The Sign of Death (Victorian Book Club Mystery 2)

Amy leaned on the banister and panted, sweat breaking out on her forehead as she tried to gain her breath. “It won’t take long.”

“We need light. We’ll have to go back down to the library and take those two oil lamps with us to do a proper search.”

“Wait,” Amy said. “Persephone, where are you?” She called softly, in a singsong voice, apparently trying to keep the beast quiet.

She held her hand up to keep William from speaking and got down on her knees. “Persephoneeeeeee.”

Silence.

“I’m going for the lamp.” Just as William spoke, the blasted dog came strolling past one of the doorways, her missing tail in the air. She walked up to Amy, climbed right into her arms, and nudged her hand until Amy began to run her palm over the dog’s fur.

Amy climbed to her feet. “See. It wasn’t so hard.”

William growled and headed toward the stairs. They made their way back down, William holding Amy’s hand to keep them from stumbling in the dark. As they entered the library, their attention was caught by someone in the room. The stranger looked up at them, grabbed the ledger off the desk, and raced to the window. Within seconds the culprit had climbed out the window and disappeared.

William and Amy both ran toward the window, but no one was visible by the time they looked out into the darkness. William clambered out and ran in the only direction the escapee could have gone. In the pale moonlight, William saw the shadow of someone as he rounded the corner of the house.

The offender turned to look back at William and stumbled, dropping the ledger. Leaving the book there, the thief raced away, disappearing into the woods behind the house. Aside from William’s heavy breathing, the only sound in the night was the echo of small branches cracking as feet pounded across the ground.

As it was too dark to attempt to follow whoever had absconded, William stopped in front of the ledger and bent over, resting his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. After a minute or so, he picked up the book the mysterious person had dropped and turned to join Amy.

By the time he reached the house, she was outside, clutching the infernal animal in her arms, moving her head back and forth, peering in the dark, trying to see him. “Did you catch whoever that was?”

“No. But the thief stumbled and dropped the ledger.” William waved the book in the air. He moved toward her, grabbed her arm, and tugged her forward. “Let’s get out of here.”

Just as they made it to the carriage, a shot rang out. Then a second one. William pushed Amy into the carriage and climbed in after her. “Move!” he shouted at the driver.

William slammed the door as the carriage took off to the sounds of another shot being fired.

“Someone is shooting at us!” Amy yelled.

William shoved her to the ground and jumped on top of her. “Stay low until we’re back on the road.”

The carriage swayed as the driver urged the horses faster. William closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He looked down at Amy before moving onto the seat, pulling her up next to him. “Are you all right?”

She dusted off her coat and had the nerve to glare at him. “I told you we should bring a gun.”

CHAPTER 17

“No guns. We would only have ended up in a gun battle, and someone would have been hurt. Or killed.” William moved his hand to his upper arm and winced. “I believe I’ve been shot.”

“Shot!” Amy shifted on the seat and fumbled to light the oil lamp anchored to the wall of the carriage next to the window. “Let me see.”

He shrugged out of his greatcoat and jacket and turned his arm toward her. She leaned in very close, then looked up at him with wide eyes. “You’ve been shot!”

After she composed herself, she said, “Take off your shirt so I can see how bad it is.”

William complied by removing his cravat and his waistcoat. “You need to help me pull the shirt off.”

Amy tugged the shirt out of his trousers and gingerly removed it over his head. She got up, holding onto the sides of the carriage, and moved to his other side.

Kneeling close to him, she said, “It looks like the bullet grazed you. But there is a lot of blood. Do you have a handkerchief?”

“Yes. In my right-hand trouser pocket.”

Amy reached in and withdrew the handkerchief. She pressed it against the injury.

“Ouch.” He sucked in a deep breath.