voice unflappable as ever, even though sweat beaded on his forehead.
"This is outrageous," Mr. Carver blustered from the front stoop of his house.
Several young boys hovered at the edge of the front lawn, their caps pulled low over their faces, fists jammed in their pockets. An elderly couple paused on the road and stared at the scene, wide-eyed and fearful but frozen at the sight of the tableau.
The Nolans and Reverend Jolly, his wife huddling behind him, stood at the far end of the porch as if the fracas somehow might taint them.
"I say, Marshal Gage, do you need assistance?" Nolan asked from the security of his place far back on the wraparound porch.
The look Gage flashed him revealed more than any words how useless he considered the offer. He glanced up to catch Meghan's eye as she leaned out the dormer window. He gave her a wink, followed by an imperceptible nod which she took to mean that she should continue searching Nell's room.
Had he'd accepted her as a partner?
After Gage had bound the man and thrown him into the back of his gig, he jiggled his reins and the horse trotted off in the direction of the Station House.
This was the perfect opportunity to look further while everyone was distracted by the arrest. However, Meghan had no intention of missing out on the details of what had just happened right under her nose.
Later she would find a way to sneak back into Nell's room and look for more clues. Right now she wanted to know what had just occurred in the very civilized parlor and on the very tidy lawn of the Carver house.
Mrs. Carver met her at the base of the staircase, her face pale and lovely in the faint glow from the lamps. She hadn't ventured outside to observe the scene. Why not, Meghan wondered?
"Are you all right, Mrs. Carver?" Meghan reached the bottom of the stairs and placed a gentle arm around her.
Mrs. Carver nodded. Meghan could see the backs of the other guests as they hovered in the dining room, still peering out the window. Gage's horses soon disappeared around the corner of Riverside Street.
"What happened?" Meg whispered. "Who was that man?"
"Don't you recognize him, dear? He's Michael Hayes."
"Oh." Meghan knew the name, but had not met this particular one of Nell's many suitors.
A young medical student, he attended the University of North Carolina and Nell had spoken of him rather warmly. But then, Nell spoke of all her beaus in a theatrically romanticized way.
Mrs. Carver lowered her voice. "He's been drinking. I think he's taken Nell's death quite badly."
"Had he a – an understanding with Nell?"
Mrs. Carver patted her arm. "Oh, my dear, you know Nell. I am sorry to say this about my own daughter, but she might have had an understanding with any number of young men."
She lowered her gaze, but not before the pain of reality flickered through her faded blue eyes.
"But why did he come here? What did he want?"
The older woman shook her head. "I don't know, but he seemed particularly angry with Mr. Carver. He – he tried to strike him."
Meghan could see that the strain of the day, with the loss of her daughter and the unsavory affair with a drunken suitor, was far too much for a woman of Mrs. Carver's sensibilities.
"Please let me help you upstairs." She led the other woman toward the first step.
Mrs. Carver made no protest and allowed Meghan to guide her to her bedroom and assist her with removing her shoes. She lay down at Meg's urging, and then Meghan drew the draperies against the fading light.
She covered Mrs. Carver with a light quilt. "Shall I send Bessie to see to you?"
"Yes, please. She'll prepare a potion to ease my headache. Thank you, darling." Mrs. Carver's eyes fluttered closed, the blue veins of her lids like thin gashes against her pale face.
Meg left quietly, glancing around the room once more. Spare, almost monk-like in its severity, it held the narrow bed, a dresser and nightstand.
However, on the east wall was a fine leather-bound collection of
"This is outrageous," Mr. Carver blustered from the front stoop of his house.
Several young boys hovered at the edge of the front lawn, their caps pulled low over their faces, fists jammed in their pockets. An elderly couple paused on the road and stared at the scene, wide-eyed and fearful but frozen at the sight of the tableau.
The Nolans and Reverend Jolly, his wife huddling behind him, stood at the far end of the porch as if the fracas somehow might taint them.
"I say, Marshal Gage, do you need assistance?" Nolan asked from the security of his place far back on the wraparound porch.
The look Gage flashed him revealed more than any words how useless he considered the offer. He glanced up to catch Meghan's eye as she leaned out the dormer window. He gave her a wink, followed by an imperceptible nod which she took to mean that she should continue searching Nell's room.
Had he'd accepted her as a partner?
After Gage had bound the man and thrown him into the back of his gig, he jiggled his reins and the horse trotted off in the direction of the Station House.
This was the perfect opportunity to look further while everyone was distracted by the arrest. However, Meghan had no intention of missing out on the details of what had just happened right under her nose.
Later she would find a way to sneak back into Nell's room and look for more clues. Right now she wanted to know what had just occurred in the very civilized parlor and on the very tidy lawn of the Carver house.
Mrs. Carver met her at the base of the staircase, her face pale and lovely in the faint glow from the lamps. She hadn't ventured outside to observe the scene. Why not, Meghan wondered?
"Are you all right, Mrs. Carver?" Meghan reached the bottom of the stairs and placed a gentle arm around her.
Mrs. Carver nodded. Meghan could see the backs of the other guests as they hovered in the dining room, still peering out the window. Gage's horses soon disappeared around the corner of Riverside Street.
"What happened?" Meg whispered. "Who was that man?"
"Don't you recognize him, dear? He's Michael Hayes."
"Oh." Meghan knew the name, but had not met this particular one of Nell's many suitors.
A young medical student, he attended the University of North Carolina and Nell had spoken of him rather warmly. But then, Nell spoke of all her beaus in a theatrically romanticized way.
Mrs. Carver lowered her voice. "He's been drinking. I think he's taken Nell's death quite badly."
"Had he a – an understanding with Nell?"
Mrs. Carver patted her arm. "Oh, my dear, you know Nell. I am sorry to say this about my own daughter, but she might have had an understanding with any number of young men."
She lowered her gaze, but not before the pain of reality flickered through her faded blue eyes.
"But why did he come here? What did he want?"
The older woman shook her head. "I don't know, but he seemed particularly angry with Mr. Carver. He – he tried to strike him."
Meghan could see that the strain of the day, with the loss of her daughter and the unsavory affair with a drunken suitor, was far too much for a woman of Mrs. Carver's sensibilities.
"Please let me help you upstairs." She led the other woman toward the first step.
Mrs. Carver made no protest and allowed Meghan to guide her to her bedroom and assist her with removing her shoes. She lay down at Meg's urging, and then Meghan drew the draperies against the fading light.
She covered Mrs. Carver with a light quilt. "Shall I send Bessie to see to you?"
"Yes, please. She'll prepare a potion to ease my headache. Thank you, darling." Mrs. Carver's eyes fluttered closed, the blue veins of her lids like thin gashes against her pale face.
Meg left quietly, glancing around the room once more. Spare, almost monk-like in its severity, it held the narrow bed, a dresser and nightstand.
However, on the east wall was a fine leather-bound collection of
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