Jennette’s blotchy face paled to the color of dough. “What’s wrong? Why do you all look like that?” She pushed herself away from the housekeeper and ran out into the entrance hall.
In the sudden commotion of people trying to flee the room, Mrs. Webster fell back in a chair. “What is happening?” she screamed.
“Stay with her!” Cecilia told the housekeeper, who nodded, eyes wide with fear.
Cecilia followed Jennette, Oliver, and Michael up the stairs, running as fast as she could to keep up with them. She remembered the house well, and knew they were headed for the small rooms at the back that constituted the servants’ quarters.
“Penelope!” Oliver shouted.
Cecilia shuddered at the fear in his voice, even as a child screamed. Oliver must already be inside the room, while Michael held back a sobbing Jennette. Cecilia ducked beneath Michael’s arm before he could stop her.
Penelope stood in the far corner of the bedroom, a chubby blond toddler pressed to her chest. The little girl cried pitiful tears and reached toward her mother.
Penelope ignored her. “Oliver, you need to go home. This doesn’t concern you.”
She spoke in so calm and rational a tone that Cecilia felt gooseflesh rise along her arms. But her eyes looked wide and wild.
“She is my daughter, Penelope,” Oliver said, a tremor in his voice. “And you knew. Why didn’t you talk to me about it?”
“There’s nothing to talk about. I’ll take her away from here. She doesn’t need to disturb us. Jennette was a fool to get with child—I won’t be anything like her.”
“Of course not,” Oliver said reasonably. “You’ll be my countess.”
“I deserve to be a countess.” Penelope nodded. “I’ve proven I can control you, after all. I know everything that’s been happening because I’m very good with servants.”
Her eyes slanted toward Cecilia, and the momentary glimmer of hate made Cecilia feel nauseous. She’d trusted Penelope—how had she not seen the truth?
“It was so easy to know everything going on at Appertan Hall,” Penelope said conversationally. “Cecilia, you thought you were in charge, but it was really me, as it will always be, once I’m Lady Appertan. Oliver was so easy to handle when he wanted to kiss me. I played Francis, the page, the same way, and he did whatever I wanted, told me all your secrets, until I knew so many bad things about him he couldn’t stop doing what I wanted. He’s very good at digging—did you notice that? But the bust falling, that was all me. So easy to hide behind those potted ferns you keep everywhere. After you screamed and everyone looked over the balustrade, off I went.”
The child cried out again, and Penelope gave her the sweetest smile. “Don’t worry, little Darlene. I’ll take care of everything. I know just how to do it.” She shot Oliver a sudden look of triumph. “I persuaded you to propose, didn’t I?”
“You did.”
“You didn’t love me, but what does love matter in a marriage? A marriage is about power, andyouwere keeping it from me!” She suddenly pointed her finger at Cecilia.
“I didn’t know,” Cecilia said, spreading her hands wide to show she meant no harm. She felt Michael holding a fistful of her skirt, as if to keep her near him. She had no intention of rushing forward and risking her niece, not when Penelope was so near the open window.
“You were the reason he wouldn’t set a date and make me a countess.” Penelope’s voice rose slowly with each word. “I love him—I’ll make him a good wife and a better man. But not withyouthere.” Her green eyes narrowed in rage. “You kept interfering, doing everything for him. I was supposed to be his inspiration, his guide. Why didn’t you just leave with yourhusband?” She pointed at Michael, and her whole arm vibrated with her passion. “But no, you had to interfere. Hannah tried to interfere, too. She wanted to tell you about the baby, but I couldn’t let her.”
Cecilia covered her mouth, afraid she’d scream at the images that now flashed through her mind. Had Penelope killed her own sister?
“What did you do?” Oliver cried, advancing toward her.
Michael pushed Jennette into Cecilia’s arms, and Cecilia staggered into the wall to keep the crying maid from rushing toward her daughter. Michael caught up with Oliver.
“Stay away!” Penelope screamed, leaning her hip on the window ledge, Darlene dangling outside, shrieking. “I’ll come find you, Oliver, don’t worry. We’ll be together!”
And then she swept her arm across the nearby table, upsetting a dimmed lamp. The oil spilled across the floor, and a fire started with a “whoosh” of sudden sound.
Cecilia and Jennette screamed; Oliver and Michael launched themselves forward, Michael diving for the nearest carpet to use against the flames. Flinging her leg over the sill, Penelope reached for a branch in the tree that the sisters used to play in as children. But the little girl gave a wild kick, which caught Penelope in the stomach, throwing her off balance. She teetered on the ledge, Darlene squalling and squirming. Oliver caught his daughter just as Penelope lost her grip. She started to fall backward out the window, her expression one of shocked disbelief.
“Penelope!” Oliver shouted.
With a wild grab, he caught her skirt, but as a sharp rip sounded, Penelope screamed and fell. Her voice abruptly went silent.
Cecilia only spared the shaking Oliver a brief glance as she searched for a pitcher of water on the nearby washstand. She flung it at the fire just as Michael ripped the curtains from the wall and tossed them out the window. Still clutching Darlene, Oliver flinched, as if he thought Michael had aimed them at Penelope.
Jennette gave a wild cry and raced forward, and Oliver didn’t resist as she reached for the little girl and hugged her to her breast.
