Page 89 of The Rise of a Forsaken Lady
The gun lay at her feet, and she knew what she had to do. She grabbed it, pointed it with shaky hands to the man, and with a prayer, pulled the trigger. Her eyes clenched tight at the resounding blast. The echoes of the gunshot slowly petered out through the air until there was only deathly silence.
Penelope forced her eyes open to see Hillbrook’s bloodied body canted to the side. By amazing chance, she had shot him in the shoulder and not where he could have died from. She felt a heavy weight drop on her shoulders and her knees buckled under her. She staggered, step by step, until her back hit a wall. Then, she slid to the ground, wide-eyed and astonished.
The cruelty she just witnessed was a nightmare. Bessie’s blank eyes were mere feet away from her, Hillbrook’s bloodied body was being hoisted up by two blue-clad constables. When had they gotten there? Looking down at the pistol in her hand, her mind went blank.
Heath slowly took the weapon from her; she looked at her empty palms and muttered, “Did I just do that?”
She was enveloped into his warm embrace. “Yes, sweetheart, yes, you did.”
Her numb fingers clutched at his clothes and her voice was a bit hollow. “You’re back.”
“And I will never leave again,” Heath said in her hair. “I promise you, Penelope, never again.”
Epilogue
When the layers of Hillbrook’s plan peeled away layer by layer on the pages of the London Gazette, week after week, the whole city of London took an audible gasp of delightful horror. Day after day for over three weeks straight, the newspaper sheets could barely get off the press before they were devoured by a populace, seasoned by the scandals surrounding the Regent, to gleefully swallow down any more gossip of a disgraced peer.
Lord Hillbrook has been remanded by the Crown in correlation with a crime.
That simple mention three weeks ago had not been too bad as it was only a footnote, but when the injuring of a knight had grabbed the attention of the public, the newspaper writers noticed.
“Is it now known that Lord Hillbrook had arranged for the killing of Viscount Shirlling, the shooting of Sir Stratham, and setting a stable on fire by an aide at Lord Allerton’s Estate. He later admitted to killing and staging the death of the aide as a suicide to deter deeper investigations.”
The next week's addition expounded. “In accordance with an agreement with Duke Stratham, a claim the Duke stridently denies, Stephen Russell, the Baron of Hillbrook, has admitted to using an air gun from Edward Dawson’s collection, in order to frame the Earl of Allerton and to get access to higher political connections. He planted evidence at Lord Swanville’s estate to shift attention from him.”
“The Lord had confessed to being a part of an English fascist sect, advocating for an authoritarian centralized government, with anti-elitist rhetoric, army support, and conservatism. According to a written report, Hillbrook has fingered Duke Stratham as a prominent member but the Duke has, again, denied those claims.”
Heath dropped yesterday’s paper with a snort of disgust. He was in London, dealing with the fallout of the Baron’s crime. One of which, Heath was happy to say, was the exoneration of Lord Allerton. The Earl was slated for release that evening and he was proud to be the one ushering him home.
The Inn room was clean, his bed—by force of habit—was spread and his few bags were resting on it, ready to be taken and loaded into the carriage soon. His bottle-green waistcoat paralleled his eyes, and he fiddled with the cravat before shrugging his jacket on, then his coat, scarf, and mitts as it was the dead of winter.
Three weeks and five days apart from Penelope had taxed him. He had hated leaving her there, at the house by herself, while he had taken the injured Baron to his new quarters, a bare, dank, rancid cell at Newgate. It was a testament to Heath's words about the Duke using him like a pawn as no matter how Hillbrook reached out for help, none of his “friends” would do much as bat an eyelash to aid him.
Shaking his head at the man’s blind gullibility in thinking he’d share a Midas fortune with a Duke, Heath knew his work with the Baron was done, and he would prefer that it stayed that way. With a resignation letter submitted to Wethington, he was halfway in putting his life as a Crown Agent behind him to move on as the Viscount he was, hopefully with Penelope as his wife.
Heath heard the knock on the door and answered it. The innkeeper had been instructed to notify him when the carriage arrived. After giving his bags to the driver, Heath left the Inn. He nimbly entered the carriage and smiled as they trotted off to Newgate to get Allerton. There was a bit of a ride before them between London and the Earldom and during that time, Heath fully intended to clarify his status and state his intentions to the Lord.
Peering out at the streets, Heath thanked the Crown for putting him at the Allerton’s house as he had finally found the missing piece in his life—Penelope. And to restore her brother to her, free of all accusations, felt even better.
Heath waited at the exit of Newgate, and ten minutes later, the Earl stepped through it. Allerton looked like he had aged ten years in over ten weeks. His skin was pale and his cheeks sallow but the relief in his eyes trumped his pallor.
“Allerton,” Heath said while stretching his hand out. “How does it feel to be a free man?”
“Better than you think,” Allerton sighed. “So, it’s only Allerton now, eh? Where did, My Lord go?”
“I left out the fact that I am a Viscount.” Heath smiled while gesturing the open door of the carriage. “My Father, Lord Erasmus Murray was a Recorder of London and the last High Steward of Staffordshire.”
Allerton sat back with shock painted over his features. “Son of the Recorder of London and the last High Steward of Staffordshire, you say?”
“And an Agent of the Crown for over twenty years,” Heath added. “I followed in his footsteps.”
The mention of being an agent from the Crown made the Earl grimace deeply, and Heath offered his commiserations. “I am glad that I was placed with you as you are now free, and I am declaring my intention of courting Lady Penelope.”
Allerton’s lips twisted, “I would say I am surprised, but I am not. She would have denied any other suitor but you. I will give my consent, Murray, but I don’t think she would count it any, she would follow her heart, whether you were a prince or a pauper.”
“I drop somewhere in the middle,” Heath sighed out in relief.
A slow hour trot to the Allerton’s Earldom, had them speaking over Heath’s impending courtship and skirting the issue of Hillbrook. They arrived just under noontime, and Heath’s anxiety had ratcheted up a notch when they entered a silent home.
