Chapter 35 #2
For the next hour, we enacted polite society, like one of those tedious comedies of manners that have no ghosts, no murderers, no bigamists, just terribly stiff actors.
When the meal was over, Mima set off for a “walk,” invigorated by four plates of apple tart. Presumably Crumpsall summoned the footman responsible for keeping her safe.
I didn’t ask.
After she left the room, Lance dismissed Crumpsall and the footmen before he launched into a string of curses. Venting seemed appropriate, under the circumstances.
Ophelia cleared her throat, and he started. “I apologize!”
“I heard only a few words that I didn’t already know,” Ophelia said. She swallowed hard. “I’m right, aren’t I? Aunt Mima killed my mother.”
“Mima’s confession, if one can call it that, would not hold up in court,” I offered. “Intention is not proof of action.”
“Exactly. We have no direct evidence that Mima was responsible for Hecuba’s death,” Godric said. “Unfortunately, we do have that evidence as regards Evie’s near demise in the chapel.”
“Mima bolted the door to the chapel,” Lance guessed, a grimace crossing his face.
“I interviewed every member of the staff, even the stablemen and those who rarely enter the colonnade. Not only do they deny approaching the door, but virtually all members of the household were within eyesight of one another.”
“C’est affreux,” Celeste whispered.
“Crumpsall was overseeing footmen polishing the silver for Christmas dinner, which explained why no one was shoveling the cloister,” Godric continued.
“The kitchens were bustling with preparations. Due to lingering trepidation about ghosts in the library, six maids and Miss Wellington were decorating that room together.”
Ophelia began mopping more tears with her napkin; I put my arms back around her thin shoulders.
“I am fine,” she muttered. “No one tried to kill me.”
“Just before the door was bolted, the footman responsible for following Mima left her in the parlor and went to the staff privy, which was occupied,” Godric continued. “He was gone a matter of ten minutes at the most. When he returned, the parlor was empty. He ran to the courtyard.”
“No one was in sight?”
Godric nodded. “He is certain that the door to the chapel was closed. He found Mima in the nursery, glancing over games. Hers was a crime of opportunity.”
“Are you absolutely certain?” Ophelia asked.
“Mima had means and motive,” Godric said. “Sophonisba and Burnsby might have wished ill to Evie, but I myself woke them up that morning. Mima is literally the only person in the abbey unaccounted for and the only person whom I did not interview.”
“But that doesn’t mean she killed my mother,” Ophelia said, the desperation in her voice ringing through the room.
“No,” Godric said kindly. “It doesn’t.”
A sob burst like a hiccup from Ophelia’s lips. “You can’t send Mima to prison. I heard what you said, about being sworn to uphold the law. But Mima is different from other people.”
“My mother is mad,” Lance stated. “She may have killed your mother, Ophelia, and for that I am deeply regretful. And I am so sorry that you suffered such a terrifying ordeal, Evie. Yet I would still argue that Mima is not rational.”
I cleared my throat. “What was Mima like when you first came home from Eton?”
“Addled,” Lance said. “She wasn’t obsessed about a sister or a baby, but she couldn’t remember much, day to day.”
“She would die if she were trapped in prison,” Ophelia said, tears dropping off her chin. “Maybe a footman lied because he was afraid; after all, by closing the chapel door, he nearly killed his mistress.”
“Crumpsall had gathered them together to polish silver,” Godric pointed out.
“Two were in the privy!” she retorted.
“You would make an excellent barrister,” Godric said. “The chef was in the privy, and Mima’s footman was outside, rattling the latch. By the time those two left, the chapel door was already shut.”
“The chef may have bolted the door,” Ophelia cried.
“He went straight back to the kitchens without entering the colonnade,” Godric said.
“Also, my mother confessed,” Lance said, his voice managing to be both sympathetic and uncompromising.
“Among those still living, Evie is the person most injured,” Godric said.
Ophelia sprang to her feet. “Hecuba wouldn’t want it, Evie,” she said desperately. “You can look at my mother’s face in that portrait and know that she wouldn’t want Mima to be sent to prison. None of you know what living in the abbey was like. She’s already been in prison here, for years.”
I took her point, but was it fair to Hecuba and Alice if I didn’t pursue justice? My fellow wives weren’t alive to tell me their wishes.
“Mima and I were in prison together,” Ophelia persisted. She turned to Lance. “You left. You were able to leave. She and I weren’t. I can’t excuse Mima for killing my mother or trying to kill Evie, but please don’t send her to prison.”
Be kind echoed in my head, and I pictured Hecuba’s sad eyes.
“I’m proud of you, Ophelia. Your mother would be proud of you, too.
I do not wish to pursue a charge of attempted murder,” I said, making up my mind.
“Having accepted the charge to care for Mima outlined in Burnsby’s will, I would prefer that she continue to live here, with Crumpsall to look out for her safety. ”
I saw relief on Lance’s and Ophelia’s faces.
Godric kissed me. “You will make me a better person,” he said, his voice husky.
“Hopefully I’ll make you more cheerful, but better?”
“Ephesians,” he said. “Be ye kind one to another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, even as God for Christ’s sake hath forgiven you.”
“I don’t know that verse,” I confessed.
“You had no need to know it, because the suggestion came from your heart.”
My whole life I’d reprimanded myself for not feeling proper ladylike emotions, for all my many faults. Through my husband’s eyes, I saw someone quite different.
“I love you,” I said, the words tumbling from my mouth. “I love you so much, Godric.”