Page 70 of Night Falls on Predicament Avenue
“Please. Effie, stop fighting.” The woman’s voice was vaguely familiar. Younger, like Effie.
Effie blinked wildly, trying to clear her vision. Her throat hurt when she swallowed. Worse than the night at the James manor when she’d been assaulted by the man in Polly’s room. She squeezed her eyes shut one more time and then opened them. The form of a young woman took shape. She hovered over Effie, her blond hair arranged beautifully around an equally pretty face. The walls were papered with tiny yellow flowers. Effie could hear rain pattering against the windowpanes, thunder rumbling across the sky in a gentle spring storm.
“Effie, do you know who I am?” The young woman eased onto a chair by the bed, concern and hope flooding her features.
Effie recognized her finally, and the tension—the fear—began to ebb. “Bethany,” she croaked. It was Bethany.
A man cleared his throat, and Effie looked beyond Bethany. Patrick Charlemagne stood in the doorway of the room. He appeared quite concerned as well, conscientious of propriety.
“I’ve summoned a doctor, Effie, as well as sent a messenger to the James manor.” Patrick’s words brought a wave of relief over Effie. “And Bethany insisted I send one to Mr. Anderson’s.” Strangely, she was more relieved to hear Anderson had been called for than she was her own mother.
Her eyes swept back to Bethany’s, and Effie knew there was question in them, but her throat hurt too badly to speak.
Bethany reached for Effie’s hand. “Patrick found you. Youwere lying on the side of the road in the rain. Not far from Mrs. Branson’s house.”
“Do you remember what happened?” Patrick asked, still standing at a cautionary distance from the bed.
Effie remembered the terror. She scrambled to collect the memories and put them in some kind of order. Floyd Opperman. At the manor. The stains on his shirt!
“Floyd,” Effie rasped out.
“Floyd Opperman did this to you?” Patrick stiffened, outrage filtering across his face.
Effie shook her head. No. No, she had followed Floyd, but it had been a woman. Definitely a woman. She could remember the feel of the woman’s hands gripping her throat, the form of the woman as she’d pulled Effie back against her.
“H-how?” Effie managed to ask.
Bethany tugged the blanket up over Effie’s shivering body. “My home is not far from where Patrick found you. He wanted to get you in from the cold.”
“I’d no intention of taking you to Mrs. Branson’s,” Patrick supplied.
Effie gave a nod of gratitude.
Footsteps sounded in the hallway outside the room. Within seconds, Anderson was in the doorway, his face set but his pallor white. Patrick stepped aside as Anderson pushed his way into the room.
“Effie!” Anderson wasted no time in crossing the room.
Bethany stood and moved out of his way, but Anderson ignored the empty chair and bent over the bed.
Effie felt his eyes skimming the length of her and then coming back up to settle on her neck. He touched her throat, his eyes alight with a fury she’d not witnessed in him before. Always intensity, but never fury.
He whirled, his angular face made more defined by the set of his jaw. “Who did this to her?”
Patrick held up his hands in a subtle gesture to bring calm to the situation. “We don’t know. I found Miss James on the side of the road.”
“The road?” Anderson bellowed.
The doctor chose that moment to arrive, and the next several minutes felt like chaos to Effie. Anderson was urged from the room by Patrick, who shot Effie a searching and rather indistinguishable look as he led Anderson away. Bethany remained off to the side as the doctor examined Effie.
He clicked his tongue many times, especially when he examined her throat. Pushing her wet hair from her forehead, he checked her hairline for cuts or abrasions. Finally he eased back, his green eyes stern, his white mustache draping on either side of his chin. “You are a lucky young woman.” He nodded to Bethany, including her in the conversation. “You will need to rest your voice and your body for a few days. You’ve experienced trauma, but miraculously you’ve no further injuries besides those to your throat.”
Bethany’s “oh, good” was spoken for Effie as well.
The doctor turned to Bethany. “I shall commune with the men who await word as to Miss James’s condition. I assume the police have been notified of the attack?”
Bethany nodded.
“Good, good. Now, which gentleman should I speak to regarding Miss James’s care?”
