The Anatomist's Wife Page 13

Gage nodded. “Was everything . . . cozy between you?”

  “Of course,” he replied much too quickly.

  Gage sensed this as well. “Are you sure about that?” He paused a moment, allowing the man time to think before continuing in a silky voice. “Because I would hate to discover later that you lied. It would make you look quite suspicious.”

  Mr. Fitzpatrick shifted in his seat again. “Well, we haven’t shared a bed since the night we arrived at Gairloch, if that’s what you’re asking,” he replied crossly.

  Gage’s head perked up. “Why’s that?”

  “Damned if I know.”

  “Really?” Gage remarked doubtfully. “Nothing happened between you two? No argument?”

  He huffed. “Well, how was I to know she would take offense at my mentioning how much I liked her new curves. Gave her a compliment and what does she do but throw me out of her room. Now, tell me, was that really called for? Women,” he muttered, shaking his head. “They don’t make any bloody sense.”

  “Did you try to speak with her about it?”

  “I did. I made a right flowery apology, even though I didn’t understand what had offended her in the first place. She told me we were finished.”

  “It sounds like you were upset by this?”

  “I was. But then I figured, good riddance. Let some other bloke deal with her tantrums. She wasn’t as talented between the sheets as she was rumored to be. And she was starting to get fat.”

  If Mr. Fitzpatrick’s outrage was to be believed, and I found it quite convincing, then he had not been bright enough to connect Lady Godwin’s new curves and increasing weight to the fact that she was with child. And in that case, he might have been angry enough to do her harm, but he would never have harmed a baby he didn’t know existed.

  I assumed Gage deduced the same thing, for he sat quietly contemplating Mr. Fitzpatrick’s spent rage. For his part, Mr. Fitzpatrick came to the belated realization that his display of temper could make him a prime suspect in the murder of his former mistress. He leaned forward in his seat to plead his case.

  “You don’t think I killed her, do you? Because I didn’t. I never even contemplated it. I . . . I wouldn’t hurt a fly. Well, maybe a fly. But certainly not a woman.”

  “Hold on, Fitzpatrick.” Gage held up his hand to slow the man’s panicked monologue. “Take a deep breath.”

  He took an exaggerated inhale of air before audibly blowing it out.

  “Now, tell me where you were when you heard Lady Lydia’s scream.”

  “I . . . I was talking to Mr. Abingdon and Sir David by the rosebushes that border the lawn near the maze,” he said quickly. “We were discussing Mr. Abingdon’s new filly.”

  “And how long were you with them before the scream?” Gage asked, clearly struggling for patience in the face of the man’s frightened ramblings.

  “Well, I didn’t exit the house with them after dinner, if that’s what you mean, but I met up with them soon after.” Mr. Fitzpatrick brightened, sitting taller in his chair. “So you see, I had no opportunity to kill her.”

  It did appear that way. Unless Sir David or Mr. Abingdon had assisted him. Still, I had a hard time believing the fidgety Mr. Fitzpatrick had any part in this nasty business.

  Gage relaxed back in his seat. He didn’t comment on Mr. Fitzpatrick’s alibi, although I was beginning to read him well enough to tell that he believed him. It was likely he would confirm Mr. Fitzpatrick’s story with at least one of the other men just for the sake of thoroughness, but I felt confident he didn’t expect to catch Mr. Fitzpatrick in a lie.

  “Are you aware of anyone who might have wished Lady Godwin harm?” Gage asked.

  Mr. Fitzpatrick seemed to think this new line of questioning indicated he was no longer a suspect, for he settled deeper into the cushions and took a leisurely sip of his port. “Sure. But I don’t think any of them would kill her.” He drained his glass and set it aside. “What about Lady Darby? If I thought anyone was capable of such a thing, it would be her.”

  My stomach dropped and the breath squeezed in my chest. I stared at Gage’s head, waiting to hear his reply to this suggestion.

  “You are not the first person to suggest such a thing,” he said broodingly. “But I have yet to hear a credible reason why she would murder Lady Godwin.”

  “Surely you heard how she helped her husband with his human dissections.” Mr. Fitzpatrick leaned toward Gage. “It’s said they hired grave robbers and asked them to commit murder just so they could have more subjects for their experimentations.”

  “Like Burke and Hare.”

  “Exactly. It’s even rumored that they performed at least one vivisection, slicing open the fellow while he was still alive.”

  My stomach churned hearing someone speak the now-familiar accusations in a voice filled with such horrified fascination, as if I were a carnival freak show. The scandal over the actions of renowned anatomist Robert Knox at the Royal College of Surgeons of Edinburgh and his relationship with the body snatchers and murderers Burke and Hare had broken only months before Sir Anthony’s death. It had not surprised me when questions arose regarding Sir Anthony’s methods of procuring bodies. However, I had never known the public possessed such macabre imaginations, or that they would invent even more horrific charges to throw at me.

  “But I thought Lady Darby was cleared of all charges?” Gage replied in a leading voice.

  Mr. Fitzpatrick nodded. “She was. The authorities placed all blame on her husband, but no one believed she was as ignorant of it all as she protested. I mean, what woman could handle such a gruesome sight if she wasn’t already so unnatural.”

  “Indeed.”

  Mr. Fitzpatrick missed the dry tone of Gage’s voice and continued to level the charges against me. “They say she picked the victims herself by walking the streets of Whitechapel and St. Giles looking for handsome young men. I even heard tell that she cut out some of their organs and asked for them to be cooked and served up to her for dinner.”

  Gage’s head jerked backward in disgust. “Mr. Fitzpatrick!” he admonished.

  The other man sat back. “Perhaps the last is a bit sensational,” he admitted abashedly. “But I assure you the others have been well documented as truth. Lady Darby is just lucky that her brother and Lord Cromarty are so well respected, or she would have danced the dead man’s jig long ago.”

  I pulled my knees up to my chest, trying to make myself as small as possible. Though I knew that others had been discussing them behind my back, no one had leveled such accusations directly at me since the charges against me were dismissed and I departed London. To hear the words formed again within my hearing made the small amount of food I had consumed at dinner churn in my stomach. I had never understood society’s urge to crucify me for the abuses of my husband. I wasn’t certain I ever would. And I was so tired of fighting them. Of defending myself at every turn. Of being forced to hide away in the Highlands and conceal my talent.

  “I assure you Lady Darby is being closely watched and considered,” Gage told Mr. Fitzpatrick. There was a curious twist in his voice I could not decipher. “But I would be foolish not to pursue every possibility. So if you should remember anything suspicious, anything at all, please let me know.”

  A rock settled in my gut upon hearing Gage so baldly confirm that I was a suspect. Perhaps his prime suspect. I dared not move from my position, for fear that I would hurl something down at him. Instead, I clasped my arms tighter around my legs, heedless of the wrinkles that would form in the skirts of my dress.

  “Will you take Lady Darby into custody?” Mr. Fitzpatrick asked eagerly.

  “Nothing will be done until either my investigation is complete or the procurator fiscal arrives,” he stated carefully. “And I would appreciate it if you would k
eep everything we have discussed to yourself. I do not want Lady Darby declared the culprit until I uncover proof.”

  “Of course, of course. No one will hear anything from me.”

  I could hear the beginnings of a smile forming on Mr. Fitzpatrick’s face, and I dug my fingernails into my arms. The men rose from their seats and exchanged pleasantries, while my fury continued to build.

  My worst fears seemed confirmed. The lying snake had used me. Accepting my assistance and all the while building a case against me. He wouldn’t have a shred of pertinent evidence if not for me.

  I heard the door to the library open and close below me, and then Mr. Gage sighed heavily as he sank back into his chair. Rising from my crouch, I leaned against the banister and glared down at him. He sat in a sprawl, running his hand through his hair as if he had had a difficult day.

  I swallowed the vile epithets I wanted to yell at him and instead spoke in a calm, clipped voice. “Shall I lead you to where I’ve buried the baby, then?”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  If I had been in another state of mind, I might have enjoyed the way Mr. Gage bristled like a cat and leapt out of his chair. As it was, the only thing I could see was the red haze that descended over my vision.

  “Or perhaps the real murder weapon? Would you like to know where that is?”

  “Damn it, Lady Darby!” Gage exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”

  I wandered across the loft, toward the stairs, gliding my hand over the banister. “Even better, shall I come up with a motive for you? I’m certain my unnatural, knife-wielding, cannibalistic tendencies are enough for most people, but perhaps you need a more common explanation for my actions.”

  “Have you been up there the entire time?” he demanded, and then answered for himself. “But, of course, you have. I thought I specifically told you to stay away while I interviewed Mr. Fitzpatrick.”

  “No. You only said Mr. Fitzpatrick would not speak freely if I accompanied you. He never knew I was listening. And neither did you.” I narrowed my eyes. “I must say I’m rather glad I chose to circumvent your orders. At least now I know what you really think of me.” I was amazed by the steadiness of my voice, considering how angry I felt. “I imagine Philip and Alana will be quite unhappy to discover how much you’ve abused their trust.”

  “You have to understand, I need to gain these people’s confidence,” he began impatiently to explain as I slowly descended the spiral staircase. “They all believe you are some ghoul, and if I don’t take their concerns about you seriously, they will never trust me enough to speak openly. Besides, if the real murderer believes I’m focusing my attention on you, they might imagine themselves safe and slip up.”

  He met me at the bottom of the stairs, and I stopped on the next-to-last step so that I was equal to his height. “So you’re not intending to name me as a suspect to the procurator fiscal when he arrives?” I raised my eyebrows. “Even if you can’t come up with a better person to accuse, you’re not going to present me as suspect number one?”

  He did not reply immediately, and I took that as the answer it was and narrowed my eyes.

  “I have to present all of my findings to the magistrate, regardless of my feelings on the matter.”

  “Don’t you mean my findings?” I challenged. “After all, the most damning evidence you have against me are the clues I uncovered for you. Without my assistance, you wouldn’t have a shred of useful information beyond a bunch of nasty rumors.”

  “And a corpse, Lady Darby,” he snapped, crowding in closer to me and blocking my escape from the stairs. “Don’t forget Lady Godwin herself.”

  “Oh, yes.” I sneered. “A dead body, which you would have failed to realize was missing something very precious inside.”

  “I would have discovered it eventually.”

  “Of course you would have,” I replied sarcastically. “You wouldn’t have just assumed someone was trying to disfigure her womanhood.”

  Gage gritted his teeth as I reminded him of the suppositions he made on the subject of Lady Godwin’s abdominal wounds.

  “I believe my cooperation with you on the matter is finished. You can continue chasing rumors while I find the real killer.” I pushed forward, trying to sweep past Gage, but he would not let me by and, in fact, moved in closer until his nose was nearly touching mine. I refused to step back, even though his proximity made my stomach dip.

  “You will not go this alone,” he told me, his blue eyes blazing. “You cannot go it alone.” I began to protest, but he pushed on. “No one will speak with you about it. They’re all too afraid of you and, at the very least, highly suspicious that you are the actual culprit.” I frowned, not liking the truth of his words. “Besides, Cromarty will never allow you to continue alone.”

  “I do not need Philip’s permission,” I protested.

  “In this matter, you do. Otherwise, I can ask him to lock you in your chambers for your own protection.”

  A bolt of alarm streaked through me. “He wouldn’t. You wouldn’t,” I snapped furiously.

  He moved his face an inch closer to mine. “I would,” he growled.

  The air between us crackled with tension, neither of us wanting to be the one to relent. I was so close to Gage that I could pick out the silver flecks dotting his irises near his pupils.

  I was furious with him, and myself. Angry that all of the control seemed to be in his hands—my fate yet again relegated to a man, as it had been with my father, Sir Anthony, and even Philip, as I depended on his approval to reside at Gairloch. I could not stand idly by and let Gage decide whether I should be accused before the magistrate. I would be a fool to do so. And I was incensed that I had been inclined to trust him, to share some of myself with him when he so clearly did not trust me in return and, in fact, planned to betray me.

  However, irate as I was, I could not seem to shut down my awareness of him. And the longer I glared into his eyes, our bodies inches from touching, the stronger the tingling heat in my chest became, and the fuzzier my anger became. The tension and frustration were still there arcing between us, but they had taken on a blunter edge—one that suddenly seemed to draw me closer rather than push me away.

  I sucked in a startled breath, one filled with the sweat and musk of his skin and the spicy scent of his cologne, as I realized what was happening. Gage clearly recognized it, too, for his pupils dilated and flicked down to my mouth. My lips tingled as if his gaze was tangible. For a moment, we hung there in limbo, neither of us moving, nor hardly daring to breathe. I was torn by indecision—and the fact that I was torn at all troubled me.

  I watched as Gage swallowed, making the Adam’s apple bob up and down in his throat, and then slowly stepped back. I was forced to take a solid grip of the stair rails in order to resist the urge to follow his retreat, as if I were suddenly a lodestone and he was north. I breathed in deeply and exhaled, waiting to hear what he would say.

  Only a small tremor in his voice revealed that he was in the least affected by whatever had just passed between us. “Well, it appears you have as much need of my charm and communication skills as I do of your powers of observation and intelligence. It would not be in either of our best interests to split up.”

  I appreciated his attempt to soften the blow of his earlier declaration, but I did not understand how he thought to make me agree with him. “How can you expect me to continue to assist you when you’ve just admitted you will be naming me as a suspect to the procurator fiscal?” I demanded, albeit with less heat than before. If he was willing to be calm and reasonable, I could be as well.

  His hand lifted from the banister, where it had blocked my path, and he raked it through his hair. “I’m not telling you I would do so in order to hurt you. I don’t have a choice, Lady Darby. After one conversation with the other guests, the procurator fi
scal is going to name you a suspect himself. Unless we can point him toward someone more culpable.”

  I studied him, reluctant to trust him but aware his words were true.

  “For what it’s worth,” he continued, planting one hand on his hip. “I don’t believe you’re the murderer.” His voice sounded steady enough, but his eyes told me he still held doubts. “Although, it would be helpful if someone would explain to me just what happened during this trial last year everyone keeps alluding to.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest. “There was never a trial. It never came to that,” I replied, but refused to elaborate further. Not after what had just transpired between us.

  He searched my face, perhaps looking for any sign of weakness, of willingness to confide, but he quickly discovered I was determined in my silence. A few pretty words would not break through four years of wariness and fear, and a lifetime of circumspection when it came to sharing things about myself.

  He moved aside to let me pass down the last step. “We have three days until the procurator fiscal arrives,” he told me, as if I didn’t already hear the time ticking away. “I would like to question Lord Marsdale and Mr. Calvin, Lady Godwin’s other lovers, next. I suspect Mr. Calvin is much like Mr. Fitzpatrick, or worse, and would not speak freely with a woman present, but you may accompany me to question Lord Marsdale if you wish.”

  I turned to watch Gage closely, wondering if he had witnessed my exchange with Marsdale in the hall earlier.

  “I suggest we wait until morning, however,” he continued. “Marsdale seemed a little worse for drink this evening.” He smirked. “Since he does not normally arise until after noon, I think a morning interview will be just the thing after a night of heavy indulgence. He will be quite grateful to us for waking him so early.” He glanced at me, and seeing my expression, his grin widened. “Did you think I hadn’t noticed how Marsdale finds you intriguing?” I tensed and he chuckled. “The man can’t stand to be turned down, and I suspect you’ve done it more than once. He’s fairly quivering with the need to conquer you before the party is over.”