Read Online The Anatomist's Wife by Anna Lee Huber - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Anna Lee Huber
Ads: Link
a piece of paper lying on the wooden floor, several inches from the door.
“It looks like someone left you a note.”
“At this hour?” I reluctantly hoisted myself out of my chair. “Didn’t they see the
light under the door? Why didn’t they knock?”
A sudden chill raced down my spine. I looked at Gage, seeing the same alertness in
his gaze. His eyes slid back toward the door as he handed me the letter.
I recognized the crisp white stationery as being from the generic stock stashed in
every guest room in the castle. However, the bold block letters were not familiar
and, in fact, seemed printed in such a uniform fashion as to make the sender’s handwriting
indistinguishable. My hands shook as I read the words.
SHAME ON YOU, LADY DARBY. I KNOW WHAT YOU’VE BEEN DOING.
Gage, who had been reading over my shoulder, threw open the door and darted into the
hall, leaving me blinking down at the page. Who would do such a thing? And what did
it mean?
Immediately, my mind returned to Lord Westlock and his wife, and all of the other
guests who believed me capable of murder. Did they think to frighten me? To intimidate
me into doing something stupid, like confessing to a crime I didn’t commit? The edges
of the paper crinkled beneath my angry fists.
Gage returned to stand in the doorway, clear frustration marring his brow.
“Who would write this?” I demanded of him.
“I don’t know,” he muttered, closing the door to a gap. “But whoever it was took a
pretty big risk by sliding it under your door while there were still candles lit in
your room.”
“Do you think it was the Westlocks?”
He thought about it for a moment and then shook his head. “No. Westlock was intimidated
enough when he scurried off to bed. I don’t think he or his wife would have screwed
up the courage to do something like this so quickly.”
“Well, then what of the Smythes? Or the Darlingtons?” I asked, rattling off the families
who had been most vindictive toward me.
“I don’t know.”
“Or Marsdale,” I declared with some relish. “This sounds like something he would write,
the scoundrel. Although,” I added after thinking about it, “I got the impression he
didn’t care whether my reputation was true or not. Why would he be spiteful?”
“There is another possibility.”
The hesitance in Gage’s voice made me look up. His posture was rigid, and the wariness
in his gaze made me look down at the words again.
“Oh,” I wheezed as the realization hit me like a punch in the stomach. I swallowed
around the sudden dryness in my throat. “The murderer.”
He nodded. “Maybe, like Westlock, they saw us heading to or leaving the chapel.”
“Perhaps you’ll have a letter slid under your door as well.”
“Maybe.”
I wondered why he sounded doubtful.
“But either way, whether the killer or a suspicious guest sent that letter, perhaps
your continued involvement in the investigation should be minimal.”
I frowned, not liking the sound of that. However, I didn’t immediately protest. “Maybe,”
I murmured, deciding it might be best to hedge my bets. “But I would at least like
to examine the place where Lady Godwin was found. In daylight. Tomorrow preferably,”
I specified.
Gage stared back at me with no discernible reaction besides a slight narrowing of
his eyes.
“I . . . I need to examine the imprint of her body on the bench, to make sure I haven’t
missed any injuries.” I swallowed and internally shook myself. There was no need to
stammer. Gage did not intimidate me. Besides, if he didn’t give me permission, I would
get it from Philip. “The blood should lie in a predictable pattern if Lady Godwin
was in fact cut open in that spot. If there is blood elsewhere, then the body was
either moved or I failed to locate an additional wound.”
Having given this explanation, I willed myself to be silent and still, waiting for
Gage to
“It looks like someone left you a note.”
“At this hour?” I reluctantly hoisted myself out of my chair. “Didn’t they see the
light under the door? Why didn’t they knock?”
A sudden chill raced down my spine. I looked at Gage, seeing the same alertness in
his gaze. His eyes slid back toward the door as he handed me the letter.
I recognized the crisp white stationery as being from the generic stock stashed in
every guest room in the castle. However, the bold block letters were not familiar
and, in fact, seemed printed in such a uniform fashion as to make the sender’s handwriting
indistinguishable. My hands shook as I read the words.
SHAME ON YOU, LADY DARBY. I KNOW WHAT YOU’VE BEEN DOING.
Gage, who had been reading over my shoulder, threw open the door and darted into the
hall, leaving me blinking down at the page. Who would do such a thing? And what did
it mean?
Immediately, my mind returned to Lord Westlock and his wife, and all of the other
guests who believed me capable of murder. Did they think to frighten me? To intimidate
me into doing something stupid, like confessing to a crime I didn’t commit? The edges
of the paper crinkled beneath my angry fists.
Gage returned to stand in the doorway, clear frustration marring his brow.
“Who would write this?” I demanded of him.
“I don’t know,” he muttered, closing the door to a gap. “But whoever it was took a
pretty big risk by sliding it under your door while there were still candles lit in
your room.”
“Do you think it was the Westlocks?”
He thought about it for a moment and then shook his head. “No. Westlock was intimidated
enough when he scurried off to bed. I don’t think he or his wife would have screwed
up the courage to do something like this so quickly.”
“Well, then what of the Smythes? Or the Darlingtons?” I asked, rattling off the families
who had been most vindictive toward me.
“I don’t know.”
“Or Marsdale,” I declared with some relish. “This sounds like something he would write,
the scoundrel. Although,” I added after thinking about it, “I got the impression he
didn’t care whether my reputation was true or not. Why would he be spiteful?”
“There is another possibility.”
The hesitance in Gage’s voice made me look up. His posture was rigid, and the wariness
in his gaze made me look down at the words again.
“Oh,” I wheezed as the realization hit me like a punch in the stomach. I swallowed
around the sudden dryness in my throat. “The murderer.”
He nodded. “Maybe, like Westlock, they saw us heading to or leaving the chapel.”
“Perhaps you’ll have a letter slid under your door as well.”
“Maybe.”
I wondered why he sounded doubtful.
“But either way, whether the killer or a suspicious guest sent that letter, perhaps
your continued involvement in the investigation should be minimal.”
I frowned, not liking the sound of that. However, I didn’t immediately protest. “Maybe,”
I murmured, deciding it might be best to hedge my bets. “But I would at least like
to examine the place where Lady Godwin was found. In daylight. Tomorrow preferably,”
I specified.
Gage stared back at me with no discernible reaction besides a slight narrowing of
his eyes.
“I . . . I need to examine the imprint of her body on the bench, to make sure I haven’t
missed any injuries.” I swallowed and internally shook myself. There was no need to
stammer. Gage did not intimidate me. Besides, if he didn’t give me permission, I would
get it from Philip. “The blood should lie in a predictable pattern if Lady Godwin
was in fact cut open in that spot. If there is blood elsewhere, then the body was
either moved or I failed to locate an additional wound.”
Having given this explanation, I willed myself to be silent and still, waiting for
Gage to
Similar Books
