began to feel foolish. "Last night, it did appear as if you had met him before," she mentioned.
"We have," John nodded earnestly. "He had a task for 'Mr. Blevins' last year."
"He was a client?" Mary hadn't thought that John would know him in that way. "For what could he possibly have needed your services?"
"He said that he was trying to find his sister," John revealed quietly. "A Mrs. Mairie Sutherland."
"Sutherland? Like our Mary Sutherland? The one whose grave was defiled in Seth's churchyard?" she gasped. "Can it be a coincidence?"
John sighed, "While I must recognize that coincidences do happen," he began. "There are other things that make this more than just a coincidence." And he went on to explain about Bette's connection to Mairie Sutherland and what Mr. Scoggins had learned about the bloodstone brooch that appeared to have been buried with Mairie Sutherland, pulling out an article from the newspaper of two days ago. He showed it to her, explaining that the bloodstone brooch that was described in the newspaper article seemed to match the one that Bette remembered. Mary looked at the article, eyes immediately alighting on the name of the owner of the brooch -- Una Agnes McRae. Mary closed her eyes to it. Didn't Hugh mention to Marianna that he had lived with his Aunt Una in Edinburgh? But then, he did say that Una was a very old Scottish name and that there were many women named Una throughout Scotland.
Her spirits rallied with that thought, but then John went on to explain that while he could not yet prove that Hugh was behind the resurrectionist activity in the church yard, he felt as if she needed to be put on her guard. "He could have been the one that was responsible for your injury," he explained somberly.
"My injury," Mary recognized, mind turning numb at the idea. Could he possibly have been behind the knife attack that had exposed her true identity?
John nodded an affirmation and then waited quietly for her to say something. But she wasn't sure what she could say to that. Questions began rushing into her thoughts. Was Mairie Sutherland really Hugh's sister? And was Lady McRae really his aunt? And why would Hugh have chosen to steal the brooch from her? And if Mairie really was his sister, why did he lose contact with her? And if he really did steal the brooch, why didn't he sell it immediately? And why was the theft necessary? And what would have pushed Hugh to do such a thing?
She had no answers for these questions and she suspected that John didn't have any either. He appeared to have told her all that he knew. "I don't understand it," Mary whispered.
"Neither do I," John admitted, shaking his head. Mary looked over at him, waiting for him to go on. He looked down and appeared to consider carefully what he said next. "Mary," he began. "I don't suppose that he's told you anything that might shed some light on his motives?"
"His motives?" Mary echoed.
"Has he said anything that might make clear why he would go to such lengths?" John elaborated. "It would be helpful if we understood why he would do such things."
"It would be helpful?" Mary repeated as she thought. But whom would it be helping? She supposed that she would be helping John by telling him if she knew anything damaging to Hugh, but she certainly didn't see how it would help anyone else. It certainly would not help Hugh!
Unless he was not the perpetrator, in which case she might be helping to clear his name.
In Mary's estimation, however, this idea had little merit. And this was something that she recognized as a mark of the fact that she did not fully trust Hugh. She knew so little of him and there were too many questions that had not been answered for her not to have doubts.
It angered her that she didn't have anything to refute what John was saying. She couldn't tell him that his sister was not Mairie Sutherland, because she did not know if he had any sisters! She could not tell him that he couldn't have possibly stolen the brooch, because she did not know where he was during the time when they suspected the brooch was stolen. She couldn't even speak for his whereabouts during the time that the resurrectionists were breaking into the churchyard for a third attempt. He should have been at her ball, but had left early.
Had he left early to meet his cohorts?
And, if he was behind all of these insidious activities, what had driven him to them?
"Is there anything that you can tell us, Mary?" John asked again.
Mary looked at her friend. "Is that all you can think about, John?" she heard herself spit out in frustration. "Can you really be asking for my assistance in your endeavor to investigate my fiancé?" He opened his mouth as if to make an attempt to refute what she had said, but she stopped him. "I realize that my willingness to assist you in your investigation of Lord Rodale and Mr. Percy might lead you to believe that I'm willing to be called in for any job, but this really goes too far!"
"We..." John began, but couldn't get in another word before Mary launched into another diatribe of indignation.
"Really John, you are being too cruel!" She stood up from her chair and crossed the room, angry with John for giving her more reasons to doubt Hugh and angry with herself for being in such a position in the first place. She should have acted more prudently. She should have never attached herself to a man that she barely knew! "You cannot expect me to help you act against him. He's my fiancé!"
She pressed her lips together and tried to compose herself, but her fury was too high. "What will you ask me ask me to do next?" She challenged, "Will you ask me to spy on him? Help you set a trap for him? Find a way to force him into a confession? My feelings are not for hire, John!"
This last she was barely able to express, emotion had begun to color her voice, choking out any further remarks. She turned her face away from John so that he could not see how deeply his suspicions had affected her and how these suspicions of his had resonated with her own doubts.
"Mary," John spoke, "I shouldn't have asked you for assistance. I only meant to put you on your guard. Seth, Arabella, and I all agreed that should be made aware of the potential for danger from him. He may not be a man that you can trust."
But this was something that she had begun to question already.