“What about children?”
“I won’t have any.”
“No, I mean other children, when you were a child. However did you play Fox and Hounds or Sardines or even learn to sew without touching anybody?”
“I never did any of those things.”
“You cannotsew?” Susan clapped her hands to her chest. “You are solucky. If I never see another sampler as long as I live…but then, I don’t have visions to contend with, and I can touch anyone I please. Although, to be honest, I doubt I’d touch many corpses if it were left up to me. Did it not work?”
“It worked,” Evangeline admitted. “But I didn’t see who did it.”
“Lioncroft, of course. No question. How did Heatherbrook die?”
“Smothered with a pillow.”
“Awhat?” Susan stared at her, mouth agape. “Well. I admit, that hardly sounds like Lioncroft’s style. He seems much more forward with his aggression. For example, had you said he strangled Heatherbrook to death, I wouldn’t have blinked an eye. Likewise, had you told me Lioncroft bashed in his head with a large rock. Rocks can be vulgar and deadly. But apillow,of all things. No…I wouldn’t have guessed that.”
“What are you saying? You think him innocent?”
“Well,” Susan said again. “Well. I guess I’m saying, now I don’tknow. He’s probably the villain, but—a pillow?”
For some reason, this small concession made Evangeline more unsettled, rather than less. The situation seemed so much more straightforward when everyone was convinced of Mr. Lioncroft’s guilt. Doubt…doubt made things murky.
Evangeline tried never to doubt.
“A pillow seems cowardly,” Susan was saying now. “Lioncroft may be many evil things, but he doesn’t strike me as cowardly. He seems the type to hurl Heatherbrook from the closest balcony window or impale him on a rapier, not the sort to sneak in on him when he’s sleeping and smother him with a pillow. Perhaps even Lady Heatherbrook’s pillow. She might’velainon it, not even knowing. How positively dreadful!”
Susan clapped a hand to her throat as if she couldn’t wait to share this possibility with the lady in question. Evangeline would just as soon spend the rest of the house party sequestered in her room. She had far worse to worry about—Neal Pemberton’s relentless pursuit. She’d never heard of anyone outwitting an event foretold in a vision, but heaven help her, Evangeline hoped to do the impossible.
“May I ask a favor, Susan? Two of them, actually?”
“Of course.”
“First, I must beg you not to mention my visions to anyone. Speaking to God may not be any more believable, but at least people rarely make waves against things having to do with the Church.”
“As long as you’ll keep me informed of whatever visions you experience,” Susan said with a laugh. “Truly, you have my word.” She drew a cross over her bodice with one finger. “And the other thing?”
“If you—If I—” Evangeline paused, unsure how to phrase her request. “Should you hear even the smallest whisper of my stepfather’s presence, would you warn me immediately?”
“Where? Here? He’s invited to Blackberry Manor?”
“No, not here. Perhaps we’ll be on a farm, but I’m not sure where or when. Just if youwouldcatch wind of my stepfather, please alert me as soon as possible. His name is Neal Pemberton. Stay as far away from him as you can. He’s dangerous.”
“All right.” Confusion ebbed the good humor from Susan’s face. “I think you may still be overtaxed. Try to sleep some more. I’ll check on you again before lunch.”
She reached out to pat Evangeline’s arm, checked herself midair, and returned her hand to her side with an embarrassed smile.
“Forgive me,” she murmured. “I’m far more used to touching than I realized.”
Without waiting for a response, she pivoted on one heel and strode from the bedside. She dropped the small leather-bound book atop the bookcase before slipping out the door, closing it firmly behind her.
Save for the crackling of the fire, silence filled the chamber. And yet, Evangeline knew she would not sleep. Had no wish to sleep. Only nightmares awaited her there.
She rose from the bed and crossed to the row of bookshelves lining the large, windowless wall. As before, she tugged on the books overflowing the top shelf. As before, they did not budge. She moved to the next shelf and pulled at one of the books. It flew into her hands, almost knocking her off balance.
What in heaven’s name…?
Evangeline hunched before each of the bookstands, jerking titles at random from each shelf.
