Chapter Eighteen
Rose stepped out of the study and into a corridor buzzing with whispers. A few remaining guests were making for the front door, valets scrambling to collect cloaks and hats. Footmen moved through the hall with quiet urgency, guiding people toward the exits with murmured apologies.
Rose kept walking.
As she passed the ballroom, she caught sight of lingering guests craning their necks, murmuring behind gloved fingers, men standing stiffly, pretending not to stare.
The orchestra had long since packed up, the tables sat half-cleared, glasses still catching candlelight.
A night meant for celebration had curdled into something else entirely.
At the edge of the room Daphne, Lydia, and Arabella huddled together. When Rose entered, they turned to her as one.
Arabella stepped forward first. “Rose, are you all right? We saw them taking Baron White away and then we heard a gunshot.”
Rose shook her head gently. “My father’s taken his own life. After admitting to everything we already knew, including murdering my mother.”
“Oh, Rose, I’m sorry,” Arabella said. “What can we do?”
“Nothing tonight. Thank you for your kindness, but I think it best if you return to your rooms. I will need you in the morning.”
Daphne reached for her hand, squeezing it briefly. “We’ll be here. Whatever you need.”
Lydia’s eyes were glassy. “We’ll stay as long as you want us.”
“Do you know where Mrs. Blackwell is?” Rose asked.
“I saw her head upstairs,” Daphne said. “After they arrested White. I assumed she was going to her room but who knows with that woman.”
“And this was before the gunshot?” Rose asked.
“That’s correct,” Arabella said. “We feel sure she knew what was coming for your father. The way she scurried away like a black widow proves it.”
“I’ll deal with her tomorrow then.” Rose’s voice was quiet but sure. “Now I must speak with Mrs. Blythe and Prudence.”
Arabella nodded, understanding. “Of course.”
As they turned away, disappearing into the shadows of the corridor, Rose lingered for a moment longer, taking in the ballroom. The flicker of dying candles. The forgotten waltz sheet on the music stand. The scent of roses clinging to the air, stubborn and bittersweet.
Then she turned and made her way toward the servants’ stairs and down to the kitchen.
The room still held the heat of the afternoon, and scents of the feast Mrs. Carter and her staff had prepared lingered. At the long wooden table sat Mrs. Blythe, Mrs. Carter, and Prudence, their expressions anxious in the flickering lanternlight.
The leapt to their feet at the sight of her.
“Lady Rose, are you safe?” Mrs. Blythe asked. “When we heard the gunshot we were frightened that something had happened to you.”
Rose walked over to stand at the end of the table.
“I am fine. Shaken, but fine. My father has taken his own life. After admitting that he murdered my mother.” Her hands were still trembling, though she clasped them tightly in front of her.
“As I’m sure you know, Baron White has been arrested.
” She explained as succinctly as she could the nature of his and her father’s crimes, even though they probably already knew.
“Our gardener, Sebastian, is the eldest child of Lord Ashford. He came here in the hope of discovering what really happened to my mother and prove his father’s innocence. That has been done.”
A sharp breath escaped Mrs. Carter’s lips. Prudence’s eyes brimmed with tears, but she said nothing. Mrs. Blythe simply wrung her hands.
Rose forced herself to say the next part. “And I have remembered everything from that night. I was in the room. I saw him do it.”
“The nightmares?” Prudence asked. “They were to help you remember.”
“That’s right. Mary found me and took me upstairs. She heard it all from the hallway.”
“I thought she knew more than she would say,” Mrs. Blythe said.
“No one would have listened to her, even if she had come forward,” Rose said.
“There has been too much tragedy in this house,” Mrs. Blythe said, wiping her eyes with a hanky.
“All of it because of Father,” Rose said.
“I know there will be further inquiries, and more scandal, and no telling what will happen with the estate. I may no longer have a home here but I will do whatever I can to protect the staff. Constable Stephens wants to speak to anyone who was there the night of my mother’s murder. At long last, you will be heard.”
“We will answer as best we can,” Mrs. Blythe said.
“We’re glad to be asked,” Prudence said.
“What has been done about the house guests?” Rose asked.
“Unfortunately, many of them witnessed Baron White’s arrest and most retired to their rooms,” Mrs. Blythe said. “No one will linger tomorrow. I made sure of that.”
Prudence, her voice hoarse, asked. “Are we all safe? Tonight, I mean.”
Rose nodded. “Yes. Stephens and his men are here. There will be no more violence tonight.”
“Lady Rose, do you need anything?” Mrs. Carter asked. “I can make tea.”
“No, thank you. Go to bed,” Rose said gently. “You’ve all done more than enough these last few weeks. Sleep in if you can. Tomorrow will have to be faced. It’s best we do it after a good night’s rest.”
“Let me help you to your room, my lady,” Prudence said.
“Yes, thank you.” Rose gave her a sad smile before turning to head back up the stairs, with her faithful maid behind her.
*
Once they were safely in her room, she let Prudence unbutton her gown, slide it from her shoulders, and untwist the pins from her hair.
Once she was in her nightgown and her face washed, Rose climbed into bed and curled onto her side, the blankets cool against her skin. Prudence moved quietly around the room, tidying as she always did, as if routine could hold the world together.
“Is there anything I can get you?” Prudence asked.
Rose reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. “Before you go to bed, please ask Mr. Hale to meet me in my father’s study at eleven. I need to understand the legal matters. Once I do, I can begin making plans.”
“Yes, my lady.”
There was a long pause.
“Did the staff know about Sebastian?” Rose asked at last. “Who he really was?”
“No, my lady. I would have told you if I’d known.”
“I knew he was not who he said he was, but I could not have guessed that he was the eldest son of the man my father destroyed.”
“How could you?”
Rose nodded, tears brimming but unshed. “At least I know the truth. About everything now. I feel lighter, somehow. Even though there are so many questions about what the future will bring.”
“I’ll be here by your side, no matter what.”
Rose smiled faintly. “Thank you, dear Prudence, for your loyalty and calmness. You provide me great comfort, as you always have.”
“It’s my pleasure, Lady Rose.”
“Please, go rest. I won’t need you until after ten.”
Prudence curtsied and then left the room.
Rose rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling, the ache behind her eyes finally giving way to exhaustion.
She thought of Sebastian. Of his deception, yes—but also of his words earlier in the garden.
He had been willing to walk away from all of this for her.
But would he change his mind? Perhaps she would always be the daughter of the man who wrecked his life.
Was there really any way for them to be together or was the past too complicated? Too tragic?
She slipped her hand beneath her pillow and pulled out his handkerchief, breathing in the faint scent of soap. It steadied her, softened her chest just enough to let sleep come.
And it was thus that she finally slept—alone, but no longer lost.
*
She woke late the next morning to Prudence arriving to help her bathe and dress. While Prudence fixed her hair, she drummed up the courage to ask how the staff was doing. “How did everyone seem this morning?”
“They are fine. Mrs. Blythe brought us all together at breakfast to explain everything to the others. Most already knew, of course, having been on duty as everything unfolded.”
“They must be terrified of what happens next,” Rose said.
“Yes, they’re concerned for the future. As you know, most of us come from the village and have known nothing else. The thought of working elsewhere is overwhelming. Yet, they all declared their loyalty to you, my lady. There’s not a servant in this house who thinks ill of you.”
“How kind,” Rose said softly.
She wanted to ask after Sebastian but didn’t have the words to do so. However, she needn’t have worried. Prudence brought him up first.
“Everyone’s reeling over who Sebastian really is. As you can imagine.”
“Yes, they have every right to feel surprised and perhaps duped.” Rose’s voice wavered. “Prudence, have you guessed how I feel about him?”
“Yes, my lady. I know you well.”
“And the others?” Rose asked.
“There have been rumors, Lady Rose. About you and the gardener developing a friendship. Others have seen you bring him books and linger to speak with him.”
“Yes, it is true. What are they saying about it?”
“Nothing unkind, my lady. But some noticed. That’s all.”
“I see.”
“This morning Mrs. Blythe said Sebastian will have to make an appeal to the Crown if he is to regain his title. She said perhaps his family’s fortune will be restored by the monarchy in compensation for what happened to him and his siblings.”
A dart of optimism pierced through Rose’s gloom. Could he finally get back everything he’d lost? If so, what would it mean for them?
“Lady Kingsley, Lady Merriweather and Miss Norbury have asked if they might have a word with you before they leave. May I show them into the drawing room after you’ve had breakfast?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Also, Mr. Hale asked for your forgiveness. He cannot meet this morning, as he and Sebastian departed very early for London. Mr. Hale left a note explaining that time was of the essence. They need to reach the estate’s solicitors and begin Sebastian’s appeal to the Crown while the events of last night are still fresh in officials’ minds. ”