Hush Now, Don't You Cry(100)

I was finding it hard to breathe. “How did they find out?” I asked.

“The man’s lawyer came to read the will and as I understand it, there was a large sum of money left for the care of this granddaughter, provided she was looked after properly in a family home. I don’t know the rest of the details but that’s what Martha told me.”

“It’s Kathleen,” Sam blurted out. “You know, the one who pushed her sister over the cliff. Nobody knew where she was. Uncle Jo sent a telegram to the asylum where they thought she was and they sent a telegram back saying she had been taken away years ago.”

“So how did they find her?” I could hardly make the words come out.

“They found Mrs. McCreedy,” he said. “One of the maids found her early this morning when she was cleaning. She was lying on the floor dead. She’d fallen from a trapdoor and broken her neck. So Terrence and Uncle Jo got a ladder and they went up and do you know what they found? Kathleen had been living up there all this time and we never knew. So of course then they reckoned that she’d pushed Mrs. McCreedy just like she did her sister.”

“And where is Kathleen now?” It was all I could do to remain calm and not go rushing over to her.

“She’s still up there and there are policemen guarding her until they can come and take her away,” he said. He had his arms wrapped around himself, shivering as if he was cold.

“And your friends are with her,” Daniel’s mother said. “The two women who were your bridesmaids. Apparently she can only communicate in a strange language and they are experts in such things.”

I gave a huge sigh of relief. Sid and Gus were with her. I was half-amused, half-impressed that they had conned their way to Kathleen, claiming to be experts. They’d make sure nothing terrible happened to her for the time being—until I could prove that she didn’t kill Mrs. McCreedy. I wanted to go to them right now but my husband came first. “I must go and see Daniel,” I said.

Mrs. Sullivan grabbed my arm. “He doesn’t know anything about this and he shouldn’t be told. No sense in upsetting him when he’s still so weak.”

I nodded agreement.

“And young Sam here better get started on his tea,” she added. “Tell Daniel I’ll be bringing a tray up to him in a few minutes.”

Sam brightened up instantly at the word tea. He was through the door of the kitchen and had grabbed a bun before I started up the stairs. Daniel was sitting propped up by pillows and his face lit up as I came in, making me feel a flush of warmth and gratitude.

“There you are,” he said. “I wondered where you had got to.”

“I was scouting out ways to have you transported back to New York safely,” I said. “You’re not up to traveling by train yet.”

“And what did you find?” He took my hand in his as I sat beside him.

“There is a regular steamship service. I can reserve a cabin as soon as you feel strong enough to be moved.”

“That’s good.” He took a breath as if speaking was still an effort. “I thought for one awful moment that you were running around doing your own bit of detecting. There are still Prescott’s men all over the place. Do you know if they’ve made any progress?”

“I’ve only just returned,” I said. “I have no idea what the police are doing here until I go and ask them.”

“Then find out and report back to me.” He squeezed my hand. “I’m feeling strong enough to be nosy again.”

I turned to kiss him. “You’re as bad as I am.”

He took my face in his hands. “Some honeymoon this has turned out to be, hasn’t it?” he said. “But don’t worry. I’ll try to make it up to you.”

“You already did.” I gazed at him lovingly. “By not dying. Now I’ve got my whole life ahead with you. That’s all I need.”

His lips came toward mine in our first proper kiss for days. The moment was spoiled by footsteps coming up the stairs and his mother appearing in the doorway. “Here we are, son,” she said. “Some of my soda bread. That’s just what you need to build you up.”

I stood up, still holding his hand. “I’ll leave you to it then,” I said. “I’ll report back as soon as I find out anything.”

Mrs. Sullivan shot me a warning glance as I went past her. I paused in the kitchen to help myself to a slice of soda bread. Sam had already decimated the plate of cakes.

“She’s a good cook, “ he said. “Mrs. McCreedy used to be a good cook too. She made jam tarts.” And that bleak sadness returned to his face. I remembered what I had been told.