Chapter Eleven #2
Mom always had it going on.
I didn’t get those As for nothing, that’s all I was saying.
The inspector opened his mouth to speak.
And the door flew open, slamming against the wall.
We all jumped, and I felt the heat of Loren’s body suddenly
at my back.
But Carling swooped in, followed by two men in rough
clothing, one well-built and rather good-looking, one slender and tall, with a
kind face.
They were followed by a red-faced, angry constable.
“We will be heard!” Carling declared.
“Carling, what on earth?” Mom asked, and hopefully it was
only me who heard the nervousness threading her tone.
Carling took a step forward, bowed to her, straightened, and
said, “My lady, allow me.”
“I sense you two know each other,” the inspector noted.
“Indeed!” Carling cried. “I am Rutherford Carling! Eighth
generation houseman, with the running of the Derryman House!”
“My guess is, you have something to say,” the inspector
drawled.
“I will allow no quarter to offend my lady with further
grief and tragedy,” Carling proclaimed.
Whoa.
Carling had some pluck.
“Will you not?” the inspector asked.
“No,” Carling snapped. “I will not.”
And the man was not backing down.
He turned to Mom and his face gentled.
“I’m sorry, but it must be said,” he decreed softly.
“I’m afraid it must,” Mom muttered.
Carling looked at me.
“My lady,” he whispered.
“Carling,” I whispered back, having no clue what he was
about to say.
He shifted his attention to the inspector.
“What you see on my younger lady’s face is not the first
mark my employer made on one of the females who should have had his
loving devotion and care.”
Mom’s fingers tightened around mine.
This was not good.
The real Lady Corliss…
And maybe even Maxine?
I stared at Carling, who was fit to be tied, and I knew.
I dropped my head.
Loren’s hand curled over my shoulder.
“But I can assure you, it is with horror that I share it was
the least of his transgressions,” Carling continued.
What?
I lifted my head.
“No, I’m not speaking about the fact he was an unkind
employer, and often more than unkind, rather cruel, especially to the females
in his employ, who are my charges, but I was powerless to help them.”
“Oh my gods,” I breathed.
“No,” Carling carried on. “I’m not speaking about the fact
he gave no references, so one couldn’t leave his employ even if they wanted to,
for they’d never find another position, and they were forced to stay tied to
him, like indentured servants.”
At that, Mom and I both gasped.
“No, I’m talking about the fact that Beacher here”—he turned
to the handsome fellow—“and Hagley”—he turned the other way and jerked
his chin to the slim fellow—“both consummate grooms and
consummate horsemen, warned his lordship not to put his little
daughter on that large and unpredictable of a horse—”
Oh…my…gods!
Mom shot out of her seat.
Everyone looked to her.
I rose, getting close, holding on tight, staring at her
ashen, distraught face.
“Mom.”
“Carling, don’t,” she whispered to Carling.
“I’m sorry, milady, it has to be known,” he replied.
“It does,” the inspector said gently.
Carling hurried on, jumping forward in the story, thank God.
“She blamed him, as she would. Who wouldn’t?” Carling asked
a question with an answer everyone knew, so no one answered it. “He was beside
himself with fury at what he considered her audacity. He never did
anything wrong. He never took responsibility for mistakes he might
make. To be honest, for twenty years, simply to stop his wife from demanding he
return her daughter as well as stand up for what he had done and perhaps feel a
hint of remorse for his actions, I thought he’d murdered her in that
gazebo.”
“Bloody hell,” I breathed.
Carling sniffed the air and regarded Mom.
“I knew you didn’t take your own life. You loved that
gazebo, for one. You took Lady Maxine there to nurse her. If you felt it
necessary to leave this world, you’d never have done it there. Not ever.”
Okay, good news, Carling pretty much corroborated our story,
in a sense.
Bad news, it seemed us being there meant maybe we’d just
accidentally falsely exonerated Edgar for murder.
“I need to get back to Maxine,” Mom murmured.
“Momma,” I whispered.
She looked to me. “I’m fine.”
She wasn’t.
The dad of this world hurt the me of this world, a me who
was now her daughter as sure as I was.
I didn’t blame her, and I wasn’t surprised. If I were her,
I’d probably feel the same way.
But this further complicated things.
By a lot.
Now it was a definite that I had to get all three
of us back to our universe, and how would Maxine handle that?
“If you have what you need, inspector, I’d like to escort
the countess home,” Ansley said.
“I feel we do indeed, from Countess Derryman. Though, I’ll
need a few words with Lady Dawes before she goes.”
“I’ll stay with Satrine, Father.
Take Lady Corliss,” Loren said.
“I’ll send the carriage back,” Ansley replied, then to Mom.
“My lady?”
She took his offered elbow, whispering, “My gratitude, your
grace.”
Loren stood at my side as I watched them walk to the door.
But Mom stopped there.
And I stared as Carling stiffened with stunned surprise when
Mom curled her fingers around both his arms, then went in to kiss his cheek.
“You are a good man, Rutherford Carling,” she said quietly.
His face stained red and he shifted awkwardly, pleased and
uncomfortable with the sentiment.
“Beacher, Hagley, thank you,” she went on.
“Mum,” Beacher said.
“Milady,” Hagley mumbled.
She nodded to them, nodded to Ansley, and with her head held
high, the Seventh Countess of Derryman strode through the door.
And they were away.