She rolled over and began to push the pillow from her head when it clamped down over her face.
Grace opened her mouth to scream but could not get a breath to do so. She pushed at the pillow to get it off of her face but whoever was holding it was much stronger than she. Her heart raced and panic engulfed her. She kicked and flung her arms, fighting the darkness that threatened to invade. Her hand connected with the lamp on the table and she used a fist to knock it over. Thank goodness she had not left it lit. With any luck Vicar Trent or Perkins heard the crash and would come to help. Whoever was holding the pillow let up for a second and then pushed it even harder against her face. She couldn’t breathe. Her lungs burned with the need for air.
She couldn’t fight the darkness any longer.
Something woke Matthew and he bolted from his sleep. It took him a moment to focus and listen. Sounds came from above, as if there was a struggle. They were coming from Grace’s room. Without thought he thrust himself from the settee and raced up the stairs and into her room. Someone was bent over her, but Grace was not moving. Matthew threw himself at the dark cloaked man but he turned at the last second, catching Matthew across the chest with his arm. He was propelled back against the armoire and the man ran out of the room. Matthew pushed himself up and took off after the assailant. It was hard to see in the darkness but there was only one set of steps and he raced down the hall. The man had reached the bottom of the steps and was pulling on the front door.
“What is going on here?” Perkins cried as he ran down the hall.
The man at the door turned and fired. Both he and Perkins ducked. It gave the man just enough time to escape into the darkness.
“Go check on Grace,” Matthew ordered and raced out the door.
He stopped at the front of the house. A lone man rode off on a dark horse, the cloak flying in the air after him. Blast, he hadn’t even gotten a good look at him and there was nothing about his stature or coloring that was easily identifiable. If only he would have thought to knock the hat off the man’s head then at least he would have had a color of hair to go off of.
Matthew leaned over, hands on his knees and tried to catch his breath. What would have happened if he had not been here?
“Grace!” She could be lying dead upstairs now. He hadn’t checked on her but ran blindly after the man who tried to kill her. He raced back to the house, taking the stairs two at a time and bolted down the hall and into her room.
Perkins sat with her and Grace looked in his direction. Tears pooled in her eyes. “Who would try to kill me?”
“Hush, don’t think of that now.”
She sat up suddenly. “Father,” she cried.
Before Matthew could stop her she flew out of her bed and down the hall. Matthew and Perkins raced after her. She stopped at the entry to his room. “What are you doing here?”
Grace moved slowly into the room and Perkins gently pushed past her to stand by Mr. Cooper. On the other side of the bed sat Mrs. Thomas. Mr. Thomas stood behind her, a hand on her shoulder.
“I’ve worried so much about your father and the way I left,” Mrs. Thomas said.
“I brought her here so she could see for herself he was getting better and maybe then she would sleep.”
Matthew knew he shouldn’t judge them but the situation was a bit suspicious. It was the middle of the night. He glanced at the clock. It was midnight at least. People normally didn’t call at this time of night, unless they were in London arriving at a ball. These circumstances were completely different.
“What were those noises?” Mr. Thomas asked.
“The man who tried to kill Mr. Cooper came back and tried to smother Grace.”
Miss Cooper shivered and brought a hand to her throat.
“That is impossible,” Mrs. Thomas insisted.
Mr. Thomas squeezed his wife’s shoulder and Perkins turned on her, a look of shock on his face.
“What do you mean?” Grace asked in a quiet voice.
Mrs. Thomas looked at Perkins. Their eyes seemed to lock in private understanding. What did these two know that hadn’t been said before? After a moment Perkins sighed and turned away.
“Mrs. Thomas?” Grace asked.
“Nobody tried to kill your father.”
“Of course they did. Mr. Cooper could have never climbed the stairs on his own,” Matthew insisted. Unless these two had helped him, but the thought was not something he could come to terms with. That meant Mrs. Thomas and Perkins had been lying to them.
“I helped Mr. Cooper up the stairs.” Perkins sighed again and sank into a chair.
The man wasn’t strong enough to have gotten Mr. Cooper up the steps. Matthew had to help him take the man to his bed the other day.
“As did I,” Mrs. Thomas said.
Grace stepped forward and grasped the end of the bed as if she needed support. “Why?”
Mr. Cooper stirred and opened his eyes. He slowly looked at those in the room. Had he been awake this entire time and heard the conversation. His eyes locked with Grace and a tear leaked out of the corner of his eye. Matt’s gut tightened. Had the man truly tried to kill himself? But why and who had written the note? And, if he had, who had just tried to kill Grace? Question after question formed in his mind but there were no answers.
Miss Cooper moved to the side of the bed, sat and picked up her father’s hand. “Why Papa?”
The man struggled and he tried to form words. It was barely a whisper but after a few moments Matthew was certain he heard the whispered words of “Love you.”
“Oh, Papa,” Grace crumpled, her head on her father’s chest as sobs shook her body. Mr. Cooper’s good hand came up and stroked her back. Perkins turned away from the tender sight and hung his head. Mrs. Thomas looked away. If one attempted to help another with suicide did that make them guilty of attempted murder? Matthew wasn’t certain what the law was and he also wasn’t sure he would tell. What these two did was out of love for Mr. Cooper, but surely they also knew how wrong their actions were. Yet, neither was a murderer, not like the person who had come into the house earlier.
Matthew straightened. How did that man get in? Each door to the house was locked. Matthew had seen to that before he retired. He looked at Mr. Thomas. “How did you get in? I didn’t hear anyone knock.”
“My wife has a key.”
“I can’t believe I didn’t hear you come in.” He was on the settee, in the parlor just inside the door.
“You were sound asleep and we were careful to be quiet.”
He slept so soundly that three people got past him. Some guard he turned out to be. Had he slept any deeper, Grace would be dead. He needed to post security at the house, but who could he trust?
His hand fell to the side and Grace sat up. “Papa?”
Please, don’t let him die. Not now.
“Papa?” Grace cried.
“He sleeps, Miss Cooper.”
She glanced back at Perkins. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
She lay her head back on her father’s chest, as if to listen. “His heart still beats,” she whispered.
Matthew pulled away from the bed. “We should go to another room so Mr. Cooper can rest.”
With reluctance Grace pulled away from her father. When she stood she wrapped her arms tight about her body, rubbing her upper arms.
“Dear, you should put on a robe and slippers.”
Grace continued walking but when she got to the foot of the stairs she stopped. “I can’t go up there.”
“I will.” Mrs. Thomas moved around her and climbed the stairs. Her husband followed after her.
Matthew led Grace into the parlor and helped her get settled on the settee and tucked the blanket around her before he moved to build a fire. There was a chill in the room that had not been her earlier. Perkins followed a moment later and stood by the window.
Nobody said anything until Mrs. Thomas returned and helped Grace into her robe and slid the slippers onto her feet. When she stood she glanced around the room. “I’ll put a pot of tea on. I think we are going to be here a bit.”
“Yes,” Matthew agreed. “Miss Cooper deserves answers.” He didn’t want to sound harsh, but these two, who Grace trusted, had lied to her. Or had they? Perkins said her father had tried to kill himself. He and Grace were the ones who had not accepted the possibility. But, Mrs. Thomas had claimed to be locked in the cellar, which was not possible if she was helping get Mr. Cooper upstairs.
Mrs. Thomas gently pushed a cup of hot tea into Grace’s hands. Grace clutched it, willing the warmth to sink in. She was so cold and numb. She couldn’t focus on one single thought. None of this made sense to her. Why would someone try to kill her? Why would her father try to kill himself? Why had Perkins and Mrs. Thomas helped?
She glanced up and looked around the room. Everyone was watching her, as if waiting for her to burst into hysterics again. She wouldn’t. She was stronger than this. If she could only manage to concentrate and focus on one issue at a time maybe she could come to conclusions that would set her world right once again.
“Did my father really try to kill himself?”
“Yes,” Perkins answered.
It was not the answer she hoped for, but she needed to accept the fact. Had she failed him somehow? If she had married, would he have taken this action? “The note. Who wrote it?”