Chapter Fifty-six #2
He looked up suddenly, blinked and casually shrugged his shoulders.
“No,” he said with a good-humoured smile as if addressing a naughty child.
“You should never have relocked that cabinet, Augusta. Silly mistake. But then, you weren’t thinking rationally, were you?
And certainly couldn’t have foreseen the consequences of what you’d already set in motion. ”
“Think you’re very clever, don’t you?” she spat. “Waving a loaded pistol at me… but you can’t prove anything.”
“Loaded?” he echoed lightly. “What, this? Oh, you thought I… goodness no. I merely went through the motions to see how long it would take to prepare. Anyone who knows anything about pistols, would never wander about with this old thing loaded… they’re far too, um, now how did you put it? Temperamental.”
He leaned closer, voice lowering. “But you didn’t know that when you took it, did you? When you chased Charles and begged him not to send you away?”
“Pha!” scoffed Augusta, her words already thick with drink. “He loved me, I tell you. He loved me!”
“Ahh… and there we have it…” murmured Southerby sadly. “To love is to madness and suffering…”
Augusta blinked rapidly, eyes wild and glassy, her lip snarling up on one side.
“She could do no wrong in his eyes, the simpering little fool! Even when I tried to make him see reason, he refused to listen. Said it was for the best if I left. Ha! If I left! Said he could hear no more lies about her. He started walking away, wouldn’t even look at me… I just wanted him to understand.”
Her voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. “He saw the pistol, tried to take it from me. There was a struggle and… and…” she shrugged, almost casual, “… it simply went off. He was dead instantly.”
“No!” breathed Sylvie, real horror flooding her tone. “You… but, but I don’t understand, what of Isabelle?”
Waving one jewelled hand as if swatting a fly, Augusta sloshed the dregs of the decanter into her glass and drained it.
“The shot startled Isabelle’s horses. I didn’t know they were only a few yards away, around the corner.
She always drove that trap too fast… reckless, stupid girl.
Hit a bump, carriage overturned, broke her neck. Fools, both of them fools.”
Her eyes glittered with sudden, vicious pride.
“And what does it matter now. Charles was supposed to marry me — not her! I wasn’t going to let him humiliate me further by sending me away.
So yes, I took that damned sapphire from Isabelle’s neck; it was mine by rights.
But then that dullard groom came to, just as I was unclasping it.
I’d thought him dead, but he was just dazed.
I didn’t want him casting any unwanted aspersions, so I told him it was Isabelle’s dying wish that he take it, if he carried the boy to the house and said I was never there. ”
“You?”
The calm voice behind them cut the air like a blade.
Startled, all three turned. Angus Westland stood in the doorway, motionless, his face pale, his eyes full of stunned sorrow.
“Angus?” gasped Augusta. “Angus, my boy, is that you? I didn’t know you… I… I was just getting acquainted with your new wife and friend here… we were just discussing…”
“I heard,” he said quietly. “Everything.”
Her eyes darted wildly between them. “Then you see! See how they’ve conspired to turn you against me. He threatened me… held a pistol to my head… made me say…”
“Leave us.” The words were soft, but final.
Sylvie, so shocked, was unable to move until she felt Southerby’s hand gently cup her elbow, steady but insistent as he guided her to her feet.
She blinked up at him, dazed. He nodded once, solemnly, and quickly steered her towards the door.
As they passed the fire, he flicked the envelope — it’s blank sheet within — into the flames.
At the threshold, Sylvie faltered, torn between fear and heartbreak, desperate for Angus to look at her. He did not. Southerby’s hand tightened, urging her on, closing the door firmly behind them and listened for the click of the latch before exhaling.
“You all right?” he murmured.
“I… I hardly know,” whispered Sylvie.
“Mm,” he said gently, offering a small, weary smile as he guided her down the hall, then briefly looked over his shoulder. “Shall we?”
“Mm,” came the answering voice from further along the corridor.
“Jesus, you look awful,” Southerby remarked as Humber appeared, with Eddie close behind.
“Thanks,” muttered Humber dryly.
“Come,” said Southerby, straightening. “Let’s get back to the Inn, it seems we could all do with a drink.”
“I’ll be staying, milord,” said Eddie firmly.
Looking at him for a moment, Southerby finally nodded. “Indeed, quite right. And thank you, Eddie… for everything.”
“I’ll stay too,” Sylvie blurted.
“No,” Southerby said, too quickly.
“Why not?” she pleaded.
Realising he’d spoken hastily, he reached for her hand and pressed it. “Our work here is done, my little friend, and you played your part to perfection. But now, what is needed,” he paused, holding her gaze, “is time, patience… and trust.”
With tears threatening to spill, Sylvie bit her bottom lip and nodded wordlessly as she allowed him to lead her away into the chill corridor, leaving behind the house where truth had finally burned its way free.