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“Miss Fenchurch,” the duke began.
I’d had enough of the Duke of Blackford pulling the strings while the Archivist Society danced. I rose and stormed from the room, not knowing if I was angrier at him or at myself. I wanted to believe his goal was the same as ours. Instead, he was circumventing justice.
He caught up to me in the hall. “Georgia, listen to me.”
I spun around and glared at him. “While you subvert the course of justice? No. And it’s ‘Miss Fenchurch,’ Your Grace.”
“Miss Fenchurch, I am not subverting justice. I am giving a bright young man and his very loyal wife a chance to start over without having to resort to crime to fund their lifestyle. I think Canada will be a good place for them to begin again. And Mrs. Drake has a sister there.”
I had forgotten about Edith, whose name A
He gazed at a spot over my head, but I knew he wasn’t studying the coffered ceiling. “You went to Blackford and saw her grave. Didn’t you?”
I nodded and he continued. “You’re resourceful, I’ll grant you that. I didn’t plan to keep it a secret forever. Only until I took her letters, her embarrassing letters, back from Drake. He made me pay for his silence. He wouldn’t give them to me because he knew I let her die.”
I grabbed hold of his arm. “You didn’t let her die. You weren’t there.”
“He holds me responsible for her death, just as I do. Her letters spell out how Drake was going to help her escape my control, how I was unfairly imprisoning her, how I sided with Victoria, everything. Drake gave me copies of them. He held those letters to remind me how wrong I’d been about Margaret, how I’d failed her, and how I’d forced her to make her daring escape.”
He leaned forward, scowling so close to my face I was forced to bend backward to keep him in focus. His clothes had captured the smoke from the fire and he smelled of brimstone. His straight hair now ended in a few curls at the nape of his neck. I could have sworn his hair was rigidly straight when we arrived at Lady Westover’s.
“I wasn’t there, but I should have been. From her letters, from the reports I was getting from the castle, I thought Margaret was getting better. I learned later she was hiding things from me. She believed Drake could give her the freedom I wouldn’t, while I kept thinking Drake was a good influence on her. If I’d been there, I could have stopped Margaret before she reached the river. I could have saved her.”
Tears filled my eyes. How many times had I said similar words to myself? “No. You couldn’t have. I was right there, and I couldn’t save my family.”
Puzzlement, followed by dawning understanding and then sympathy crossed his face. “That’s why you work with the Archivist Society? To help others so they don’t suffer like you have?”
Thinking of the murderer hardened my expression and I crossed my arms protectively over my chest. “Someday I’ll find the man who killed my parents and stop him from killing ever again.”
He nodded. “I’m certain you will.” He studied the ceiling again. “Tomorrow I’ll have my solicitor correct the records concerning Margaret’s death. I’ve given up blaming Drake for encouraging her to escape. It’s time to let her rest in peace.”
He sounded so mournful for his sister. Had he shown as much grief for his fiancée? “If she can. Did she kill Victoria?”
He stared at the floor. “Mrs. Potter told me about your questions. Did you learn anything more than I did?”
“Lady Margaret ordered lilies of the valley for a floral arrangement that day. Lilies are highly poisonous, even the leaves Sally saw her cutting up into pieces. If Margaret had somehow put them into the tea, anyone who drank it would have died of symptoms similar to Miss Victoria’s.”
“That’s pure speculation, and certainly nothing that can be proven years later.”
My voice rose in fury as I confronted him. “What I find distressing is that you suspected what she’d done, and you did nothing about it. She may have murdered the woman you were supposed to spend the rest of your life with. You were supposed to love and protect Victoria, and instead, you protected her killer.”
“I sent Margaret away. Locked her up. I imprisoned my half sister on a suspicion that she might have killed my fiancée. Might have. If she didn’t, my lack of trust could well have been what sent Margaret to such despair that she deliberately went into the water. And if anyone was guilty of Victoria’s death, it was Victoria and me.”
He glared into my eyes as the twin scents of brandy and smoke enveloped us. His face became a mask of rage, but I couldn’t tell if he was about to strangle me or burst into flame. “Victoria rode her hard and I stood by and let her do it. Victoria said I coddled her too much, and I believed her. Don’t women know more about raising younger half sisters than men?”
“I don’t know.”
“Neither do I. And Victoria seemed so certain. That was the one thing I liked about her. Our marriage was to be a dynastic union. She told me so from the start. She’d give me an heir, but not her heart. I didn’t realize until too late she didn’t have one to give.”
If that was Victoria Dutton-Cox’s epitaph, I felt very sorry for her.
The duke must have been overtired, or I doubted he’d have been so open with me. “I was relieved when Victoria died. By then, I’d realized the marriage would be a mistake. She was too rough on Margaret and too disinterested in anything about me but my title. I was so embarrassed when Victoria died, because all I could feel was thankful.
“The way everyone, including me, watched her after Victoria died made Margaret snap. I thought she was doing better, but after that day she lost what little co
“Are you saying Margaret was insane when she killed Victoria? Her plan was very clever. She nearly escaped detection.” I’d hoped to get the truth, but what I heard was as inconclusive as everything else.
“As Margaret grew older, she’d lose the threads that tied her to reality for periods of time. She told me shortly before Victoria died that she’d been thinking a lot about her mother. That should have warned me. We have never had insanity in the Ranleigh bloodline. Margaret’s mother was the first to bring it into our family. She loved Margaret, but not enough to stop her from killing herself in front of the child.”
I realized my mouth was hanging open over this revelation, and I snapped it shut.
He shook his head. “Margaret’s mother suffered from the same . . . confusion as Margaret did. In the grip of madness, she threw herself off the castle walls onto the rocks below. Margaret was a young girl, but old enough to understand what she saw. She was too afraid to ever go near the castle walls again.
“As Margaret grew older, the same malady showed up in her. I didn’t want to believe it, but I had to make certain Margaret never married and passed on this curse.”
“How awful. I’m sorry.”
He didn’t seem to notice as he continued. “As soon as the wedding was over, I pla
A throat cleared behind us. “Grandmama thought you might be in need of a chaperone. I thought you might prefer it not be her.”