He wondered who the anonymous source had been and if the report was really pure conjecture. Or had someone a motive for wanting Margaret Macy declared dead?
———
Nathaniel knew Lewis was somewhere about the place but decided not to seek him out. Instead, he went upstairs and knocked on Helen’s door. He was nearly relieved when she did not answer. He didn’t trust his ability to appear disinterested should he show her the news in person. What would he say?“TheMorning Postreports that Miss Macy’s body may have been found—drowned in the Thames. Poor creature. Can you imagine?”
Besides, he had the sneaking suspicion his sister knew very well who Nora was—perhaps had known long before he did.
He settled for circling the column of type with a stroke of blue ink and leaving the newspaper on the writing desk in her room. Closing the door behind him, he wondered where she was. During the early days of his return, Helen had rarely ventured farther than the sitting room, except for meals and Sunday services. But since the servants’ ball, she had begun walking out-of-doors and involving herself in church charity work, and had even accepted an invitation to dinner from the vicar’s wife.
At least someone’s lot had improved since his return. He had a sneaking suspicion, however, that his sister’s renewed interest in life had less to do with him than his steward, Robert Hudson. And he still wasn’t quite certain how he felt about that.
———
Half an hour later, Helen burst into the library, cheeks flushed and out of breath, brandishing the folded newspaper like a weapon. “Did you leave this in my room?”
Nathaniel fought to keep his face impassive. He glanced up at the newspaper as though to remind himself. “Ah, yes. I thought you might be interested. You were some acquainted with her, as I recall.”
“Iwas acquainted with her?” His sister’s eyes pierced him, and he nearly quailed.
He found himself murmuring the lame lines he had practiced before. “Poor creature. Can you imagine?”
Helen narrowed her eyes, weighing his sincerity. Did she know? Did she know he knew? Or perhaps she merely studied him to see if he was more devastated by the possibility of Miss Macy’s death than he was willing to let on.
“It is only speculation,” Helen said. “You know theMorning Postis more gossip than fact. I would not worry if I were you.”
“I am not worried.”
One brow rose. “Are you not?”
He shrugged. “Are you?”
She stared at him, and he forced himself to meet her gaze blankly.
She asked, “Have you shown this to Lewis?”
“No.”
“Shall I?”
Nathaniel shrugged. “If you like. It makes no difference to me.”
Helen frowned, studying him for several moments longer. Finally, she turned on her heel with a huff and swept from the room.
Apparently, acting disinterested had not earned him any points with his sister.
———
Margaret and Fiona were carrying baskets of laundry down the back stairs when Helen Upchurch called from the top of the stairs, “Nora, I need to speak with you. Alone.”
Fiona gave her a hard look that asked,“What have you done now?”She took Margaret’s basket atop her own and jerked her head to send her on her way.
Nervously, Margaret followed Miss Upchurch upstairs and into her apartment. Afternoon sunlight spilled warmly through the window and onto Helen Upchurch as she seated herself at her writing desk. Standing before her, Margaret gripped her hands together. Hard.
Helen handed her a newspaper. “My brother Nathaniel gave this to me. I thought you should see it.”
Margaret accepted the folded paper and began reading the circled print. She felt disoriented, confused as the words swam before her, making no sense. She blinked, and read again.
“I don’t understand,” Margaret whispered, nerves flaring.
