The Mystery at Belle Magnolia (Madeline Donovan Mysteries Book 3) Page 19

  "What has happened?" Father called out in alarm.

  He and Jonathan took her arm on either side and guided her into the drawing room.

  "I'm so sorry to put you through this worry. It is not my blood, Father. It is of another brave, dear heart who is now lost to us: another soul departed at the hands of this murderer."

  "Dear God, who is it, child?" he asked.

  "It is Anastasia."

  "That mysterious woman in black?" asked Hugh. "Why would anyone want to harm that hapless creature?"

  "I don't know. I must remove this clothing and burn it, for I will never wear it again. Father, could you help me draw a bath?"

  "Of course. What were we thinking? I will get Mrs. Brown to bring you in some tea while you rest. When you recover, come down and speak to us," her father said.

  Belle and Hannah entered the room. Hannah stifled a scream with her hand, grabbing a hold of her Father's hand for support.

  Belle ran to her and embraced her, without a thought of the blood that now covered her also. As she continued to hold her, Madeline's reserve crumbled, and she began to cry, a silent cry with tears that rolled freely down her face. Belle's arms around her stopped the shaking. At this moment, she played the role of a surrogate—she felt it was her mother holding her.

  Belle walked with her upstairs, helping her remove the tarnished clothing.

  "I will have Samuel make a fire and burn the garment," said Belle.

  "Could you please ask Hannah to come see me?" asked Madeline.

  "At once."

  Hannah walked in and hugged her saying, "It was a bad day that we requested your help. You have put yourself in danger, and now this? When I think that you may have been killed, it makes me feel crazy with feelings of guilt and unhappiness. Perhaps you should no longer pursue this investigation."

  "Thank you for your concern, but I knew there might be risks. I have something to show you—a photograph Anastasia had given to me before she died."

  "Anastasia...yes, I remember you telling us over dinner the story of your meeting. She was the one you considered to be a witch, with possibly fortunetelling abilities."

  Madeline explained, "She certainly seemed to have a keen sense of what was happening at the riverside. Also, there was the way she seemed to sense danger. I still don't know how she knew us, but the reason I am speaking of her is not directly because of what happened to her, but what she said to me before she died.

  "She said she did it all for you, Hannah. She said she was watching out for you."

  "Me? Of all the absurd notions. How could a woman like that even know of someone like me. We do not travel in the same circles or even the same universe."

  "Before you say anything further, she gave me this. It is a picture of you."

  Hannah abruptly turned to peer directly into Madeline's eyes. She looked dumbfounded as Madeline handed her the photograph.

  She handled it for a moment, gingerly tracing her fingers across it. Then a sweet, lingering smile came over her face.

  She then noted, "I gave this once to my very best friend in the world, my nanny, Miss Anna Forrester.

  "I don't know how this woman came into possession of it, for Miss Forrester disappeared many years ago after a personal tragedy, and none of us have seen her since. Perhaps she robbed her or..."

  "No. I believe if you come with me to the coroner's office, you will identify her as your Anna. She called herself Anastasia of the Forest—hence Anna Forrester. It is too coincidental to not be her."

  "It cannot be. I thought her long dead. I looked for her many times. I had heard she had fallen on bad times. My Mother and I wanted her to return to our home as our guest.

  "If this is truly our Anna, my sadness will be even further compounded. You found her to have me lose her again. I will show this to Mother. We shall both go to identify her," said Hannah.

  She bid her good-night, longing to retire to her room.

  She stayed in her bath for nearly an hour, sipping on her delicious absinthe. Father had given her a shot of morphine, so she had drifted into a calm state. Anastasia's face remained constant in her thoughts—the way she had looked before she died was hauntingly beautiful. Madeline believed Anastasia left the world content that somehow she had saved her beloved Hannah from harm.

  But the question remained, who was it Anastasia believed she saved her from? Now, whatever secrets she may have had that would have helped them were taken to the grave.

  Hugh and Walter accompanied Belle and Hannah into town so that they may see if Anastasia was Anna Forrester. Madeline had no doubt that it was. As to the story of how Anastasia became lost to them, Madeline would have to wait till they returned to ask Belle to reveal the story of this kind, mysterious woman.

  Dinner was now long past, but Mrs. Brown had prepared a plate of meat slices, fruits, and warm bread.

  Jonathan and Father sat with her at the large wooden table, nicked and dented from years of use.

  She began to retell her story while Jonathan took notes for his newspaper article. Father, on the other hand, held his head in his hand and continued to look grim throughout her telling of the catastrophic event. The mention of her being trapped in a burning cabin brought him to his feet, his face looking pained.

  "Madeline, I'm sure you know what I am going to say. This cannot go on, another brush with death. The next time you might not be so lucky. If this fiend is willing to distinguish a life such as that harmless woman's, and attempt to take yours, what is next?" said Father emphatically, with such a stern voice that Madeline looked up directly at him.

  "You're right. There cannot be a next time. Whoever it is is being careless. Someone must have seen the person in the brush. There were people milling about. Many people saw the smoke and came running. Before another person is injured, we must stop this. Perhaps the police will now rethink the guilt of whoever it is they have taken into custody."

  "I shall send word to Inspector Matthews to come to see you," said Father.

  Father left to attend to his duties, but Jonathan brought her a cup of tea. He sat beside her, and she found she instantly leaned against him. Feeling hazy, she began to drift into sleep, he comforted her, encouraging her to rest against his body.

  "Jonathan, do you think it is the Mafia who has done this? Do they follow our movements? Or is it Clarice, who's motive is unknown to me unless it is just her narcissist desire to gather more followers?"

  "I wish I could say I think one more likely than the other, but they all have their wicked ways about them that seem undeniable. What a crew of suspects, even Andrew is beginning to look like he may have had a hand in this.

  "Rest now, my friend. I am here for you."

  He loosened the top buttons of her dress and unpinned her hair so that it fell against his shoulders. She did not protest, but fell soundly asleep beside him, aching for that feeling again when someone like Russell belonged to her. How wonderful it was to feel the warmth of human touch especially at times such as these.

  When she awoke, it was morning. She found herself dressed in her nightgown and assumed Belle must have brought her to bed. She had no nightmares that she remembered, but had seemed to fall into a deep sleep, one borne from the exhaustion of her physical and mental capabilities.

  As she yawned off the rest of her sleepiness, her mind jolted back to the death of Anastasia, and she sat upright. Her hands went to her head, and a moan escaped her mouth. The light of day brought with it another disturbing reality: that the killer was still out there, always a step ahead of them.

  She smelled the aroma of bacon, one of her favorite breakfast foods, and hurried down to see who had made it up at this hour. It was only six, and most didn't appear until eight in the morning. The English were particularly early risers, and there was Hugh, pouring his morning tea. Mrs. Brown and he were the only ones there besides herself.

  Madeline said, "I couldn't sleep after what happened. Belle and Hannah were stunned to see their Anna in such a
wretched circumstance. They said she was all but unrecognizable to them with her long, silver hair tangled about her body, her face wrinkled and sallow. She had not had an easy life, and then such a terrible death. I don't think either one believed that it would be their Anna. They thought she had drifted away to another city and was enjoying a wonderful life somewhere. Of course, isn't that what we wish for people we love who disappear from us. We imagine something wonderful for them, but more than likely, those things do not happen."

  "What could Anastasia know that would harm the Mafia?" asked Hugh.

  Madeline stated, "Assuming, you think they are related. I suppose she is invisible to most people. She certainly could have found out something incriminating, especially making her home in the trees. She might have seen or heard anything.

  "I will pray for her and Wesley tonight and hope they are at peace. Hannah's beloved nanny, her life brutally taken—this night will forever haunt me."

  He sat beside her and put his arms around her, kissing her head, and saying,

  "Life can turn so quickly. None of us has the promise of tomorrow. We must hold close to those we love and cherish them. Someday maybe you will let me be the one to cherish you."

  He cupped her face in his hands and she closed her eyes expecting and hoping he would kiss her, but he did not. He held her face for a moment longer before releasing his hands. Smiling, he said,

  "Soon, we will have an end to this. Whoever is doing this is getting careless."

  Madeline stated, "Today is the day our Wesley is laid out, and the town folk will be want to come through, but I don't know if Hannah wishes that. I heard a few people in town talking about it. I suppose, though, if anyone of them wishes harm against the family, it could turn chaotic."

  "Yes, I hope they choose only to have us there, and any of Belle and Hannah's closest friends," Hugh commented.

  Belle walked in just as they were speaking, and said,

  "Just a few neighbors and a few friends of Hannah and Wesley's were asked. Only about twenty or so. If he had died of natural causes, we should have the rooms filled, but now I trust so few people. It is all I can bear now with the passing of my sweet Anna."

  "Could you tell us about her?" asked Madeline.

  "Anna was Hannah's nanny. She was with us for several years when we hired a handsome valet for my husband. A dashing young man put on airs as if he were of royal blood, but he was a good worker, and as honest as they come.

  "How they became intimately involved, I will never know for our Anna was not fashionable, nor particularly pretty. It surprised me when he took a liking to her, but I was delighted for Anna's sake. They got married right here at Belle Magnolia. While under our roof, they brought three children into the world, two boys and a sweet, little girl. Soon the burden of taking care of four children wore on Anna. Her appearance declined, and she became the ultimate mother, leaving Martin, her husband, alone quite a bit.

  "Soon after, a petite, beautiful French maid was hired. We had been entertaining more than usual, and Mr. Mayfair felt it important to keep up appearances. We weren't aware that Anna's husband and Catherine Dupree were having an affair until it was too late. One morning, there was a note left by Martin saying he had fallen in love with Catherine and planned to live his life with her. He left, taking all of their valuable possessions and the children. He did leave her what remained in their bank account, which is what we believed she may have used to go to another city or country.

  "Anna's decline was rapid, but she did linger lovingly over our Hannah, taking wonderful care of her until the day she disappeared. We heard tales in the city that she had boarded a ship for another country; still others said she had become a gypsy. We tried to find her but never succeeded. We also tried to find Martin in an attempt to bring her children back to her, but we did not succeed in that either," stated Belle.

  "So it appears the poor woman lost herself on the banks of the river, possibly existing through the help of Madame Clarice or someone similar. She was drawn into that fantasy world where conjuring and imagination make people believe in what they're doing. In Anna's weakened mental state, I could easily see how she could have fallen into the bizarre lifestyle that exists near the bridge," said Hugh.

  "Guests will be arriving soon to pay their respects. I have hired security for the event, but I hope I am only overcautious. I pray that none of the "haters" will show themselves today," said Belle.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Marguerite

  Mrs. Brown had set out a buffet table for the arriving guests. Wesley, laying in state, looked as if he were only sleeping, and might wake to speak to them.

  This would be one of the most difficult days to get through. All the memories of what had gone on, the untimely death of her friend, and the memory of finding him came rushing back to Madeline. She wiped her brow of the sweat droplets that had formed there and tried to steady herself as some of Wesley's friends began to arrive.

  Hannah and Belle looked amazing to her. They were somehow getting through this emotional ordeal more gracefully than she had done when Russell passed away. She remembered she was in the memorial room for her family no more than fifteen minutes when she began to weep uncontrollably, and Father had to carry on. All she remembered after that was she was lying on an upstairs bed, staring at the ceiling as if she were in a comatose state. Father later told her he had sedated her, but she still yelled out and began to tremble. Eventually, she settled down but then did not speak for nearly three days.

  She was startled when she saw Andrew LeBlanc enter the foyer, but Hannah greeted him with all dignity, even taking his hand and introducing him to some of her aunts.

  The afternoon was proceeding with the kind of dignity and respect Wesley deserved until a rock crashed through one of the arched windows. The sound of the glass shattering and hitting the floor seemed to unnerve everyone causing several women to let out muted screams. Many of the guests proceeded to see where the item had been thrown, becoming quite angry and stepping out onto the veranda to yell back at the few agitators that had gathered outside the estate gates.

  Madeline knew the rock couldn't have hit the window from such a distance, so she decided to look around the perimeter of the mansion to see if she could spot someone.

  Hugh accompanied her, walking nearly to the entrance, but they saw no one. The grounds had plenty of places where someone could hide from view and easily move about unseen.

  They were returning, when Madeline thought she heard the voice of Marguerite. Enough people had gathered that now she had to peer through the crowd to see if it was her. She was so soft spoken; Madeline thought maybe she had only imagined hearing the girl.

  "Hugh, let's walk back to the gate. I thought I heard Marguerite's voice. It would seem likely that she might show up on a day like this and try to get in."

  She took his arm, and they walked back to the unfriendly faces peering at them and calling out accusations.

  There, near one of the oak trees sat Marguerite alone, twirling a small branch in her hand.

  "Look, Hugh, it is her. Let's go around the side entrance away from these people."

  The crowd didn't pay much attention to the two as they continued to heckle Samuel and the other four men hired by Belle.

  When they reached her, Marguerite was mumbling to herself. At first, she did not seem to recognize even their presence. Then her eyes widened, and she said, "You, I tried to save you. You are in great danger...all of you."

  "What do you mean?" asked Madeline.

  "I can't help you anymore. I can't. I am too tired. My heart is breaking. Please pray for me," Marguerite said.

  "Can we help you or take you somewhere?" asked Hugh.

  "No, my place is in heaven with Armand. Please let me go to him."

  Madeline was alarmed by this statement and tried to protest against those thoughts, but Marguerite looked up to the skies and did not speak to her again.

  "Where can we take you? To your brother?"
Hugh asked again emphatically, touching her shoulder.

  "No...my place is with Armand. I must go now." With that, she stood and ran from them like a scared cat, once again running in a strange pattern as if she didn't know which direction to take.

  "How does that girl survive? Her brother must tend to her, but she must get away from him somehow. If she continues living this way, she will meet Armand! How can she possibly survive in these streets in that state of mind?" asked Madeline.

  "Do you take any credence in her words?"

  "You mean about the continued threat? Yes, I do, not particularly because she said it, but for the obvious attempt already made on my life. I feel more frightened than when I was in Whitechapel."

  "You mustn't leave without an escort. That just has to be a priority. I hope you will be able to make that promise."

  "I will. It will take a concerted effort on my part to try to forget the fear of being trapped inside a burning building and then finding Anastasia stabbed. The fear and anxiety are very real. It is only Father's medicine, and the friendship I have with you and our family at Belle's that has kept me strong." Then she said,

  "When the funeral is over, I would like to see if I can find her."

  "Is that Mario?" asked Hugh. "It can't be—and he has brought two of his friends with him. That seems like the height of inappropriate favor."

  "Don't look so stunned. I think he still has a good heart. He got mixed up in all this because of his family. Perhaps he truly wishes to pay his respects. Sometimes everyone needs a little redemption."

  When Samuel looked to them for guidance, Madeline waved, and Samuel allowed Mario and his friends to pass through the gate.

  "Madeline, I felt I must see you to tell you how sorry I am. You and your friends have been through so much. You look shaken. What has happened?"

  He had a look of compassion that she had not seen before, and this endeared her to him. He was one of those people at conflict with his dark side. She sensed he wished to break away from his family and the life of crime that followed automatically with it.