CHAPTER FOURTEEN

 

 

 

Justine heard a buggy outside and ran to the parlor window. “They’re here.”

Eddie lifted Virginia to the ground. She looked very nice in a simple green dress with a lace collar. And he looked handsome in a vest and tie, with his normally unruly hair slicked down. He ushered her toward the house for dinner.

Goosie removed her apron. “Don’t spy and hover, Jussie. It isn’t polite.”

Justine let the curtain fall as Dorthea answered their knock.

“Welcome,” Dorthea said. “Come in.”

Greetings were exchanged and Harland and Thomas offered them chairs in the parlor. Neither guest looked very comfortable, as if sitting in a parlor in Lawrence was foreign territory.

Perhaps it was.

Virginia kept plucking at the folds of her skirt. Her eyes flit around the room and settled on Dorthea. “You have a lovely home, Mrs. Jennings.”

“Thank you,” Dorthea said. “Please call me Dorthea.”

“Dorthea,” Virginia repeated.

Eddie’s large frame looked uncomfortable in his chair. He fidgeted. “Do you all live here?”

“We do,” Justine said. “Dorthea has been extremely gracious to let us stay.”

“Nothing gracious about it,” Dorthea said. “With my girls gone, the house needed family.”

“Girls?” Virginia asked.

“My two grown daughters are off in Montana, having an adventure.” She smiled at Harland. “But my boy is here and keeps me from being lonely.”

“And Harland, a doctor,” Virginia said. “You are very blessed to have your children doing so well.”

Children! Justine looked at the others. It was clear she wasn’t the only one who had just realized the talk of children might cause Virginia pain.

But Virginia didn’t dwell. She turned to Eddie and smiled. “I don’t know what I would have done without Eddie with me all these years. He’s been my rock, seeing things I didn’t want to see.”

What an unusual thing to say. “What have you seen?” Justine asked.

Eddie gave Virginia a questioning look. There were obviously secrets between them. Delicate secrets.

“We can talk about it later, if you like.” Justine said, even though she wanted to hear about it now.

“Thank you. You’re very kind.”

But still curious.

Harland took over the conversation. ”I’m so glad Mr. Sutton allowed you to come to dinner.”

Virginia chuckled. “He told me you’d asked his permission. But he isn’t my keeper. I can come and go as I please.”

“You can?” Justine asked.

“I thought you were . . . committed?” Goosie said.

“Technically,” she said. “But when Mr. Sutton took the job, he realized I didn’t belong at Ravenwood. He told me I could leave.”

“Yet you stayed.”

Virginia repeated her statement. “I can come and go as I please.”

“But do you?” Thomas asked. “Come and go?”

Virginia and Eddie exchanged a look. “Not really.”

“No need to,” Eddie said.

“And honestly, no one ever invited us anywhere.”

“Until now,” Eddie added.

“When did you make the decision to stay?” Harland asked. “And why?”

Virginia smoothed her skirt over her legs and looked uncertain. Justine really wanted to hear her answer, but was afraid if she pressed, the story might never be told. And so, she waited in silence.

Virginia’s hands finally stilled and she took a fresh breath. “I’ll begin the story and Eddie can finish it.” She looked to him for approval and he nodded. “It all started a few months after I got to Ravenwood. I received a letter from Spencer saying that the children had taken sick and died. And he’d sold the farm and was heading west.”

“That was some letter,” Harland said.

“What horrible news,” Dorthea said.

“And all in one letter?” Justine asked.

“In one letter. It was the only letter he’s ever sent me. Over the years I’ve waited to hear from him, but . . . nothing. I still find it hard to believe he just left me there.”

“But he did,” Eddie said.

“But he did. Of course I was devastated by the news. My babies, gone? How could that be? I wanted to go to the farm and talk to Cole and see . . . I don’t know what I wanted him to see. I was so confused. My whole world had been torn apart. But the old superintendent, Mr. Roswell, he wouldn’t let me leave. If I wasn’t crazy before that moment, being stuck here after hearing such horrendous news . . .”

Eddie spoke up. “She couldn’t go to the farm, but I could.”

Virginia nodded. “Eddie went for me. But then . . .” She nodded to him. “You tell them what you found.”

He sat straighter in his chair. “When I got there, no one was at the house at all. I looked in the windows and saw furniture, but no real signs of someone living there. I heard some animals so went to the barn.” His eyes were on Virginia. “Ginny’s brother was dead on the floor of the barn. He must have fallen from the loft.”

“Another loss,” Thomas said. “I am so sorry.”

“We were very close,” Virginia said. “I hate knowing that Cole was there through Anna and Luke’s deaths, and the sale of our farm. Alone.” She looked at her lap. “He died alone.”

Eddie reached over and touched her arm. “ I buried him in the family plot Ginny had told me about. That’s where I found the graves of the children too.”

Virginia drew in a sigh that was rooted in her toes. “Life as I’d known it was gone. My parents, my brother, and my children were all dead. My family home was sold without my permission. And my husband had left me in a lunatic asylum. I was broken. Why would I leave? Where would I go?”

No one had an answer for her.

The mention of Virginia’s parents spurred Justine to want to share her news. “You have suffered so many tragedies, yet I . . .“ Suddenly, she wasn’t sure it was the right time. To tell her would spark more awful memories.

“Yet you . . .?”

Justine wiped a hand across her mouth. “I know who killed your father.”

Virginia blinked. “Quantrill’s Raiders killed him.”

“Yes, but . . .” she looked to Harland for support. His nod spurred her on. “The man who actually shot him was someone you know.”

She shook her head. “I saw him. I didn’t know him.”

“You didn’t know him then, but would come to know him when . . . when you married him.”

Virginia stared into the air. She took some deep breaths. “Spencer killed Papa?”

“He was going under another name then—Lionel Watkins—and of course he looked different with wild hair and a long—”

“Beard,” Virginia said. She bit a fingernail, deep in thought. “If he . . .? Why would he come back into my life? Why would he want to marry me?”

“You’ll have to ask him,” Justine said. “Ask Uriah.”

Virginia stood, then began slowly pacing between her chair and the door. The rest of them sat in silence. Justine couldn’t imagine the emotions and questions careening through her mind.

“Ginny?” Eddie said.

She stopped pacing and shook her head. “So Lionel is Spencer is Uriah.”

“Yes,” Justine said.

She made fists at her side. “I want to talk to him. I want him to explain.” She pointed toward the door. “Where does he live? I need to go see him.”

Justine stood. “Not yet. We can’t confront him yet.”

“Uriah is dangerous,” Thomas said. “We have to bide our time.”

Eddie went to her. “I agree, Ginny. We can’t rush ahead and—”

“Rush?” Virginia swept him away and stood defiantly near the door. “I have mourned my parents for sixteen years. I have mourned my children, my brother, and the loss of my family home. I have endured being thrown away at Ravenwood, unwanted and forgotten.” She made a face, her beauty strangled by her pain. “And now I learn that an evil man who I loved, married me as a part of some sick plan? It makes no sense. I’ve wasted years tangled up in the vines of his scheme. I want answers. Now!”

The room reverberated with her final word.

Virginia took a breath, then looked at Eddie, then Justine, then the others. “But . . . I heard what you’ve all said. It’s not possible to confront him, is it?”

“Not yet,” Justine said. “We need proof.”

“Aren’t I the proof?”

Eddie led her back to her chair and sat beside her. “He deserted you. He hurt you. But—”

“That’s not a crime,” Goosie said.

Virginia pointed at Justine. “You say he killed my father.” She paused. “How do you know that?”

I saw him? “It’s complicated. I was hoping you could corroborate seeing him that night.”

Virginia’s shoulders stiffened. “I saw men. A man shooting. The same man riding off and saluting me. It’s vivid, and yet the details aren’t . . .” She perked up. “If you say he was there I could lie and—”

Eddie took her arm. “No. You know you wouldn’t do that.”

She patted his hand. “Sometimes I wish I wasn’t an honest woman.”

They all jerked when there was a knock on the door. Justine answered it, and was shocked to see Alva. A disheveled Alva.

“May I come in? Please?”

Alva didn’t enter the house, she fell into it. Justine caught her before she hit the floor.

Thomas and Harland were at her side in seconds and helped Alva into the parlor and onto the settee.

“Thank you, thank you,” Alva murmured. Her eyes were closed as much as they were open.

Harland knelt beside her, taking her pulse. “Are you hurt?”

She shook her head. Hanks of hair had escaped her bun. She wore no hat, had no shawl. “I’m just rattled.”

The door was still open. Thomas checked outside, then closed it. “Did you walk here?”

She nodded. “I ran.”

Ran?

Dorthea sat beside her and took her hand. “What did he do to you?”

Alva breathed in and out with great deliberation. “He . . . we were arguing and he shoved me. . . I was at the top of the stairs. I only stumbled down halfway, but he shoved me.”

“Like he shoved Caesar,” Justine said.

Alva pushed herself upright. “He shoved Caesar down the stairs?”

Justine hadn’t meant to say it aloud. “That’s what we believe.”

Dorthea nodded.

The ramifications of her husband’s past actions in addition to his most recent violence made Alva hold herself and rock up and back. “Oh dear. Oh my. He truly wants me dead.”

“We need to have Uriah arrested,” Thomas said.

“Uriah?” Virginia stood. “Your husband is Uriah?”

“You know him?”

Virginia turned to Justine. “You said Uriah was my Spencer.”

“Your Spencer?” Alva blinked and the two women looked at each other. “Who are you?”

She stepped forward. “My name is Virginia Meade. Spencer was my husband. I’ve only recently discovered that he changed his name to Uriah.”

Alva shook her head, over and over. “I don’t understand.”

Justine knelt beside Alva’s chair. “Your husband has assumed multiple identities in his life. One of them was Spencer Meade.”

“My husband,” Virginia repeated.

“I . . . I didn’t know he was married before.”

“Still is.”

Alva’s mouth gaped open. “What?”

“He never divorced me. He had me committed to Ravenwood and ran off.”

Justine continued the story. “He took a new name and created a new identity, then came back as Uriah Benedict.”

“Why would he do that?” Alva asked.

“That’s what we’re trying to find out,” Justine said. “But at least partially—if not wholly—it’s to distance himself from bad deeds.”

“And crimes,” Goosie added.

Alva waved her arms in front of her body, causing those who were close by to back away. “You’re saying my husband is already married. He killed Caesar. And he’s trying to kill me.”

“Caesar?” Virginia asked. “Caesar Johnson?”

“Yes,” Alva said. “He was our butler.”

Virginia found her chair again. “He helped on our farm. He and his late wife lived with us. I liked him very much.”

“So did I.” Alva pointed at Justine. “She thinks Uriah killed him.”

Virginia bit her lip. “You say he’s trying to kill you?”

Alva suddenly stood. “I can’t go home. Ever. I can’t!”

Justine was glad she’d made the decision on her own. “No, you can’t.”

“You can stay here with us,” Dorthea said.

Alva took a few steps. She limped.

“You hurt your ankle?” Harland asked.

She shook her head, her face tight with anger. “When I fell . . . he hurt my ankle. He’s an evil man. He needs to pay!”

Justine was taken aback. Alva was no longer a victim. “He will pay,” she said. “I promise you that.”

“He’s hurt too many of us,” Virginia said. “We must stop him.”

Alva nodded, then asked a looming question. “How?”

“Justine is handling it,” Thomas said.

“She is?” Alva asked. “Why not one of you men? Uriah is strong and powerful.”

Thomas stood beside Justine, showing his support. “Sometimes justice doesn’t require physical, but rather, mental strength. Not brawn, but brains. Justine is the one. She will find the evidence we need—evidence that can’t be refuted. And then your Uriah—”

“And my Spencer,” Virginia added.

“And whatever other name he has used, will be brought before a judge in this world, and the Judge in the next.” Thomas looked at all of them. “We promise you that.”

The burden grew heavier as Justine’s quest became more timely and essential.

 

**

 

Dinner was forgotten. Virginia and Eddie drove back to Ravenwood. The rest of them—including Alva—fell into bed, exhausted.

Yet Justine’s sleep was furtive. Her dreams were plagued by the evil triad of Lionel, Spencer, and Uriah. Repeatedly, she forced herself awake to escape them.

But then, she was startled awake by pounding on a door—the front door. In the brief moment between asleep and awake she knew who it was.

Before retiring they’d discussed the probability that Uriah would come looking for Alva. They had a plan—one that involved physical strength. The men would handle it.

She got out of bed and checked the clock on the mantel. Midnight. Alva had come over before seven. It took Uriah five hours to come after her?

Justine tied a wrapper around her nightgown and went out to the hall. Harland and Thomas brushed past, toward the stairs.

“Stay out of sight,” Harland told her.

The door to Dorthea’s room opened, and Dorthea and Alva peered out. Harland pointed at them. “Stay inside!”

They took a step back, but stood in the doorway. The men hurried downstairs, their nightshirts tucked into their pants. Justine took a place in the upper hall where she could see what would happen next.

The men stood at the door. “Ready?” Thomas asked Harland as the pounding continued.

Harland detoured into the parlor and returned with the fireplace poker. He held it behind his back. “Ready.”

Thomas opened the door and Uriah pushed his way in. “Where is she?” He rushed to the bottom of the stairs and yelled, “Alva? I order you to come down here! Now!”

Harland stepped between him and the stairs. “Alva is here and she’s safe, but she’s not coming home with you tonight.”

Uriah seethed, his breathing heavy, his face splotched with red. “She’s. My. Wife!”

Thomas moved beside Harland. “That, she is. But tonight she’s staying with her best friend, Dorthea.” He tried a smile. “The two of them had such a lovely time together, but once they got home . . .“ He leaned forward confidentially. “Women need women friends.” He shrugged.

Justine saw Uriah’s face lose a bit of its frenzy. “Women are weak, pitiful creatures who want too much and don’t do what they’re told.”

Really?

Thomas handled it well. “God made us different, men and women.” He extended a hand toward the door. “Go home. It’s late. Know that Alva is safe here.”

The subtle emphasis on the last word was not lost on Uriah.

“What did she tell you?”

Justine wanted to step out and confront him, but the group had agreed to diffuse and delay. Justice would come later.

Uriah looked up the stairs. His face was drawn and haggard. Was he truly worried about her? He was probably more worried about what Alva would say about him.

A sound broke through the moment as the grandfather clock in the foyer chimed the quarter-hour. Without another word Uriah turned and walked out the open door.

Harland rushed forward and bolted it.

Justine ran downstairs, and moments later, Dorthea and Alva followed. Goosie came out from her room off the kitchen.

“You two were wonderful,” Justine said. “You handled him just right.”

Harland looked down and realized he was still holding the poker. He leaned it against the wall. “I’m glad we didn’t have to use force.”

Thomas ran a hand through his tousled hair. “I’m rather shocked he left.”

Justine took his arm. “Your words were perfect. They calmed him.”

Alva clutched the newel post as if needing its solidity to stand. “When I heard what he thinks of women . . .“ she shook her head in disbelief. “I had no idea he thought so little of me. Of us. He hates me.”

Dorthea went to comfort her. “I’m so sorry.”

Thomas pointed upstairs. “Everyone get to bed. I’ll sit up and watch to make sure he doesn’t come back.”

Alva shook her head. “I won’t be able to sleep.”

“Me either,” Dorthea said.

Goosie walked to the kitchen. “Might as well heat up the dinner we didn’t eat.”

“And some coffee,” Harland said.

Alva sat on the settee with Dorthea beside her. She looked up at Justine. “Please tell me about Virginia and her life with my husband.”

Justine wasn’t sure how that would make Alva feel better.

“Tell her everything,” Dorthea said. “Just like you did with Virginia. She needs to know.”

Thomas nodded. “Knowledge is power.”

The long night just got longer.