Where Love Shines (25 page)

A fresh group of horses paraded past the stands on their way to the starting gate, the announcer calling their names. “Oh, there’s Windflyer. Number six.” Jenny pointed. “Dick, he’s beautiful. Taller than all the others. Black with one white forefoot and a star on his forehead.” She grabbed her companion’s arm. “Dick, can you see him at all? He’s absolutely magnificent.”

Dick didn’t answer her, but he turned to follow the direction of the parade. In a few minutes the horses were behind their gates, under starter’s orders. Jennifer held her breath. The gun fired. Windflyer took the lead immediately, a full jump ahead of the other horses. The field streaked down the track.

“Windflyer!”

“Come on, boy!”

“Go, go!”

The stands roared and shook with the shouts of the crowd and the pounding of the horses’ hooves. Windflyer held his lead, his proud head stretched forward, his long legs outstripping all contenders.

“Windflyer!” “Windflyer!” It seemed that everyone at the race had money riding on that starred head.

Windflyer crossed the line a full length ahead of the nearest contender. Jennifer grabbed Richard. “Dick, it was wonderful! I’ve never seen such an animal.”

But it was Kirkham, grabbing his other arm, that Dick turned to. “Did you see ’im, sir? I mean, even from here, could you tell? It’s ’im. I’m sure of it.”

Dick was very quiet in the tumultuous crowd as he asked, “Who?”

“Legend. Sure as I know my own face in the mirror. Windflyer is Legend.”

“Are you certain? I had an impression, but I couldn’t be positive. It’s been more than a year, Kirkham.”

“Come on. Touch him. You’ll know. And so will he.”

Kirkham urged them toward the winner’s circle where the horse was already encircled by officials and jubilant supporters.

They were almost to the circle when the sound of a hunting horn made every head turn toward the official booth. The announcer’s voice rang out over the suddenly quiet crowd. Officials of the Jockey Club had ruled. Windflyer had jumped the gun. He was disqualified. Darrow’s Pride, the second-place horse, was declared winner.

An angry roar grew around them until Jennifer feared the mob might begin throwing something heavier than their torn-up betting stubs. But Richard paid no attention to the crowd as Kirkham cut a way to the now-displaced horse.

A larger crowd milled around the disbarred winner than around Darrow’s Pride. The jockey in his green and purple silks stood beside the tall black horse. All around them people shouted and gestured angrily.

Richard stopped and gave a whistle that cut through the roar. “Legend. Is that you, boy? Come on.”

The sharp black ears pricked forward. The starred head rose. The horse gave a soft whinny. Ignoring the jockey holding him on a loose rein, Legend moved forward and nuzzled Richard’s palm.

Jennifer’s vision blurred with tears as she watched Dick stroke the long, powerful neck and run his hand down the glossy mane. She couldn’t hear the words, but she could hear Dick’s voice murmuring softly.

“Here, now. What’s the meaning of this? What are you doing to my horse, sir?” Pannier’s voice growled over all the other noise.

“Your horse, Dr. Pannier? I think not. But I should be most interested in hearing how he came into your possession.” Richard turned to face Pannier, but he did not take his hand from Legend’s bridle.

Pannier opened his mouth to answer, but just then Josh came tearing through the crowd, literally shoving at the legs of people in his way. “Guv’nor, Guv’nor, come quick! Coke’s took that bad.” He grabbed Pannier’s well-tailored coattails, “’urry, or it may be too late.”

“Richard, I should go with them. They may need a nurse.” Richard started to protest, but Jennifer darted after the doctor.

Josh led them through a maze of carriages and wagons to the stables behind the racetrack. Before they were halfway along the row, Jenny could hear sharp cries and groans from one of the middle stalls. Coke lay huddled on the straw, a pool of his own vomit beside him. “Bring fresh straw, Josh,” Jenny ordered.

With a renewed cry Coke clutched at his stomach as if he would tear out his own bowels. Pannier knelt beside him. “I left my bag in the gig. There is nothing I can do.”

“Chalk or magnesia mixed into a cream with a little water.” Jennifer’s reply came as a rote response. But where were they to get magnesia at a racetrack? Even as she watched, the victim was gripped by a violent spasm, arching his body backward. In all her nursing experience Jennifer had never seen such severe rigidity of muscles. “Warm water, Josh. And blankets. It is the best we can do.”

Josh dashed off to grab a horse blanket from the next stall. Before he could return, another seizure gripped Coke’s body, pulling his carrot-red head backward almost to his heels.

Coke fought for a breath that shook his whole frame. His body spasmed. Then he lay silent. Even in death his body retained the shape of a bow.

Josh handed the blanket to Pannier, who covered his former partner. The doctor shook his head. “I could do nothing.”

An elderly local physician whom someone had fetched from the stands came forward. “May I be of service? I am a doctor.”

“As am I.” Pannier stood to shake hands with the newcomer. “You are too late, Doctor, but you could have done nothing. My friend died of apoplexy.”

Leaning on his stick, the white-haired doctor peered at the contorted body through rheumy eyes and nodded. “Ah, yes. A sad affair, indeed. Apoplexy, you say? I shall so certify. Yes, very sad.”

Pannier pumped his hand vigorously. “Yes. Yes, you do that. We must leave it in the hands of the officials now. Yes, apoplexy.” Pannier suddenly seemed in a hurry to leave. “Josh! Where are you, boy? Come.”

Josh stood unmoving, staring at the body. “I give ’im the medicine like you said, Guv. Honest, it weren’t my fault!”

“Come along, Josh.” Pannier grabbed his hand and pulled him roughly away.

Jennifer couldn’t believe what she had just seen and heard. She had observed only two cases of death by apoplexy in the Crimea, but neither of them looked the least like this. It looked much more like the poisonings she had witnessed. Most had been from bad food, but there had been more than one case of strychnia poisoning among the Turks when careless workers ingested rat poison. She didn’t understand how an experienced doctor could make such a mistake. She must speak to him about it. “Dr. Pannier—”

But he had disappeared in the crowd, dragging Josh behind him.

“Dr. Pannier!” She looked to her right and left, undecided as to which way to go.

“Here, Miss Jennifer—this way!” Ahead of her Kirkham motioned toward a line at the betting windows. “He went to that window. Come on, I must talk to him about Legend.”

They pushed through the crowd until they reached the window just behind Pannier. Jennifer blinked in amazement as she saw him turn in his tickets. It couldn’t be. Surely she had misheard.

This man claimed ownership of the horse he called Windflyer. She had heard him urge all in the inn to place their money on Windflyer. And yet he had bet on Darrow’s Pride, which had paid off at tremendous odds. Pannier left the window with his breast pocket bulging.

Jennifer drew back, trying to make sense out of what she had seen, but Kirkham challenged him.

“Here now, what’s this? You had your money on Darrow?”

Pannier pulled himself up and gave Kirkham a supercilious look. “I always hedge my bets. Any experienced punter will tell you it’s a wise policy—as you can see. This way I more than made up for my losses on Windflyer.” Pannier pushed away from them with Josh in tow.

Jennifer and Kirkham found Richard outside the winner’s circle still holding Legend over the protests of Coke’s stable lad. Jenny ran to him. “Richard, we must talk.”

“Stay with Legend,” Dick ordered Kirkham. “Don’t let him out of your sight.” He offered his arm to Jenny, and they went back to the privacy of the Victoria.

“I don’t understand—Pannier was so clearly touting Windflyer in the inn. And yet he had his own money on Darrow’s Pride.” Jenny pressed her hand to her forehead as she told Dick what they had seen at the betting window and what Pannier had said to Kirkham.

Dick nodded. “That’s simple enough—he drove the odds down on his own horse and drove them up on the horse he meant to bet on.”

“Yes, but that would only work to his advantage if he knew Windflyer would lose.”

“Or that the horse would be disqualified, which is somewhat easier to arrange. For example, by instructing the jockey to jump the gun.” Suddenly Dick’s frown broke into the broadest smile Jennifer had ever seen on his face. “Yes! And when the Jockey Club hears about that and the fact that Legend was confiscated from the Crimea, they’ll certainly affirm my ownership.”

“But how could Pannier have taken him from the battlefield? He was working in the hospital on the other side of the Black Sea.”

“He didn’t. Coke did. He was right beside me in the charge.”

Jenny thought for a moment. “Yes, that makes sense. But the ‘surplus’ supplies at the market—Pannier must have been the one to get his hands on those somehow.”

Dick nodded. “He probably bribed an official. I believe that’s what you heard him and Gavin fighting about just before Gavin was shot.”

Jenny grabbed her companion’s arm. “Dick, you don’t think Pannier…”

Dick shrugged. “It seems possible—even likely. But it could never be proved.”

Jenny paced a few steps. “It just doesn’t seem possible. Pannier is so highly respected. A doctor. The hardest-working member of the Health Department. I’ve seen him myself treating cholera in the slums, inspecting brothels…” She stopped suddenly. Or was he? “Richard, I’ve heard that much of the worst slum property is owned by wealthy citizens who profit from the sweatshops and worse.”

“Yes. I take your meaning. Few landlords would be so brazen as to show their faces to collect their own rents, but Pannier had a perfect excuse as Public Health Department doctor.” Dick thought for a moment. “That’s something that
could
be proven.”

“Yes, and it would cause him embarrassment. But it’s not illegal to own slum property.”

“No, but we might at least get a few brothels closed and the mission and Brigade Home reopened.”

Jennifer grabbed Dick’s hand. “Yes! We must go to London. Tell Shaftesbury everything. He’ll know what to do.” Then she realized she had yet to tell the most startling revelation of all. “But, Dick, that’s not all. You stayed with Legend. You don’t know about Coke.” She recounted the scene in the stable.

Dick put both hands on her shoulders and seemed to peer at her as intently through his dark glasses as if he could see her clearly. “Pannier gave Coke medicine at the inn. Coke died a few hours later in the stable. And you’re certain it wasn’t apoplexy?”

“I’m certain.”

“Then we must find a policeman.”

“Yes, we must. Dick, I’m worried about Josh. He’s seen everything, even if he doesn’t understand it. Pannier will realize he can’t allow the boy to be questioned.” Jenny saw again Pannier’s viselike grip on the thin wrist as he dragged the boy through the crowd. A heavy coldness grew in her throat. “Dick, Josh is in danger.”

She struggled to think clearly, her mind in a whirl. Where would they have gone? Back to the Rugeley Arms? Surely not to London. Then she remembered. “Josh said Pannier was staying at the Market Inn.” She looked around for help. “Dick, what shall we do? I can’t drive.”

“I can.” He pulled off his dark glasses with a single jerk and blinked at the grayness of the cloudy late afternoon. “On gloomy days, I seem to need these less and less.”

Then he reached to unhitch the quiet-standing bays.

“Dick?” Jenny put a hand on his arm.

“Do you trust me, Jenny?”

“Yes.” She would have said more, but the lump in her throat stopped her. She took his hand, and he pulled her on to the driver’s seat beside him.

P
annier had a considerable head start, but traffic on the Newcastle road was thinner now that most of the racing crowd had left. Also, the strips of fog that swirled up from the River Trent and the evening dimness closing in would not be the disadvantage to Dick that it was to drivers who relied less on senses other than sight.

Jenny was amazed at Richard’s skill as he kept the pair’s speed steady, although the horses were so well trained they could have probably made their way on their own. As they sped along the road, Jenny kept careful watch for any place Pannier could have turned out or stopped at an inn, though that seemed unlikely. With every cart and wagon they overtook, she looked carefully at driver and passengers. Pannier, though, would certainly be driving the smart gig she had seen in Newcastle, and they encountered no such vehicle.

Jennifer could see the intensity of Richard’s concentration and did not want to distract him with conversation. So she prayed.

It was dark by the time they reached the Market Inn. The wheels of the carriage rang hollowly on the empty cobbled street. Patches of gold shone through the fog from the gas lights lining the now-deserted Stones. The parlor of the inn was vacant. A bored-looking young man came in from the dining room when Jenny rang the bell on the counter. “You have a doctor staying here? I need to see him.” Jennifer ran her hand over her forehead as if she were feeling faint.

“Room five. Top of the stairs, hall to the right.” The youth turned back to his serving.

Hand-in-hand, Jenny and Dick ran up the stairs. They paused in the narrow hall outside the dark door with a white number five on it. Small whimpering sounds came from the room.

“It’s Josh,” Jenny whispered.

“Drink it, boy.” Pannier’s gravelly voice was distinct.

“No!” Josh’s whimpers turned to an alarmed cry. “It’s wot you give Coke. I saw what ’appened to ’im.”

The smacking sound of a hard slap was followed by a sharp cry.

Jenny beat on the locked door. “Josh!”

Richard pushed her out of the way and shoved his shoulder against the door. It didn’t give. He stood on the other side of the narrow hall with his back against the wall and kicked at the hinges of the door with well-aimed blows of his boot. The lock burst on his third strike.