“I’ll be down momentarily, Alice. Thank you,” she said, and as Alice dipped back out the door, she allowed herself one last moment alone in the office to bring herself to terms with the fact that this would likely be the last she would ever see it. The desk that had once been hers would eventually belong to someone else, and she would leave only a half-finished set of instructions to mark her passage here.
There was little difference, she realized, between tonight and the night Nerissa Amberley had come to pay her most recent visit. The quiet was the same unnatural stillness, but the aura of pathos hanging thick in the air—that was hers alone. She lived within a cloud of it, and it dimmed her vision as she passed ladies lining the halls, as if they were mourners paying their respects at someone’s funeral.
Her own, she supposed. Inevitably, it would be her own.
At last she reached the reception room, and the ladies parted for her to allow her to make her way through. Still she held her head high, offered consoling smiles despite herself.
Mr. Beckett she recognized. But beside him was Sebastian, and she had to quell the sensation of shock that swept over her. Why? Whyhim? Of all people to witness this, why washepresent?
Still she managed to keep her voice soft and even as she committed to the role that had been given to her in this farce. “Gentlemen,” she said, clasping her hands before her to disguise their trembling. “What can I do for you this evening?”
Mr. Beckett’s mustache twitched over his lips. “Your Grace,” he said gruffly, his eyes averted. “I’ve come on behalf of the Magistrates’ Court to offer our most sincere apologies.”
“I—apologies?” That dizziness grew in her head, like the buzzing of a swarm of bees. “Whatever for?”
Mr. Beckett gave a little huff of annoyance, clearly perturbed to have been placed in such a position—and it was Sebastian who stepped forward to explain. “Jenny,” he said softly. “The Amberleys were arrested this evening. Stolen jewelry was found in their possession, and once they were confronted with the evidence against them, they turned on one another. They’ve confessed. Toeverything.”
“Everything?” It emerged a hoarse croak. Her knees shook, and she was grateful for the shield of her skirts to hide them.
“You’re free,” he said. “Utterly and entirely.”
The words were so unexpected as to be incomprehensible. She couldn’t draw enough breath, and what little shecouldescaped her lungs on odd little pants, mere wisps of air. “I—I’m not going to hang?”
“God, no,” he said. “No—you’resafe. It’s over, Jenny. It’s done.”
The shrill buzzing in her ears drowned out anything further. Her vision blurred, blackened, faded entirely—and she felt her shaking knees give up the ghost, felt herself falling into that comforting darkness. Perhaps justfallingentirely.
But there was a freedom inthat, too.
∞∞∞
Sebastian thanked God that he had been close enough to catch Jenny as she sagged, springing across the scant distance that separated them to keep her from hitting the floor. But it had been a near thing, and he was fairly certain she’d at least grazed her knees upon the solid wood of the floor. He’d thought she would beheavy, given that she was dead weight in his arms—but she was lighter than he’d expected her to be. She’d lost weight she could hardly afford to lose.
Her head lolled against his shoulder, face white as parchment, skin misted with a light sheen of perspiration. Even her lips had whitened, leaving them pasty and dry. Those gold-tipped lashes swept pale cheeks, and she didn’t even flinch at the thunderous burst of applause, the shrill cheers that cascaded through the club in a raucous wave of sound more suitable to a tavern than to a fine establishment filled with respectable ladies. It seared his ears, made his throat go tight with discomfort. How did she bear this night after night? It was anightmare.
“Enough!” he shouted over the din as the women began to press in around them, his arms reflexively tightening around her. “Everyone out! Ambrosia is closing for the evening.” The heat of so many bodies pressed so closely together made the air thick and stifling. A cold sweat broke out upon the back of his neck, and his nerves sang with irritation, with a dreadful stinging rasp along the frayed edges of them.
Mr. Beckett, nearest the door, took the opportunity to flee from the mob, which had not surprised Sebastian in the least, given that he’d practically had to compel the man’s presence. An uneasy murmur rippled through the crowd—but at least they had stopped advancing. Various splinters of conversation broke through, sharp and shrill and splintering within his skull.
“Can he—”
“Onwhoseauthority—”
“ButHer Grace—”
Sebastian managed to bark out through his tight throat, “Jenny is unwell. If you haveanyrespect for her whatsoever, you will vacate the premises immediately. Isoneevening of peace so much to ask?”
To his surprise, it was the mousy little maid, Alice, who assumed command. She was a mere scrap of a thing, smaller even than Jenny—but she slipped through the crowd, inserting herself between him and the circle of ladies, and clapped her hands sharply, attracting attention.
“Ladies, you may return in the morning if you like, but at the moment Ambrosia isclosed.” Her voice snapped with authority, and she planted her hands on her hips, arms akimbo, and lifted her chin in the air—and to Sebastian’s surprise, the crowd began to thin.
With less grumbling than he’d thought, the ladies began to disperse—though he supposed that they were somewhat lesseager to leave Ambrosia as they were to be the first to spread the news of what they had learned here this evening. It would be all over town by morning, that much was certain.
“Send for a doctor,” he murmured to Alice as he headed for the stairs. “I’m taking her to her room.”
“One moment,” Alice said. “I’ll take you—”
“Adoctor, Alice. I can find her room. I know which window is hers.” And then he was striding away, taking care to avoid the ladies still pouring out from the halls. There would be gossip, probably, about his handling of Jenny, but that was a worry for another time, another day.
