Chapter 33
Chapter Thirty-Three
Three days later, Evie groggily reached for James.
He wasn’t in bed beside her. As she came fully awake, blinking in the watery light, she realized where he was.
The finale with the blackmailer—Merrow, as it turned out—had been grim and shocking.
Yet while that matter had been laid to rest, another problem had reared its head.
The deadly struggle with Merrow had revived Owen’s demons.
By day, Owen was jittery and withdrawn, his spirits low; at night, he fought his way out of nightmares.
An unspoken fear gripped the family: had the dark business reopened the invisible wounds of war?
Everyone was determined to do their part to prevent Owen from regressing to his former state.
James and his siblings had taken turns spending the night with him.
Mama and Papa hovered, as much as Owen allowed, and Evie tried to provide cheerful distraction.
She had to drag him into the garden, but once there, he talked with her about their shared interest in plants.
In her efforts to engage his mind with something harmless, she had even shared her latest botanical puzzle.
He listened, if somewhat half-heartedly, as she discussed her theories regarding the disappearance of Chuddums’s cherries.
In the Lydells’ almanacs, she’d found mention of the “Widow’s Weeds Moth,” a dull grey creature that had once been commonplace but had disappeared around the time the cherry crops had begun to dwindle.
Coincidence? Evie thought not. She had asked Owen to join her on her next visit to Ned Lydell’s farm, and when he didn’t turn her down, she considered it a victory.
However, that didn’t assuage her gnawing guilt.
This was her fault. She had embroiled Owen in her troubles, and he was paying dearly for helping her—the whole family was.
James, who ought to be preparing for the approaching hustings, had instead been cleaning up the mess she’d caused.
After Merrow had fallen into the stream, James and his papa had gone to the magistrate and given an account of what happened.
The story, while altered to protect Evie’s secret, remained faithful to the truth.
A villain had stolen Evie’s necklace. James and the others had caught him in the act and given chase.
He’d fallen into the water and appeared to have drowned.
The magistrate and his men found the body the next day, tangled in a thicket of reeds downstream.
When Evie had been called upon to identify the thief, she’d looked at the still, clean-cut features and sandy hair and recognized Merrow immediately.
She’d verified that he was the one who’d taken her necklace…
and that had been that. Now her blackmailer was dead, the threat gone.
Yet relief remained elusive, and she was plagued by restless unease.
An inner voice whispered that darkness would always follow her and she could never outrun it.
Another death. More suffering. Am I cursed to bring misfortune to those dearest to me?
Pushing aside her fears, she resolved to adopt a better frame of mind.
She would help James with the hustings and the campaign he was sure to win.
Perhaps she could even talk him into relaxing this evening.
He was under a great deal of strain, and although he hid it well, she saw the lines of fatigue around his eyes.
What he needed was pampering—a long hot bath, she decided.
To help him unwind, she would rub his shoulders and perhaps other parts of him…
With a warm flutter, she got out of bed, and Pauline readied her for the day. She decided to tackle the task she’d been avoiding: making amends to Harkness. The fact that she’d suspected her dearest friend of being involved with the blackmail scheme filled her with remorse.
It was clear now that Harkness had done nothing to warn Merrow.
Had she been his accomplice, he would not have come to claim the decoy necklace.
A man forewarned does not walk straight into a snare.
Merrow’s unguarded arrival, his shock when confronted, and his desperate, solitary struggle for survival all proved he had acted alone.
In retrospect, every scrap of “evidence” against Harkness dissolved into mere coincidence.
The sovereigns were her savings and her gloves commonplace.
Her wish to travel was just a longing for a holiday.
None of it pointed to treachery. Yet Evie had doubted her companion, who’d been there for her through thick and thin.
While she’d never accused Harkness directly, her cold behavior had damaged their relationship.
She needed to confess her terrible suspicions and offer her abject apologies.
Thinking of how her well-meaning family had violated Harkness’s privacy, she winced.
No, apologizing would not be sufficient. If need be, she would grovel.
At Harkness’s chamber, she found the door ajar and knocked softly before entering.
“Good morning, Harkness. I was wondering if you might be…”
She trailed off as she saw Harkness sitting in a chair, dressed in traveling clothes. Her companion’s battered trunk and valise were packed, waiting to be carried out.
“I…I wasn’t aware you were taking a trip,” Evie blurted.
“I am leaving.” Harkness’s gaze was hard as obsidian. “You will find my letter of resignation on the desk. I thank you for the years of employment—”
“No.” With a cry, Evie flew over, kneeling and putting her head on Harkness’s lap as she had when she sought comfort as a child. “I am sorry for my behavior of late. I have much to explain, I know, and I came here to do it. To apologize for being distant and cold and—”
“You misunderstand.” Harkness’s voice was harsh, the scrape of steel against steel. “I am not leaving because of anything you did. But after last night, I can no longer pretend that my presence is of benefit to you.”
“I know you are angry at me and deservedly so. You have always been my confidante, and I shut you out. If you’ll let me explain—”
“No, my lamb.” Harkness lifted a hand, running it with unexpected gentleness over Evie’s hair.
“You don’t need to explain anything. For I failed you, you see.
I promised your mama I would look after you and never let you come to harm.
Yet I kept secrets from you…kept you in the dark about so many things. ”
Looking up, Evie saw that Harkness’s eyes were glittering, not with anger…but remorse?
A cool droplet slid down her spine. “What do you mean?”
“I did it to protect you,” Harkness said bleakly.
“You were a young girl, and I didn’t think you could handle the truth.
I told myself I would tell you someday, when the time was right and you were ready…
yet I kept putting it off. It was cowardice, I suppose, for I dreaded the very thought of revealing this terrible secret.
As the years passed, it became more difficult to bring it up—”
“Bring what up? Harkness, please, you are frightening me,” Evie pleaded. “What have you hidden from me that I should know?”
“When it happened, you were so young—only fourteen. I was afraid you would say something to Wilmington. You were dependent on him, for everything, and the knowledge…it would only put you in danger. I did what I thought was best: I stayed, looked after you, and kept my silence. Everything I did, I did to protect you—do you understand?”
“I don’t understand. You’re not making any sense. What is this secret? Tell me.”
“He didn’t know that I was there.” Harkness’s eyes took on a faraway gleam. “He should have known because I was always there by Beatrix’s side. I was in her sitting room when he came in, with such stealth that I didn’t hear him.”
Dread curled in Evie’s belly. “He…you mean Wilmington?”
“Yes. It was Wilmington. He was alone with Beatrix, and I didn’t know. I was busy searching for a book she liked. When she was a girl, she begged me to read to her, and during her convalescence, I wanted to give her comfort.” Harkness’s voice broke. “Instead, I let her come to harm.”
Evie gripped her companion’s arm. “What happened?”
“I found the book. I’d taken but a step into the bedchamber when I saw him standing by the side of the bed.
Instinct made me retreat behind the doorway; I was not one to interrupt a private moment between a man and his wife.
Yet the silence that ticked by stirred the hairs on my nape and prompted me to peer around the doorway. ”
“What did you see?” Evie asked through numb lips.
“Wilmington…he was lifting a pillow from Beatrix’s face. She was waxen and still—and I knew. I knew what he had done. He murdered her—killed my darling girl.”
Evie felt as if she were floating. Her voice sounded as if it came from someone else.
“What happened next?”
“He…he put the pillow back in place.” Tears dripped over the worn folds of Harkness’s countenance.
“He fluffed it, the weapon he used to kill my dearest Beatrix, and then left without a second glance. I remained where I was, half-hidden in the doorway, her book clutched to my chest. I didn’t know what to do.
Who would believe me if I reported what I saw?
Who would take the word of a servant over a man as powerful as Wilmington? ”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“What good would it do for you to know the depth of his depravity? Having gone through your mama’s money, your stepfather killed her to gain control over the one thing she refused to relinquish: your dowry.
Yet you were dependent upon him—you had no means of escape.
The knowledge would have haunted you, the way it has haunted me, and I wanted to protect you… the way I failed to protect Beatrix.”
Evie felt herself unraveling. Harkness’s revelation tore at the fabric of who she was. She had finally convinced herself she was made of strong and worthy stuff—but now she was reduced to a pile of shapeless string.
“Wilmington killed Mama because of me.” She rose, staring down at her trusted companion. “She died protecting my future. And you kept this from me?”
Harkness came stiffly to her feet. “Pet, Beatrix’s death was not your fault. I knew you would blame yourself, and that is why I didn’t—”
Another thought assailed Evie.
“Did you kill him?” she whispered. “Did you switch the bottles of valerian and belladonna?”
“No.”
Harkness’s vehemence seemed like the truth—but Evie was no judge of that, was she?
“I hated that monster,” Harkness said fervently. “When he died, I shed tears of joy because you were free of him at last. But I lacked the strength to do nature’s work.”
The relief felt like a speck in the swirling void of Evie’s reality.
Mama died because of me. Died trying to protect me. I am a curse.
The knock on the door jolted her. Disoriented, she saw Gigi hurry in.
“Heavens, Evie,” Gigi said breathlessly. “I’ve been looking all over for you!”
“You have?” Evie’s head was spinning. “Why?”
The apprehension in Gigi’s gaze filled Evie with foreboding.
“You must come quickly. I’ll explain on the way.”