The Murdering Wives Club Page 13

  “You know, I thought once I returned home that I would be free from worry. But this is a whole lot worse. Men with guns across battlefields are a lot easier to deal with! I think we are still in enough danger without you adding to it, Norah. Please listen to me. I don’t think it is a responsible idea to put your head in the lion’s mouth. I know the more I refuse to let you, the more you will want to do this. And I don’t want to drive you into it. If I am adamant I don’t want you to do it, you will want it more. And if I encourage you to do it and something happens, I’ll never forgive myself. And really I cannot bear to think of you in any more danger on my account.”

  “I want to help, Laurie. I came here to find out what was happening to you and others. And I think I’m quite good at it. I can do this and we’ll put these criminals behind bars where they belong.”

  “It sounds like you’re longing for adventure and you want to be a hero,” I say.

  “And would that be a silly want?” Norah asks. “Don’t men go off to war for adventure and to be heroic?”

  I open and close my mouth. She has got me there.

  Chapter 21

  Norah Walsh

  “Laurie did well,” Giles says as we walk back towards the kitchen together. “He did well to see them both off. That took courage. I’m very proud of him. Thanks to you, he’s got a new strength of character, Norah.”

  It is kind of Giles to give me credit when I had stayed out of the drama.

  “It was such a relief to see them drive around the far corner of the avenue and out that end gate. Gone,” he says triumphantly.

  “Laurie did very well,” I say as if he’s a boy at school. “There’s a lot happening with his work for the General too and he’s coping with it all. I’m very proud of his progress.”

  “And aren’t you a strong woman?” Giles says, swinging the kitchen door open expertly with his back. “Dealing with dangerous wives.”

  I smirk. If only Giles knew about all that I cope with.

  “She’s a very beautiful woman,” I say to him as I help by putting cups and saucers onto the shining silver tray. “I mean Charlotte. She’s a good-looking woman.”

  Giles grunts and places the large, brass kettle onto the hot plate.

  “Laurie has regretted marrying her for some time, hasn’t he?” I ask even though I already know the answer. “She wants a divorce. Should he give it to her so easily? She’d be entitled to things. It might break up this estate?”

  “Never. The Davenports have good lawyers and this place is locked up tight from the likes of that Charlotte.”

  I let my shoulders relax. “That’s good news. As we’d say at home, it’s all tied up tighter than a duck’s arse then?”

  Giles laughs and agrees but then starts ranting about gold diggers and wanton women with no morals.

  All I can do is sit on the stool by the warmth of the stove and wait on the kettle. I do agree with him that in that way men are vulnerable. But, though sometimes a woman manages to damage their pocket and reputation, but it seldom hurts them for long.

  As Giles opens the tea canister the aroma of it fills the air.

  “Laurie will be back to his old self sooner than we think,” I say to Giles as well as myself. “We need to keep this momentum going. Keep him moving on with his life. I’ll drive us both over to Thistleforth and visit Fredrick. It’ll get him out of lingering in that parlour and thinking too much about things outside his control. It might be late when we get back. But Cook is off today anyhow and we might find something to eat over there.”

  “Whatever you think is best,” Giles says, filling the teapot with a long high pour from the heavy kettle. He’s showing off his strength and abilities to make tea. “I think you were right to let him deal with the women alone. It gave him confidence. He so badly needs to feel manly again. It’s hard for a woman like you to understand, but Mr Davenport has lost more than his eyesight. It’s his whole manhood that is at stake. Charlotte has condemned him to a fate worse than death.”

  “That’s a bit over the top, Giles,” I say with a snort, but I know in ways he’s right.

  I wonder whether the Sinful Roses might see Laurie’s fate as sealed and Charlotte might be let go from their clutches. They might be persuaded that Laurie is dead in all the ways that matter. Eve Good is a different kettle of fish for the Sinful Roses to deal with. She’s not just a murdering wife. She’s killed more than a husband. She went on a rampage when her husband plummeted to his death.

  “Did he fall or was he pushed?” I mutter to myself.

  “Pardon?” Giles asks.

  “Oh … nothing.”

  “Then he came home broken and maimed and she was off cavorting and making a spectacle of herself. When she was here, we lived in fear. Cook will be pleased to know he saw her off. That was not an easy thing for a man of principle to do. He made oaths to love, honour and protect her. Huh! He’s finally going to get some peace. Over the top it may be but I’m glad, Miss Walsh.”

  Giles is passionate about his employer and it is nice to see. Laurie has indeed stared death in the face and become blind because of it. He lost his entire family and he neither deserved or caused this tragedy. He also does not deserve someone like me in his life. But I am falling in love – and much as I try to stop it I can’t.

  I nod at Giles and smile. “My worry is that once this work is done, he’ll not need me any more …” I stop myself for I cannot think of the future. I don’t want to think about having to leave Laurie or Davenport Manor, but I’ll have to. Regardless of what happens with Eve Good, an end will come and Laurie and I will part ways. That makes me very sad.

  Giles has lifted the tray aloft but he stops and places it back onto the table with a clink. His hand takes mine and he leans down to peer into my eyes. “Fredrick is not a nice man, but he knows his duty and does it. He cares for Mr Davenport and sent you here for a reason. We both know what that reason is. He wants you to love Mr Davenport and bring him back to a full life. I can also see that you’re a good woman. Allowing Mr Davenport to depend on you and, yes, care for you, is not a bad thing.” He holds a finger aloft to silence me. “But you should have faced that Charlotte today. You mustn’t feel one bit guilty about taking her position in Mr Davenport’s home … or heart. Don’t let her ruin the one good thing that has happened to Mr Davenport in years. And, before you wonder, Miss Walsh, that one good thing is most definitely you.”

  “I don’t know about that,” I say.

  Giles lets go of my hand and lifts the tray with new purpose. “Bring in Cook’s oaten biscuits, would you? They’re beside the egg basket in a tin with a horse and hounds on the front.”

  Nibbling on an oaten biscuit, I sit beside Laurie at our favourite spot beside the glass double-doors leading out onto the terrace.

  He doesn’t speak for a long time.

  I break the silence. “Once we’ve finished this, let’s drive over to Thistleforth and get more of Eve’s account from Fredrick – and find out all we can about these wretched Sinful Roses, eh?”

  Chapter 22

  Laurie Davenport

  I cannot drive, read, or admire the woman I’m falling for. My wife wants a divorce and I’m trying to prove that she’s out to kill me. What in the world is happening to me? I’m like a sitting duck waiting to be shot. To get me moving and motivated, Norah and I have come to Thistleforth House and she has asked to see the General. It’s reported back almost immediately that Freddie is too busy to meet with us and we linger in the corridor like strays.

  “Don’t look so dejected. It’s me he doesn’t want to see,” Norah says, touching my arm. Her face moves towards my ear and I shiver when she whispers, “He knows there are things here at Thistleforth that I want to be involved in and he’s avoiding me.”

  I want to ask what things? But an image of a naked Norah in Freddie’s bed flashes before me. Were they lovers? Are they still? I reach out for her wrist and hold it. I pull her closer and touch my lips lightly off
her cheek. “Forget him,” I whisper against the softness of her. She smells heavenly. “We’re a team now. You and me, Watson.”

  “Yes,” she murmurs.

  I wish we weren’t in a cold corridor with footsteps passing. I could quite easily slip an arm around her waist and fold her against this passion stirring between my legs. Thankfully, she doesn’t move away from me and leans against my chest with her forehead against my chin. We breathe in unison and I move my mouth downwards and find skin with my lips. I kiss it.

  She sighs and says, “We shouldn’t … I’ve ambitions, Laurie. I want to be more than a ...”

  “Shhh,” I urge. I don’t want to hear about Norah's desires as something tells me that they don’t include me.

  A kiss finds her forehead again and I feel the tickle of curls against my face. I nuzzle into her hair and find the smooth side of a tightening neck.

  “You’re so beautiful,” I whisper and hold either side of her slim waist with my hands. “Let’s go home?” I urge, breathless at being this intimate in a cold corridor.

  “This isn’t right,” she says quietly without moving. “Nice and all as it feels, this is wrong. We shouldn’t, Laurie."

  I suck gently near her earlobe and she shudders. My crotch hardens but she moves my hands from her sides and steps backwards.

  Her fingers touch off my hand and she grabs it to squeeze it reassuringly as she says, “We should stop now. You’re still married, Mr Davenport, and I’m a good Catholic girl.”

  I suddenly become self-conscious and wonder who might be within earshot. There are doors opening and closing and the noise of chattering comes from further along the corridor. Why can I not find this seductive bravery when I’m at home in the manor? When I have her alone, why can’t I move and be like this?

  “Let’s get what we came here for,” she says and I hear her footsteps clip off and away from me.

  I want to thump something hard. I curl my fist into a tight ball and grimace. Why did fate bring Norah into my life now? Why am I being tempted with images of a glorious future and steamy lovemaking? Norah is right – we’re not meant to be tempted this way. I just wish someone would tell my tormented libido.

  I stand waiting on her to return. It feels like five minutes. Then the cool air around me is replaced with a warm glow and her aroma.

  “Did you get Eve’s letter?” I ask, not wanting to know if she got to see Freddie. He would kiss her for sure. He wouldn’t stand there like a lunatic with his mouth hanging open and his underwear embarrassingly and uncomfortably tight.

  “Yes,” she answers. She takes my arm and we set off.

  “Her letters should really be sent directly to Davenport,” I say, wanting to keep distance between Norah and Freddie. Something outside of Davenport will take her away from me and it burns me in my guts to think of it.

  Sitting into the car, I resent not being able to drive. I miss it terribly. Norah is quiet and I hate not being able to see her. The engine roars and it’s not me making it sound so good. Anger bubbles and thoughts of not seeing what’s right in front of me surface.

  “What is between you and Freddie?” I ask Norah and then hold up a hand to stop her answering. “No. Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know. Let’s not spoil things. We should stick to the job at hand. As soon as we get home let’s see what else this Eve Good can tell us and just move on.”

  Norah mutters agreement. “That is for the best, Laurie. We have a job to do. We shouldn’t get distracted.”

  I want to gush that I don’t want us to succeed for then she will leave me. I also don’t want to know any more about her and Freddie. I’d rather stay in the dark and cling to Norah. Yes, that is what I want – Norah in the dark with me and not much talking at all.

  The rain comes on just as we park at the front door. It patters on the windshield and roof. I was just about to ask Norah to walk with me in the garden but now that’s not possible. She let me kiss her face only a while earlier but it seems like a dream now as I stumble my way up the front steps.

  “I’ll take your arm,” she offers from behind me. “Wait a moment!”

  I don’t do as she wishes and fumble to find the doorknob by myself. I stride across the hall, counting my way to my usual spot in the sunshine. Who needs her? I certainly don’t need to beg any woman to be with me. I don’t need Norah!

  All is going fine until I miscalculate my journey and my arm clips off the fern in my mother’s Belleek china pot, sitting on the hall table. It crashes to the floor and scatters earth everywhere. The smell of soil mingles with my curses and I kick a large piece of pot ahead of me. It clatters off the skirting board and shatters some more. Temper tantrums are usual in children and it takes all of my resolve not to stamp my feet or lie down in the dirt strewn across the floor and kick up my heels. I shout out in anger instead, a long, anguished groan.

  I creak my tightened neck and jaw-line towards the front door and call, “Norah, it seems that I do need you! Can you help me, please?”

  “It’s all right, Laurie, it’s only a plant,” she says from the end of the hall. “Can you make your way into the parlour? I’ll help Giles clear this up and be with you in a minute.”

  What I want to say disappears with her footsteps towards the kitchen. I should just take Norah up the stairs and make passionate love to her. That’s what any normal man would do.

  But here, in the dark, I am not the man Norah needs.

  Chapter 23

  Norah Walsh

  Seeing Laurie lose his patience with a potted plant is new. I like it. There’s a glimpse of the man that he is. Finally, I’m getting to see a fire or passion in him. It’s a pity the accident comes from him trying to be independent but I think it also happened because of his jealousy or frustration with me. I like that he’s jealous. Should I encourage this or not? It seems to be reviving Laurie but also it’s unfair if I’m not planning on following through with my flirtations. It’s unfair to give him mixed signals. It’s not good for me either. I’m torn in two. On one hand there’s the chance at happiness … perhaps . . . and on the other there is the chance to be a woman of substance. What do I want? Or which do I want more?

  His kisses are so delicate, so thoughtful, so delicious. I get lost when he touches me like that. The sensations are too intense to forget or ignore. Then, in the middle of the romance, my sense comes back to me and I push him away. The distress to myself is bad enough but, as I lift the shards of china, I realise that I’m also playing with a broken man’s emotions. It’s disgusting. I need to make up my mind and stick to a course of action.

  “I’ll try to glue it,” Giles says. “It’s a family piece.”

  “Oh dear,” I say, smiling. “That kick he gave it didn’t help. He was walking by himself.”

  “Ah,” Giles says knowingly. “Go do whatever it is you were doing together. Go on. I’ll finish here.” There’s a kind wink from him.

  I hate that I have vital information that I’m keeping to myself. These are good men and it’s unfair not to reveal all that I know, to Laurie especially. It’s very unfair indeed!

  Taking the envelope with Eve’s letters into the parlour, I wait on Laurie to smile at me. Usually he does and when it happens my belly-butterflies swirl and all is fine with the world. However, just now there are no smiles from Laurie to greet me. A silent, sullen expression is facing out towards the rainswept gardens. I cannot blame him.

  “Will I read this to you?” I ask him when he doesn’t acknowledge me. “We cannot give up now,” I try as I drag a chair closer to him. “Let’s see what Eve Good has to say for herself today.”

  Chapter 24

  Eve Good

  I was leaving Marjorie’s one day when I found a man on his knees looking in the flowerbed under some of her rosebushes. He was portly with thick spectacles and receding dark hair. It was Cedric her nephew. Terribly boring and moist-handshaking Cedric Fellows. He was starting to visit more regularly. Marjorie was pleased and I was suspiciou
s.

  I wrote to Tilly, telling her about everything. I asked her too if she had recovered from the bout of influenza which prevented her from coming to John’s funeral. Tilly had always been able to read between the lines – she knew how I felt about things. A distant cousin she might be, but there was lots of my blood in her veins all the same. If she became a Sinful Rose then maybe things might not be quite so bad. We could be in this mess together. I thought it would be easier with the likes of Tilly in my corner. I would have an ally, a comrade. I muttered a little prayer that she might be led to consider it, then licked the envelope closed and placed a stamp in the corner.

  Also, Lydia and the others help women in peril, women on the brink of ruin and disaster. It is laudable in many ways. When one looks at it, they provide a great service and they receive no monetary reward. What do we gain from helping others, other than danger? Maybe that was part of the attraction too?

  John was dead weeks by then. If I had pushed him, I’d be empowered and full of pride, elated with a sense of achievement. Without the Sinful Roses there was very little else in my life. Much as it pained me to think this or admit to it, there it was – the truth of the draw to such a place and such people. Alone and vulnerable I was at their mercy and, in looking at it all, I was lifted by their interest in me and my existence meant something. Waiting on the meetings gave purpose to my weeks, excitement to my thoughts, urges to my lethargy.

  The women, Alice and Lydia, made me feel dangerous and vicious. Alice called me terrible names and accused me of dreadful things. Although it was unprovoked and undeserved, I did like to think she thought I was dangerous. I found myself smirking in the street, knowing she saw a badness in me.