Page 18 of The Orphan of Cemetery Hill
Gradually the notes grew fainter, and with them, Rose’s pale face. When all that remained was a curl of smoke like a snuffed-out candle, Tabby opened her eyes, slowly coming back to the world of the living. She had hoped for answers, for some clue as to how to help Rose and find her true killer. Instead, all she had gotten was a song.
9
IN WHICH ALL HOPE IS NOT LOST.
PRISON WAS EVERYTHINGthe novels and serialized dramas Caleb had read in his youth promised it would be. His cell mates included drunks, vagrants, and a fellow who proclaimed loudly and frequently that he was the Duke of Wellington and was going to be late for a naval engagement if he was not released immediately. Time was marked by a leak in the ceiling which dripped slow and steady, day and night. The bread that he was given was somehow both mealy and stale, and the whole place smelled like piss. Yes, prison did not disappoint when it came to hopeless ambiance. His father must have been joyfully rolling over in his grave—or wherever his body was—vindicated that he had been right when he predicted that Caleb would someday find himself in jail.
Caleb wasn’t terribly concerned that he would languish in here for more than a few hours. Mother would send Mr. Whitby—his father’s business partner and solicitor—with some money and papers and he would clear the whole mess up. The question was, when? How would it look to Caleb’s business investors to see the new owner of Bishop & Son Shipping behind bars? How many meetings would he miss, and at what cost? It was like being granted a stay of execution from all those unpleasant business matters he had been dreading, only to spend it in, well, prison.
No, whatdidconcern him was Rose and her terrible fate. What on earth had happened after he left Hammond House? Poor, sweet Rose. Who could have been coldhearted enough to think her deserving of death? Thinking back to their argument and what an unforgivable cad he had been, he let out a groan. He had not loved her in the way a husband should love a wife, but they were supposed to have had a lifetime to find their path together. He imagined her dark blue eyes staring at him accusingly from across the divide, a life abbreviated. She had deserved more, so much more.
“Caleb Bishop?”
The rough voice snapped him from his thoughts, and he looked up to see the warden standing with crossed arms in front of the iron bars. “I’m the gentleman in question.”
The warden scowled. “You’ve got a visitor.”
That would be Whitby. About bloody time. Caleb stood up, waiting for the warden to unlock the door and lead him to some more hospitable chamber where he and Mr. Whitby could discuss the matter at hand, but instead the warden disappeared. When he came back, he had a young woman in tow.
Caleb’s jaw nearly fell to the ground. “Good God, Miss Cooke?” He rushed to the bars, sure that his eyes deceived him.
“Get back!” The warden jabbed at him with his club through the bars.
Caleb just stared at her, shocked but also more than a little peeved. How he wished he had never given in to his incendiary desire and kissed the girl. She was a living, breathing reminder of the price both he and Rose had paid for their fight. “What are you doing here?”
Her eyes had widened, staring past him. Turning, he followed her line of sight to where a drunkard was relieving himself very loudly with a satisfied grunt in the corner. Jesus Christ, what a place for a young woman. He gestured to her to come to the other end of the cell, peering at her through the bars and was just about to ask her again why she had come when she spoke.
“I need you to know something...” she trailed off, twining her hands. “I... I know that you are innocent.”
Hadn’t he told her as much at the burial? “Of course I’m innocent!” His words came out much too loud, causing the Duke of Wellington to pick up a chorus of “Innocent! Innocent!”
She shook her head impatiently, the tattered ribbon in her plain straw bonnet nearly coming undone. “Yes, but no one will believe you unless we have proof. And to get proof I need you to tell me about Rose.”
He stared at her. If her thoughts were following some logical trajectory, he certainly couldn’t see it. “What about Rose?”
“How long did you know her? Did she have any enemies, anyone who might wish her harm? Other suitors, perhaps?” The questions tripped off her tongue faster than Caleb could keep track of them until she suddenly stopped. She caught her lower lip between her teeth, worrying at it, and for a moment Caleb was transported back to their kiss at the cemetery, his regret tempered with a sudden jab of longing. “I can help you,” she said softly.
“The only person who can help me is my lawyer. Now if you would be so kind, I believe I have some pensive brooding to do just over there on that bench while I figure out what the hell he can do to get me out of here.”
Color rose to her face. “Youmay not want my help, but I promised Rose that I would bring her killer to justice, and I always honor my promises.”
What on earth was she talking about? “You promised Rose? You didn’t evenknowRose! Don’t you think you’ve done enough? She wouldn’t be dead and I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you.”
She jerked backward as if he had struck her, and he instantly regretted his sharp words. He knew full well that he had been the one to instigate the kiss, that it was his impulsive and base behavior that had caused this mess. The fault was his and his alone. Perhaps that was why he said what he did, because his own guilt was unbearable. “Look, I don’t know what you’re going on about, and frankly, I don’t want to know. I’m just as much responsible for that damned kiss as you, but I think it would be better for all parties involved if you were to stay out of my affairs.”
She gave him an unreadable look, her cloudy eyes seeming to see right through him. When she spoke again her voice was low and more forceful than he had ever heard from her before. “You forfeited that right when you came into the cemetery and kissed me. For better or worse, I would say I am already rather entangled in your affairs.” With that she turned on her heel and marched out.
“Tabby!” he called after her. God damn it, she meant to get involved. “Tabby, wait! Stay out of this!”
But it was too late. The strange young woman was already floating down the hall as if she were a spirit herself.
Blinking back the brightness as she emerged from the dank prison, Tabby walked briskly through the city, too preoccupied to worry about being followed for once.
She had so carefully fortified her defenses over the years, and then this young man came along and they all but came crumbling down when he so much as looked at her. She should have been angry with herself for her lack of restraint, but instead she found herself irritated beyond all reason with him. He was a temptation, a threat to the life she had worked so hard to salvage.Harden your heart against that which you can never have.The old refrain ran through her mind as she walked. She would harden her heart against Caleb, but she was determined to help Rose. The dead, after all, could not break your heart.
Her feet carried her as her thoughts churned. Though it was less than a mile from the cemetery, Tabby had been to this part of the city only twice before: once to visit Mary-Ruth at Hammond House, and the second time to escort Caleb’s mother home at his request. It was the latter to which she went now, feeling the smooth paved sidewalk beneath her shoes, listening to the pleasant sound of birdsong.
The Bishop home stood shoulder to shoulder among an unbroken row of other stately brick homes, generously bedecked with ivy climbing up the sides, and flower baskets of pink geraniums hanging from the windows. The day of the funeral when Tabby had taken Mrs. Bishop home everything had been a blur, but now as she climbed the front steps, she realized what a welcoming, pretty house it was.
