Murder by Vote by Rose Pascoe

Author:Rose Pascoe [Pascoe, Rose]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: historical murder mystery series, Victorian mystery novels, historical mystery women’s rights womens suffrage, historical mystery crime romance, British colonial historical mystery New Zealand
Published: 2023-02-20T07:00:00+00:00

Consciousness

The first sensation Grace became aware of, through the thrumming agony of her head, was a bright light, turning the inside of her eyelids red. She couldn’t seem to open her eyes or move at all, although she was aware of something pressing on her hand. She slipped back into oblivion.

“Grace, Grace! Can you hear me?”

The words fell as a dull thud on her pummelled eardrums. She wanted to tell the person to leave her alone, let her die in peace, but the confused thoughts banging around in her brain coalesced into two vital recollections. The hall had exploded. And Charlie had been there.

“Charlie?” She wasn’t sure if the sound had come out. Her throat was parched. Everything ached.

“Grace, it’s James.”

James? She had a brother called James, didn’t she? Why was it so hard to remember? Why was he squeezing her hand so hard?

“James Cranston-Hartfield. Grace, can you hear me?”

“Don’t shout. Head hurts.” What was the police surgeon doing here? Was she dead?

“Thank heavens you are alive. Do you remember what happened?”

Grace shook her head. Mistake. She hovered on the edge of consciousness, kept awake only by the pain. “Bomb. Anyone hurt?”

“Don’t worry about that, my dear. All that matters is that you are safe.”

She wanted to tell him that it did matter. Her great-aunt was there, Charlie, her friends. All the people that mattered. A wave of nausea overcame her. An angel shoved an enamel bowl at her just in time.

“That’s enough now, sir. The poor girl is in pain and not ready to be peppered with questions.”

“I’ll come back later, nurse. Take care of my girl, won’t you?”

“You may be sure of it.”

Grace sank back into the pillow with her eyes closed. A teaspoon of liquid drizzled into her mouth, bitter on her tongue. Soothing water followed, dripped in slowly, so that it slithered gently down her parched throat, as smooth as nectar from the gods. After a while, the pain receded. She dozed.

The next sensation she was aware of was the nurse wiping her face with a soft cloth. The nurse had strong, gentle hands. She sighed as the cool water soothed her burning skin and aching head. “Thank you, nurse. That feels heavenly.”

“It’s good to see you awake, Grace. You had us all worried for a while.”

“Charlie?” She forced open her eyelids to ensure she hadn’t dreamed his voice.

The cool cloth lifted from her forehead, replaced by warm lips. “I had a hard time convincing the nurse to let me in. Apparently, your devoted gentleman friend insisted that he should be the only visitor. I had to show my police badge to persuade her. She made me wash before she let me in, but I fear I still look disreputable.”

He looked like a tramp who had taken shelter in a coal bin, but all that mattered was that he was alive. “Are you hurt, Charlie? What happened?”

“A timed dynamite bomb and a fire. I got a little grimy sifting through the evidence. Anne and all the suffrage ladies escaped unharmed, except for Mrs Creswell.

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