Chapter 24

Maddy stood on the platform at the Windsor station, a couple of feet from Beau, two tickets to Halifax in her hand as they waited for the late afternoon train. Any relief that had come from the news of Neil Sweet’s arrest had been tempered by the riot of emotion of the night before. As part of Beau’s family had been torn apart, he’d also found another. Maddy had come to know what it meant to be worshipped by a man so much that he would be tempted, under the intoxication of a full Buck moon, to offer her a dream.

A dream she could not accept.

She’d hurt him. Hurt him in a way she could not ever imagine hurting a man. But he would recover. Maybe she would too, in time. She would go back to Everwell and tend her roses, read her books, and watch over everyone. It would be enough.

It had to be enough. Pursuing a life at The Grove was far too risky, especially with Nelson close by. One word from him and he could ruin not only Maddy, but Everwell by association. She’d given everything to Everwell because they’d given her everything she’d lacked for so long—friendship and respect. She could not repay it by leaving them vulnerable.

The Chandlers stood with them on the platform, their presence a welcome distraction from the strain. Beau was leaving them with promises to return as soon as the trial was over.

Preoccupied with watching the crowd, Maddy caught only half the conversation. The story of Beau’s innocence would not make the papers for at least another day, and when she’d gone to buy the tickets from the ticket booth, she’d pulled down one of the public notices about Beau that had been nailed to a nearby pole. Until the news of Mr. Sweet’s arrest was widely circulated, Beau da Silva still had an attractive price on his head.

The train whistle rang for boarding, and after the hugs and promises for visits were exchanged, Maddy took a moment to thank Annie for the beautiful birthday supper.

“Will we see you again?” Annie asked, taking Maddy’s hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. “You seem very heavy.”

“I suppose I am,” she said, not wanting to burden Annie with an emotional mess of her own making. “I think I unexpectedly fell in love with The Grove, and I’m sorry to leave it.” She’d unexpectedly fallen in love with Beau da Silva, too.

“I hope not for too long,” Annie replied. “I think the gardens at The Grove will miss you.”

With the luggage stowed, Maddy and Beau boarded the train, going directly to their compartment, which would allow them some privacy. As they settled in, the discomfort in the air made every sound and movement fraught with awkward tension. The jubilance of the evening before was twisted and tempered by sadness.

It was temporary, she reminded herself. Once they returned, Beau, the Chandlers, and The Grove would all be a memory. A story to tell. It wouldn’t have a happy ending, but through the lens of time, there might be a memory or two she could smile back on.

She pulled out a book, mostly to hide behind, for there was little hope for her to be able to concentrate on poetry now. For his part, Beau was wrapped up in a copy of the Halifax Chronicle, reading through the business section, the only sound the rattling of newsprint. On the back page, was an advertisement for J Barsalou & Co. Imperial Soap, taunting her with a future she would not have. She found herself staring at it, and at him, waiting for him to say something. To say anything.

His silence shouldn’t have caused this dull ache to settle in her chest. She shouldn’t have been wishing he might prod her into a smile with a joke at his own expense. And she most definitely shouldn’t be trying to formulate a question about the markets just so he might speak with her.

Before she could contemplate any question, her spine began to tingle with awareness. A porter stood at the compartment door, which he’d begun to open. Perhaps it was nothing—a second confirmation of tickets, or a question about their comfort or an unexpected delay, but the train was moving with no sign of slowing down and no whistle indicating a problem that would require anyone to go door to door.

“Can I help you?” she asked getting to her feet.

“Not at all,” he said, not bothering to give her a second look. Instead, he looked straight at Beau.

“Would you be Mr. da Silva?” the porter asked.

Beau had already lowered his paper and looked up at the porter with undisguised curiosity. “Who is asking?”

“Just checking the passenger list,” the porter replied.

Maddy gripped the book in her hands. She’d bought two second class tickets. She’d given no names.

“Look,” Beau said, “I don’t know who you’re looking for, but if it’s a reward you’re trying to collect, you’re about eight hours too?—”

Beau’s protest was interrupted when the man grabbed him and pulled him to his feet. The attacker pulled back a fist, ready to plant it into Beau’s jaw, no doubt to make it easier to subdue him.

He never got the chance.

Maddy’s fist connected with the man’s ribs where he’d raised his arm to throw a punch. The force of the blow caused him to contort his body in pain. Maddy lunged at him, preparing to spin him around and incapacitate him when a second person grabbed her from behind. She sensed he was shorter than her, and using her size to her advantage, threw herself backward against the wood-panelled walls of the compartment. She heard the heavy thud of his head against the wall, along with a loud oomph, but he still had her, one his hands pressed hard against her throat. Unable to pry his fingers off her neck, she reached for the small stiletto blade sheathed on the inside of her wrist and drove it into the man’s arm. He released her amidst a sharp cry of pain and a string of curses.

Pushing herself away from her attacker, she turned around and knocked him out cold with a strong upper cut to his jaw before turning her attention back to the man who’d charged at Beau.

For his part, Beau was struggling with his assailant, but seemed to have the upper hand until the man pulled a knife from his jacket, swinging it close to Beau’s face.

Maddy wasted no time. She picked up her book from where she’d dropped it and hurled it at the man’s head. He dropped the knife, and Beau grabbed him by the shoulders and pressed him up against the wall.

“Who sent you?” Beau asked.

“No one,” came the dazed reply, before he started to blubber. Maddy almost felt sorry for him. There were a dozen of reasons why these men thought going after Beau was a good idea, and some of them would have been desperation. But given the angry red mark on Beau’s face, and the fact this attacker had tried to use a weapon, left Maddy with little sympathy for either of them at the moment.

She spotted a thick, folded sheet of paper bulging in the man’s coat pocket. She reached inside and pulled out the page. It was one of the public notices about Beau.

“Idiot,” Beau said, his voice haggard from the fight. “You’re about eight hours too late to make your money.” The porter—if he was in fact a porter—was a clean-shaven man in his mid-twenties with a nasty mark on his cheek that was already forming a welt.

The fracas had already brought a handful of onlookers to the door, and one of them must have gone to fetch train staff, for before Maddy could contemplate their next move, the head steward was already present.

“What’s going on here?”

Maddy and Beau exchanged a glance before Beau spoke up—the first since they’d left The Grove. While it wasn’t unheard of for a woman to get into a public brawl, the potential consequences for Maddy, who had two knives hidden on her body, would have meant some fast talking to keep her out of trouble. Luckily for her, Beau was excellent at fast talking.

“An excellent question,” he began, turning from his attacker who slumped to the floor, the fight in him long gone. “Get these two out of here and I’ll explain everything.”

In a fury of male chin rubbing, hard stares, shared in-jokes about fighting styles or lack thereof, and a more serious threat of legal action, the two men were picked up and pulled away, leaving Beau alone with Maddy once more.

“You were fantastic,” Beau said, turning to her, speaking quietly as the hum of the mess being cleared up went on behind them. The warmth in his expression melted away the dull throbbing in her head, twisting the pain back into something tantalizingly like happiness. A happiness she’d rejected last evening.

“Just finally getting to do what you’re paying Everwell for,” she said, unable to help the smile that came to her mouth when she looked at him.

The smile ran away from his lips then. But she needed to remind him, and herself, that whatever had been between them had to end. He had a life to go back to, and so did she. The contract between The Everwell Society and the Turnbulls had been fulfilled.

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. How could she sit across from him and not show him that her heart was breaking just to look at him?

“You’re hurt,” she said, gesturing to his cheek. “I should see about getting you some iodine. I’ll be right back.”

“There’s no need,” he protested, but Maddy was already at the door.

Beau sat in his seat as the clacking of the train over the rails gently rocked him. Instead of looking out over the countryside, however, he found himself staring at the door, waiting for Madeline’s return.

His jaw ached from the punch he’d received only a few moments ago, and no doubt Aunt Vee would be pelting him with anxious questions about it the moment he saw her. Of course, given the situation at hand with his family, a bruised jaw would be the very least of their worries.

His immediate concern now, however, was Madeline. It felt like she’d been gone a very long time. He pulled out his pocket watch, a gift from Frank on his sixteenth birthday, and checked the time. He had no idea how long she’d been gone and did not trust his own accounting for the passage of minutes at the moment. The fracas of the fight had seemed to take forever, though it was probably over in a few terrifying minutes. He’d been afraid for her, but she’d moved with such a cool efficiency that the fight was mostly over before it had begun. The effectiveness at which she’d dispatched those two hooligans both impressed and saddened him. He’d offered her a refuge from all of that. A place where she’d never had to sleep with one eye open, waiting for the next stranger to come banging on the door. He’d hire a damn bodyguard for The Everwell Society if that’s what she’d needed. He would move heaven and earth for her.

Beau ran his thumb over the embossed brass watch cover. What a strange month it had been. He’d lost a father and gained another. An unexpected lump formed in his throat at the thought of Frank da Silva and Hollis Chandler. Beau wasn’t sure he loved Frank, but he managed to miss him just the same. He would need to channel Frank’s sharpness and calculating mind when he walked into the boardroom at Silver Lumber, and when he had to deal with whatever mess Neil had left. For his sister, however, he would find the gentleness of Hollis to soothe her.

The train had pulled into Uniacke Station, nearly halfway between Windsor and Halifax. Still, Madeline had not returned. Perhaps she’d gone to get some air after the fight or to refresh herself. Perhaps she actually had gone in search of iodine or some salve for his face. What he’d wanted to tell her was the medicine he needed was something to cure the gnawing ache in his chest at the thought of losing her.

Unable to sit any longer, he got to his feet. The train started to pull away, and he entertained the momentary panic that she’d disembarked, but he’d set that thought aside seconds after it had entered his mind. She would see the job through.

If he only had an hour or so left to be with her, he wanted every last second of it.

He walked down the narrow corridor of the compartment car, through to the second-class parlour car. It was half full of gentlemen sitting in overstuffed leather chairs, laughing over tumblers of liquor and cigars. Thwarted, he turned around, intent on heading up toward the open coaches further up the line, when two figures appeared up ahead, standing just outside their compartment door. One he recognized immediately. It was Madeline, talking intently to a shorter man. She was still, her eyes hard. He saw her lips moving, but from here it was impossible to see who she was speaking to.

Unease settled on him, and he approached with caution. He’d seen Madeline handle herself with ease, but he would not for a moment take her safety for granted. As he got closer, he could better make out the gentleman she was speaking with. Anger flared in his gut as he recognized Nelson Taylor. Any rational thought Beau might have made about her capacity to defend herself against Taylor evaporated. And it was possible that Madeline had no desire for Beau intervene on her behalf. Their relationship, she’d suggested, had been based in a contract. A business deal.

As he walked toward Nelson, his hands clenched at his sides, Beau was about to tear that contract to pieces.