Page 85 of West End Earl
An odd warmth seeped into Phee’s limbs, sending a shiver skittering over her skin as she connected and compared events, analyzing them in a new way. Phee wrapped her arms around her friends, tucking her face in the crook of Emma’s neck, which was damp from a river of tears. “Emma, it was an accident.”
“But he’s dead,” Emma sniffled.
Phee spared a glance at the body on the floor. “Yes, and good riddance. Listen, this was an accident. But I know that’s not much comfort right now. I’ve been where you are.” This, Phee’s deepest secret, could irrevocably change how they saw her. But her experience might help Emma weather the situation.
Phee tightened her hug around them both, then released them and stepped back. “I understand how you’re feeling. Adam drowned in an accident. I’d been throwing a fit, and he’d played the jester, trying to make me laugh, as brothers do.” She and Emma exchanged a look at Cal’s expense, but Phee’s smile was short-lived. “I shoved him. Only a little, but he wasn’t expecting it. Adam fell overboard. A boulder under the water did the rest. I’ve spent years carrying guilt over killing my brother.” Emma reached out her hand, and Phee took it gratefully. “I don’t tell you this to minimize what you’re feeling or distract you from what happened. But I hope you understand I don’t blame you. This was an accident. If you need to talk, I’m here. We’ve supported each other through a lot so far. Perhaps we can help each other through this too.”
No, the guilt wouldn’t magically disappear. Grief over Adam would always be there in some form. Grief was what the living carried to honor their ghosts. But maybe walking with someone else through the same trauma would help Phee to work through her own. Then perhaps she could remember Adam and all he’d meant to her without guilt discoloring the memories.
Phee wiped her eyes dry and glanced at Cal. He wasn’t staring at her in horror or disgust. Instead, he watched her with compassion and love.
Drying her face on the shoulder of Cal’s coat, Emma said, “What do we do with him? The body, I mean?”
All three of them eyed the man on the floor.
Cal spoke first. “We could call the authorities. It was an accident, after all.”
“The whole point of us living here is to escape notice,” Phee said. “Can we move him? Make it look like the fall happened elsewhere.”
Cal rubbed a palm over his face, but she spied a smile brewing. “Maybe somewhere that will show his true character to the world?”
Emma raised her chin and glared at Milton. “People should know how vile he was. He made Phee’s life hell as a child and tried to kill her as an adult. Plus, he just tried to attack a pregnant woman.”
“So we move him?” Cal asked. Phee and Emma nodded. “Give me a few minutes. I’ll send Milton’s staff on to the village, then get my coach.” Cal slipped out the door, closing it securely with a click of the latch.
“Not my fault?” Emma asked in a shaky voice.
“Not your fault,” Phee answered firmly, reminding them both as she squeezed Emma’s hand.
A few minutes later Cal returned. “Milton’s staff are heading to the posting house for the night. Either they’ll hear word through the village in the morning, or we will have to be convincing actors and claim he left at some point. Let’s get him into my carriage. I’m driving.”
The sun had set, but the stars weren’t out yet to guide their way. Under the cover of encroaching darkness, they shuffled Milton’s body onto a velvet bench seat, talking a bit too loudly about him finding a bed at the inn, in case Polly lingered nearby.
“He never could hold his brandy,” Phee declared to any servants who might be listening.
Emma shoved a newspaper under Milton’s head. “Blood stains something awful, and Milton is not worth ruining this carriage.”
The whole rig rocked as Cal climbed onto the driver’s seat.
With the heart of the village only a mile off, this shouldn’t take long. But as they wove through the streets, Emma and Phee exchanged a look.
“Do you know where he’s going?” Emma asked. Phee shook her head.
After several minutes, the carriage rolled to a stop, and Cal opened the door.
***
It wasn’t a stretch to find the right place to dump a body. One only needed to know what to look for to find the local house of ill repute. And when in doubt, ask someone on the street. The village was small, but with a busy port, it was sure to have accommodations for men who’d been at sea for God only knew how long.
Cal would never forget that scene in the parlor. Poor Emma. Poor Phee. Another thing to tie the women together. God willing, the future would give them happier opportunities to bond. He loved that they were friends now, since soon they’d be sisters by marriage.
Phee’s expression as she’d confessed to accidentally killing Adam would break Cal’s heart each time he remembered it. She’d been prepared for him to shun her. It was obvious in the defensive lift of her chin and the board-straight posture. Her confession had the air of one going to an executioner.
Later, he’d be able to hold her. Provide comfort. Eventually, Cal hoped she’d have such unshakable faith in him, it would never cross her mind that he’d judge her. They had the rest of their lives to deepen their trust and support one another as they each healed from their histories.
The establishment in Olread Cove had a wide alleyway behind the building where customers could arrive and leave discreetly through a red door. Cal jumped to the ground and lowered the steps of the carriage.
“Quiet and quick, ladies. Shove him my way, and I’ll take it from here.”
