Page 51 of Murder at the Seven Dials
Gritting her teeth, she forced herself forward and peered out into a side alleyway—perhaps even the same one Mr. Marsden had led her down earlier. She could see neither the officer nor any other man running away but heard shouting and the shrill blows of a pea whistle. Stymied, and increasingly horrified at being left alone in a room where a crime had just been committed, Audrey stumbled back, her eyes darting toward Mr. Bernadetto. He was utterly still. But perhaps… She edged closer, watching for any sign that he might still be alive. That he could be saved.There. Movement. A rise of his chest.
Audrey went to his side, staring at the gore of his slashed neck and the blood dribbling from it. His eyes were wide open, his mouth slack. Audrey crouched lower, watching his chest. No. She had to have been mistaken. He couldn’t possibly still be alive, not with so much blood pooled around him and his throat so mangled.
A noise gurgled from Mr. Bernadetto’s throat. She screamed and shot to her feet, staggering back.
“Audrey!”
She whipped around at her name, shouted from the corridor. Heaving for air, Mr. Marsden barreled into the office, a pistol in his hand.
“I heard you scream,” he panted, his cheeks flushed from giving chase, his eyes roving over her, as if assessing her for any injury.
“I’m…I’m fine, it’s Mr. Bernadetto. He made a noise. I think he’s alive!” She pointed toward the man, needlessly. Mr. Marsden came forward and crouched next to the manager. He took his wrist and held still, measuring a pulse. But then shook his head.
“Damn it.” He stood again, moving back out of the wet fibers of the carpet.
A strange numbness stole over her. “But I…I heard a sound,” she whispered.
“Death is not always fast, even when it is certain.” Mr. Marsden touched her arm, tugging her lightly. She stumbled away from Mr. Bernadetto, and she realized she’d been standing in his expanding pool of blood.
“Did you see him?” she asked, her vision unsteady. “The man who…”
“He had too much of a lead. I’ve signaled another street patrol. There is someone coming.” He maintained a hold on her arm. Audrey felt like it was tightening. “You should sit.”
She shook her head, but instantly regretted it when she felt the room tip. “I’m fine.”
It wasn’t true. Her breaths were too shallow, and she’d become entirely too dependent on the strength of Mr. Marsden’s arm. The gurgling of air and blood escaping the slashed neck, the squelch of the carpet beneath her slippers… Her vision wiped clean. The officer’s voice faded.
When her sight returned what felt like moments later, she was staring at the ceiling.
“Just lie still,” a soft, deep voice said. Mr. Marsden moved into her vision, hovering above her. Audrey blinked.
“What…?”
“You swooned.”
Audrey’s senses were suddenly alert enough to send a flood of humiliation through her. She swatted his hand away as he tried to keep her from rising.
“I do not swoon,” she insisted, even as she sat up to find that she’d been lain out on top of Mr. Bernadetto’s desk. Two other men were in the room now too, standing near the theatre manager’s splayed body. And in the doorway, Carrigan stood with his cap crushed in his big hands.
“No need to be ashamed,” Mr. Marsden said gently. “Men have lost the contents of their stomach at lesser crime scenes.” He slid to block her view as she looked toward the bedstead again.
Her limbs were shaky as she swung her legs off the side of the desk. She must have been unconscious for longer than a few moments if the street patrolmen and her driver had made their way into the theatre.
“Goodness, I didn’t cast up my accounts too, did I?”
Mr. Marsden huffed a laugh. “No.” He swung a glance over his shoulder, his expression darkening. “If you’re ready to stand, I’ll take you back to Violet House.”
She slid down from the desk, and Mr. Marsden’s hands came up to bracket her shoulders. Heat flushed her cheeks and she flinched, panicking that he might pass a vision to her, like last time he’d taken her elbow.
“I’m fine,” she said again, moving away from him. She felt like such a fool.
Partially to avoid his eyes, Audrey peered at the destroyed office. The papers strewn about, cabinets opened and overturned.
“He was looking for something,” she murmured.
“It appears that way. Though there’s no telling if he was successful in finding it.”
Her first steps toward Carrigan at the door were tremulous. “What could Mr. Bernadetto have had in here?” she mused aloud.
