“I did,” Perkins answered again.
But his handwriting looked so much like Papa’s before the accident. How is that possible?
“For years before your father’s injury he suffered from pains in his hands. I believe the doctor called it arthritis. I used to do all his writing. He didn’t want you to know.”
Grace could barely remember a time when Perkins had not accompanied her father to work and then home. They spent hours together. Even though Grace wasn’t in society, even she knew that Perkins did more than a mere valet, but she hadn’t troubled herself to consider the situation further and assumed that in addition to the valet duties, he acted as father’s secretary as well.
“How long has it been since father has written?”
He shook his head. “I can no longer recall, but many years. The accident has only made it more difficult since he had to learn to write with this left hand and through the pain in his hands.”
“I wish he would have told me.”
“He didn’t want to trouble you.”
Grace accepted her father suffered from pain and it wasn’t unusual for a secretary to do all the things that Perkins did. But, most secretaries did not pen suicide notes. “How did you know what my father wanted to write?”
“He wrote that himself.”
Grace stood. “I know my father did not write that note so don’t try to tell me he did.”
“No, Miss Cooper. He wrote another.”
“Where is it?” She held out her hand. She refused to believe her father had taken this action without proof. Who were they to tell her that Papa wanted to die? He couldn’t speak for himself. They could be lying to her now, as he had for so many years, and Mrs. Thomas too. Was there anyone she could trust?
“I’ll be back in a moment.”
Grace sipped the cooling tea and settled back down on the settee. Until she had proof, she would not believe anything that was told to her. Someone had tried to kill her tonight and that same person had pushed her father down the stairs. It was the only reasonable explanation.
Nobody talked, for which she was grateful. She didn’t want to hear any more lies, or be forced to think of matters best left alone.
“Here you are, Miss Cooper.”
Perkins held out sheets of paper which she took. They were in her father’s handwriting. “I am certain they do not say what you think they do.” Grace looked away and refused to take them. She didn’t want to find out the truth. It hurt too deeply.
“Take them Miss Cooper,” Vicar Trent urged. She swallowed and accepted the parchment.
Though near indecipherable, the words were nearly the same as Perkins had penned. By the time she reached the end Grace could barely see what was written because of tears. It was too much. She couldn’t accept her father wanted to do this. If she did, she would have to accept that it was her fault. Oh, why hadn’t she married when she had the opportunity, before this? He wouldn’t have felt the need to take such a drastic action. And, could she truly blame him? If uncle Stillwaite got his way, he would live out the rest of his life in Bedlam. She would rather be dead as well.
“Why didn’t you try to stop him? Why did you help?” The question came from Vicar Trent and it was something she wanted to know as well. Her father would be fine right now if Perkins and Mrs. Thomas had refused to assist him.
“We didn’t know his intention,” Mrs. Thomas answered.
“He insisted on going upstairs,” Perkins confirmed. “He was trying to get up there himself and kept pointing. I had no idea what he wanted but there was an urgency in his actions.”
“Had I known what he intended, I would have never helped. I just assumed he wanted something so Perkins and I helped him to the top of the stairs.”
“But he struggled,” Vicar Trent pointed out.
Perkins shook his head. “Only in that it was difficult to manage. Mr. Cooper was determined to get upstairs.”
“The rungs were broken on the stairs.”
“One from when Mr. Cooper slipped, taking me with him, and the other from Mr. Cooper’s fall,” Perkins explained
Grace looked away and pulled the blanket tight. Did she really want to know the details?
Yes. From details she could find a nugget of truth and perhaps her father hadn’t really meant to do himself harm.
“Then what happened?” Vicar Trent prompted.
Mrs. Thomas and Perkins looked at each other for a moment before she continued. “When we got to the top of the stairs we asked which way he wanted to go. I was on his good side and he pushed me away. Perkins let go of Mr. Cooper for a moment to steady me and then Mr. Cooper pushed at Perkins. We both stumbled back and before we could get to your father.” She looked at Grace. “He turned and flung himself down the stairs. There was nothing we could do.” Her voice broke and tears streamed down her face.
“We ran down the stairs after him, but could not reach him before he was at the bottom,” Perkins continued.
“I thought he was dead,” Mrs. Thomas whispered.
“I ran down to the Zucker’s home and asked Clive to go for the doctor and came back here.”
“While we waited, Perkins and I moved your father to his bed and tended him as best we could.”
“That is when I found the note. It was on his nightstand,” Perkins continued. “That is when we realized what he had done and that he had used us.”
“Why rewrite the note?” Grace found herself asking.
“We didn’t know if your father would live.”
“I don’t see why that makes a difference.”
“If your father were to die of a suicide, he could not be buried on sacred ground, but at the corner of a crossroad,” Vicar Trent answered.
Perkins nodded. “I knew that nobody would believe Mr. Cooper wrote the note and would suspect someone had attempted to kill him. And, since nobody had, a killer would not be found. Then, if he did pass, he could be buried next to his wife.”
It was too much to take in. Everything fit into place, but Grace couldn’t bring herself to accept the facts, though in her heart she knew they were true.
“I am the one who made up the story of being locked in the cellar.”
“And the real reason you left that day?” Vicar Trent asked.
“I couldn’t remain in this house and live with the guilt of what I had done.”
“Yet you came back, tonight?” Grace asked.
“Yes. The guilt wasn’t any easier at home.” Mrs. Thomas looked at her husband. His smile was kind.
Vicar Trent stood. “What if someone would have been arrested for the attempted murder of Mr. Cooper? An innocent man could have gone to the gallows.”
“No.” Perkins shook his head. “As much as I wished to protect Miss Cooper and her father, I would have never allowed that to happen. That is why I kept his original note. Just in case it was needed.”
Vicar Trent paced across the room and poured a glass of brandy. She had never seen him drink anything other than tea. She wished for a glass herself. Perhaps it would calm her and bring clarity. He turned to look at her and as if reading her mind, he poured another and handed it to her.
She smiled up at him gratefully and took a sip. He returned to pacing before the fireplace. “What you say makes sense and I am glad we know the truth.”
“I am relieved as well,” Perkins announced.
“Yet, that does beg the question,” said Vicar Trent.
“Who tried to kill me tonight?”
The clock in the hall chimed twice, startling Grace. They had not left the room, though the occupants were tiring. “I think Mr. and Mrs. Thomas should remain here for the rest of the night, or at least what is left of it.”
Perkins stood. “I’ll see that a room is prepared.”
“Rubbish.” Mrs. Thomas came to her feet. “I was the housekeeper here until a few days ago. I know what room can be used.” She turned and held her hand out to her husband. “Come along. I could sleep for a week now.”
“It does help when a conscious is eased,” Vicar Trent offered, yet there was no anger in his tone. Grace wasn’t angry either. As much as she hated what her father had done, he had tricked Perkins and Mrs. Thomas into helping him. She didn’t know if she could live with herself if she were in their place. But, had she been at home instead of in town trying to find out when the meeting would be, this wouldn’t have happened at all because her father would not have tried to end his life while she was in the house.
Grace rose to follow them, pulling the blanket tightly round her body. Vicar Trent was close to her side, carrying a small lamp.
“Goodnight,” Perkins announced and walked off toward her father’s room.
“Will you be alright?” Vicar Trent asked her.
Her hands began to shake the moment she touched the bannister and put her foot on the first step. Could she return to the room? What if that man came back? Would anyone hear her or would she be safe.
“Could you check the doors and windows please?”
Vicar Trent nodded and went to the front door first. Grace sank down on the step. She couldn’t go up there until she knew she was safe.
It seemed to take forever before he returned. “I checked every window and door. Everything is secure.”
Grace pulled herself to her feet and began walking up the steps. Her feet felt like they were laden with led. Was it safe upstairs? What if someone had gotten in while they were in her father’s bedroom? The front door had not been locked.