The Gold Miner's Wife: A Young Woman's Story of Romance, Passion and Murder (22 page)

             
“Where is your friend Catori, today?” Charlotte asked Susannah.

             
“Oh, she is out for her usual walk,” offered Lady Alice.  “She likes to observe the murmuration of the starlings before they settle down for the evening.”

             
“A lady who enjoys the outdoors, even in winter,” Edward said pleasantly as he carefully cataloged this titbit of information. 

             
“Catori is a gentle soul and a keen observer of nature,” said Susannah.  “Oh, I forgot to mention, I have been in correspondence with Ella Purfield and recently had a letter.”

             
“Oh!  How is Ella?” asked Charlotte

             
“She happily reported that she and the Professor are finally all unpacked and settled in at their residence in London.  Also, she has invited Catori and me to pay them a visit in early February.”  So, Susannah was scampering off to London now, thought Edward.  That simply wouldn’t do.

             
“They were good friends to you in Denver,” observed Charlotte.

             
“The best of friends,” Susannah agreed.

             
“Edward shared with me the happy news about Miss Parker.  Will the wedding be in the village?” Charlotte asked.

             
“In Stoke-on-Trent I believe,” said Susannah.

“She wanted a larger church,” supplied Lady Alice.

“Was that necessary?” asked Charlotte.

“Miss Parker waited so long to be married, she decided upon a larger church as she intends to invite a great many people,” Susannah explained.

“Well, you know what they say about June brides,” said Lady Alice.

“What do they say?” asked Charlotte.

“I think Grandmamma means that prosperity and happiness follows couples marrying in June,” said Susannah.

“Yes,” agreed Lady Alice, “and Miss Parker would then be most likely to give birth to a child in the spring – plenty of time to relax before the fall harvest!”

“Grandmamma!” exclaimed Susannah.

             
The conversation continued throughout the tedious afternoon.  Edward politely answered questions and made light conversation in a distracted manner.  By the time he left Larkspur that day, he knew what he must do.  He had worked out a plan guaranteed to bring Susannah to heel.  It would probably take Mr. Brophy only a day or two to figure out the predictable path of Catori’s afternoon activities.  He would easily locate her as she walked about the grounds and very soon he would make certain that she simply disappeared.

*****

              The southern edge of the Larkspur estate was hilly and sloped downward.  The meandering stream found a low place that created a quiet pond and a marshy area of dense shrubbery that was favored by many species of birds.  It was here that Catori could glimpse the murmuration of the starlings before they settled down to roost in the late afternoon.  The flock would swarm this way and that, dipping and soaring in unison, putting on an elaborate dance in the fading sunlight.  They seemed to be driven by some silent communication.  She had watched the flock from several different vantage points in recent days and was amazed by this most mysterious spectacle every time she saw it.  What drove the flock to swarm in such remarkable, synchronized patterns?  How did they keep from colliding with one another?  How did they select a roosting spot?  How did the birds decide when it was time to land in unison? 

             
Catori could not have picked a more beautiful place to fall victim to the nefarious crime.  So caught up was she in their riveting display that she failed to detect the menacing figure prowling ever closer behind her.  As one beefy arm caught her by the waist, his other hand, holding a cloth soaked with a noxious smelling chemical came over her nose and mouth.  She had little time to react or to scream and was easily subdued like a captured animal in less than a minute.  Limp and unconscious, Brophy unceremoniously hauled her over his shoulder and carried her, like a lifeless rag doll, to the copse of trees where the horse was tied.

             
When it was discovered that Catori never returned from her walk on Tuesday afternoon, worry, chaos, turmoil and fear descended on everyone at Larkspur.  The realization came late, at eight o’clock, when they had assembled for the evening meal.  At first there was confusion; it took time to confirm that she was indeed missing.  The frightening possibility that Catori may have been harmed was a prospect too awful to countenance.  Susannah and Lady Alice were mindful of Jack’s dreadful warning of a ‘dangerous situation’ and this made them fearful of foul play. 

But for Mrs. Ross the housekeeper and everyone else, her disappearance took on the less sinister implication that somehow, since she was out walking alone,
Catori had become injured rendering her either unconscious or unable to walk.  She would be vulnerable exposed to the harsh elements on a cold winter’s night and precious time had already been lost.  It was imperative that she be found soon, and find her they would.  Bundled against the cold, Lady Alice’s coachman, Mr. Benson, along with two footmen set out with lanterns to search the property.  But Susannah, fearing the worst, dispatched another footman to Stoke-on-Trent to summon the constable.

The excellent people of Larkspur worked tirelessly throughout the night to find
Catori and in the light of the new day, they redoubled their efforts, but to no avail.  Nervous exhaustion started to take its toll on Lady Alice.  Mrs. Ross, insisting she should try and rest, accompanied her to her chamber.  The constable, Mr. Emery, had been delayed in calling at Larkspur due to another urgent matter and so it was not until later that morning when he arrived.  Susannah met with him in the library.  Mr. Emery was a pleasant, middle-aged man with a sterling reputation and many years of vast experience.  He was tall, well-groomed, articulate, analytical and was a commanding presence who spoke with authority.  It was a great relief to Susannah to have him involved.  After listening to her account of events of the previous day and receiving a detailed description of the missing woman, Mr. Emery had some questions of his own.

             
“You say you were not aware of her absence until eight o’clock last evening?” he reiterated as he scribbled some notes.

             
“It was not unusual for Catori to keep to her room after returning from her walk,” said Susannah.

             
“Might she have ventured off the estate while on this walk?” he asked.

             
“I do not believe so, no,” Susannah replied.  “She was most interested in observing the starlings and they seem to favor a particular roosting spot on the edge of the property.  Mr. Emery,” she added nervously, “there is something else you should know.”

             
He looked up from his notebook and held her gaze.  “Yes?” he said, raising a brow.

             
“Catori may be the victim of foul play,” was the unexpected revelation.

             
“Now Mrs. Sprague, I realize this has been an emotionally stressful time…” he began.

             
“I am serious,” she said rather forcefully.

             
Mr. Emery instinctively straightened.  “Why do you think she was the victim of foul play, Mrs. Sprague?  What evidence do you have?”

             
“We received a warning, of sorts,” she said rather cryptically.

             
“You will need to supply more information than that if I am to help you,” he scolded.

             
Susannah had not slept all night, she was tired and worried and her nerves were starting to fray.  “It is a long, complicated tale sir,” she sighed.  “But I will try to give you the most important details.  My husband, the late Mr. Sprague, was killed last July.”

             
“Oh I
am
sorry!” exclaimed Mr. Emery.  “That is
awful
, tragic! I had no idea.”

             
“It has been difficult time, Mr. Emery, a very sad time,” she said.  “I am coping as best I can.”

             
“I am sure.  You have my sincere condolences.”

             
“My husband owned a half-interest in a successful gold mine near Denver, Colorado.  After his death, his business partner, Jack Simmons, hired a detective agency to investigate the incident.  At first, everyone thought it was an accident.  But further scrutiny has led to the belief that he was murdered.  Why, we do not know, and there are no suspects.  I returned to Larkspur in November when my grandmother, Lady Alice, became gravely ill.  Catori is in my employ in Denver, but she is also a friend and agreed to accompany me here so that I would not have to travel alone.  On New Year’s Eve, Catori received a telegram from Mr. Simmons, warning of a ‘dangerous situation’.  More details of this danger were evidently sent to me in a separate telegram.  However, my telegram mysteriously disappeared before I had a chance to read it.  Our housekeeper left it for me on the table in the foyer, but it was not there when I returned from a social engagement on New Year’s Eve.”

             
“Why didn’t you send a telegram in reply, asking your friend what he meant?” asked Mr. Emery.

             
“It was too late by then.  They had already left,” she responded.

             
“Already left?  Who?”

             
“Mr. Simmons and Mr. Cookson the detective he hired had already left Denver.  They are on their way here.  You may read the telegram,” Susannah said as she slipped it from her pocket.  “Here it is.”

             
Mr. Emery scanned the proffered telegram and raised a brow.  In all his vast experience, he had never heard a wilder, more intriguing or more convoluted tale.  It was alarming indeed.  “Do you believe someone in Lady Alice’s household is the villain?” he asked.

             
“It does not seem likely.  All who work here at Larkspur for Grandmamma have been with her for many years.  None of them had ever met Catori until a few weeks ago.”

             
“Before we get too carried away with ourselves, we must make a thorough search of the grounds,” he stated.

             
“We have already done that!” she said angrily.  “We are losing precious time.”

             
“Alright,” he said calmly.  “Let us suppose your friend has been kidnapped.  It would seem likely that her abductor would have a particular reason for doing this.  Such a bold crime would have been carefully planned.  It would not surprise me if you or your grandmother were to be contacted by the villain and asked for something in exchange for her freedom,” was his analysis.

             
“But who would do such a thing!” she exclaimed, as she stood and paced the floor.  “We are thousands of miles from Denver and very few people here even know who Catori is!  What could such a person as you describe possibly want?  Catori is innocent of any wrongdoing.  It does not make any sense!” she said in frustration.

             
“You are right, it does not seem to make any sense at the moment.  But those who do these kinds of things are twisted individuals.  Trying to understand their motives is a waste of time.  We will search the estate and then search the areas nearby.  We will get the word out that your friend is missing along with a description of her.  I will report back to you later this afternoon,” he promised.  “In the meantime, you should get some rest,” he advised.  “And if your household staff are out and about they should travel in pairs until further notice.  We do not want to endanger anyone else.”

             
“Thank you, Mr. Emery,” said Susannah.  “And thank you for coming.  We are grateful for your help.  I am sorry to have been rude a moment ago.”

             
“It is understandable.  I assure you, Mrs. Sprague, we will do all we can.  Now please try and get some rest,” he advised as he picked up his hat and left the room.

             
Catori awoke to find herself in a lightless prison.  It was hard to say how much time had passed.  This place, wherever it was, smelled of mildew and was damp and chilly.  The earthen floor suggested perhaps a root cellar.  Her gloves gone, her hands were bound in front of her, she felt boneless and weak, her head ached.  She could detect no sound coming from beyond.  Catori wanted to call out, to cry for help, but was fearful of doing so.  That she was alive suggested her abductor had something planned for her.  But what?  And was this person nearby?  It had all happened so fast.  Her grandfather High Elk would be disappointed in her weakness and vulnerability.  Although use of her hands was limited, she managed to pull up her skirt and was relieved to find that her knife remained strapped to her thigh.  She would manage to hold it using both hands when the time came.

             
With great effort and no light to guide her, she crawled along the floor to learn more about her tomb-like prison.  The room was square, it seemed to be empty, the walls about twelve feet long and made of solid brick.  She felt her way along the edges and discovered a door, also solidly built, some kind of metal, perhaps iron.  And then, a surprise.  Somewhere in the distance - the faint sound was barely audible – church bells.  She counted – two bells, but what day?  And what church?  At least one day had passed as she reckoned her abduction had taken place in the late afternoon, perhaps close to five o’clock.  Was she near Larkspur or far away?  Her head still pounded, probably from the chemical used to subdue her.  Feelings of nausea pushed aside all thoughts of hunger.  She leaned back against the cold wall, tried her best to secure her wool cape snugly around her legs as far as it would reach, holding in the warmth.  Very soon fatigue claimed her weary body once more.

             
Sometime later it startled Catori when the iron door that sealed her gloomy prison scraped against the slate floor and slid open to reveal blinding, bright sunlight.  She sat up and shielded her eyes as they adjusted to the sun’s intense rays.  Mr. Brophy’s menacing figure loomed in the threshold.  She eyed him warily.

             
“You!” she said acidly. 

             
“Aye,” he replied, stepping closer.

             
“I might have known,” she said.

             
“You should shut up,” he warned.  “You don’t know anything.  The master says you are to have this,” he said, placing a basket on the earthen floor next to her.

             
“What is it?” she asked.

             
“Water, bread and an apple.  It seems you’re more valuable to him alive, at least for now,” was the threatening reply.  The mention of food reminded her of just how hungry and extremely thirsty she felt.  But she made no move to disclose her weakness.  “Oh, and this,” he added, throwing a blanket on top of it.

             
“Where am I?” she asked.

             
“You’re in England,” he said sarcastically.  “That is all you need to know.”

             
“What do you intend to do with me?” she asked, trying to make sense of it all.

             
“That depends on your little friend and whether she cooperates,” was all he said.

             
“I knew you were a bad sort when I saw you kick the cat,” she muttered.  But Brophy ignored her.  “How long have I been here?” she asked.

             
“Two days,” he said.

             
“You’ll never get away with this,” she warned.

             
“We shall see,” was his disturbing reply.

*****

              It had been three days since the ever-dependable Mr. Brophy had so efficiently done his job.  Edward Mansfield sat behind the large mahogany desk in his shabby little study and thought about the future.  Like so many things at his High Park estate, the desk was badly in need of repair.  It had belonged to his grandfather.  It was old.  It was nicked and scratched, had several ink stains, a few drawers were missing their knobs, and one of the cabinet doors had a broken hinge.  He looked at the faded drapes and worn carpeting.  A complete renovation of his study would be the first order of business when his fortunes changed.

             
A sharp tapping at the door stirred him from his musings.  “Enter!” he said brusquely.

             
“Mrs. Sprague is here to see you sir,” said the servant as Susannah swept inside.

             
“Susannah!” Edward exclaimed, trying to look surprised.  “Leave us!” he told the servant, who dutifully closed the door.  Susannah ran to Edward with a sob.  He held her to him, wrapped her tightly in his embrace, and caressed her soothingly along her back. 

             
“What is it, my love?” he said most attentively as he handed her his handkerchief. 

             
“Oh, Edward!” she sobbed against his chest.  “It is something most dreadful!”

             
“I am here, Susannah.  Calm down,” he said with a voice of concern, kissing her on the forehead.

             
“It is Catori…she is…she is...”

             
“Yes?” he prompted.

             
“She is gone, missing, has disappeared.  We have no idea where or why.  It has been three days, Edward!” she cried in despair. 

             
“Oh my!” he exclaimed.  “You must tell me all!”  He guided her to the settee.  “Let me help you with your wrap,” he said attentively, then sat close beside her and took both hands in his. 

             
“Please, you must help me Edward!” she pleaded.  “We called in the constable from Stoke-on-Trent but I am starting to lose hope.  I have no one else to turn to but you, Edward.”

             
Well, well, well, he thought.  “So, Catori is missing and you wish my help,” he repeated.  Edward stood and paced the room with his hands behind his back.  “Susannah,” he began carefully, “suppose I
did
help you.  Suppose I
was
able to find your friend for you.  What of my marriage proposal?  Would you consider it then?”

             
Susannah straightened and looked at him in disbelief.  “What?  What are you saying, Edward?”

             
“Let us not play games, Susannah,” he admonished, his voice suddenly seemed low and cold.

             
“You
know
where Catori is?”

             
“What if I do?” he said, returning to the settee.  She scooted back away from him.

             
“Are you saying you abducted her to force me to marry you?”

             
“Marrying me wouldn’t be so bad, would it?” he asked rhetorically.

             
So this was the danger Jack had warned them of, it was none other than Edward himself.  “You are a monster!” she cried in disbelief.

             
“And you are a spoiled, recalcitrant bitch who takes everything for granted,” he sneered.  “With your wealth I will restore my estate and return to the lifestyle befitting someone of my class,” he said bluntly.

             
“Your class?  Your class?  You are mistaken, Edward.  Class is not a designation, it is a behavior.  And it is obviously something you will never have.”

             
“Charming as I find this conversation, you must make a decision.  If you ever want to see your friend again, you will marry me, and in a few days’ time.  We will not delay, I will procure a special license.”

             
“Please tell me you have not harmed her,” she said, her alarm increasing in equal measure with her incredulity.

             
“I am a reasonable man, I think we can arrive at an agreement that is mutually satisfactory to both of us,” he continued.  “I will require that you turn over all your material assets to me, also, that you share my bed when I am so inclined.  Other than that you shall have complete freedom over your schedule and your activities.”

             
“How magnanimous.  The way I see it I shall become your unwilling captive and your slave and you shall be my constant tormentor as you well know,” was her retort.  “How long have you been planning this evil deed, Edward?” she asked as her mind raced ahead and she wondered what vile secrets Jack may have uncovered about him.  “All this time you pretended to be my friend, but it was all a lie.  You betrayed me.  You were always after my fortune.”

             
“That is not entirely true,” he corrected her.  “I have always been attracted to you and have imagined you in my bed for some time.  When you were a young heiress living next door, I sought your friendship but all you seemed interested in was your artwork.  Then you ran off and got married, to an American no less, much to everyone’s surprise.  Your wealth increased even more.  I made overtures which you thwarted at every turn.  You rejected me!  I could not allow that to happen, Susannah.  Look around you.  Do I impress you as someone who is flush with cash?”

             
“You are a complete stranger to me, like an evil monster that oozed out of some gutter!” she hissed.  “Have you no conscience?  No moral compass; not a modicum of decency?  If you seek wealth, go out and make your fortune as Thomas did.  He discovered the gold and built that mine; before that he was a hired gunman for a western railroad.  He was no stranger to hard work.  Nothing was handed to him!” she said angrily. 

             
“I am a gentleman.  I do not labor in the dirt,” he said bluntly.  “And anyway, what do
you
know of work?  Over-pampered wretches like you have only one
job
in life and that is to find a husband.”

             
“Not only are you not a gentleman, you are not even human,” she said angrily.

             
“You are wasting my time.  Let’s get on with it.  I will have my answer, Susannah,” he insisted.

             
She stared at him for a long moment as tears of grief and sorrow welled up.  What an unexpected turn of events this was.  The news of his duplicity came as a blow.  She had long considered him a trusted friend, almost as a brother, as family.  What a colossal fool she had been.  Well, she was not the first and she wouldn’t be the last.  There was a saying - even rats found their way into a grand palace.  She stood and slowly walked to the window.  The realization came that she had to help herself.  She had to keep her wits about her and buy time.  Jack and Mr. Cookson would be here soon, by her calculation it was only a matter of days.  Surely they would intervene.  “What assurance do I have that Catori is even alive?”

             
“Ah!  Of course, you are right.  You do not trust me.  I will have her write a note which you may read in my presence.  The note will then be burnt in the fire.  Will that satisfy you?”

             
She did not answer him.  “Does Charlotte know?” she asked quietly, almost afraid that he would reveal even further betrayal.

             
“Charlotte knows nothing.  She is too busy shopping for ladies gloves and other inane fripperies.”

             
“It appears you have won.  Very well,” she sighed.  “I will make a pact with the devil.  I must marry you in order to save my dear friend.”

             
“That is more like it!  I shall procure the special license.  We will be married in Stoke-on-Trent, say, four days hence?  This will give us time to weave a convincing tale for your grandmother about our hasty decision to marry.”

             
“And what shall we say about Catori?”

             
“We will say that she wandered off the Larkspur estate.  She took a fall and lay unconscious only to be found by one of my tenant farmers who lives in a cottage nearby.  Once she regained consciousness, she revealed her identity to the family who rescued her and they contacted me.  We shall say Catori is still recovering in their care, too ill to be moved.  That should be convincing enough.”

             
“You are truly diabolical, malicious.  You have thought of every last detail.”

             
“And now I believe I am entitled to my first kiss,” he stated.  “After all, we are a newly-engaged couple.”

             
“Your depravity knows no bounds,” she said bitterly, turning her back to him.

             
“I am serious,” he said coldly.  “Come here,” he ordered her, “if you value your friend.”  It was a warning salvo over the bow; she had to capitulate.

             
Susannah slowly turned and stepped toward him.  He closed the distance and took her in his arms.  “You will kiss me now,” he commanded as his lips hovered over hers.  She was repulsed, mortified, trapped, and defeated.  She could hardly take in all that had been revealed to her.  She was his wretched victim and soon she would become nothing but his vile whore.