Chapter 25 #3
I twisted round in the chair to look at her. “What rubbish?”
She pulled my head back around and shoved in another pin.
“There. You still look a horror, but at least you’re a tidy horror.
” She reached into her pocket and pulled out Aunt Hermia’s bundle of jewels.
“I found these in your pocket yesterday. Would have served you proper if I’d kept them, it would. ”
I took them from her and made a note to return the jewels to Aunt Hermia’s room before breakfast. There would be little enough else to do, I thought ruefully.
Before dawn I had risen to push aside the draperies and watched Father and Brisbane depart in a closed carriage, Henry Ludlow positioned firmly between them.
With the murderer confessed, Father had decided to present the matter to Scotland Yard as a fait accompli.
He meant to call at the vicarage en route to the station to break the news to Uncle Fly himself.
It would be an unpleasant task, but no worse than Uncle Fly’s.
He must write Snow’s sisters and tell them of their loss.
I hoped they would grieve for him. I did not like to think of him unmourned.
The body of Lucian Snow followed the carriage on a farm wagon, stowed in a makeshift coffin draped with a length of blue fabric.
Someone, perhaps Aquinas, had fashioned a wreath to pin to the fabric.
With a shudder, I realised it was the white heather intended for Lucy’s wedding flowers.
I had turned away then, desperately sad, my heart feeling too full to sit within my chest.
The rest of the household felt the same, if the faces at the breakfast table were anything to judge.
Charlotte was absent, doubtless sulking in her rooms, but the rest of the party had assembled, a sad, dwindled little group after the events of the past few days.
Hortense attempted to make conversation, but no one was terribly interested and eventually she lapsed into silence, probably relieved.
Emma and Lucy, looking a good deal stronger than the previous day, were quietly picking at their eggs, while Cedric looked utterly bewildered.
I felt rather sorry for him. All this time, harbouring a cousin in his employ who was capable of such viciousness.
Lucy rose to the occasion, bringing a plate of eggs and kidneys from the sideboard and coaxing him to eat.
I had wondered how their betrothal would stand after Ludlow’s revelations, but as I watched them, noting her gentle ministrations, I wondered if Ludlow had not told the whole truth to my father and Brisbane.
I pulled a piece of toast to bits, thinking quickly.
Without me present to question him, he might well have omitted any reference to Lucy at all in his motive for killing Snow.
His envy would have provided motive enough, and with a confessed murderer in custody, no one would question him too closely.
The authorities, and Father as well, would be grateful enough to have the matter closed before it was even officially investigated.
I would not be asked to provide any sort of statement under oath so long as he confessed before other witnesses, an eventuality I was certain Father would ensure.
Considering Ludlow’s fondness for Lucy and his chivalrous nature, it made sense he would hold his tongue.
He had deplored Snow’s blackmailing of her.
By going to the gallows without disclosing her role in the affair, he ensured she would live out her life unmarred by scandal, her prosperity and happiness providing an expiation for his guilt.
I still wondered about the poisoned brandy, but no one spoke of it.
I heard from Aquinas that Father had decided Ludlow must be responsible, and since the fellow had refused to speak further, that crime would likely be attributed to him as well, and all but forgot in the greater horror of a clergyman’s murder.
Sir Cedric interrupted my musings then, rousing himself to demand coffee.
It was Aquinas’ duty, but he was absent, retrieving another rack of toast from the kitchens.
In his place, Lucy sprang to her feet, fetching the coffeepot and pouring out.
She was smiling, but there was a new anxiety I had not seen in her eyes before, and I knew in that moment I had just had a glimpse into what the rest of her life would be: catering to the demands of a capricious, temperamental man who would always keep her firmly in his debt because he had married her in spite of the scandal that was sure to break over our heads like a thunderstorm.
Lucy’s hand shook a little and a drop spilled on the saucer. She darted a quick glance at Cedric, who sighed deeply.
“You are clumsy this morning, my dear,” he commented.
He smiled a little, but there was no blunting the barb.
She flinched and apologised, using her own napkin to wipe the saucer clean.
No one else at the table seemed concerned with their little drama, but as I glanced about I noticed Emma’s eyes were too firmly fixed on her plate, two harsh spots of colour high on her cheeks, a clear sign she was angry.
She must have heard every word, and she must see as clearly as I did what the future held for her sister.
Perhaps she felt my gaze upon her, for she looked across the table at me then; our eyes met and held a moment.
I gave her a small, sympathetic smile. She pressed her lips together and dropped her eyes immediately.
I returned to my breakfast, chatting quietly with Hortense as she sampled her hot fruit compote.
And every time I glanced back at Emma, she was staring at her plate, cutting her ham into tiny shreds.