This Side of Murder Page 19

  He grimaced, staring at his cigarette. “Yes, I tried my hand at breaking it, and evidently failed.” His gaze flicked upward to meet mine. “That’s why I decided to draw you into this wretched mess, despite the dangers, despite the risks.” He leaned forward over his knees toward me. “I’m so close to ending this, Verity. I can feel it. But I need to know what’s coded in that missive. Will you help me?”

  His eyes were dark in the dim light of that single lamp, the pupils nearly swallowing the deep blue of his irises. They were pleading with me in a way I knew I was helpless to deny. Not when my husband had just been returned to me from the grave. Despite what he might have done, despite how he had hurt me, I knew I couldn’t walk away when he needed me.

  But that didn’t mean I was going to make it easy for him.

  “Why did you wait so long to inform me you were alive? Why did you leave me to grieve for so long?” My voice broke on the last, and I lifted my chin, forbidding the tears burning at the back of my eyes from surfacing.

  A line formed between Sidney’s brows as he slowly sat up. “I was afraid I would be placing you in danger,” he admitted. “If the traitor who attempted to murder me found out I was alive, and that I’d come to see you, I knew they would assume I’d revealed all to you. Not to mention the fact that if the authorities discovered I was alive, I would be arrested for desertion. And without the proof I’ve been seeking, at the very least, I would be imprisoned. Sam and Mabel would face similar consequences. I just couldn’t risk it.”

  He blew a stream of smoke at the ceiling, watching it as it dissipated. “I also admit, knowing you worked for the Secret Service, I was a bit hesitant to contact you because I couldn’t be absolutely certain where your loyalties would lie. Whether I would be placing you in the untenable position of having to choose between betraying your husband or your country.”

  I felt stung by his admission, despite its truth. It would have been a terrible situation to be put in. But I was wounded that he assumed I would choose my loyalty to Britain over him, especially after hearing what he’d told me about his treasonous fellow officer.

  “I sent you that note suggesting I might have committed treason because I needed you to come to this house party. And because I knew you would never allow such an accusation against me to go unchallenged.” His lips curled upward in a humorless smile. “I knew it would eat at you, Verity. That you wouldn’t be able to rest until you knew the truth, no matter what it was. That was something I was certain I could count on.”

  I hated that he knew me so well in that regard, and yet had not felt he could trust me with the truth long before now. I hated that he’d left me to mourn for him, to suffer so much pain over his loss. But I suspected I hated myself more for not sensing somehow that he was still alive, and for being weak enough to let myself fall into such disreputable habits. Even now, even having him seated before me, returned to life, I wanted to numb the ache in my chest with a glass of gin or champagne.

  What should have been a joy was instead an agony. For it was evident Sidney didn’t know how I had been spending my time since his reported death, and how could I tell him? How could I divulge such a thing?

  So instead I turned the matter back on him.

  “It was you who sent the notes, and the burnt cork and harmonica to Jimmy and Charlie,” I accused him.

  He didn’t attempt to deny it. “Yes, I thought if I could prod their consciences, then maybe they would confess their parts in the plot and everything they knew about the others. For it’s certain that whoever the actual traitor is, he had help, whether willingly given or coerced.”

  “Did you kill them?” I asked, insisting he give me a straight answer to the question that terrified me most.

  Sidney’s scowl turned black. “No.” He opened his mouth to say something, but then seemed to reconsider it, exhaling in frustration before he continued to explain. “Whether you believe me or not, I needed them alive. They were the two most likely to share what they knew. I’d hoped that by gathering all the men I suspected, together with Sam and you, their guilt would eat at them and convince one of them to talk. The notes were just meant to be an extra nudge.”

  “Yes, and how on earth did you manage that? Convincing Helen and Walter to invite all of us.”

  He swiveled to stub out his second cigarette, before answering obliquely. “You’ll have to ask Sam that one.”

  I frowned. “And what of you? Isn’t it rather reckless of you to be here?”

  He shrugged. “I’ve been here for several weeks making preparations, posing as a gardener.”

  I could hardly believe his audacity. “Aren’t you afraid Walter or one of the others will recognize you?”

  He arched his eyebrows scornfully. “People rarely notice the help, Verity. And if they do, they only see what they want to see. A scruffy young man with a strong back, pruning their bushes.”

  I supposed that explained those times I’d felt like I was being watched. I had been. On at least one instance, I had noted the gardeners, but I’d never looked close enough to see that one of them was Sidney. Though I was certain he’d done a good job of hiding himself from me.

  And what about at the church tonight?

  I looked up to find him watching me, as if he’d known where my musings had led. “Were you at St. Mary’s when we found Charlie’s body?”

  “No, but I arrived soon after to find you and Ryde seated rather cozily in one of the pews.”

  “Yes, as you can imagine, I was quite distressed at having found a second dead body,” I bit out, refusing to apologize for my actions. I narrowed my eyes as another thought occurred to me. “If you were responsible for sending the rest of those notes, then I assume you also sent Max the letter that drew him here as well.”

  His gaze sharpened and his voice became insistent. “You didn’t tell him you’d received a letter accusing me of treason, did you?”

  I crossed my arms over my chest, irritated that this was the point on which he should become so agitated. “No, I did admit I’d received a letter, but said it only told me the correspondent had information to share about your death.”

  He settled back in his seat, but the glower marring his brow did not disappear. “I told you not to trust anyone.”

  “And I haven’t. Though I don’t understand why you’re warning me away from Max. He had nothing to do with those messengers who were executed for desertion, nor was he in the trenches the night Ben was killed. And he doesn’t have dark hair. Beside, you lured him here. Why?”

  “I wasn’t sure how he played into the matter, but I knew Ben had confided in him, and that he might hold other information that was important. However, I’m still not certain of his innocence. There is also a mastermind to uncover, remember. Someone lurking behind the scenes who directed the entire plot. He could very well be Ryde.”

  I hadn’t considered that. Max had been ideally situated for such a role. But I didn’t wish to admit as much to Sidney, not after the insinuations he’d just made about my relationship with Max.

  In any case, I hadn’t trusted Max. Not completely. And neither, for that matter, did I fully trust Sidney, even though I desperately wanted to. He was my husband, after all. But he had allowed me to believe he was dead for fifteen long months. I could not forget or forgive that so easily.

  Even if everything he’d told me was true, even if there was a traitor at work, that didn’t mean this traitor was the same person killing the men on this island. Perhaps the traitor was silencing those who could expose him, or perhaps someone else was exacting revenge. I didn’t know for certain, and until I did, I had to agree he was right about one thing. I couldn’t trust anyone.

  Sidney rose from his chair suddenly and moved to stand before me. It took everything within me not to shrink backward at the look in his eyes.

  “You cannot tell Ryde I’m alive.”

  “I know,” I replied crossly.

  His eyes searched my face, as if uncertain of my compl
iance. Whatever he saw there must have made him believe me, for he relented. His shoulders relaxed and he spoke to me in a more subdued voice. “Will you help me, Verity? Will you break the code?” When I didn’t answer, he lowered himself to one knee and took my hand. “Please. It might be the proof I need.”

  I stared down into his glittering eyes, wishing he would speak to me on another subject so fervently. It hadn’t escaped my notice that he hadn’t said the words I most longed to hear. I love you. I missed you. I wish I could have been with you. But even after being separated from me for almost a year and a half, his thoughts appeared solely focused on this quest of his.

  I nodded, knowing I could do nothing else but agree. Because despite what Sidney might or might not feel about me, I knew I was still in love with him. I had been fooling myself to think I had buried any of that affection.

  I had my doubts about this plan of his, doubts that the decrypted missive would contain the proof he needed, but I would do all I could to help it succeed. To help him unmask the traitor and uncover the evidence required to convict them and clear Sidney’s name. I only prayed that if proof could not be found, he could be persuaded to let the matter go, to move forward in a different direction. For if he didn’t, I could see no future for us.

  I might understand his need for vengeance and reprisal, but I didn’t know if I would ever be able to forgive him for it if the cost became too high. It already seemed almost insurmountable.

  “Yes, I’ll help you,” I whispered, wishing I could keep the heartache from my voice, but I knew it was evident for anyone to hear.

  He lifted his hand to gently cup my cheek. “Thank you, Verity. I knew I could count on you. I wish . . .” He broke off, shaking his head. His expression hardened with resolve. “I’m staying in one of the outbuildings at the farm, should you urgently need me. Otherwise, it’s best if I come to you.”

  He leaned forward and kissed me, swift and deep. But before I became weak enough to beg him to stay, he was gone.

  I stared at the door through which he’d vanished, feeling the emptiness of the room, the emptiness of my bed, the emptiness of my arms. And I wept.

  CHAPTER 16

  When I woke early the next morning, bleary-eyed and swollen faced, I could still hear the howling wind beating the rain against the side of the castle. I stared up at the ceiling, as memories from the evening before filtered through my brain, like a dream I’d almost forgotten. It would have been all too easy to believe I’d imagined it all, except for the fact that I could still smell the smoke from Sidney’s cigarettes lingering in the air, still feel the gentle abrasions around my lips from the rasp of his stubble.

  Rising from bed, I picked up the ashtray and dumped the remnants of his cigarettes into the still-smoldering hearth before stirring up the ashes to cover them. It certainly wouldn’t do to leave behind any evidence that someone else had been in my room last night, even though I knew what the others would assume. After all, no one would think twice if a young widow like myself decided to quietly indulge in a dalliance. It was almost cliché.

  Many of my friends, both widowed and single, regularly took lovers—oftentimes because they wanted to, but sometimes because they simply couldn’t bear not to. I’d watched their exploits, their maddened pursuit, but quickly learned that sex when one was merely desperate was never good. It never filled the void, but only left you even emptier than you were before.

  At any rate, I was more worried that someone would remember how Sidney had preferred this particular type of Turkish cigarettes and begin asking questions than that they would think I’d taken one of the male guests to my bed. It wouldn’t do to raise anyone’s alarm, not when two men had already been killed and a traitor, or two, possibly lurked in our midst.

  Though curious to discover whether the telephones were yet working, I decided to leave that problem to the men for the moment and instead focus on the coded missive. It had not escaped my notice that if the storm broke and the authorities were called in, Sidney might very well be in danger of being found out. For surely they would question the staff, especially those who lived at the farm, only a short distance from the church. Most of the guests were also scheduled to leave today, including myself, and if we were able to depart before Sidney uncovered his proof, I wasn’t certain how he would react.

  In truth, that was one of the aspects that troubled me most—Sidney’s unpredictability. He could not have failed to note that time was slipping away from him. In fact, I was certain that had figured rather prominently in his decision to reveal himself to me the night before. What might he do, or have already done, to prevent his suspects from leaving?

  Pushing the dark misgivings from my mind, I turned on the lamp at my desk to peel back the gloom and redoubled my efforts to break the code. Now knowing that Sidney had not written the missive, I could discard the possibility that it was a book cipher connected to The Pilgrim’s Progress and concentrate on the other methods. However, the key to unraveling it remained elusive. I continued to labor over the variations of the transposition cipher I had been trained in, but the harder I tried to concentrate, the more difficult it became to keep my mind focused. No doubt my raw nerves and lack of sleep were not helping matters.

  At least in this matter, Sidney’s resurrection was proving more of a hindrance than a help, for I could not banish him from my thoughts. How could I? Not eight hours ago, my husband had still been dead, and now he was alive. The thing I had wanted most in the world—for him to return to me, alive and whole—had happened, and yet I had let him go. Let him leave me and traipse back through the storm to his lodgings at the farm.

  And worst of all, I had been so angry and cold toward him. Not that my fury and bewilderment weren’t justified. They were. But perhaps if I hadn’t retreated into such icy reserve, perhaps if I’d shown him a bit more welcome and sympathy, maybe then he wouldn’t have behaved so indifferently. Maybe then he would have stayed.

  Or maybe it hadn’t mattered what I did. After all, it was obvious he was obsessed with finding this traitor and bringing him to justice. He was determined to pursue the truth to the exclusion of all else. Including me.

  I rubbed my temples, trying to blunt the pain of an oncoming headache. Sitting here in the chilly gloom of dawn while I berated and tortured myself wasn’t getting me anywhere, be it with the code, this investigation, or in comprehending my shattered marriage. It was past time I emerged from my room to discover what else the night had wrought and to seek some sustenance.

  I washed and dressed myself in a blouse of white voile with a pale green collar and cuffs, and a navy blue botany serge skirt before making my way to the breakfast room. However, before I could cross to the sideboard, Helen rose from her seat in a swirl of pale yellow chiffon and pulled me to the side with a gentle hand on my elbow.

  “Dearest Verity, I simply must apologize for our abominable behavior last evening.” Her eyes were bright with contrition. “I have been positively racked with guilt all night. Had I known Gladys intended to do such a cruel thing as to pretend to summon your dearly departed husband, I would never have let her touch the planchette.”

  I pressed a staying hand to the arm that still gripped mine. “All is well,” I told her, aware of the curious gazes of the others gathered in the room. The last thing I wanted was to create another scene. “I was upset—”

  “Understandably,” she hastened to say.

  I offered her a strained smile. “But a night of sleep has set me to rights. In any case, I know you had nothing to do with it. And Gladys’s actions, while not well thought out, were not malicious in intent.”

  Nellie, on the other hand, had been nothing but spiteful. A quick glance about the room relieved me that she was not at the moment present.

  “You are kindness itself,” Helen gushed. “I was so afraid we’d offended you unforgivably, and yet here you are, offering me a sunny pardon on such a miserable day.” Her gaze strayed toward the large windows, their drapes pulled
back to reveal the storm-lashed garden.

  “Think nothing of it,” I assured her, prying myself loose of her grip to serve myself breakfast from the warming dishes.

  The number of guests gathered in the room was small, consisting only of Max, Sam, Mabel, and Tom. My childhood friend looked as if he belonged in bed instead of slumped in his chair, grimacing down at the cup of black coffee he was forcing himself to drink. His face held a green cast that made me worry he would need to run from the room at a moment’s notice. So I elected to sit next to Max, despite the discomfort inching along my skin at being so near to him now that I knew my husband was alive.

  We had done nothing wrong. Neither of us had behaved inappropriately given what we’d believed to be true until Sidney appeared in my room the night before. But I still felt a pale wash of color suffusing my cheeks and the vague stirrings of shame in my gut.

  Having delivered her apology, Helen had vanished from the room, making me suspect she had been lying in wait for me here. That she had been so anxious to make amends only made me more disposed to like her. I hoped, for her sake, Walter was not the traitor or murderer Sidney and I were looking for.

  “Good morning,” I murmured, exchanging greetings with everyone around the table. “Did anyone sleep well?” I couldn’t help asking ironically.

  Most of them mustered a weak smile at my jest, but it was Sam who answered with a heavy sigh. “Not bloody likely.”

  His eyes met Mabel’s and I could tell from the look they exchanged that he had disobeyed Walter’s orders and told her about Charlie’s death. Having already known she could handle the shock of such news, even before I’d learned how she had helped save Sidney’s life, I was only too glad he’d trusted her with this latest development.

  Naturally, I saw Sam and Mabel with new eyes this morning. It would have been difficult not to knowing now what I did. It colored all of our past interactions in a new light, and I couldn’t help but wonder how comfortable they were with the position Sidney had placed them in. Namely lying to his wife by continuing to pretend he was dead. I had seen something in Mabel’s eyes as we interacted, and I thought I could safely say she was not happy about it. I liked her, and sensed she liked me in return. How awful it must be to keep such a secret.