The Orphan of Cemetery Hill - Hester Fox Page 0,43
if he had just confirmed her worst fears. “She was supposed to assist me with a laying out this morning, but she never came. Tabby may be a creature of strange habits, but she always keeps her word.”
A carriage clipped past them, sending dust and gravel spraying, and Caleb took Miss O’Reilly by the elbow, leading her away from the curb. “Have you checked her home? Spoken with Mr. Cooke?”
Scowling, Miss O’Reilly removed her elbow from his hold. “Of course I did! That was the first place I looked. Eli said that she went out to make some calls and never returned. He’s sick with worry for her.”
Caleb leaned back against the brick wall of a building and closed his eyes, letting the sounds of rattling carts and pedestrian chatter wash over him. God, what had Tabby gone and done? He should have known after she had pledged not to get involved the first time when he was in prison that she would do what she wanted regardless of her assurances otherwise.
When he opened his eyes, he found that Miss O’Reilly was studying him with a suspicious glare. “Yes?”
“You wouldn’t know anything about it, would you?”
“What, that she’s missing? You think I had something to do with it?”
Miss O’Reilly didn’t answer his question. “What, exactly, are your intentions with Tabby?”
“My intentions?” He let out a little laugh, sure that Miss O’Reilly was in jest. But one look at her stony expression told him she was anything but. He cleared his throat. “Tabby is a fine girl, but I don’t know that I have any intentions toward her. What do you take me for, a shameless rake?”
Miss O’Reilly’s expression did not soften at this, if anything, her green eyes grew only stormier. “I see,” she said in clipped tones. “Well, Mr. Bishop, let me tell you something. Tabby is more than just a ‘fine girl.’ Tabby is my heart outside of my body, my sweetest, dearest friend. I’ve heard about your exploits from more than one broken-hearted girl.” At this, she threw a pointed look at the club across the street and Caleb felt like a chastened little boy caught pilfering sweets from the kitchen. “I know you were released from prison, though you are still a suspect in Rose Hammond’s murder. If I hear so much as a whisper of your name in association with Tabby, I promise you I will not hesitate to make sure you end up back in prison, where you belong.”
With that, Miss O’Reilly turned neatly on her boot heel, and swept down the street, mindless of the children that scattered from her path and the dust that her skirts kicked up.
Caleb watched her disappear into the busy afternoon foot traffic. How could everyone think him capable of such dark, nefarious deeds? When had he ever shown a disposition for such things?
The thrill of winning at cards had quickly worn off, and now he was consumed only with thoughts of where Tabby might have gotten to. Miss O’Reilly might have suspected him, but he knew that he had nothing to do with it, and that meant that Tabby was somewhere out there. It was no use going to the cemetery or the boarding house—Miss O’Reilly would have already scoured both places. At least at home he could dash off a few inquiries and make a plan. But he had to admit that Miss O’Reilly was right: he really didn’t have any claim over Tabby Cooke. Hadn’t he told her as much when she had insisted on helping him? He had told Miss O’Reilly that he had no intentions toward Tabby, yet the thought of her with a man—any man—made his chest twist. It was a hot, unpleasant feeling, and he did not care for it. Of course, he hoped she was just with a man and not in any sort of trouble, but that didn’t make the thought any more palatable.
He was so preoccupied with his thoughts that he was almost upon the group of men standing outside his front steps before he even noticed them. At the sound of his footsteps, one of the men turned and Caleb’s heart sank as he recognized the constable. “Mr. Bishop, we were just talking about you.”
Behind him, his mother was standing on the steps, wringing her hands, her cap askew as if she had thrown it on in a hurry. Several curious neighbors hovered by their front doors, craning their necks to see what was happening.